CHAPTER 268: BACK TO WHERE IT ALL ENDED

"I know," Primrose whispered. She nodded slowly, her eyes steady despite the tremble in her voice. "That’s exactly why I want to see it. I need to know how much I can handle ... if I’m strong enough to face him when he’s at his lowest."

Raven stared at her in silence, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she sighed softly. "If this is truly what you want ... I’ll try."

Primrose held her breath. "Really?"

"I can’t promise it’ll be perfect," Raven warned gently. "This is different from seeing the future. Looking into the past, especially one that you were no longer part of, is much more complicated. Memories are heavy, especially the painful ones. They don’t like being disturbed."

Primrose nodded, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. "I understand."

Raven went on to explain that she could try to show Edmund’s past through the thread of fate that still connected them. But since Primrose would be watching from the outside, the vision might not be fully stable.

"You need to control your emotions very carefully, Your Majesty," Raven warned. "If you get too emotional or overwhelmed, the vision might break. Your connection to that timeline is fragile. It’s like walking on a frozen lake, and it could crack under too much pressure."

Primrose nodded. "I’ll do my best to stay calm."

"Good," Raven continued. "Because if the vision shatters too badly, it might leave you disoriented, or worse, trapped in that exact moment, reliving the pain over and over again."

That sounded terrifying. But to Primrose, the idea of not trying was even worse. She didn’t want her current marriage to walk the same tightrope it had before, without ever facing the truth.

"Alright, I understand," Primrose said firmly. "Can we do it now? What do I have to do?"

"Right now?" Raven looked unsure. "Your Majesty, you’ve already had quite a day. Maybe it’s better to rest and try tomorrow?"

Primrose raised an eyebrow. "I only talked to Silas. What’s so exhausting about that?" She shrugged lightly. "He died from the poison in the end, so really, I was just sitting there in the greenhouse for about thirty minutes, then came straight back."

More than anything, Primrose was determined to settle things with Edmund as soon as possible.

The longer she waited, the more room there was for fear and hesitation to grow.

If she wanted to face the emotions she had been avoiding, then now—while she still had the courage—was the right time.

"I want to do it now." She added, "Before I lose my nerve."

Raven looked at her for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh. "Very well, Your Majesty. If that’s truly what you want, then we can do it now."

Primrose had expected something dramatic, maybe a ritual filled with strange chants or mysterious items, but instead, Raven simply asked her to lie down beside her on the bed.

Then, Raven began drawing something on Primrose’s palm using a fine red powder.

Primrose had no idea what the powder was or what kind of symbol Raven was drawing, but as long as it wasn’t something horrifying—like a baby’s blood or anything dark—she didn’t mind.

"All right, we’re ready, Your Majesty." Raven gently held Primrose’s hand and lay down right beside her. "For now, just follow my instructions."

Primrose gave a small nod and let her eyes drift toward the ceiling.

A tiny doubt crossed her mind, was this really the right choice? But she had come this far, and turning back now wouldn’t change anything.

"Close your eyes," Raven said in a soft, calming voice. "Take deep breaths. Focus on your husband, not the man you know now, but the one from your past life. Think of him, call out to him in your heart, and the thread will lead you to the right moment."

Primrose did exactly as she was told.

She closed her eyes, took several slow, deep breaths, and whispered silently in her heart, "Please ... show me the version of him I never got to see. Let me understand what he felt after I was gone."

"I want to understand him. I want to understand how he truly felt."

The room suddenly fell into complete silence. Primrose couldn’t hear the crackle of the fireplace anymore, even Raven’s breathing faded from her ears.

It felt like she had been gently pulled out of the world and into a still, endless void.

Her breath caught in her throat as it felt like her body was floating weightlessly in the dark.

"Stay calm, Your Majesty." Raven’s voice echoed faintly, like a breeze in the distance. "Let the string of fate lead you."

Then, like a drop of water falling into a still pond, the darkness around her began to ripple. Raven’s voice echoed again. "Open your eyes."

Tiny specks of red light appeared in front of her, gently swirling like fireflies in the dark.

Slowly, they came together, weaving into a single thread that floated and glowed softly in the darkness.

Without hesitation, Primrose reached out her hand, drawn toward the thread like a moth to bright light.

The moment her skin touched the thread, she felt herself being pulled—no, dragged—through layers of time. The red string wrapped tightly around her, guiding her through the darkness.

The swirling void around her slowly faded away, peeling back like mist until color, light, and sound started to return.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze brushed against her cheeks.

The world tilted, and in a moment, Primrose was standing in a room she recognized all too well, the same room she had lived in for years in the Noctvaris Kingdom, to the point where she had grown sick of seeing its dull gray walls.

"Your Majesty." Primrose’s eyes widened slightly when she heard Sevrin’s voice.

For the first time, the royal advisor didn’t sound so cold and emotionless, but the words that followed felt colder than the snow in the Forsaken North. "Your wife has passed away."

Primrose slowly turned her head and held her breath the moment she saw the scene she had longed and dreaded to witness.

Edmund stood at the doorway, still and silent, staring at the bed where his wife’s body lay motionless, pale and cold.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

But the pain in his eyes screamed louder than any words ever could.