CHAPTER 79: CURIOUSITY OF THE BOY

[: 3rd POV :]

Caelira’s voice lowered slightly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of reverence and disbelief as she leaned forward, the weight of her confession hanging heavy in the air.

"Do you know how we were saved from being slaves?’’

’’How did we manage to make our reappearance after all these years of suffering and silence?" She asked, her tone both weary and hopeful.

Melira frowned, scepticism tightening her brow as she leaned in, as if bracing herself against a truth too fantastical to believe.

"How?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to hear an answer that might shatter her understanding of the world.

"It was because of the boy," Caelira revealed firmly, her gaze steady.

Melira’s eyes widened, a flash of disbelief flickering across her face.

"But... that’s impossible, Caelira. Even knowing you as I do, it’s hard to believe that one boy could do something so miraculous."

Caelira’s gaze shifted to Kiel, Rika, and Manork—each of them standing tall and unyielding, their faces carved with the hard-earned truths of their ordeal.

"Believe me, Melira, it wasn’t just me. Kiel, Rika, and Manork witnessed it themselves. There’s no denying what happened."

Melira studied their faces—the resolute set of their jaws, the fire burning in their eyes—and felt the stubborn truth settle in her chest.

She exhaled slowly, a subtle nod punctuating her acceptance.

"Alright," she said, voice soft but filled with genuine curiosity, "I’m listening."

Caelira’s voice was steady but filled with the weight of memory as she began, "It happened twelve years ago."

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog.

Melira’s expression shifted instantly, the colour draining from her face as sorrow and pain surged through her.

Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, knuckles whitening, the memory of her lost newborn stabbing sharply at her heart.

"Twelve years ago..." Melira repeated softly, her voice trembling as if the words themselves carried a physical weight.

"That was the year I lost my child..."

She swallowed hard, struggling to keep her composure, before bowing her head slightly.

"I’m sorry... please, carry on."

Caelira’s eyes softened, filled with sympathy.

"It’s alright, Melira. I hadn’t considered your feelings before. I should have."

A silence fell for a moment — the kind only shared pain could create — before Caelira’s tone grew resolute again.

"That day," she began, "we were captured... but there was a newborn we cared for — a fragile little life amidst the darkness."

She glanced briefly at Rika, Manork, and Kiel, who nodded solemnly.

"We took turns nursing him, protecting him as best we could," Caelira continued, voice barely above a whisper.

"Even in the midst of our own torment, we clung to the hope that he might survive."

The others added their memories, painting a grim picture of the tortures they endured — cruel beatings, deprivation, and the cold chains of slavery that bound them to the Ashburn family.

Daniel, the boy, suffered more than any of them, often targeted by Raven, the vicious heir of the Alburn house.

His suffering was almost unbearable to recount, yet it was the dark crucible from which his strength would later emerge.

Before Caelira could describe the moment Daniel had finally awakened his powers — the moment he had forcibly teleported them away to safety — the room’s heavy silence was broken abruptly.

A sudden commotion from the outer hall interrupted their recounting, tension rippling through the air as all eyes turned toward the disturbance, hearts pounding with anticipation.

Two figures hurried in, urgency blazing in their eyes.

"Your Majesty! We have found a lead!"

Maiya’s breath was ragged as she strode forward, Luke close behind her, his expression grim but determined.

Caelira paused mid-sentence, her eyes flicking toward the newcomers.

The tension in the room shifted instantly, hope flickering like a fragile flame.

Melira rose smoothly from her seat, her gaze sharp and commanding.

"I apologise, Caelira," she said, voice steady but kind.

"There are pressing matters that require my attention’’

’’But do not worry. I promise, I will help you all. It seems my continent has its own little hero — one who saved each of you."

Caelira nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the moment but not wanting to press her own urgency against the Empress’s duties.

As Maiya and Luke were ushered forward, whispers spread through the hall like wildfire, the murmurs echoing softly among the gathered nobles.

Yet Melira paid them no mind, her focus unyielding.

"Caelira, and all of you," Melira began, her voice lowering as she motioned for the room to quiet.

"Whatever you hear from this moment forward must remain secret. This is a matter of utmost delicacy."

She looked steadily at each of them, the gravity of her words settling in.

"I will need your help," she continued, eyes meeting Caelira’s, Xerath and Kaelgor and the others’.

Caelira answered without hesitation, her voice resolute.

"That will not be an issue, Your Majesty."

Xerath and Kaelgor nodded in agreement, their faces set with resolve.

The room grew still as Melira gestured toward Maiya and Luke, signalling them to share the news — the faint hope that might yet turn the tides.

Melira’s eyes sharpened as she leaned slightly forward, her voice controlled but heavy with anticipation.

"So, Maiya and Luke, what have you found? Tell me everything," she said solemnly, her heart beating faster with every passing second.

Maiya exchanged a glance with Luke before stepping forward with measured judgment.

"We investigated every lead we could find," Maiya began, voice low but firm.

"And we believe we’ve uncovered something important — a lead that may finally shed light on your son’s disappearance, twelve years ago."

Luke nodded, his gaze locking with Melira’s as he continued.

"Exactly. Twelve years ago... the day before the forest was reduced to ruin, there was significant movement by a notorious slave merchant group known as the Black Pirate’’

’’They were last seen operating near the far end of the river."

Melira’s breath caught slightly, but she held her composure, her eyes never leaving Luke’s face.

"And you believe... my son may have been taken by them?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Melira’s eyes locked onto Luke, her breath shallow, her fingers twitching ever so slightly.

"Please... continue," she said softly, though the weight behind her words spoke volumes.

Luke and Maiya exchanged a brief glance, fully aware that her calm request masked a storm just beneath the surface.

A tempest of rage and despair no mother could fully contain upon hearing her child had been taken by slave merchants.

Maiya’s voice was steady but gentle as she continued.

"When we investigated the Black Pirate’s hideout, we found it in ruins—completely destroyed. No survivors, no leads left behind."

Luke stepped forward and carefully extended a worn parchment, its edges frayed, the ink faded but still legible.

"All we found was this," he said quietly.

Melira reached out and took the document with trembling hands, her eyes scanning the faded words.

Her face, usually composed, began to tighten as the weight of the discovery sank in.

The room fell silent—every eye fixed on the Empress.

Then, without warning, Melira slowly rose to her feet, the chair scraping softly against the floor.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble.

"This... this implicates some of the Noble Families of the Human Continent," she said, voice breaking ever so slightly as the names on the document revealed their hidden betrayal.

Her hands clenched the parchment so tightly it threatened to tear, but she steadied herself, forcing the fury back inside.

Eventually, she stood up as the documents had decayed to nothingness.

Melira’s gaze sharpened as she read the names inked onto the fragile parchment.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto one in particular—the Stratoth Family.

She whispered the name, her voice low but filled with an undeniable weight.

"Stratoth Family..."

The room’s atmosphere shifted immediately.

An invisible force seemed to ripple outward from her, an overwhelming surge of mana so dense and suffocating that every breath felt heavier.

Suddenly, a crushing pressure slammed down upon the Stratoth family members gathered in the hall—their faces pale, their bodies collapsing to the floor as if dragged by an unseen hand.

They hit the ground with heavy thuds, gasping for breath, utterly powerless beneath Melira’s immense aura.

Gasps and startled murmurs echoed through the crowd.

Noble guests recoiled, some clutching their chests, others wide-eyed in shock at the raw display of power.

Maiya’s sharp eyes met Luke’s, and in a barely perceptible nod, they swiftly raised their hands.

At once, the Twilight Knights and Sacred Valkyries sprang into action with impeccable precision.

Steel-clad figures surged forward, closing off all exits and locking down the grand hall.

The heavy doors slammed shut with a resonant boom, while ethereal seals glimmered faintly along the threshold—magical barriers no one could cross without permission.

Whispers of surprise and concern rippled through the assembled dignitaries.

Behind them, the imperial families of the Dragon and Dwarf continents exchanged curious glances, their faces etched with intrigue.

Yet, respecting the gravity of the moment, they remained respectfully on the sidelines, choosing not to intervene.

Meanwhile, the High Oracles stood silently, their eyes calm and knowing, as though they had foreseen this very moment.