CHAPTER 85: COMFORT IN STORIES

[: 3rd POV :]

Days had passed filled with uncertainty.

Within a grand chamber lit by crystalline lanterns, Melira stood opposite Caelira, not as a superior but as a fellow sovereign weighed down by fear and unanswered questions.

Melira’s tone was measured, though her eyes betrayed her worry.

"Caelira, you were with him until the very end. Tell me—where could my son have been teleported to?"

Caelira’s hands tightened at her sides, her gaze steady though shadowed with guilt.

"Melira... I wish I knew. Truly, I do. But I have no idea where Daniel sent himself."

Melira’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in aching frustration.

"You mean to say there was nothing—no sign, no flicker of where his power was reaching for?"

Caelira shook her head, her voice quiet yet resolute.

"He acted instinctively. I don’t think he even knew how he did it. One moment, his power surged, and the next, Rika, Kael, Manork, and I were back on our continents. But Daniel... Daniel was gone."

Silence fell for a heartbeat, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Melira exhaled, her tone softening, though her resolve hardened.

"Then we search everywhere. Every realm, every plane, every shadow of existence. I don’t care if it defies reason—we will find him."

Caelira inclined her head, her own eyes gleaming with determination.

"Then I stand with you in this, Melira. I promise that we will find him no matter what"

Eventually, days bled into weeks, and there was still no sign of Daniel.

Melira stood on the balcony of her palace, staring into the endless horizon.

The golden light of dawn washed over her face, but it brought no warmth.

With her hand on her chest, she could feel it, the faint glow pulsing in time with her son’s lifeforce.

Yet the comfort it offered was thin.

Some days, the pulse flickered erratically, sharp as a warning.

Her heart would seize with panic, her mind spinning with thoughts of what horrors he might be facing.

Other times, the glow would soften, steady and calm, as though he were simply resting.

But never constant, never certain.

Melira whispered to herself, voice trembling despite her usual composure.

"My son... where are you? What are you enduring?"

Behind her, Victor approached quietly, bowing his head. "Your Majesty... the investigation teams have returned."

Melira turned sharply, hope flaring, only to be met with the knight’s grim expression. "And?"

Victor lowered his gaze.

"No traces. No trails. It’s as if... he vanished beyond the known realms."

For a moment, silence reigned—then Melira’s hands gripped the balcony railing, her knuckles turning white.

A low, frustrated breath escaped her lips, yet her eyes burned with defiance.

"I can feel him. He lives. But every passing day, the distance between us feels... farther’’

’’This is not enough. We need more. Search deeper—through ancient ruins, forbidden gates, hidden realms—everywhere....just everywhere, places that no one would expect"

Victor nodded sharply. "As you command, Empress. We will not rest until he is found."

Melira felt her chest once again, watching its faint rhythm pulse like a heartbeat. She could only whisper to the wind:

"Hold on, my son... wherever you are, I will bring you home, and if there’s danger around, I will tear it apart’’ She declared.

Even with the assistance of the other rulers—whose scholars and mages scoured realms, delved into ancient archives, and dispatched search parties across forbidden lands—no trace of Daniel surfaced.

Every day without news felt like a dagger twisting deeper into Melira’s heart.

Yet amid this grim search, something unexpected began to grow—kinship.

Caelira, Rika, and Kael visited more often.

At first, their visits were formal, little more than respectful updates and brief conversations.

But as days stretched into weeks, and weeks threatened to bleed into months, their presence became warmer, more personal, and at times—comforting.

One evening, in the quiet glow of Melira’s private hall, they sat together around a low table.

A fire burned gently in the hearth, casting long shadows that swayed like silent witnesses to their words.

Rika leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her cup, voice soft yet steady.

"Your son... Daniel... he wasn’t just powerful. He was... good’’

’’When we’re...being tortured...he didn’t even hesitate to run towards us’’

’’He knew the risks, yet he still pushed us to safety. He... saved us, knowing it might cost him everything."

Kael nodded firmly, his usually reserved demeanour giving way to rare admiration.

"Even though he was small before he had awakened, his courage? That was something else.

’’Even facing death, he stood like it meant nothing—because we meant everything."

Caelira—poised as always, her presence regal yet softened by sincerity—added, "And what strikes me most is that he never let his pain harden him. He could have been bitter, but he wasn’t. He was... kind, beyond reason."

Melira listened, saying nothing at first.

She felt her chest tighten with emotions she couldn’t quite name—pride, sorrow, longing.

She could almost see him as they spoke, and the man he was becoming.

Her lips curved into a faint, wistful smile.

"You speak of him as though he is more than a warrior," she murmured with a hint of a joke.

Rika met her gaze.

"Because he is. He’s hope. Even when everything feels lost, he makes you believe there’s a way forward."

From that evening onward, Rika and Kael returned weekly.

Sometimes they came with artefacts or fragments of information, however insignificant; other times, they came simply to stand by her, sharing quiet conversations about Daniel’s stories.

Through them, their families—especially their mothers—reached out to Melira.

At first, it was through letters, words of gratitude inked with sincerity:

"Your son has given us back our children. For that, no thanks will ever be enough."

Soon, letters became meetings, and meetings became bonds—mothers who shared in her fears, who grieved with her, and who prayed for Daniel’s safe return as fervently as she did.

In their company, Melira found a rare solace.

Despite the ever-present ache of uncertainty, she no longer carried her burden alone.

With every story told and every vow of gratitude spoken, her resolve grew stronger.

"I will find him," she whispered one night, more to herself than anyone else, yet loud enough for Rika, Kael, and Caelira to hear.

"No matter how far I must search, no matter what I must burn to the ground—I will bring him home."

And in the soft light of that promise, three pairs of eyes met hers—united not by blood, but by the boy who had risked everything for them.

At some point in their stories, Melira could only manage a faint smile, though it was tinged with sadness.

Her eyes softened as she looked at Caelira, Rika, and Kael, who had spent countless days standing by her side.

"We will help you find him," Rika said with quiet conviction.

"It’s all we can do—for you... and for Daniel."

Kael added, his tone firm, almost protective,

"As fellow warriors, we owe him our lives. As family—"

He paused, glancing at Melira, "—we owe him our lives."

Their words struck a chord deep within her.

Though the ache of uncertainty never left her heart, Melira found solace in their promise.

But as days turned into weeks and still no sign of Daniel surfaced, the weight of hopelessness began to crush her spirit.

Reports from scouts and seers were empty.

The aid she had requested from the rulers of the continent yielded no progress.

Every lead turned to dust.

One afternoon, Caelira visited.

Her presence, regal as always, carried a gravity that made Melira uneasy even before she spoke.

The Empress of another continent stood across from her and said softly, "Melira... there is one path left to take."

Melira looked up, eyes red from sleepless nights. "What path?"

Caelira drew in a slow breath, then met her gaze without wavering. "I want to use my promise of time... with the Overseer."

The words struck Melira like a blow.

She stood there, stunned, her throat tightening.

"No... Caelira, you cannot. That promise—it is sacred. It is... everything. Once used, it can never be reclaimed."

"I know." Caelira’s voice was calm, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

"But I also know that Daniel risked everything for me, for Rika, for Kael... and for all of us. If this is the only way to find him, then I would give it without regret."

Melira’s hands trembled.

She wanted to say no, to refuse, to tell her there had to be another way.

But deep down, she knew—this might be their only chance.

Her body shook, a battle raging between pride and desperation.

"Caelira... I can’t ask you to do this," Melira whispered, voice breaking.

"It’s too precious. Too great a price."

Caelira stepped closer and rested a gentle hand on Melira’s shoulder.

"You don’t have to ask. I offer it willingly—not for duty, but for Daniel. For the boy who saved us. For me, who was saved by him."

Melira’s composure was shattered.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling before she could stop them.

She covered her mouth, trying to steady her breathing, but her voice cracked as she whispered, "Thank you... Caelira... I don’t know how many times I can say it, but thank you."

The Empress only smiled faintly, her own gaze softening.

"You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me this—when we find him, you’ll tell him what he means to all of us."

Melira nodded, tears streaming freely now. "I will. I swear it."

And for the first time in weeks, hope—fragile, trembling, but alive—stirred in her heart again.