LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 4: Where Is Elyria?
Elyria lay on the cold, dusty ground outside the palace gates, her body screaming in agony, every lash on her back a cruel reminder of her punishment. Blood stained her torn dress, but it was her spirit that bore the heaviest burden. With trembling hands, she pushed herself up, standing on weak and shaky legs.
Her gaze lifted to the palace gates, the symbol of her torment. Unshed tears clouded her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't break, not here, not now.
Beyond the gates, villagers and traders gathered at the outskirts, some bustling about their day while others stopped to look at her. Whispers filled the air.
"Is she a beggar?" one woman murmured, her face lined with pity.
"She looks like she hasn't eaten in days," another added.
"Why is she bleeding? What could she have done to deserve this?" a man wondered, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.
"She's probably just another poor soul cast out of the palace," someone else said dismissively.
Elyria heard their words, but she ignored them, holding her head high despite the searing pain in her back. She clutched her swollen belly protectively, her resolve hardening with each step she took away from the palace.
She didn't know where the Crescent Expanse was. She had only heard whispers about the treacherous land, a place shrouded in danger and mystery. But she had no choice. Her survival and that of her child, depended on her finding it.
Elyria walked aimlessly, her steps heavy but determined. She passed through winding streets and barren paths, her only guide the burning thought of the Crescent Expanse. She couldn't afford to stop. Her mind clung to the stories she'd heard, fragments of tales from passing travelers.
"To find the Crescent Expanse, one needs no map," she whispered to herself. "Just keep thinking about it and keep walking. It will find you."
Her journey led her to the edge of the forest, its towering trees looming over her like silent sentinels. Elyria hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding. The forest was dense, its shadows thick with secrets. She glanced behind her, the distant palace a stark reminder of all she had endured.
With a deep breath, she stepped into the forest. The air grew cooler, the light dimmer, but she pressed on. Her thoughts remained fixed on her goal, the Crescent Expanse.
Her feet ached, and her strength waned with every step, but she didn't stop.
The forest seemed endless, its paths winding and twisting. Yet, as she walked, something shifted. The air grew heavier, charged with an unfamiliar energy. She felt it before she saw it, a sense that she was drawing closer to something ancient and powerful.
The Crescent Expanse was near.
Back at the palace, the night had grown eerily still, the air heavy with an unnatural tension. Midnight was fast approaching, and throughout the women's court, chaos erupted. Among the women, four queens and five concubines of the king were all in labour, their cries piercing the once serene halls of the palace.
The cries echoed through the halls as the palace midwives were summoned to their chambers. Each woman was confined to her room, the once serene palace turning into a mixture of screams and commands.
In the grand chamber of Queen Ithania, the eldest and most revered of the queens, her regal composure had all but shattered. Her fingers clawed at the silk sheets beneath her, her teeth gritted against the pain.
"Breathe, my queen, breathe deeply. You are strong," the midwife said, her voice steady but strained as she prepared for the next push.
"Argh!!! Get this child out of me!!!"
"Push, Your Majesty, push!" the midwife urged, her hands steady but her voice strained. "The child is almost here!"
Ithania let out a guttural scream, her body trembling with effort. "This better be the prophecy's child," she gasped, her voice filled with equal parts agony and hope. "I will not suffer in vain!"
The midwife kept her focus. "Breathe deeply, my queen. The child is coming!"
In another chamber, Queen Lyzella sobbed uncontrollably. Her delicate features were twisted in anguish as sweat poured down her face. "It feels as though I'm being ripped apart!" she wailed.
Her midwife dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth, her own hands trembling from the intensity of the moment. "You must push, Your Majesty! The child is crowning."
Lyzella shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I can't… I can't do this!"
"You can, and you must!" the midwife insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Lady Freya, one of the concubines, clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Her trembling hands clutched her swollen belly as another contraction seized her. "Why does it hurt so much?" she cried, her voice breaking.
"Hold on, my lady," the midwife encouraged. "The pain will soon pass, and you will hold your child in your arms."
Freya groaned, her head lolling back against the pillow. "I don't care about the prophecy anymore! Just end this pain!"
As the labouring women fought their battles, the palace was thrown into turmoil by an unnatural phenomenon. The night sky, once clear and dotted with stars, had turned ominously dark. Thick clouds gathered with an unsettling speed, shrouding the moon in their oppressive embrace.
A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, growing louder and more frequent with each passing moment. Then came the wind, fierce and unrelenting. It howled through the palace grounds, rattling windows and flinging open shutters with a force that startled everyone within.
The rain followed, torrential and unyielding. It pelted against the palace walls, creating a deafening roar. But it wasn't just rain. Snow began to fall, mingling with the downpour in a surreal and chaotic display. Soon, hail joined the mix, clattering against the ground with a sound like breaking glass.
The palace guards struggled to keep their footing on the icy steps as frost crept across the stones. Lightning split the sky in jagged streaks, illuminating the palace in bursts of blinding light. The thunder that followed was so loud it seemed to shake the very foundation of the palace.
The storm grew worse with every minute, the elements colliding in a battle of chaos. The temperature dropped dramatically, and sheets of ice began to form on the palace walls. The once lush gardens of the palace were now covered in a layer of frost, their vibrant colours dulled to a lifeless white.
In the throne room, the king stood by the window, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and dread. The storm was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. Its sheer power was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
"These are the signs," he murmured to himself, his voice trembling. "The signs of the prophecy."
He turned to his advisor, Lord Cedric, who stood nearby with a grim expression. "The child is coming, Cedric. In my reign. In my lifetime."
Cedric nodded solemnly. "It seems so, Your Majesty. But… the storm grows worse with every passing moment. If the prophecy is true, we must be prepared for the child's arrival."
The king's anticipation was palpable. Every few minutes, a messenger rushed into the throne room, bowing low before delivering their news.
"Your Majesty, Queen Ithania has delivered a son," the first messenger reported.
The king's heart leapt. "Is it the child of the prophecy?"
"No, Your Majesty," the messenger replied, lowering his head.
The king's face darkened with frustration. He began to pace the room, his robes swishing against the marble floor.
Another messenger entered, his expression tense. "Your Majesty, Queen Lyzella has delivered a daughter."
"Is it the child?"
"No, Your Majesty."
One by one, the reports came in. By the time the ninth woman had given birth, the storm had reached its peak. The winds howled like vengeful spirits, and the palace was plunged into darkness as the power was cut off.
The king stood frozen, his mind racing. How could the child not yet be born when all the women in the court had delivered?
Then it struck him like a bolt of lightning. Elyria.
"Where is Elyria?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed through the chamber.
The guards hesitated, their heads bowing in shame.
"Speak!" the king bellowed.
One guard stepped forward reluctantly, his voice shaking. "Your Majesty… Queen Adessia ordered her cast out this morning."
The king's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? You obeyed such a command without my consent?"
The guards dropped to their knees, trembling. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. We were only following orders."
The king's face contorted with fury, his voice low and dangerous. "Elyria is with child. My child. And you let her be thrown out into the wilderness?"
The storm outside seemed to respond to his anger, the wind howling louder and the thunder crashing more violently. The king stormed out of the throne room, his heart pounding with fear and rage. If Elyria truly carried the child of the prophecy, her absence might cost him everything.