The recurrent fevers that plagued Luxana throughout the year—nearly twenty episodes in total—were not mere coincidence or common illness. They were, in fact, the physical manifestation of a far more sinister process: the systematic extraction of her flames. This arcane procedure, first attempted in the privacy of her chambers (as detailed in Chapter 83), had initially overwhelmed her system entirely. That inaugural extraction had driven her temperature to a life-threatening 45°C, plunging her into a state of profound unconsciousness.
This latest incident was but the most recent in a long series of such extractions. Over time, Luxana's body had begun to adapt to this unnatural drain on her vital energies. While the initial fever had rendered her completely insensate, subsequent episodes saw a gradual improvement in her ability to maintain some semblance of consciousness. Yet even this hard-won resilience could not fully shield her from the devastating effects of having her very essence siphoned away.
The fever that now gripped her was a testament to the ongoing nature of this extraction—a process that pushed her body to its limits, forcing it to continuously adapt to the loss of something fundamental to her being. Each extraction left her weakened, her legendary flames diminished, even as her capacity to endure such violations grudgingly increased.
This cruel cycle of extraction and adaptation spoke to a larger, more ominous design—one that viewed Luxana not as a person, but as a resource to be harvested, her power a commodity to be extracted and exploited, regardless of the toll it took on her body and spirit.
All of which, Cillian is to be blamed.
In the wake of the momentous peace treaty, a new era dawns for the human world. The kingdoms and empires that stood in support of the Azones and Alizahs have retreated to their respective lands, their mission accomplished. A wave of celebration sweeps across nations, as people rejoice in this hard-won achievement that promises a future of stability and cooperation.
Rudbeckia, having played her part in the conflict, has returned to Romania, where she now assumes the mantle of leadership within the Monis household. Meanwhile, Lucian has resumed his duties at the borders of Elmir, ever vigilant in safeguarding the realm. The royal family of Domino - Helios, Roxana, and Luxana - prepare for their journey home, carrying with them the weight of their recent experiences and the hope for a brighter future.
The Fortress of Ossa now serves as a temporary base for the Azones and Alizahs, under the capable command of Valtor. His strategic acumen and leadership during the war have earned him this crucial role in maintaining peace. As the dust settles, plans are already in motion for the reconstruction of Kior. Once the ladies of the various realms have safely returned home, they will coordinate the deployment of troops and resources to aid in rebuilding the devastated nation. This collaborative effort, involving the Alizahs, Azones, and supporting nations, marks a new chapter of unity and shared responsibility. In this new arrangement, Kior will fall under the direct governance of Domino, signaling a significant shift in the geopolitical landscape.
The carriage rumbled along the road, having covered most of its journey to the magic gate that would transport them to Domino.
In the carriage behind them, Myla, Mylo, Veles, and Ava rode in another carriage, with tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the events that had transpired and the uncertain future that lay ahead. The procession of carriages carrying their luggage trailed behind, a physical reminder of the life they were leaving behind and the challenges that awaited them in Domino.
Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension and lingering concern.
Luxana lay curled in one corner of the seat, her slumber uneasy but deep. Her complexion had improved significantly since the previous night's fever, though a faint flush still colored her cheeks. Across from her, Helios and Roxana sat in silence. Roxana's gaze flitted between her husband and daughter, worry etched in the lines of her face.
Helios perched on the edge of his seat, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his fist as he stared out the window. The passing landscape blurred into a tapestry of greens and browns, but it was his own reflection that held his attention. As he watched, a chilling transformation overtook his mirrored image. Darkness seeped across his features, leaving only a ghastly grin of sharp, white teeth visible.
A voice, cold and insidious, slithered through his mind. "Come now, Helios. How much longer will you allow that child to draw breath?" The words belonged to Xerxes, a presence that had long haunted the edges of Helios's consciousness.
Helios sighed heavily, the weight of unspoken burdens pressing down upon him. He turned away from the window, his gaze falling upon Luxana's sleeping form. The sight of his daughter, vulnerable in her slumber, stirred a complex mix of emotions within him.
"Roxana," Helios called softly, turning to face his wife. The warm sunlight filtering through the carriage window illuminated his sharp features, casting a deceptive glow of serenity over his troubled countenance.
Roxana met his gaze, her eyes searching his face for answers to unspoken questions.
"I have no intention of reclaiming the throne," Helios stated, his voice low and resolute. "My plan is to pass it to Luxana. I need your help to ensure she remains in Domino until her final breath."
"Reclaim?" Roxana echoed, confusion evident in her tone. "What do you m-"
Helios cut her off, his words clipped and precise. "It seems you were kept in the dark. Luxana ascended to the throne of her own volition, and-"
Roxana's eyes widened in shock, but she remained silent, sensing there was more to come.
"And," Helios continued, his jaw tightening, "she's not merely acquainted with that Valentine scoundrel. She's... married to him."
The words hung in the air like a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. Roxana froze, her body becoming as still as a statue, her expression a mask of disbelief so profound it defied description. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of revelations that would forever alter the course of their lives.
Roxana's thought:
WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE UNIVERSE-BENDING, MIND-MELTING, SANITY-DEMOLISHING MADNESS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!
LUXANA. MY SWEET, DISASTER-PRONE, TOAST-BURNING BABY. IS. QUEEN.
hysterical laughter that sounds like a dying seagull
And not just QUEEN - OH NO. She's married a VALENTINE. A VALENTINE?! We've spent GENERATIONS plotting their total and complete annihilation, and she goes and MARRIES ONE?! It's like finding out your carefully curated plan to destroy an ant colony just got torpedoed because the ant decided to marry the SHOE that was supposed to CRUSH IT.
The same Luxana who once tried to negotiate a peace treaty between two warring KITCHEN UTENSILS is now making KINGDOM-LEVEL DECISIONS?! The girl who couldn't pick between scrambled or fried eggs is now RULING AN ENTIRE REALM?!
starts wheezing
Helios is standing there like he's announcing the WEATHER. "Oh, by the way, your daughter married our mortal enemy and became queen. NEAT." NEAT?! NEAT?!?!
I've been in OSSA - which might as well be the MOON - and while I'm gone, my child goes full KINGDOM SPEEDRUN. SPEEDRUN! From "can't decide breakfast" to "married to enemy, ruling kingdom" in what - A HEARTBEAT?!
falls off imaginary chair laughing
I should be FURIOUS. I should be PLOTTING REVENGE. But I'm too busy trying to comprehend how my sweet, naive, ABSOLUTE CHAOTIC DISASTER OF A DAUGHTER has basically played KINGDOM BINGO and WON EVERY SINGLE IMPOSSIBLE SQUARE.
MARRIED. TO. A. VALENTINE.
ugly sobbing mixed with uncontrollable laughter
I don't need a drink. I need an ENTIRE DISTILLERY. NO - I NEED THE ENTIRE ALCOHOL PRODUCTION OF EVERY KINGDOM IN EXISTENCE.
BRUHHHHH. WHAT. IS. HAPPENING.
Helios' thought:
OH. MY. GODDDDD. DID I JUST TELL ROXANA THAT?
Luxana just MARRIED a VALENTINE?! OKAY THAT'S ONE THING. Still! More shocking than finding out your pet hamster is secretly running an underground crime syndicate!
The SAME Luxana who once tried to make diplomatic negotiations sound like a rowdy game of verbal Twister?! The girl who managed to set KITCHEN CURTAINS ON FIRE while attempting to make TOAST?! And NOW she's QUEEN?!
QUEEN. LUXANA.
internal screaming intensifies
I'm supposed to be the strategic mastermind, the cool cucumber of our family, and here I am looking like I've just been hit by a bureaucratic truck driven by pure, unfiltered CHAOS. Roxana's face right now? It's a MASTERPIECE of human emotion - 50% shock, 30% murderous intent, 20% "I'm gonna need a REALLY strong drink."
Our centuries-old family strategy? BURNED. OBLITERATED. YEETED INTO OBLIVION. By ONE. IMPULSIVE. MARRIAGE.
I bet our ancestors are doing SOMERSAULTS in their graves right now. Probably high-fiving each other and going, "DID YOU SEE WHAT SHE JUST DID?!"
The Valentine family - OUR MORTAL ENEMIES - are now LITERALLY FAMILY. It's like finding out your archnemesis is now your son-in-law and brought POTATO SALAD to the family reunion.
NO. WHAT IS THAT MOTHER FUCKING VALENTINE EVEN DOING? SHOULDN'T HE BE HERE AT THE VERY LEAST?
AND DOES HIS FAMILY EVEN KNOW? LIKE WHICH PATHETIC SHIT MARRIES THEIR ENEMIE'S DAUGHTER? AND WHERE IS THIS MOTHER FUCKER? DID HE EVEN TAKE BLESSING OR NOT?
Deep breath, Helios? DEEP BREATH?! I'm way past deep breaths. I'm in HYPERVENTILATION TERRITORY.
I have to explain this to ROXANA. ROXANA. The woman who makes tactical nuclear strikes look like a mild disagreement.
nervous laughter that sounds suspiciously like a broken tea kettle
SEND. HELP.
Xerxes:
Holy motherfucking sht. Are you KIDDING ME right now?!
I've spent YEARS — years so precise you could set a goddamn atomic clock to my revenge planning — and what happens? RORO COMES ALONG AND GOES FULL NUCLEAR OPTION. She doesn't just destroy my plans, she obliterates them like a toddler smashing a sandcastle. An entire ARMY? Gone. The Artifact of Lirania? Poof - treated like a dollar store Christmas ornament.
And HELIOS? That manipulative son of a b*tch is doing EXACTLY what was done to me! Trying to push some poor girl into the SAME TRAUMATIC HELLSCAPE I've been desperately trying to prevent. ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!
Listen to this cosmic joke: I'm over here trying to "protect" her by potentially KILLING her, Helios is playing 4D chess with her fate, and Roro's probably gonna swoop in like some deranged guardian angel and save her ass. BRUH. The irony is so thick you could use it as concrete.
I've seen this clusterfuck of a story. I know EXACTLY how it ends. And I will NOT - I repeat, WILL NOT - let another generation get Ground Zero'd by these power-hungry psychopaths' generational BS.
What in the actual FUCK am I supposed to do now? My ENTIRE existence has been about breaking this curse, and now the universe is sitting back, drinking a cosmic beer, and LAUGHING ITS ASS OFF AT ME.
Revenge. Protection. Manipulation. Everyone's got a goddamn plan. And me? I'm stuck in the middle of this trainwreck, watching it about to go full Chernobyl.
BRUHHH. Sometimes I wonder why I don't just say "fck it" and become a goat herder in some random mountain village.
Suddenly, the voice of the carriage driver broke the silence. "Your Majesties, we are approaching the gate. Please remain seated and stay steady," he announced respectfully.
Moments later, a radiant light enveloped the front of the carriage before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The scenery beyond the windows shifted dramatically, signaling their passage through the magic gate.
*NEIGHHH*
The horses whinnied sharply as the driver pulled them back, bringing the carriage to an abrupt halt. The sudden stop jolted its occupants slightly, drawing Helios's attention.
Why has the carriage stopped? Helios wondered, his brow furrowing as he glanced out the window.
The driver's voice came again, this time tinged with unease. "Your Majesty," he called, his tone careful but firm. "We appear to have entered the wrong gate. This road does not lead to Domino."
Helios jerked upright, his voice sharp with concern. "WHAT?" He swiftly exited the carriage, with Roxana following close behind.
As they approached the driver, they found him intently studying the road, clearly attempting to discern their location.
Helios addressed the driver, his tone authoritative yet tinged with urgency. "Elaborate yourself."
The driver responded, his eyes still fixed on the unfamiliar surroundings. "Your Majesty, it appears the gate was recently under maintenance. The work seems to have been incomplete."
"Maintenance?" Roxana echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. She continued, her voice carrying the weight of her royal knowledge, "The maintenance of magic gates occurs only at specific times of the year, and always under the supervision of high-ranking magicians from the magic tower, acting on direct orders from the monarch."
Before Roxana could elaborate further, Helios interjected, his tone grave. "I entrusted the kingdom's management to Kyle in my absence. He would not have authorized such a procedure without my explicit permission."
"Then, are you implying someone without the jurisdiction of the Monarch did this all on their own?" Roxana exclaimed.
"Seems like it," he replied, stepping back to check if the other carriages had entered along with them.
But they hadn't. Helios' brow furrowed.
"Someone definitely has grudges against us," Roxana said, her gaze narrowing as she looked at the road behind them.
A sudden chill ran down the carriage driver's spine. "We-we-we" he stammered. "We-we've entered.......a lawless territory," he managed to say, trembling violently. "The-the-these la-lands al-always have been run-run-run by- by barbarian bandits."
"Run. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" he shouted, jumping out of his driver's seat and dashing into the woods.
"Eh?" Helios uttered, watching him disappear into the forest on the side.
Before either of the two could process what was happening,
*KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK*
The sylvan serenity of the ancient woodland was rent asunder in a heartbeat. A primal ululation, savage and guttural, reverberated through the verdant canopy as a horde of hirsute marauders erupted from the verdant foliage. Their crude implements of destruction, honed to lethal perfection, glinted ominously in the dappled luminescence filtering through the arboreal ceiling. A maelstrom of detritus—earthen particulates and chlorophyll-rich foliage—was cast aloft in the wake of their frenzied advance, their visages contorted into rictuses of unbridled avarice and malevolence. The pristine, crisp zephyrs of the forest primeval were now tainted with the acrid bouquet of perspiration and the metallic tang of freshly spilled vitae.
To be Continued...