Lara felt as though she was drowning—not in water, but in a vast chasm of endless darkness that swallowed sound, light, and thought alike. The void pressed in from every side, heavy and suffocating, until even the idea of breath felt foreign.
Then, suddenly, she found her footing.
Relief lasted only a heartbeat. The ground lurched and tilted beneath her, and though she could see nothing, she knew with terrifying certainty—that her world had been turned upside down. Balance became meaningless. Direction ceased to exist.
Her mind unraveled into chaos.
Fragments of memory burst forth without warning, crashing over her in relentless waves.
A lifetime unfolded in an instant, played at a merciless speed, each moment bleeding into the next.
She saw it again—that day in the carriage full of children and teenagers, the sharp scent of fear, the iron grip of human traffickers stealing their freedom.
Then their escape and the eventful meeting with the white-haired master.
Jethru—stern, distant, yet quietly kind and loving. A presence as immovable as stone, whose guidance bent the arc of her fate without her ever realizing it. Under him, she learned strength, endurance and purpose.
Another memory surged forward.
A half-dead soldier, bloodied and broken, dragged back from the edge of death by her own hands. She had not known then that saving him would bind her soul to his forever.
Ah… that soldier.
Alaric.
The man who became the first emperor of Azurverda. The man she loved. The man she married. The man whom she raised six children and grew old as years slipped gently past.
She felt again their laughter echoing through sunlit halls, the hardships weathered together, the quiet warmth of shared nights and unspoken understanding.
And then for a fleeting moment, among the fragments of memories, there was Sandoz with his black innocent eyes. The duke's heir, she met him pretending to be a girl, a frightened one, but whose wit made him cling to Lara and thus saved his life. The serious boy who grew into a formidable martial artist under Jethru's guidance before the grand master of the Zen Warriors Academy passed away at the age of 100, paving the way for his grandson Ivan, who became the undisputed legend in the world of martial arts.
The same Sandoz who rose to become a valiant general under Percival's command.
Who would have thought that stubborn brat would one day risk his life again and again to protect Althea?
Yes, he did. And in doing so, he earned the princess's love—so completely that she vowed to marry no one else but him.
Alaric had resisted at first, wary of the years between them, until the day Sandoz nearly died.
An obsessed prince from a kingdom beyond the western seas had abducted the imperial princess, holding her captive aboard a merchant ship off the shores of Westalis. Sandoz, alongside Aldrich, Ivan, and Logan, fought through blood and fire to bring her home.
When Althea turned eighteen, her birthday wish was only to marry Sandoz. Alaric, who remembered that Lara had saved him the first time they met, was quite ashamed when he realized that, compared with him, Sandoz had protected Althea far too many times. But what can he do? Lara was very capable that she did not need him to protect her.
So, a month after Althea's coming of age, she and Sandoz were wed in a celebration so grand it etched itself into the history of Azurverda.
While Alaric was known to be the founding emperor of Azurverda, Aldrich grew up to be a wise ruler. Under his reign, Azurverda prospered, and the whole empire experienced its golden age.
And then—
Lara watched helplessly as her parents died. Then her brothers, one by one left her, until only Alaric remained. His passing was gentle, surrounded by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who carried his legacy forward. When he finally slipped away, the world hollowed out around her, leaving a silence too vast to endure.
She could not bear it.
So at the age of ninety, she followed him, that's what she thought.
Light erupted without warning—brilliant, blinding—tearing through the darkness like a blade. She raised her hand in instinctive defense as the radiance pierced her vision. The instant it touched her, an overwhelming force seized her body, ripping the breath from her lungs as though she were being dragged through the eye of a raging storm.
When consciousness returned, it did so without mercy. A crushing weight bore down on her chest, stealing the air from her lungs before she even realized she needed it. Each breath came shallow and strained, as though something unseen was shaking her, daring her to move, daring her to live.
She wanted to open her eyes, but her eyelids refused to obey. They lay sealed shut, unbearably heavy, as if forged from lead and pressed into place.
Once more, she willed them to open, to let in light—any light—but her body remained a stranger to her commands. Not even her fingers twitched. No limbs stirred. She seemed to exist only as awareness trapped inside unmoving flesh.
Panic should have come.
But it didn't.
Instead, there was only confusion.
She reached inward, grasping for something familiar—a name, a place, a fragment of self—but her mind offered nothing in return. It was vast and empty, like a blank page untouched by ink. No memories. No past. No sense of before or after.
She did not know where she was.
She did not know who she was.
And now it terrified her.
There was only the weight on her chest, then something warm and moist pressed on her sealed eyes, and her dark, long eyelashes fluttered.
Then voices drifted to her through the haze—muffled, distant, yet painfully sharp.
"I—I'm sorry, Sir. I only stepped away to use the restroom. When I returned, she was gone. I searched the corridors, the side garden—everywhere—but I couldn't find her…"
Panic made the woman's voice tremble.
On the bed, a thin hand twitched. Eyelashes fluttered weakly.
Then—
Her eyes opened.
.....
A/N: Jan 1, 2026.
Hello everyone. Happy New Year! It is another year and so I started on a new book. This is Book 2 of the General's Daughter trilogy.
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