7th Realm… Royal Palace…
The faint light of the seventh moon filtered through the grand windows of the royal chambers. The lavish silken curtains that hung lifelessly around the bed of Queen Soya.
The grandness of the Emperor’s castle seemed to fade in this room, as though the weight of its occupant’s suffering had drained all colors from its stone walls.
Soya lay motionless, her slender frame barely shifting beneath the heavy golden blanket draped over her. Her once radiant eyes, known to pierce through even the most stoic of warriors, now stared blankly at the embroidered patterns of her pillow. Her lips, once curved in a gentle yet commanding smile, were pale and still.
From the moment she had learned the truth—that Kent was the son of Madam Clark—a dark cloud of regret had wrapped around her heart, suffocating her with its relentless grip. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire
She had not spoken since that day. Servants entered only to leave without a word, carrying away untouched plates of food and watered-down tea. The only sound that broke the silence was the rhythmic breathing that barely betrayed her lingering existence.
Royal healers had come and gone, murmuring the same conclusions. “Her heart’s pain is the sickness that plagues her,” they whispered, their faces twisted with helplessness.
Alchemists brewed potions and charms, only to shake their heads when nothing stirred the Queen from her melancholic trance. But none could grasp the true root of her suffering.
Deep in her heart, the memories played endlessly like a haunting melody—the touch of Kent’s hands, the warmth of his breath, the sensation of forbidden desire. Guilt wrapped itself around her, coiling tighter each day.
Emperor Ryon stood at the foot of Soya’s bed, gazing down at her fragile form. His heart, hardened by years of ruling and war, softened at the sight of his once vibrant wife reduced to this ghostly figure.
He reached out, his gloved hand hovering inches above her shoulder but unable to touch her, as if some unseen barrier prevented him.
“Soya… is there anything you need? Anything you desire?” his voice broke the silence, laced with a vulnerability that few had ever witnessed from the Emperor of the Seventh Realm.
Soya did not respond. Her body shifted slightly, turning her back to him as if the very sound of his voice was unbearable. The thin strands of her silver hair fell gently over her shoulder, cascading like threads of moonlight against the pale silk sheets.
Ryon’s brow furrowed, but there was no anger, no frustration. Only sorrow. He had fought countless battles, but this was one war he did not know how to win.
Hours passed like this, the Emperor rooted in place, silently watching the woman he loved slip further away from him.
Ryon clenched his fist and left the room with a helpless look.
–
The grand doors of the throne room swung open with a hollow creek. Emperor Ryon stepped forward, his footsteps echoing across the vast chamber.
The throne sat beneath an elaborate crest of the Lionheart lineage, towering over the hall. He settled into it heavily, as if the weight of his kingdom lay upon his shoulders.
Moments later, the Palace Master approached, bowing deeply. Behind him stood two guards, their faces grim and stiff.
“Your Majesty,” the Palace Master began, his voice wavering slightly, “we have scoured every realm and corner for the teleportation gates.”
Ryon’s gaze sharpened. “And?”
“All gates remain intact, with no signs of tampering or malfunction. We have inspected each site, even the restricted zones within our borders. Everything seems… in order.”
The Emperor narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you stand before me with doubt written across your face?”
The Palace Master hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance with his subordinates. After a long pause, he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Your Majesty, we searched every place except one. There is one location our forces cannot enter—not without serious consequence.”
A cold chill filled the throne room.
“What place?” Ryon demanded, his voice like steel.
The Palace Master lowered his head. “The forbidden city of the Dragon Lord.”
A heavy silence fell. Even the guards stiffened at the mention of the name. Ryon’s eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on the throne’s armrests.
“The Dragon Lord’s city,” Ryon repeated, his voice echoing faintly. “Do you mean… No man Island?”
The Palace Master nodded gravely. “Yes, Your Majesty. The island is under the control of Kent.”
Ryon’s eyes flared with a mixture of realization and fury. “Kent…” he whispered to himself. His gaze drifted toward the massive map unfurled on the side of the room, his mind already formulating the next steps.
“What about the people inside? Not a single wizard or soldier appeared to confront you?” Ryon’s eyes narrowed further.
“None, Your Majesty. The island remained silent. Whatever power sustains that barrier, it yields to nothing. All our attacks failed miserably.”
A low murmur rippled through the line of generals and advisors standing at the edges of the hall. Whispers of arcane magic and forbidden spells passed between them like invisible currents.
Emperor Ryon rose from his throne, the marble steps groaning softly beneath his armored boots. The hall fell silent as he descended, his eyes fixed on the palace master with a piercing gaze. “If they believe they can lock me out of my own realm, they are gravely mistaken. Mobilize the army. We march soon.”
“Your Majesty, if I may,” one of the elder advisors spoke carefully. “No Man’s Island has long been forsaken by both the crown and the commonfolk. Perhaps—”
“Silence,” Ryon interrupted coldly. “That land belongs to this realm. I will not allow rogue factions to lay claim to it. Prepare the siege engines and assemble the Royal Wizards. I want that island under our control.”
The palace master bowed deeply, signaling to the commanders along the hall. “At once, Your Majesty.”
Emperor Ryon never thought there might be chance of Madam Clark present in the no man island. Otherwise, he could have called the entire 9 realms association here.
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