The idea of termination lingered in the air, but it was swiftly dismissed, banished from consideration like a fading specter. There was something deeper within Iris—an intrinsic resistance to the mere thought of terminating a life. She knew it wasn’t solely rooted in maternal instinct. How could it be when she had no firsthand knowledge of what it truly meant to be a mother? Memories eluded her, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
Motherhood was often regarded as an instinct, an innate knowing that defied explanation. Yet Iris questioned whether instincts were shaped solely through inherent qualities or if they bore the imprints of learned experiences as well. She couldn’t bring herself to choose abortion, for humans were relentless in their pursuit of life. The circumstances that led her to be cast out of Matop, the unforeseen intertwining of her fate with the Queen’s body and her relationship with Sidrain, and above all, the unexpected creation of another life within her—all of these unknowns painted the vast canvas of existence. How could she dare confine the infinite possibilities of the future?
Family, in the conventional sense, seemed unnecessary to Iris. She had forged her own perfect family, a collective entity that resided within one person. Her father, her mentor, her friends—each facet of her support system converged into a singular entity, and she was never truly alone. Loneliness had plagued her in the past, but she understood the reasoning behind her mentor’s seemingly isolating actions.
The delicate balance within Iris’s mind began to tip. She cradled her burgeoning belly with tenderness and determination.
“I refuse to flee,” she murmured resolutely. “If you are meant to be here, if our meeting is a product of destiny, then I shall rise and shield you from harm. We shall both endure, unyielding.”
As the dawn broke, Iris bit her lip until it drew blood, an act of both pain and defiance. She knelt down, her tears mingling with the uncertainties that swirled within her. The tumult of emotions—terrifying yet exhilarating—engulfed her, and in the midst of it all, she closed her eyes and awaited the passing of the tempest. She steeled herself for the forthcoming battle, a war against the dictates of fate.
Without a doubt, she would emerge victorious, claiming not only the child but also the essence of her magic. Iris’s fist clenched, the veins on the back of her hand pulsating with an otherworldly hue of blue.
****
Iris’s laughter resonated through the air, though in Elaine’s eyes, it carried a sense of overwhelmed fragility. It was only natural for her to be swept up in a whirlwind of fear and confusion. Yet, unknown to Elaine was the extent of Iris’s contemplation, for this child would eventually ascend to become the sole prince or princess of their kingdom. Some would rejoice at this revelation, while others would find themselves at odds with the inevitable.
But Iris possessed unwavering tenacity. Once her mind was set, there was no retreat. Elaine sighed, casting a fleeting glance at her determined protégé.
“We shall find a way to navigate this path, my dear. I have faith that we can overcome any obstacle,” he assured her, attempting to alleviate the burden she carried.
“Yes, Master,” Iris replied, her smile radiant. In her heart, though, she bore the weight of thoughts that Elaine could not fathom. Perhaps he, too, bore a burden heavier than anyone realized, for what was the significance of being a Dragon Killer if his own mental fortitude remained so fragile?
Iris’s smile radiated with an enigmatic grace, concealing the internal struggles that plagued her. Deep within, she mused not only on her own unsettled state of being but also on the turbulent existence of the man who walked alongside her. Elaine, her master and mentor, seemed to possess a fragility of spirit that belied his reputation as a fearsome Dragon Killer. What purpose did his prowess serve when his own mental fortitude teetered on the edge of fragility? Unbeknownst to him, Iris mentally marked yet another tally against her disliked son-in-law, a multitude of checkmarks scattered across her thoughts, too numerous to be readily perceived.
As they departed from the grandeur of the palace, Elaine appeared disheartened, a pitiful figure in the face of the challenges that lay ahead. Iris could not help but be plagued by conflicting emotions.
“I didn’t raise you to bear this burden, Iris,” Elaine whispered to himself, his voice tinged with remorse. “Why must you tread this thorny path of magical distortion when the path of flowers beckons you? Oh, why? Why?”
In the depths of his introspection, Elaine questioned his own culpability. Was it his actions that led to Iris’s banishment from Matop? Did he bear responsibility for the twists and turns of fate that had brought her to his side? Frustration coursed through him, fueled by anger towards himself, the people of Matop, the king, destiny itself, and even Ruth. And now, in the midst of his turmoil, adversaries emerged, their aggression threatening to disrupt the already wretched day.
“Open the door,” Elaine commanded, his words laced with fiery determination. He dismissed any consideration for the circumstances that engulfed them.
Elaine Rosi
The enigmatic figure renowned for his mastery of magical manipulation would remain a legend, his brilliance destined to elude the world for the next century. The grueling process he undertook, caught in the limbo between two realms, was a relentless march through the realms of agony, evoking tears even from the perspective of those unfortunate souls who dared to assail him.
In a display of power that surpassed the cruelty of a cat toying with its prey, Elaine whisked everyone away through the veil of teleportation, transporting them to the hallowed training grounds of Matop. There, amidst the very crucible where skills were honed and warriors were forged, he unleashed his wrath upon the assailants. Flames danced and consumed, water submerged and suffocated, while hallucinations entwined the senses and gravity released its hold, plunging the invaders into a maddening free-fall from the skies above.
Like shivering penguins huddled together, the disciples trembled in fear, their prayers a desperate plea for respite from the harrowing ordeal. The name “Lady Lusna” echoed through their lips, a fervent call to rouse her from the depths of her slumber and seek solace in her presence. But Lady Lusna, it seemed, remained unresponsive to their distress. Knock after knock, their entreaties grew more desperate.
“Please wake up for a moment. Your devotee is going mad. Lady Lusna?”
Finally, as the torment reached its climax, a collective sigh of relief escaped the disciples’ lips. The weight of uncertainty lifted as Elaine, his foot and chin pressing upon the neck of the last assailant, demanded the identity of their employer. It was a long-awaited conclusion, an end to the harrowing chapter that had held them captive.
“It’s finally over,” he uttered, the words tinged with exhaustion and lingering frustration.
A yearning to return home permeated the air, a longing to escape the clutches of the day’s turmoil. “Oh, now I can go home,” Elaine yearned, a weariness clinging to his every word. The desire to find solace in the comfort of familiar surroundings burned within him, urging him to hasten his departure.
Yet, just as the moment arrived for them to retreat to the sanctuary of their chambers, one of the disciples choked on her words. The revelation that followed pierced through the weariness, stirring confusion within Elaine’s mind.
“It is, Duchess,” she declared, her voice fraught with a mixture of surprise and exasperation.
Elaine tilted his head in disbelief. How had he been so oblivious to the duke’s union? Had his own concerns clouded his perception to such an extent? “When did Duke Gennes get married?” he mused aloud, his thoughts lost in a whirlwind of introspection. He questioned his own intrusiveness, pondering the depths of his own knowledge.
“Which Duchess?” he pressed, seeking clarification amid the jumbled chaos. “Gennes! The duchess, for heaven’s sake!” came the frustrated response. Elaine’s impatience boiled over, finding release in a swift kick. “Where are you messing around?” he reprimanded, his voice laced with irritation.
As the last assailant succumbed to unconsciousness, the echoes of the battle faded into silence. The hard day had come to a bitter end, leaving behind a trail of exhaustion and unanswered questions.
The idea of termination lingered in the air, but it was swiftly dismissed, banished from consideration like a fading specter. There was something deeper within Iris—an intrinsic resistance to the mere thought of terminating a life. She knew it wasn’t solely rooted in maternal instinct. How could it be when she had no firsthand knowledge of what it truly meant to be a mother? Memories eluded her, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
Motherhood was often regarded as an instinct, an innate knowing that defied explanation. Yet Iris questioned whether instincts were shaped solely through inherent qualities or if they bore the imprints of learned experiences as well. She couldn’t bring herself to choose abortion, for humans were relentless in their pursuit of life. The circumstances that led her to be cast out of Matop, the unforeseen intertwining of her fate with the Queen’s body and her relationship with Sidrain, and above all, the unexpected creation of another life within her—all of these unknowns painted the vast canvas of existence. How could she dare confine the infinite possibilities of the future?
Family, in the conventional sense, seemed unnecessary to Iris. She had forged her own perfect family, a collective entity that resided within one person. Her father, her mentor, her friends—each facet of her support system converged into a singular entity, and she was never truly alone. Loneliness had plagued her in the past, but she understood the reasoning behind her mentor’s seemingly isolating actions.
The delicate balance within Iris’s mind began to tip. She cradled her burgeoning belly with tenderness and determination.
“I refuse to flee,” she murmured resolutely. “If you are meant to be here, if our meeting is a product of destiny, then I shall rise and shield you from harm. We shall both endure, unyielding.”
As the dawn broke, Iris bit her lip until it drew blood, an act of both pain and defiance. She knelt down, her tears mingling with the uncertainties that swirled within her. The tumult of emotions—terrifying yet exhilarating—engulfed her, and in the midst of it all, she closed her eyes and awaited the passing of the tempest. She steeled herself for the forthcoming battle, a war against the dictates of fate.
Without a doubt, she would emerge victorious, claiming not only the child but also the essence of her magic. Iris’s fist clenched, the veins on the back of her hand pulsating with an otherworldly hue of blue.
****
Iris’s laughter resonated through the air, though in Elaine’s eyes, it carried a sense of overwhelmed fragility. It was only natural for her to be swept up in a whirlwind of fear and confusion. Yet, unknown to Elaine was the extent of Iris’s contemplation, for this child would eventually ascend to become the sole prince or princess of their kingdom. Some would rejoice at this revelation, while others would find themselves at odds with the inevitable.
But Iris possessed unwavering tenacity. Once her mind was set, there was no retreat. Elaine sighed, casting a fleeting glance at her determined protégé.
“We shall find a way to navigate this path, my dear. I have faith that we can overcome any obstacle,” he assured her, attempting to alleviate the burden she carried.
“Yes, Master,” Iris replied, her smile radiant. In her heart, though, she bore the weight of thoughts that Elaine could not fathom. Perhaps he, too, bore a burden heavier than anyone realized, for what was the significance of being a Dragon Killer if his own mental fortitude remained so fragile?
Iris’s smile radiated with an enigmatic grace, concealing the internal struggles that plagued her. Deep within, she mused not only on her own unsettled state of being but also on the turbulent existence of the man who walked alongside her. Elaine, her master and mentor, seemed to possess a fragility of spirit that belied his reputation as a fearsome Dragon Killer. What purpose did his prowess serve when his own mental fortitude teetered on the edge of fragility? Unbeknownst to him, Iris mentally marked yet another tally against her disliked son-in-law, a multitude of checkmarks scattered across her thoughts, too numerous to be readily perceived.
As they departed from the grandeur of the palace, Elaine appeared disheartened, a pitiful figure in the face of the challenges that lay ahead. Iris could not help but be plagued by conflicting emotions.
“I didn’t raise you to bear this burden, Iris,” Elaine whispered to himself, his voice tinged with remorse. “Why must you tread this thorny path of magical distortion when the path of flowers beckons you? Oh, why? Why?”
In the depths of his introspection, Elaine questioned his own culpability. Was it his actions that led to Iris’s banishment from Matop? Did he bear responsibility for the twists and turns of fate that had brought her to his side? Frustration coursed through him, fueled by anger towards himself, the people of Matop, the king, destiny itself, and even Ruth. And now, in the midst of his turmoil, adversaries emerged, their aggression threatening to disrupt the already wretched day.
“Open the door,” Elaine commanded, his words laced with fiery determination. He dismissed any consideration for the circumstances that engulfed them.
Elaine Rosi
The enigmatic figure renowned for his mastery of magical manipulation would remain a legend, his brilliance destined to elude the world for the next century. The grueling process he undertook, caught in the limbo between two realms, was a relentless march through the realms of agony, evoking tears even from the perspective of those unfortunate souls who dared to assail him.
In a display of power that surpassed the cruelty of a cat toying with its prey, Elaine whisked everyone away through the veil of teleportation, transporting them to the hallowed training grounds of Matop. There, amidst the very crucible where skills were honed and warriors were forged, he unleashed his wrath upon the assailants. Flames danced and consumed, water submerged and suffocated, while hallucinations entwined the senses and gravity released its hold, plunging the invaders into a maddening free-fall from the skies above.
Like shivering penguins huddled together, the disciples trembled in fear, their prayers a desperate plea for respite from the harrowing ordeal. The name “Lady Lusna” echoed through their lips, a fervent call to rouse her from the depths of her slumber and seek solace in her presence. But Lady Lusna, it seemed, remained unresponsive to their distress. Knock after knock, their entreaties grew more desperate.
“Please wake up for a moment. Your devotee is going mad. Lady Lusna?”
Finally, as the torment reached its climax, a collective sigh of relief escaped the disciples’ lips. The weight of uncertainty lifted as Elaine, his foot and chin pressing upon the neck of the last assailant, demanded the identity of their employer. It was a long-awaited conclusion, an end to the harrowing chapter that had held them captive.
“It’s finally over,” he uttered, the words tinged with exhaustion and lingering frustration.
A yearning to return home permeated the air, a longing to escape the clutches of the day’s turmoil. “Oh, now I can go home,” Elaine yearned, a weariness clinging to his every word. The desire to find solace in the comfort of familiar surroundings burned within him, urging him to hasten his departure.
Yet, just as the moment arrived for them to retreat to the sanctuary of their chambers, one of the disciples choked on her words. The revelation that followed pierced through the weariness, stirring confusion within Elaine’s mind.
“It is, Duchess,” she declared, her voice fraught with a mixture of surprise and exasperation.
Elaine tilted his head in disbelief. How had he been so oblivious to the duke’s union? Had his own concerns clouded his perception to such an extent? “When did Duke Gennes get married?” he mused aloud, his thoughts lost in a whirlwind of introspection. He questioned his own intrusiveness, pondering the depths of his own knowledge.
“Which Duchess?” he pressed, seeking clarification amid the jumbled chaos. “Gennes! The duchess, for heaven’s sake!” came the frustrated response. Elaine’s impatience boiled over, finding release in a swift kick. “Where are you messing around?” he reprimanded, his voice laced with irritation.
As the last assailant succumbed to unconsciousness, the echoes of the battle faded into silence. The hard day had come to a bitter end, leaving behind a trail of exhaustion and unanswered questions.
