Darkness.
Then, the cold hit. Bone-deep, lung seizing COLD that jolted Mhari awake.
She gasped, body slamming against...mud? Her cheek stung. Rain hammered down—not the acid rain of Arkeos, but clean, biting rain that tasted of earth and... something else. Magic. Wild untamed magic that tickled her skin.
Where...where was she?
Mhari pushed herself up, vision swimming. Gone were the shattered towers and screaming fires. In their place stood a forest of towering trees, their branches clawing at a bruised, stormy sky. The air thrummed with a primal energy she hadn't felt since...well, since before the fall of Arkeos.
Lithos.
The name tore a ragged sob from her throat. He was gone. Consumed. Sacrificed.
Useless.
The word echoed in her mind, a venomous whisper that threatened to drown her. She was Empress, the strongest mage in the empire. And yet, she couldn't save the one man who mattered. She should have protected him. Should have—
A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through her abdomen, cutting off the thought. Lith.
He was coming.
Mhari clenched her teeth, fighting the surge of panic. She was alone, injured, in a world she didn't understand. But she was a mother. She would survive. For him.
Another contraction slammed into her, doubling her over. She cried out, clutching at the muddy ground. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The rain intensified, plastering her hair to her face.
The energy here...it swatching.
"Lithos...," she whimpered, the name a broken please. "I'm so sorry."
A pair of strong arms suddenly lifted her—gentle but firm. Mhari gasped, fear spiking. She looked up into the worried face of a young man, no older than herself. His eyes were kind, his brow furrowed with concern. Two older faces hovered behind him—a wrinkled woman with a warm smile and a stern-looking man with calloused hands. Farmers.
"Easy now, miss," the young man said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We found you by the river. You're going into labor."
Labor. She had almost forgotten.
The woman spoke, her voice laced with urgency. "Rhei, get her to the house. Quickly!"
Rhei. The name barely registered as the young man—Rhei—carried her through the storm. The wooden house loomed ahead, a small, humble structure that promised warmth and shelter.
But as Mhari was carried, the forest seemed to react. With each sob, the wind picked up, swirling around them like a protective shroud. WHOOSH! With each contraction, the rain lashed down harder, then softer, as if the world itself was adjusting its breath for the Empress.
Useless.
The word echoed again, but this time, something sifted. The earth beneath her trembled, not with destruction, but with...power. A wild, untamed force that resonated with Lith, with her pain, with her loss.
Rhei hurried inside the small house, Mhari's cries echoing in the small space. "Mom, Father, please! Help her!"
The couple ushered Rhei out, their faces grim. The woman laid Mhari down on a makeshift bed of blankets, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Push, child," she urged, her eyes filled with a knowing compassion. "Push!"
Mhari cried out, the pain almost unbearable. She pushed, fueled by desperation, but grief, by a fierce, primal need to protect her child.
Outside, Rhei hesitated, torn between his concern and his parents' instructions. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, followed by an eerie silence. Then—a soft, gurgling cry.
Then, the rain stopped.
A sudden, absolute silence. The downpour ceased, leaving the forest in an unnatural stillness. The wind died down, as if holding its breath. Even the distant thunder seemed to FWOOMP—to fade away.
Rhei stared in disbelief. The drops hangin on the leaves remained suspended in mid-air. The branches of the trees stood motionless. It was as if the world itself had frozen in time.
Then, a soft, gurgling cry broke the silence.
Inside the house, a baby had been born.
The cry echoed, and with it, something shifted. The dead trees near the house seemed to sway, ever so slightly, as if sharing in the baby's joy.
Rhei's heart pounded in his chest. He had never seen anything like this. The woman he and his family had rescued... she was no ordinary traveler.
He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that their lives would never be the same.
Driven by sudden impulse, Rhei broke into a run. The healer. He needed to find the village healer. Now.
As he disappeared into the stillness, the baby wailed again, and the forest answered with a soft, protective hum.
——
And a day had passed.
Night came quietly again in the small cottage on the hill, wrapping everything in a soft blue haze. Crickets murmured beyond the window, and the distant rustle of crops echoed like something breathing in the darkness. Rhei's family had given her space, understanding etched in their weathered faces. They offered kindness, but Mhari knew she was a stranger here, a burden carried in by the storm.
Inside, Mhari sat on the edge of her bed, her long hair falling messly around her shoulders as she held her newborn son in her arms. She hadn't stopped shaking since Lith's arrival. Not from cold, but from the phantom weight of a sword no longer at her side.
Lith was tiny, warm, impossibly gentle. And he cried every night. Not the loud, hungry wail of an infant, but a soft, trembling sound—a desolate searching. He cried for the presence of a man he never met.
He misses his father, too. His king.
Mhari pressed Lith closer to her chest, letting him nurse. And when he latched onto her, she bit her trembling lip. Not from pain—but from the sudden, crushing wave of memory.
His little face looked so much like Lithos.
The same lashes. The same furrow of the brows when he pouted. The same fragile, stubborn innocence. It was a mirror image—a curse and a blessing rolled into one tiny person.
Her eyes burned. She tried to blink the tears away, but a hot drop slipped down her cheeks and fell onto Lith's forehead. The Baby paused nursing, stared up at her with curious gold eyes, and reached a tiny hand to her jaw.
It almost destroyed her.
"I miss him too..." she whispered, voice cracking. "And you don't even know him."
Lith whimpered as if answering her grief, and she finally let herself fold over him, shoulders shaking in the quiet. She rocked him gently until exhaustion pulled her down, and the little cottage became still again. Rhei's family remained silent in their own rooms, respective her privacy. She was grateful. And utterly alone.
And that was how her night continued—feeding him, crying softly where no one could hear, and reminding herself she had to smile the next morning.
Because Lith deserved warmth, not her wounds.
——
Months trickled by. Mhari tendend the fields, the rhythm of planting and harvesting a dull ache against her grief. The villagers of Eastfarmlands offered quiet kindness, their suspicion fading with each shared meal and weary smile. She was learning to call this place home, but the memories of Arkeos still haunted her dreams.
But this wasn't Arkeos.
One morning, Rhei mention a trading trip to the city. He spoke nobles, of Beastfolk merchants, of soaring towers carved from shimmering crystal.
Mhari's blood ran cold.
"Are humans... respected there?" She asked, forcing a casual tone.
Rhei hesitated, his kind face cloudiness over. "It's... complicated."
That was all she needed to hear.
That night, Lith cried. Not the hungry wail of an infant, but a soft, trembling sound, as if sensing the darkness encroaching on their fragile peace.
Mhari held him close, rocking gum gently. His tiny face, a perfect echo of Lithos, tugged at her heart. Her fingers traced the faint lines of his brows, the curve of his chin—all Lithos. All the more reason to fight.
"I'll protect you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "No matter what."
She would not let this world take him. She would not let him become a victim.
Eastfarmlands was safe, a haven of simple farmers and quiet days. But Mhari knew it wouldn't last. She felt it in the wind, in the worried glances of the villagers, in the way Rhei's hand lingered on his sword hilt whenever strangers passed.
This world, Aurellia, valued strength above all else. Strength of blood, of magic, of claw and fang. Humans, with their frail bodies and limited mana, were at the bottom of the food chain. Mhari knew how quickly people learned to rely on a single strong source, the ease with which they threw their burdens on another. Lithos had given his life for that reliance, and she refused to let history repeat itself.
That night, as Lith slept soundly, Mhari stared at the simple silver hoop on her left ear. She hadn't worn jewelry in years, not since she was empress. But in the weeks after arriving in Aurellia, as her strength surged back, she had been forced to act. Channeling her grief, she wove a spell, focusing all her power, all her skill to create a tool to suppress all of her power. She never wanted to use that power.
Mhari ran her fingers over the cool metal. It felt like a brand, a constant reminder of her fear. This was her cage.
Power was siren's call. It tempted, it corrupted, it destroyed. Arkeos died because she was the strongest, and everyone leaned too hard. She would not let history repeat itself.
She pushed a final, silent pulse of Zero-Point mana into the metal.
But now, Lith needed her. Not as a weapon, but as a mother.
So, Mhari made a decision. She would not us her power. She would remain hidden, a silent guardian in the shadows. She would find another way to protect her son.
For now, she would find another way to keep Lith Safe in this dangerous world. She would learn the ways of Aurellia, and she would pray that it was enough.
"I won't let it happened again," she whispered into the night.