CHAPTER 83: HOPE OF HER CHILD

[: 3rd POV :]

Melira’s hands trembled as she clutched the necklace, her knuckles white, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Her normally icy composure had cracked, replaced with a raw, desperate need for confirmation.

Her piercing gaze turned to Caelira, her voice barely above a whisper, strained with hope and disbelief.

"Caelira... tell me... tell me... what kind of eyes does he have? His hair... what colour is it?"

Her words shook as if the weight of twelve lost years pressed down on her chest.

Caelira’s own heart clenched at the sight of the Empress—usually unflinching, untouchable—reduced to a trembling mother.

She lowered her gaze briefly before meeting Melira’s eyes, her voice steady but soft, carrying the weight of the truth.

"He has... violet eyes... just like yours... and silvery-white hair. The same as when he was an infant."

Melira’s breath caught in her throat.

Her hands shook violently as tears blurred her vision.

She barely registered the room around her; all that existed was the fragile hope that had just begun to bloom amidst her despair.

Thrain, standing quietly beside her, spoke with a heavy tone, his voice calm but carrying a reverent certainty.

"From the very beginning of Diana’s rule, one of their family’s trademarks—through generations—has been their violet eyes and silvery-white hair’’

’’It is unmistakable, a lineage mark of the Valenhardt bloodline."

Melira’s lips trembled as her tears spilt freely.

Her entire body felt as if it were both burning with rage and melting with relief at the same time.

She gazed at the leader, then back at the necklace, her voice a trembling whisper that carried the weight of a mother’s unspoken promise.

"Then... then it is him... my son... Daniel..."

Caelira’s eyes softened slightly as she continued, her voice calm yet tinged with reverence and sorrow.

"Now it made sense that when Daniel awakened his powers...that day, the aura he emitted... it reminded me of you, Melira. Of your strength, your presence’’

’’I felt something vast... like the heartbeat of a dragon itself. Even among the chaos, I knew it was no ordinary power."

Melira’s lips parted slightly, her violet eyes narrowing as the realisation clawed its way through her mind.

Her pulse quickened, and the air around her seemed to thrum with suppressed fury.

"That day...?"

"Isn’t that the day... I felt the presence of my son...?" Melira’s voice cut through the tension, trembling slightly.

Sylthara’s frown deepened, and her sharp eyes, normally so composed, darkened with dawning understanding.

"Now... it all makes sense."

Melira pivoted sharply toward her, the cold steel in her voice slicing through the murmurs of the room.

"Explain yourself!" she demanded, her tone both furious and desperate, her body trembling with a storm barely contained.

Sylthara’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

"It’s no wonder I felt your aura back then. I thought it was you raging, Melira... because it was so familiar. You must know... I am a dragon’’

’’I can sense the nature of an aura, its lineage, its strength’’

’’The presence I felt that day, I thought it was yours, but no, it was his, unmistakably. It belonged to your child."

A silence fell over the chamber, the weight of her words pressing down like a living thing.

Melira’s chest rose and fell rapidly as her mind raced, connecting the fragments of that day, the disappearance, the enslaving of her child, and now the faint glimmer of hope that he was alive.

Her hands clenched into fists, trembling, yet her aura radiated icy, unbroken control.

Her rage was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it intertwined with the faintest whisper of hope.

Caelira stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm.

"That’s why I knew... the moment Daniel’s power awakened, it resonated with me’’

’’It carried the same strength, the same spirit that I’ve known in you, Melira. He is... your son. And he has survived all these years."

Melira’s eyes darkened further, but for a fraction of a second, the cold void in her gaze flickered with something almost human—a fragile, trembling relief, buried beneath layers of fury and sorrow.

She whispered, almost to herself, "My... Daniel..."

The chamber held its breath, the rulers and nobles frozen, aware that they were witnessing the precise moment a mother’s fury and hope collided—an unstoppable force tempered only by the realisation that her son still lived.

Melira’s chest heaved violently, her breath ragged, as the reality settled in.

Daniel... her son... her lost child... was out there, and the necklace confirmed it.

But the fury that had been simmering for twelve years erupted like a volcano.

Her aura flared with blinding intensity, a suffocating wave of raw power that warped the very air around her.

The ground beneath the leader trembled; the walls groaned as if the room itself feared her wrath.

"Do you hear me, you filth?" she hissed, her voice like the cracking of ice under immense weight.

"Do you dare enslave my child? After everything... DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?"

The trembling leader collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat, his voice choked into a rasp.

"P-Please... forgive me... I... I didn’t... I—"

Maiya’s fingers itched toward her weapon, her palms bloodied from clenching so tightly, her eyes ablaze with murderous intent.

Every fibre of her being screamed to annihilate him where he knelt.

The noble families around them shrank back in terror, some covering their faces, others whispering frantic prayers.

The rulers, even those accustomed to cataclysmic displays of power, stiffened, sensing the raw, unrestrained fury emanating from the Empress.

But before Melira could release her wrath fully—before the first wave of her destructive power could engulf him—Caelira stepped forward, her voice steady but edged with urgency.

"Melira... stop!" Caelira’s words cut through the charged air like a lifeline.

"Don’t kill him yet... not now!"

Melira froze mid-step, her eyes burning like violet flames, her lips trembling as the storm inside her raged against the command.

She could feel every inch of her body screaming for retribution, yet Caelira’s words pierced through the bloodlust, planting a fragile seed of reason.

"You... don’t understand!"

Melira growled, her voice low, quivering with a mixture of fury and despair.

"Do you have any idea what he did to my son? My Daniel? My child!"

"Yes, I know," Caelira said, her gaze unwavering as she stepped closer.

’’I feel the same way as you do, even I want to kill him, but he’s the only clue"

"And that is why you cannot waste your strength on him. You have your son to find. That’s what matters most. If you kill him now, all of this—the clues, the evidence—goes to waste. Do you want that?"

Melira’s trembling hands clenched tighter around the necklace.

Her vision blurred, heart pounding so violently it felt as if it might shatter her chest.

Slowly, agonizingly, she exhaled, letting the aura of devastation subside slightly.

Her rage didn’t vanish—it simmered just beneath the surface, coiled like a viper—but she obeyed.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, cold and merciless, yet tinged with the faintest glimmer of restrained emotion.

"You... you’re right," she said, her voice low, deadly, yet measured.

"If he has my son... then I will make sure every second of his suffering is accounted for... but not yet. Not until I see Daniel with my own eyes."

The leader whimpered, sensing the reprieve but knowing it was only temporary.

Maiya relaxed her grip slightly, though the promise in her eyes was unmistakable: this monster would not escape justice, not ever.

Around them, the chamber seemed to hold its collective breath.

Even the other rulers and nobles could feel the tension in the air, the terrifying dichotomy of a mother’s wrath restrained by a shred of hope.

The Emperor’s words, the Empress’s frozen fury, and the faint, desperate glimmer of reunion hung over the room like a storm about to break—but this time, it would break only when Daniel was found.

Melira’s gaze fell back on the trembling leader, her eyes still void and merciless, but beneath the ice, a single, sharp edge of hope cut through her despair.

"Tell me... everything you know," she said, her voice cold as steel, her heart a storm of emotion.

"Every detail. Now. And maybe... just maybe...I would grant you torture"

At the mere whisper of the word "torture," the leader’s eyes widened in confusion.

His trembling lips parted, expecting perhaps a shred of mercy or at least hesitation.

But Melira’s gaze didn’t waver—cold, implacable, and burning with a fury that no human mind could fully comprehend.

She leaned slightly closer, her voice a chilling caress of venom, slow and deliberate.

"Tell me..." she began, letting the silence stretch unbearably, "...do you wish to endure this alone, or would you prefer your family share in your suffering?"

The man’s face went pale, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

His throat tightened.

"...I... I... I will accept it," he stammered, voice cracking under the weight of terror, thinking perhaps that this alone could shield his loved ones.

Melira’s lips curled into a thin, merciless line.

Her violet eyes glimmered with an unearthly light, reflecting a storm of emotions buried deep beneath her controlled exterior—rage, sorrow, despair, and an all-consuming thirst for justice.

However, don’t be mistaken.

Melira, in the first place, didn’t plan to spare his family.

After all, for taking her son away and making him a slave, there’s no way mercy would exist in her dictionary.

Her inner thoughts were a cold, unyielding current: she would not spare a single one of them, no matter what. An eye for an eye, a life for a life—there would be no compromise.

The injustice done to her child demanded retribution, and she would see it exacted in full.

The leader had no idea that this promise was already etched into her very soul.