Chapter 9 Part 7
The silence continued as they shared tea. With each sip of the sweet beverage, Elia found herself smiling without realizing it.
‘I finished it all.’
Only the dark brown stain at the bottom of the cup remained. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she set the cup down and noticed Varlan watching her, holding the teapot.
“Would you like some more?”
Before Elia could respond, he poured more hot milk into a fresh cup. A piece of chocolate melted into the warm milk, and he placed the completed cocoa in front of her.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t feel the need to refuse his kindness, as she genuinely wanted more.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she had sweet tea, not cakes or desserts, but a simple sweet drink. The teacup was pink with a tiny porcelain chick on the handle.
“It’s cute, but it feels like something a child would use.”
As she sipped the cocoa, Elia glanced at Varlan. He was also sipping his tea, which never seemed to diminish, as if he were a person with underlying anxiety.
‘Why did I come to see him?’
Her half-brother, the man who had once cooperated in sacrificing her. The last time she had seen Varlan was moments before her death, but now he was sitting right in front of her.
As their eyes met, he stood up, his hand reaching for the teapot.
“If you want more…”
“It’s okay. If I drink more, I’ll be too full.”
Elia laughed, causing his awkward hand to retreat. She put her cup down, feeling his gaze follow her every move.
“Is there something on my hand?”
“…No. I was just thinking about how much you’ve grown.”
It made sense. The last time he held her hand, it was much smaller and different in shape.
‘Does he still remember that?’
It wasn’t a memorable event, yet he seemed to recall it. Silence fell again until Elia spoke first.
“Did you come to the North by coincidence?”
His calm gaze cut through the quiet, reflecting the same truth in their shared violet eyes.
“No.”
The chocolate tea, the childish cup, none of it was a coincidence. He had been waiting for her to come to him.
Her mind eased somewhat at his direct answer, but questions lingered.
“But why?”
Why now, after all this time, when she had turned back the clock?
Her hands tightened on her lap. These hands, which seemed fine now, had once been burnt black on the sacrificial altar.
“You were there, too.”
Resentment she had tried to suppress bubbled up. She could almost hear the emperor’s sigh, relieved that the ritual was finally over.
“No, I won’t let it happen again.”
She had come back in time to prevent it.
Her momentarily softened heart hardened again. When she lifted her head, her unwavering violet eyes met Varlan’s. He looked troubled.
“I see you in my dreams. Every night for the past six months, whenever I doze off, I see your face.”
“What do you mean by that?”
For almost a decade, they hadn’t seen each other. Even if they had met at the Duke’s estate, they might not have recognized each other if not for their similar eye color. They had no connections during that time.
Yet his once indifferent eyes wavered as he looked at her.
“It’s always the same scene. I’m watching you, and you’re being offered as a sacrifice.”
“…!”
She almost stood up in shock. She shouldn’t have shown her emotions, but now she regretted not maintaining her composure. Varlan’s eyes scrutinized her, waiting for her to reveal the truth.
“The dream never changes, but it never gets boring. Instead, it becomes more vivid and terrifying. Do you think it’s real?”
Every night, Varlan saw the same vision.
In a dark underground chamber, he and other royals surrounded a large marble altar. On the altar lay a woman with the same eyes and hair as theirs.
“Elia Amarantha.”
Not the little girl from his memory, but a grown woman, burning black.
At first, he thought it was just a nightmare. Sometimes, old memories resurface as strange dreams.
But the dream persisted, becoming more detailed and vivid each time.
“I don’t know. It’s too late. I should go now.”
The late hour provided a convenient excuse. Elia stood up, her unsteady footsteps echoing in the lounge.
With a thud, the door closed, leaving the Crown Prince alone.
Varlan didn’t stop her. Instead, his attention was drawn to the old book she had left behind.
“I should return it.”
She might not appreciate it, but it was only polite to return what she had left. He traced the spine of the book. Despite his long-ago lessons, he could still read the ancient script.
“Spirits…”
Elia’s right hand had two small dots facing each other, a distinctive yet ordinary feature. Her illusion hadn’t concealed that detail.
“Spirits? I haven’t heard anything about that.”
Even though he couldn’t leave the capital, he received regular reports from his informants. He hadn’t heard anything about the Amarantha princess dealing with spirits. Her sudden marriage and the royal family’s reconciliation with the Duke were also unexpected.
They called it the love story of the century.
Varlan’s expression turned cold. The teacup in his hand shattered under the pressure.
“Using the princess as a scapegoat for a monster hunt?”
They wouldn’t involve her in such a dangerous task unless they planned to use her to the fullest. The notion of true love was laughable.
When Varlan had a fever, a prophet appeared. Parmo miraculously saved him and spoke of the fate of the Amarantha Empire and the continent.
Varlan was there for Parmo’s second prophecy.
“The world will be shrouded in darkness. In a moment of crisis, one of Amarantha’s stars must be sacrificed.”
The sun represented the emperor, the moon the empress. Amarantha’s stars were the royal descendants.
Hearing that either the Crown Prince or Princess must be sacrificed, the empress fainted. But the prophecy didn’t end there.
“There is one hidden star.”
Another child of the emperor, a hidden royal heir, existed in the world.
The emperor eventually found this hidden bloodline. When the child entered the capital, Varlan didn’t believe the prophecy.
“Even if the royal bloodline has only two known heirs, there could always be exceptions.”
He thought Elia’s discovery was coincidental.
Stories of world-ending events had always existed, and wars had repeatedly ravaged the continent. Yet, the empire and the continent had survived.
“This child will be safe, too.”
The little girl, who barely reached his waist, shared his blond hair and violet eyes.
Although she was brought in to be a sacrificial offering, if the end didn’t come, she would live a life of luxury as a princess.
The girl seemed uneasy in the palace, always looking around nervously. Her falling in front of him was also likely a coincidence.
Varlan had held her tiny hand and helped her up.
Ten days later, he left on an imperial pilgrimage.
He had forgotten about Elia for a long time.
He remembered her again when he heard about her marriage. It was sudden, but he was relieved until the dreams started.
In the darkness, on the underground altar, an adult Elia lay.
The vivid screams, the smell of burning flesh. He thrashed in his sleep, but in the dream, he was just a puppet.
An emotionless supporting character watching the sacrifice.
And then he would wake up to reality again. In the dreams that seemed so real, he was helpless.
The dreams continued, showing a future that felt near.
Earlier, Elia had left, pale and trembling, almost as if confirming his suspicions.
His clenched hand crushed the cup, shards cutting into his skin. Blood oozed, but he felt no pain.
