Chapter 5

In the heart of the enemy empire, amidst the grandeur of what was known to be a holy place, there existed a room dedicated to God—a sanctuary adorned with intricate designs and fragrant roses. It was within this sacred chamber that the climactic confrontation unfolded, where the Empress faced her adversary and severed the ties of a tumultuous past.

The war had swept through my palace like a tempest, leaving destruction in its wake. The once-opulent halls now echoed with the clamor of battle, and the enemy forces surrounded us, turning the bastion of my privilege into a battleground. In the midst of chaos, Amaryllis emerged as an unexpected savior, leading me through secret passages in the forest to escape the encroaching enemy.

The palace, once a symbol of power, had crumbled under the weight of war. As we navigated the concealed tunnels, the distant echoes of clashing swords and the thunderous roar of the conflict above reverberated through the stone walls. The secret passage became our lifeline, a fragile thread connecting survival and the unknown.

Emerging on the outskirts of the enemy empire, I found myself standing on unfamiliar ground. The landscape had changed, and the looming fortress of the enemy palace cast a formidable shadow. Amaryllis, with a determination etched on her face, surveyed the terrain as we approached the heart of the adversary's stronghold.

The room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, exuded an otherworldly tranquility. The air was heavy with the scent of roses, their petals delicately arranged as offerings to a deity whose presence seemed to linger in every corner. The tapestries on the walls depicted tales of devotion and divine intervention, creating an ambiance that felt both majestic and reverent.

The confrontation with the Empress, my mother, was inevitable. In the sacred room dedicated to God, adorned with roses and an air of divine sanctity, the final clash unfolded. The clash of swords, the severed head of the enemy ruler rolling to the ground—each moment etched into my memory like a cruel tableau of destiny.

As the battle reached its climax, I witnessed a scene that would haunt my thoughts. The Empress, her blade stained with the remnants of a complicated past, stood in the divine chamber. Her strength waned, but with a determination bordering on desperation, she ascended the staircase toward the statue of God.

It was within this divine haven that the Empress, her strength reducing every passing moment after the tumultuous battle, dragged herself using her sword as a stick to go towards the statue of God. She was cursed and one could not break it. All that was left was for her to embrace it.

The marble figure, serene in its depiction, stood as a silent witness to the clashes of mortals below. The Empress, driven by a desperate need for solace, reached out to the divine in her final moments.

Her steps, once commanding, now faltered on the staircase leading to the sacred altar. The fragility of her mortal form was stark against the backdrop of the holy room. With each labored breath, she ascended, determined to find a moment of respite in the divine presence that had eluded her throughout her tumultuous life.

In that moment, the fragility of her human form struck me. The curse, unleashed by her fallen adversary, hung in the air like an invisible shroud. It hurt as I watched as she stumbled, reaching out for support on the staircase. The weight of the curse and the toll of the war were visible in every labored breath.

Halfway up the staircase, her strength betrayed her. She stumbled constantly, her hand reaching out to grasp the cold marble for support. The curse, a relentless force, had taken its toll, and the Empress found herself at the mercy of a destiny that seemed both cruel and poetic. Finally, when she was near the huge statue of God, her legs betrayed her and she fell on her back. Her time was near the end.

Her eyes were drawn to the balcony, where I stood overlooking the sacred room. The torches flickered, casting eerie shadows on the scene below. Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, the complexities of our relationship were laid bare. She let go of her sword and extended her arms towards me as if inviting for an embrace with a smile on her face. For the first time in my life, would I have seen her smile. The maternal plea in her extended arms clashed with the barricade of my own self-respect.

I turned away, leaving the balcony with a determination that bordered on defiance. The reasons behind my actions were rooted in a lifetime of perceived neglect and unmet expectations. My mother, consumed by the responsibilities of ruling an empire, had been absent during crucial moments of my life. The emotional void left by her absence had forged a shell of self-reliance and stoicism.

Now, when she needed me the most, I chose to prioritize my own self-respect. The departure from the balcony echoed with the hollow sound of footsteps, a son asserting his autonomy in the face of a mother's final plea.

Father also told me about her love and how she got betrayed. About how she was cursed since birth to die an untimely death. Realising I had been a pawn in her game all along was heartbreaking. The distance between us was already wide but now, it has become something which no one can close.

I felt bad for my father who was willing to stay alone for all his life and dedicate himself to my mother only but, after the conversation my mother had with her brother, it seems my mother had many extra-marital affairs when she was working on the ground level. Cheaters don't deserve love, they will cheat on you no matter what. I hence decided that will prioritise myself and my self-respect, giving her a taste of her own misdeeds in the final moments for her to die a miserable death.