Chapter - 32 Devil's Whispers

**Devil's whispers**

Anaya was sitting on her bed, pale and frail. The royal doctor, seated on a chair near her bed, looked at her with a mixture of relief and concern. Butler Alfred and her maid Emma stood silently, waiting for the doctor's words. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Your body has recovered from the poison, Your Highness," the doctor said, his voice firm but gentle. "However, you're still very weak. You need a proper diet and nutrition to regain your strength. Light exercise will also be beneficial."

Anaya nodded silently, her eyes distant and void of emotion. She did not trust her voice to speak, still haunted by the specter of her recent ordeal. The doctor gathered his things and left the room quietly, leaving a heavy silence behind.

Alfred stepped forward, his face a mask of professionalism. "I will inform his highness emperor Marcus of your recovery, Princess Anaya," he said, bowing slightly before leaving the room.

Emma remained, her face etched with worry. "My lady," she began softly, "I will bring you some soup and fruits. Is there anything else you desire?"

Anaya's gaze met Emma's, her eyes empty. "Anything will be fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Emma curtsied and left the room, leaving Anaya alone with her thoughts. At nine years old, Anaya felt the weight of the world on her small shoulders. She closed her eyes and let the memories of her month-long unconsciousness wash over her. The dreams she had were vivid and terrifying, prophecies of death that had come to pass: Reeva, the previous emperor, all gone. Only Crown Prince Hades remained.

The memory of her latest dream was a blur, yet she knew it was about Hades. She could see fragments of it in her mind, but they were disjointed and unclear. Anaya shivered, pulling her blanket tighter around her. She needed to understand these dreams; they were a part of her power, a power she barely understood herself.

The door creaked open, and Emma returned with a tray. "Here you go, my lady," she said softly, placing the tray on the bedside table. "Some soup and fresh fruits."

Anaya glanced at the food, her appetite nonexistent. She knew she needed to eat, to follow the doctor's orders, but her mind was elsewhere. She picked up the spoon and took a small sip of the soup, its warmth doing little to chase away the cold she felt inside.

"Emma," Anaya began, her voice trembling slightly, "do you believe in dreams?"

Emma looked surprised by the question but nodded. "Yes, my lady. I believe dreams can hold great meaning. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing" Anaya replied.

Anaya sat in deep contemplation, the weight of her dreams pressing heavily on her mind. Were these visions the harbingers of the dark rumors whispered among the people? Was she truly the devil's reincarnation, as some claimed? The thought chilled her to the bone. Dreams that revealed people's final breaths, their last desires, their dying words... Such visions would terrify anyone, let alone a child of only nine winters.

She turned to Emma, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Do you believe in the rumors, Emma?"

Emma started at the sudden question but quickly composed herself. "Most rumors stem from people's insecurities, my lady. They often have no connection to actual reality. That is why they are called rumors."

Anaya's eyes bore into Emma's, seeking truth. "What about prophecies? Do you believe in those?"

Emma nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "I do believe in prophecies, Your Highness. Before my mother passed, she would take me to the temple. The high priest there was said to predict the future, for God spoke to him in dreams. He foretold the great drought seven years ago, and it came to pass in the western part of the empire. The people hold great faith in him."

Anaya listened intently, trying to piece together the puzzle. If the high priest's dreams were divine messages, who then sent her visions of death? Was it God? But if so, why were her dreams filled only with death? Could it be the work of the devil, as the rumors suggested? The devil, they said, had been vanquished for thousands of years. Yet, the thought persisted—was she truly the devil's reincarnation?

These dark thoughts swirled in her mind, growing unbearable. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't hold them back. The tears spilled over, startling Emma, who had been attending to her.

"Your Highness, are you alright? Are you in pain?" Emma asked, her voice laced with concern.

Anaya couldn't find the words to respond. The anguish in her heart was overwhelming, and she let out a scream of pure pain. Her body convulsed, her heart aching and her stomach churning.

Emma, though young, displayed remarkable composure. She rushed to the door, shutting it firmly and instructing the guards outside. "Do not let anyone near this floor for the time being," she commanded.

The guards, sensing the urgency in her voice, nodded without question.

Emma returned to Anaya's side, her voice soft and soothing. "My lady, you can cry. Cry as much as you need. No one will disturb us here."

These words, though simple, held a warmth that Anaya desperately needed. She felt a sense of safety in Emma's presence. Emma embraced her, holding her tightly as Anaya sobbed uncontrollably. The tears flowed freely, releasing the pent-up fear and sorrow that had plagued her for so long.

Hours passed, and Anaya cried until she had no more tears left. Exhausted, she fell asleep in Emma's comforting embrace.

When she awoke, the room was bathed in the soft light of dawn. Emma was by the window, opening the curtains to let in the morning sun. She turned and smiled gently at Anaya.

"How are you feeling, my lady?" Emma asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Anaya's voice was hoarse from her earlier cries, but she managed a faint smile. "Much better," she replied.