CHAPTER 27- The Garden of Myst (2)

The air in the Garden of Myst was thick with an otherworldly stillness, as if the very trees were holding their breath, waiting for my next words.

The soft hum of the water nearby, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the faint fragrance of blooming roses wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. It felt as though the garden itself was alive, listening intently to the story I was about to tell.

I sat on the cool grass, my gaze fixed on the shimmering pool of water before me. Its surface rippled faintly, catching the faint light that filtered through the dense canopy above.

For a moment, I hesitated. How could I put into words the weight of a life lived twice? The pain, the loss, the battles fought, and the sacrifices made—it all felt too vast, too heavy to share. But the garden seemed to urge me on, its energy pressing gently against my mind, coaxing the truth from my lips.

"You want to know my story?" I murmured, more to myself than to the unseen presence around me. My voice was soft, barely audible over the whisper of the wind.

Yet it carried a weight that seemed to resonate through the very earth beneath me.

As I spoke, I felt a delicate touch against my cheek, like the brush of a fingertip. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

A shiver ran down my spine, not from fear but from a strange sense of comfort. The garden was listening. It was acknowledging me.

"You should know," I continued, closing my eyes as a small, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. "After all, I am a stranger to you all."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the tranquility of the garden. The soft hum of the water, the cool breeze against my skin, the scent of a thousand roses—it all felt so familiar, so *right*. It was as if I had come home after a long, arduous journey. But how could a place I had never been feel like home?

I opened my eyes, my gaze drifting to the towering trees that surrounded me. Their ancient trunks seemed to pulse with a quiet energy, as if they held the memories of countless souls who had walked this path before me. 

"You all fought beside Ezekial and Shiloh, didn't you?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "Then you must know of Lunaria Nyxveil."

At the mention of her name, the gentle touch against my cheek stilled. The air grew heavier, the garden's energy shifting in response. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what came next.

"I am her descendant," I said, my voice firm despite the emotions swirling within me. "Selentia Amaris Nyxveil."

The moment the words left my lips, the flow of the water nearby grew louder, its soft murmur rising to a steady rush. Yet, there was no malice in the sound, no sense of danger. Instead, it felt like an acknowledgment, a recognition of who I was and the blood that ran through my veins.

Suddenly, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, warm and solid, as if someone were embracing me. Another hand rested gently on my head, patting it softly, like a parent comforting a child. It should have been terrifying—this unseen presence touching me—but it wasn't. Instead, it felt... natural. As if the garden itself was trying to soothe the pain I had carried for so long.

"In my past life," I began, my voice trembling as the memories surged to the surface. "At the age of eighteen, a great calamity fell upon the Empire. The demonic cult, long hidden in the shadows, revealed itself in a single, devastating night.

They opened a gate, allowing demons to pour into our world. It was a massacre. More than ten thousand people died in a single night."

I paused, my throat tightening as the images flashed before my eyes—the screams, the blood, the chaos. I hadn't spoken of that night to anyone, not even to those closest to me.

The pain was too raw, too deep. But here, in this sacred place, the words flowed freely, as if the garden itself was drawing them out of me.

"And the one at the center of it all," I continued, my voice breaking, "was my father."

The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I bit my lip, trying to steady myself. The memories of that night were a wound that had never fully healed.

"The Imperial Palace had acted swiftly, preventing further casualties, but the damage had been done.

The very next night, the Nyxveil mansion was set ablaze by an angry mob. My mother and brother perished in the flames. I had been helpless, powerless to save them."

"Though my family never truly accepted me as one of their own," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, "they were still my family. My mother... my brother... I couldn't save them."

The pain of that night was a weight I had carried for decades. The image of my mother, struck down by the Imperial Army, and Dain, his body broken and lifeless, haunted me still.

I had fought that night, desperate to protect those I could—the maids who had been like sisters to me, the chefs who had spoiled me like their own child, the knights who had treated me as their youngest. But in the end, I had failed. I had watched them die, one by one, helpless to stop it.

"And then," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow, "I saw one of the knights approaching my younger sister. Something inside me snapped. A surge of raw and uncontrollable power erupted from within me. I don't remember what happened after that. When I woke up, I was standing before the Emperor."

The memory of that moment was etched into my mind. The Emperor's cold, calculating gaze, the way he had looked at me as if I were nothing more than a pawn to be used.

Alancia had been crying in the corner, her small frame trembling with fear. The Emperor had offered me a deal—serve him silently, and he would spare my sister and the remaining members of House Nyxveil.

I had been young, naive, and desperate. I had agreed.

"House Nyxveil was on the verge of collapse," I said, my voice hollow. "I became a Duchess in name only. But I refused to let that be the end. I practiced. I trained. I honed my skills day and night, pushing myself to the brink of collapse. For five years, I worked like a dog under the Emperor, enduring the hatred and scorn of those around me.

But I grew stronger. So strong that even those who despised me feared me."

The years that followed were a blur of battles and bloodshed. I had taken in those who had nowhere else to go, training them and building my own network of informants.

I had become a force to be reckoned with, my power growing with each passing day.

But it had come at a cost. I had pushed away the few true friends I had, unwilling to risk their lives by associating with me.

"In time," I continued, my voice steadying, "I realized that the Emperor had to be removed. He was a tyrant, a demon in human skin. I struck a deal with him, demanding that my younger sister be named the future Empress.

He agreed, thinking it would give him more control over me. But he didn't know my true plan. With the help of the current Empress and my childhood friend, Kaelith, the first Prince, we poisoned the Emperor. My sister ascended the throne, and Kaelith became the new Emperor."

The memory brought a bitter smile to my lips. It had been a dangerous game, one that could have ended in disaster. But it had worked. The Empire had been saved, at least for a time.

"But it wasn't all good," I admitted, my voice tinged with regret. "Even as the leader of the Royalists and the sister of the Empress, I was still hated. Loathed. The man I loved despised me, and though we worked together against common enemies, our clashes were frequent and brutal.

For ten years, I fought battle after battle, my body bearing the scars of each one. I faced the demon cult, the demons themselves, and the horrors they brought. But in the end, I grew weary. My body began to fail me, and I knew my time was running out. I retired at the age of 48."

I paused, my breath catching as I remembered the final moments of my past life. 

"On the same day I was attacked and poisoned by a fellow member of the Court of Ignis; I had reached for it in my final moments. The sword I had taken from the man I loved had glowed with a golden light, and the demon worshiper who had struck me down said it was Ezekial's lost sword."

"But it wasn't the end," my voice barely a whisper, "I woke up. Two years before the calamity that destroyed my life. Two years before the Darkest Night."

I looked up at the trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The garden's energy pulsed around me, a silent acknowledgment of my plea.

"Help me," I begged, my voice breaking. "Help me stop them. Help me protect this world. Even a little knowledge, a small piece of the truth, is enough. Please... help me."

The garden was silent, but I could feel its response in the air, in the way the energy shifted around me. I had opened my heart, laid bare my soul, and the Garden of Myst had listened. I didn't know whether it would grant my request. But as I sat there, surrounded by the ancient trees and the whispers of the past, I felt a glimmer of hope.