Chapter 689 Chamber of Sorrows The Queen’s Prison

The cold penetrates to the marrow, carrying the scents of iron, old dust, and stagnant groundwater. In the basement that was once used only for storing wine and historical records, there now lie living bodies—citizens, failed protectors, and one figure no longer referred to as a queen except with a mournful tone: Iris. A dark cloud shrouds her mind, memories of a past now faded into bitter recollections. Iris once stood proud, but now, she is merely a shadow of her lost power. As she tries to remember the cheers of her people, all that remains is an echo of sorrow and despair.

The prison bars creak with each footstep of the Earth soldiers passing through the corridor, instilling fear in the hearts of those still remaining. Behind the bars, there is no hope, only time moving too slowly for those waiting for either an end or a miracle. Iris sits leaning against the stone wall, her body frail, breath heavy, yet her eyes remain alert. She feels her heartbeat thundering in an anxious rhythm, a call to action despite the unwelcoming circumstances. Every exhale is filled with the promise that one day she will fight again, not just for herself, but for all the people who wait with hope that is gradually fading.

Two Earth soldiers stood guard in front of the thick iron door. One of them, a rough-faced woman named Sema, often cast glances at Iris, her eyes filled with a mix of hatred and suppressed pity. Each of those glances served as a reminder that beneath all the animosity, there was undeniable humanity, trapped in a game of greater power.

"She's their queen, but now she's worth no more than common folk," Sema muttered to her companion, a young man named Fitran.

Fitran shrugged, his voice soft like the whisper of a mouse in a dark corridor.\

"She's still dangerous. Many believe that her womb holds disaster, but to me… she's just a mother who lost a war." He watched Iris, unaware that behind her fragile exterior burned an unquenchable fire, one that would rise even from this prison. One day, that fire would blaze forth, incinerating all the injustices inflicted upon her.

Iris, overhearing their conversation, shut her eyes, holding back tears that she would no longer allow to fall before her enemies. She gently caressed her now heavier belly and prayed silently to a world that had long stopped hearing anyone's pleas. In that stillness, shadows of her past haunted her; the joyful smiles of children in her village, the lively voices of people living in freedom. Each memory felt like a knife, carving into her increasingly fragile soul.

In other cells, the remaining people and their protectors found themselves trapped between impossible hope and the looming shadow of death. Miel, Iris's loyal protector, sat cross-legged in a corner of the cell, a makeshift bandage covering the wound on her arm. She bit her lip to suppress the pain, while her mind wandered, imagining herself out there, fighting alongside Iris. Sabina and Tomoe, two young protectors, exchanged faint whispers.

"I still want to go back to the village, Sabina. Even though everything is lost, I want to die under an open sky, not here," Tomoe sighed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He recalled the fields that used to be lush, where he and his friends ran freely—a freedom that now felt like a distant dream. Despair crept in, wilting his spirit.

Sabina gazed at the damp walls marked with claw scratches, as if hoping to find answers hidden within those etchings.\

"Hold on. If Joanna and the angels are indeed still around, perhaps they will come looking for us. But don't hang your life on miracles—this world is already too soaked in blood for that." Her voice brimmed with concern, and deep within her heart, she felt the darkness beginning to creep in, threatening the last remnants of hope.

Miel interjected, her voice soft yet sharp, as if clinging to the last vestiges of strength to rekindle the dimming spirit. \

"Don't give up. As long as Iris lives, as long as her womb hasn't fallen into the hands of the enemy, there's always a reason to endure. When the time comes… we sacrifice everything. But not tonight." Miel's firmness invoked a tense new silence, with everyone aware that they might never know when that moment would arrive.

In the darkness, they held each other's hands, searching for remnants of strength in their togetherness, refusing to bear the weight of the world alone. Every second felt heavy, as if time itself were acting as an adversary, forcing them towards a grim fate. In that silence, the faces of despair bore silent witness to an unspoken faith, weaving hope amidst the darkness.

Every few hours, one by one, prisoners were dragged out, interrogated in corridors reeking of blood and sweat. The Earth forces, particularly under General Bronn, were known for their brutality in the pursuit of any remaining "protector names," or simply to intimidate the populace into revealing Gaia's last secrets. Often, the sounds of screams shattered the night's stillness, creating a symphony that resonated with the hearts of those who listened, adding to the weight of despair binding Iris's soul.

Iris found herself dragged to the cold interrogation chair multiple times. The furrow of her brow and the tension at the corners of her mouth revealed the depth of fear that had taken root within her. There, Bronn gazed at her with a mix of hatred and curiosity. \

"Do you think your womb still holds value, Queen? The world has changed. We could burn the entire city along with its inhabitants, and not a single legend would be left," he taunted.

After a brief pause, Iris felt her heart racing, as if reminding her of what was at stake. The atmosphere was suffocating, and each word spoken by Bronn felt like a nail piercing her soul. "If you burn everything, you will only hasten the curse you fear. But I will not surrender my child... even if I must die more than once," she replied, her voice trembling yet filled with conviction, as if reigniting a flame of hope in the darkness of that room.

Bronn, filled with fury, slammed his fist down on the stone table. \

"You are stubborn, but no one cares about your bloodline anymore. The world has already chosen who is worthy to survive."

As Bronn's fist slammed against the stone table, Iris felt a jolt within herself. She became acutely aware that each injustice was igniting new tensions inside her; the rage that surged slowly metamorphosed into an unwavering resolve. Holding back her tears, she returned to her cell, feeling more exhausted yet still whole. Each betrayal only deepened her determination—she had to endure, even without a reason other than for those who believed in her. In the silence of her cell, she envisioned her child's face, and in that moment, hope reignited, granting her newfound strength to defy the laws imposed by her enemies and to strategize a plan that would turn her fate around.

One night, when the guards were distracted and the storm outside muffled their footsteps, Joanna and Zadkiel descended into the basement through a secret passageway once used by the castle's servants. The flickering aura of Michael's fire, carried by Joanna, gently sliced through the darkness, reaching all the way to Iris's cell.

In an instant, Iris felt the tremors of long-buried hope, but a wave of anxiety washed over her heart as well. Dark memories of betrayal and loss resurfaced, highlighting how little time was left. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears that were on the verge of spilling.

Zadkiel, with a soothing angelic voice, whispered to the prisoners through the stone wall. \

"Don't lose hope. Tonight, miracles may not come to everyone, but the souls that endure are the seeds for the world that will be born after this."

Cries from another cell, a glimmer of hope amidst the thick darkness, fueled her determination. She struggled to envision a better world, one where they could be free from these shackles. Each of Zadkiel's words felt like a mantra that must be believed. Joanna gazed at Iris, sensing the weight in her friend's eyes—the relentless struggle that lay ahead.

Joanna looked at Iris through the bars; their gazes met briefly, just enough to make one dark night feel a little warmer. Instantly, it was as if all sadness was momentarily forgotten. Iris was touched by the courage emanating from Joanna, making her feel that even when everything seemed impossible, hope was still alive.

"Iris, hang in there. I will return. Don't let them take you."

Iris nodded, hesitant to respond too loudly. She understood that holding onto hope too openly could draw the attention of their enemies, putting them all at risk. In her heart, a heavy weight settled like a stone crushing her chest, as she remembered what could happen if their plan failed. Anxiety intertwined with regret filled her thoughts, overshadowing her courage.

The next morning, Sema—an Earth soldier—entered with a tray of food. She gazed at Iris for a long moment and whispered softly, "You must be ready. General Bronn wants to take all the prisoners out tomorrow morning. I don't know if you will be freed or killed, but... if you have any prayers, say them tonight."

Iris looked at Sema with a gratitude that was barely contained. In that glance was a fragile hope, though fear gnawed at both of their souls. She hugged her stomach, closed her eyes, and prayed silently for the last time—not for a miracle, but for the strength to face whatever fate awaited her.

A feeling of helplessness washed over Iris, as if she were trapped in an unending nightmare. In another cell, Miel, Sabina, and Tomoe held hands tightly, collectively holding their breath as they awaited dawn, unaware whether it would bring freedom or death. Cold sweat trickled down her brow, and she wondered if they would become part of a dark history or simply be overlooked by time.

As dawn approached, the sky above the Sanctuary remained gray. The underground corridors were filled with heavy footsteps, the clank of chains, and the faint cries of the living. In the midst of the crowd, Iris could feel the vibrations of terror swirling around them, gnawing away at the last remnants of hope.

Iris and the other guards were forced to line up in the main corridor. Among them, she could see doubt and fear etched on her friends' faces, their spirit of resistance nearly extinguished. Bronn stood at the end of the corridor, flanked by two pillars of Earth automaton. He surveyed the faces of the prisoners one by one, weighing their fates as if he were a small god lazily presiding over the dawn of destruction. A cold smile spread across his face, as if he reveled in the suffering unfolding before him.

"The choice is simple," Bronn shouted. "Those who claim to be guardians will be burned alive. Those who surrender Joanna's name will receive a new life. Choose quickly—or I will choose for you."

No one spoke. No one surrendered. During that tense moment of silence, the sound of Iris's pounding heart echoed in her mind, as if it were the only noise that existed. She glanced around at the faces, all steeped in fear and helplessness, united by the unbearable tension in the air.

Bronn smiled faintly, then signaled to the Earth soldiers. One by one, the chains and bars were opened. The sounds of prayers, cries, and whispered names of ancestors filled the heavy air. Each sound felt like a flash of memories, reminding Iris of the peaceful times long lost, before the world plunged into this darkness.

From a distance, Joanna watched, holding back tears, knowing that sometimes miracles do not come as saviors but merely as witnesses to human courage in the face of absolute darkness. Iris's heart trembled as the name Joanna was repeated, becoming a mantra that bound them all in despair. In that moment, her resolve strengthened; she would not let that name be forgotten.

That dawn, the world beneath the Sanctuary finally understood: sometimes the greatest strength lies in enduring in a prison, igniting the invisible hope, and refusing to surrender even when everything is stripped away. Iris straightened her back, trying to find the blazing courage within her, praying that this courage could spark hope in the hearts of those who were imprisoned.