The Realm

"Did my lady realize how she will be proceeding from now on?" Manta asked, serving me some light soup and beef, which she claimed would restore the strength I lost while I was ill. Ever since I stepped into the dining room, she has been attempting to persuade me to quit my research or at least take a break. However, as always, when I invite her to join me for dinner, I politely decline her suggestions, leaving no room for argument.

"I'll start with the basics, recognizing that witches, originating from spells, weren't naturally endowed with magic, which is what I understood from my reading; they were humans above all," I stop to take a spoon of my soup, before echoing Bluebell's previous statements. "Understanding human psychology first might help me grasp the book better." While dressing, it struck me to look into books written before the one I've started. good lord Am I talking too much, or did she not understand me? I know my voice sounds strange right now, probably

" because of the fever, but why isn't she responding?

"My lady, now that you understand how it works, I am sure you will learn faster," she says, her face twisting into a strange smile. She looks up at me, confident in her statement, but I am too hungry to listen clearly. I dive into my soup, remembering the promise she made earlier to cook me the delicious food the guards were praising when I first arrived.

"Yes, that is the best plan I could devise for now, and..." Manta smiles at me before I can continue and nods to a maid, who promptly vanishes through the servant's door.

"You have been unwell for four days, my lady, and the king's physician has found nothing but fatigue, unable to detect any sign of danger in you. During your convalescence, I took the liberty informed your family of your state, hoping they might assist in your diagnosis. Despite symptoms akin to fever, none was present, and I thought perhaps it was a different ailment they were familiar with. However, she was adamant that we awaken you by force if needed, suspecting you of deceit," a sentiment all too common from mother, yet it still pains me that she sees me thus. Why would Manta alert them when she herself acknowledged the doctors' bafflement but conclusion of me possibly regaining my state which I clearly did. My mind and heart grew heavy with anger and shame, until I lost all desire to eat. The contents of what she relayed to Manta in that letter are a mystery to me which I want it to remain as such, but they must have been incriminating. Overcome with frustration, I excused myself and retreated to my chamber, ignoring the stares and whispers, seeking refuge in the only place where I find peace.

"My lady!" I hear Bluebell shout, running up behind me. Although I don't need to hear her glorious speech today, I still don't want to be rude or release my anger at her. I slow down slightly, trying to mask my expression so as not to worry her, but I know it will be futile; she's aware that I took the earlier events quite hard.

"Bluebell, please take the rest of the night to yourself; I'd like to be by myself as for tonight," I tell her. She lets go of the worry in her face, only to have it replaced by sadness. I know she wants to be by my side whenever I'm feeling down, but tonight, I strangely crave solitude. She opens her mouth to speak, but I don't give her the chance to utter a word of reason as I turn and walk away, leaving her standing in the dark hallway I fear the most in this palace. At least she isn't afraid of the dark. Continuing my walk, I decide to change my destination and head to the library. I had thought my chambers were the only sanctuary from the gossip and stares, but now I believe this library will become another safe haven for me. I gently open the door, switch on the light, and begin searching for a book to distract myself from my mother's hurtful words. Selecting a book, I make my way to a table near the window. I had only requested repairs of shelves and walls, but as a welcome gesture, the carpenters gifted me three sets of tables and chairs, creating a personal office space for me, and for this, I cannot thank them enough.

The cover reads "Realms" as I take a seat to read more about it contains. How did this book come into my possession? I remember searching for a book that will be easy to grasp but finding it is not part of my memories. Dismissing the thoughts, I open it and begin to read. "Welcome to a realm of disguise, we wish you happy reading," it greets. At least the welcoming phrase is clear; I hope the rest is just as inviting. With that, I start my reading journey, pleased to find the text easy to understand. I walk over to my little drawer and take out some paper, a quill, and ink to jot down everything I grasp and what eludes me. The book discusses much about humans, but most notably, it explores the connection between witches and demons, categorized into different realms: the Green Realm for humans, the Dark Realm for witches and demons, and the Blue Realm for those with innate magical abilities. It mentions that witches, driven by greed and envy, summoned the devil for assistance, aligning them with the Dark Realm. It also states that humans are frequently driven and corrupted by envy, leading to either their gain or loss. As Bluebell mentioned, if I had begun at the very start to learn more about human traits and their capacity to fight for what they consider good, perhaps I would have understood the reasons behind the witch hunts for more terror and power. But everything has its own time, and I hope this will help me prove my worth to Mother, even if I am too late.

"Discipline cultivates virtue. Conversely, when resistance dominates and laziness ensues, one experiences a range of different emotions." And so, it begins, and I am glad it has at least word I understand, with one falling out of faith and succumbing to resentment are surely to face it consequences. but the pertinent question is what drove such people and witches to envy and greed—was it the influence of the mages? I heard that they mages are born with some magic. "Greed is characterized by an intense and excessive desire for more than is needed or deserved, especially regarding wealth or possessions. It is frequently associated with ambition and the quest for success. Envy, on the other hand, is a feeling of discontent or covetousness towards the advantages, success, or possessions of others. It arises when individuals measure themselves against those who possess what they covet, resulting in feelings of insufficiency and resentment." This book is captivating; it seems to hold the answers to all my questions, and I grasp its contents more quickly than the old, eerie book. It's more pleasurable, akin to someone narrating a story. "A story, of course, will have some tales about witches and their..." My thoughts are interrupted by footsteps approaching the door. Who would choose to take a walk at this hour? Then again, I should be the one asleep, having excused myself to return to bed. A few seconds later, the door swings open, and there stands Bluebell, carrying a tray, walking towards me.

"Manta sent me to check on you with some food since you didn't finish your meal earlier," she states, her voice cold and distant. She avoids eye contact as she sets the tray down and exits the room promptly without another word. I stare at the door for a while, then turn my gaze to the bowl of chicken soup. I know she made it. I rush towards the door, but by the time it swings open, she's already gone. I close the door behind me and head straight to her room. I must have wounded her feelings when I pushed her away earlier. I shouldn't have spoken to her in such a manner, especially knowing she's the only one who truly understands what I've endured. What was I thinking? Fortunately, her door isn't completely shut. I hesitate but decide to knock. After a few moments, she peeks her head through the small opening, then fully opens the door upon seeing me. "My lady?" she inquires, and I stand there, simply gazing at her.

"May I enter?" After regaining my composure, I ask her to let me in. She opens the door, now dressed in her nightgown, with her maiden dress neatly folded on a chair next to her bed. This will mark my third visit to her room, but unlike the previous times, the atmosphere is far from pleasant. She gestures for me to sit and then sits on her bed, looking at me with confusion before staring back at the floor. Ah, that's right, I came here for a reason, and I should be the one to speak. "Bluebell," I call out to gain her attention, and she lifts her head to look at me. "I'm sorry about earlier; I didn't mean to push you away. I don't even know why I reacted like that. I'm very disappointed in myself and I ask of you to forgive me, please," I blurt out, taking a deep breath. However, she doesn't react to my apology and continues to stare at me with those same lifeless eyes from before.

"My lady, you should rest now; it's late, and there's no need to worry about this person. You have the right to some alone time," she finally says, and now I am the one in shock. She looks at me as if waiting for me to leave, and I have no choice but to comply with her demands. Perhaps she has had enough of me and my constant moods. I stand and head to the door, but as I am about to leave, I hear her speak again. "Is this how you will prove to others that you can be of help? By abandoning after your first failed attempt?" she asks, and I can't help the smile spreading across my face as I turn to her.

"I am very sorry, Bluebell," I apologize, hurrying to embrace her. She accepts, tenderly stroking my hair as if to offer comfort. This is precisely the feeling I needed at that moment—a warm and comforting hug from someone I trust will never let me down or make me feel unwanted. Sometimes, I wish I had a mother who acted like Bluebell, a true shelter. I don't know what I did to deserve meeting someone like her in my life, but I am not complaining.

"Next time you do something like that, I will leave forever, my lady," she threatens, and I nod in understanding burying my head further in her chest. "You know I came here for you, and your rejection makes my stay here pointless," she continues. And I silently pray that such an incident never repeats. She releases me and guides us to sit on her bed, which seems larger than the one she had in the duchy. "Manta delivered the letter your mother wrote to you when you left," she reveals, and I feel my heart drop to the deepest part of my gut.

"I do not want to know its contents," I confess, already aware of the sort of things my mother pens on a white sheet of paper, especially when it's meant for me. "Can you burn it somewhere, please? I really don't want it near me," I request, knowing it may seem disrespectful to others, but understanding that my mother does not expect a reply, The fact is that these are merely commands from her is something only she and I know about.

"My lady should keep it somewhere she knows she will never see it again," I acknowledge I may sound unreasonable for trying to burn the papers, but why would I do what Bluebell says when mother and I could never possibly meet again? And yet, I will always want to open it, just to hurt myself in the process. I gaze at Bluebell with imploring eyes, attempting to communicate the words that my voice cannot express. but she simply holds my hands in hers and gently taps them. "My lady, we are well aware of your mother's character. Picture her desire to cause a commotion here and her sudden arrival. During a conversation, she inquiries about the letters she has been sending. At least keep them just to tell her, 'I guarded them preciously, Mother,'" she mimics. "I know it will be hard for you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"I suspect she hasn't written any letters other than the one she sent to Manta, where she implied that I might be pretending to be ill. I believe she clearly instructed Manta not to correspond with her further." Considering Manta's demeanor while discussing the letters, I'm convinced they were never bearer of positive news, and Mother isn't one to ask about her daughter's recovery, particularly after alleging that my sickness was feigned.

"I understand my lady's concerns, but I insist we take certain precautions. The future is unpredictable, and while I'm certain she won't change, I want you to hold onto this for your protection," she says, offering me the paper. "The fact that she is your mother does not bode well for us," she adds in a gentler tone, stifling a looming yawn. She appears exhausted and worn; my odd behavior must have caused her great worry. Her eyes nearly shut from fatigue, yet she fights to keep them open.

"Alright, I'll keep them," I assure her, and she responds with a smile. I move closer, give her a final hug, and whisper another apology before heading back to my room. The day has been unusually serene, likely because I woke up just a few hours ago. I shed my clothes and heavy shoes, then step into the bathroom for a quick rinse. Bluebell always seems to prepare everything; the warm and rosy scent of the water consistently soothes my mind and clarifies my thoughts. "Oh, good Lord," I suddenly recall the soup Bluebell left and my notes I could not finish. I rush through the rinse, which I was supposed to take slowly, and get dressed, hoping to find someone at the door—perhaps a guard. I approach the door and exhale a sigh of relief upon seeing a guard nearby as soon as it the door opens.

"My lady?" he calls out, visibly surprised to find me awake but gives me a smile as if satisfied with something. He approaches slowly, as if I were a frightened cat, before asking, "Does Your Grace require assistance with anything?" His voice is just as the soft as an angel laugh you could close your eyes and listen every time he speaks. These are the moments I do not regret, leaving my mansion for the palace.

"Yes, I apologize for the disturbance. I was studying in the library and inadvertently left some of my belongings at the table. I really need them to pass the time as I'm currently unable to sleep," I explain to him, concluding in a whisper. Sometimes I find myself speaking excessively, which is not befitting of an elegant and graceful woman he just sends me that gentle smile but this time it doesn't reach his close eyes. 

"Your Highness need not to apologize; I shall retrieve them for you," he says, his face etched with a look of horror. It is exceedingly difficult for me to demand something without offering an apology, as it feels akin to usurping someone's precious time unjustly, especially when they are in your employ. He bows and departs for the library. To avoid any obstruction, I leave the door slightly open, and astonishingly, before I can arrange a place for my belongings, he has already returned to my room. "Where would Your Grace like this placed?" he inquires. while the only thing I can do is stare at him, shocked and frightened by the sight before me.

"How?" I ask simply. He scratches the back of his neck nervously. The table, chair, and the tray of food Bluebell prepared for me are floating midair beside him. The papers are neatly arranged on the table as if held by invisible hands. He raises a hand, pointing it towards my bed, and all the floating items slowly and gently descend, with the tray coming to rest on the bed.

"Your Grace, please sit first, or you might faint again, and we cannot have you asleep for another week," he jests with a timid smile. I comply and take a seat on the couch offering him an awkward smile in return. He must have noticed my racing heart or my trembling hands, but all I desire is for him to explain how he accomplished that feat. "My lady, you did attend the meeting you arranged the day after your arrival and learn that the palace houses various hybrids, or that we come from different lineages, right?" he inquires, and I nod in response. Suddenly, it hits me—the meeting we had that day was to get to know them and they confess with beings of different species and powers how could I forget such important matters.

"I ap..." I attempt to apologize once more, but he interrupts me.

"Your Highness, you should not feel sorry. I am actually shocked that your reaction was not as dramatic as we had anticipated," he says, and I can only stare at him again, confused. Did he expect me to shout or cry?

"So, what are you... I mean, what is your lineage? And your name?" I swiftly correct myself; it would be impolite to call him a 'thing' when he stands so proudly before me, with his clear blue eyes piercing my soul into two, dark long hairs cascading over his broad shoulders, a long gleaming neck, a slim waist encircled by a red belt, lengthy legs, a defined jawline, and elongated nails. He is not dressed in any of the guard attire I have seen so far, and it is clear that i I have never even seen him before, but the cap on his head indicates that he is from the guard. As my gaze lifts to his eyebrow, our eyes meet, and he begins to blush. I smile at the charming gesture—I must have gazed too intently.

"My name is Evan de Dione. I am a magician, and regarding my lineage..." he ponders, occasionally glancing my way with a finger placed upon his pink lips. Dione? He mentioned Dione. I stare at him, my face a canvas of surprise, as the realization slowly sets in—the reason he insisted I sit. I had been under the impression that the king had no siblings, and now, a dreadful realization strikes—I have just issued an order to the king's brother.

"Accept my apologies, Sire Evan, I..." I begin, but my ramblings are cut short as the door swings open abruptly and Bluebell rushes in.

"My lady, the king has returned!"