As I journeyed through the shadowy tunnel, an invisible force beckoned me toward the bright light at the far end. The closer I drew, the stronger the pull became, as if I were a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame.
Suddenly, the light burst forth, blinding me for a fleeting moment. As I fought to understand my surroundings, a soft sound pierced the air—someone was crying.
"Who's crying now?" I thought, a mix of irritation and confusion washing over me. Can't a baby make a peaceful entrance into this world?
Amidst my disorientation, a voice, tender and trembling, broke through. "I'm sorry, my baby. Please forgive your mother. But know that we all love you."
Her words reached me like a distant echo, and I strained to glimpse the speaker. It was my new mother, though her face remained a blur in my hazy vision. Why was she crying? I had just arrived! Wasn't this supposed to be a joyous occasion?
The following seven days spun into a whirlwind of dimly lit rooms and the comforting yet unfamiliar presence of my mother. I found myself nestled in a cradle, swaddled in soft fabrics, but the warmth of safety was persistently overshadowed by an unshakable tension in the air. Whispers flitted just beyond my understanding, like a toddler reaching for elusive butterflies, only to find they slipped through sticky fingers.
I couldn't grasp the words, but phrases like "assassin," "danger," and "the prophecy" hung in the atmosphere—just your typical baby concerns. I woke to hushed voices arguing in the dark, the scuff of boots against the floor, and the creak of the door opening and closing with urgency. Shadows flitted in and out of my vision, flickering like candle flames, causing the fine hairs on my tiny arms to prickle.
One night, a sudden clamor jolted me awake, the clash of metal slicing through my dreams. My heart raced, and though I couldn't comprehend the chaos, a primal instinct warned me of danger. My mother's voice rose in a mix of urgency and fear. "No! You cannot take him! He's just a baby!"
What did they want from me? A diaper change? Perhaps they merely wished to gaze upon my adorable face?
In that moment, I felt the weight of her desperation, her fierce need to protect me. A rush of footsteps followed, a struggle ensued, and then silence fell. I felt her presence close as she cradled me, whispering soothing words against my forehead, but I could sense the fear that permeated our sanctuary.
As days passed, I caught glimpses of the chaos surrounding us. One afternoon, I awoke to muffled shouts and the sound of something crashing to the floor. Peeking through half-closed eyelids, I saw a dark figure slip into the room, a glint of steel in hand. My heart pounded in my tiny chest as I squirmed in my cradle. But before I could fully grasp what was happening, my mother sprang into action, intercepting the figure with a fierce cry.
"Not my baby!" she shouted, her voice resonating with a mix of anger and fear.
The struggle was swift yet intense. I felt a wave of protective energy emanating from her, and in the blink of an eye, the intruder was dispatched, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread. Though I couldn't piece together the details, I sensed the stakes were high, and I was caught in a conflict much larger than myself.
On the seventh day, as I lay in my cradle, an acute sense of foreboding washed over me. My mother's gentle touches grew frantic, her heart racing against my tiny frame. She placed something cool and metallic around my neck. I glanced down, puzzled. A pendant? For a baby? Was this a fashion statement or some sort of infant bling?
With trembling fingers, she fastened the pendant, her actions steeped in finality.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice breaking as if the weight of the world rested upon her. "I must protect you, even if it means letting you go. Please, remember my love, my son. It will guide you when I cannot."
As I drifted into a fitful slumber, I felt the significance of that moment—the bittersweet taste of love mingled with sorrow.
Olivia's POV
Looking down at the tiny bundle in her arms, Queen Olivia Darkwood felt her heart shatter a little more with each passing second. She couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face, no matter how hard she tried to be strong for her child. Here he was, born into a world filled with enemies and dangers, and she felt powerless to shield him from the darkness looming over their family.
Olivia was no ordinary mother; she was the queen of the Darkwood Empire—a once-great nation now struggling to maintain its place among the other seven empires and twelve kingdoms of Terra. Decades ago, the Darkwood Empire had been the strongest, renowned for its military prowess and cultural achievements. But the Demon War had changed everything.
A century ago, her grandfather, Emperor Alex Darkwood, had led the empire's forces against a demon army notorious for its ruthless slaughter of humans. While other kingdoms formed alliances to combat the threat, the Darkwood Empire stood alone, its army and 24 royal knights holding the line against the demonic tide. After many battles, her grandfather and his knights managed to repel the demon army, but at a devastating cost. Half of the empire's military strength was lost, and countless brave soldiers perished to protect their homeland.
As if that wasn't enough, the weakened state of the empire made it a target for the greed of other nations. Instead of offering support, several kingdoms united to form the Bansher Alliance, falsely accusing the Darkwood Empire of conspiring with demons. When her grandfather confronted this baseless accusation, the alliance launched a surprise war against the empire. Refusing to surrender, Emperor Alex and his remaining 17 knights fought against overwhelming odds, defending their homeland for 18 grueling days. But in a cruel twist of fate, the alliance secretly colluded with the very demons they claimed to oppose, unleashing a horde of demonic forces onto the battlefield.
Betrayed by their fellow humans, the empire's forces were pushed to their breaking point. Despite the desperate situation, the Darkwood army managed to force a retreat, but the alliance fell apart when the demons, led by the Demon King himself, turned against their human allies. However, the damage was irreversible. The Darkwood Empire lost three million soldiers, reducing its once-mighty military to a mere shadow of its former self. Even the royal knights dwindled from 24 to just 8, and Emperor Alex, gravely wounded, was confined to his bed until his dying days.
In the century that followed, the empire faced waves of hardships—famine, disease, and endless skirmishes with rival kingdoms. The once-fertile lands turned to wasteland, and hope became a rare commodity. Her father, the last emperor, managed to stabilize things slightly by relying on the blessings of the goddess, but even his efforts couldn't restore the empire to its former glory.