A/N: Hi, it's me again. Thank you so much for the new readers who followed and faved this story. Your support means a lot to me. To Guest (here's my update for you. Thank you for your support) and bilmysleepy (thank you, my arm is better now. I hope you'll like this update as it may answer your thoughts), thank you for your reviews.
As the haze subsided, Charteris rushed to Irene's side. He stood beside her, eyes widening at the destruction of the room. He couldn't believe the devastation wrought by the powerful and precarious magic that had annihilated the space. How is this even possible? His heart pounded, dumbfounded, as he struggled to comprehend the sheer magic unleashed.
Moments later, Heine and Juliet arrived, their faces etched with worry as they saw Irene slumping on the rubble of her own daughter's room. Heine's face tightened with distress as the sight greeted them and appalled her. The walls were cracked, the furniture was reduced to splinters, and the air was still thick with the residual energy of magic. Juliet's mouth was slightly agape as she took in the scene before them as they turned to the redhead on the ground.
"Lady Irene!" they called out as they reached her.
"Where's Lady Erza?" Juliet asked, her hands trembling as she clutched her chest. She did not see another redhead occupying the room.
"Someone has taken her," Irene replied, clutching the dust in her hands.
"How is this possible? The child has no prowess for magic," Heine said, bewildered by the sight.
Belserion, as if his words were spoken in his place, took a step back, realizing that Erza might indeed be the very being he had feared. She is indeed a demon; he thought as his mind raced at the sight of her untamed magic laced with something he couldn't even discern.
As Irene heard the footsteps of knights and mages swarming to the place, she immediately rose to her feet. I will find Erza, she thought to herself. She turned and made her way to her room, wanting to find something. The door closed behind her, but before she could take another step, Belserion stopped her, his grip firm as he held her wrist.
"I know what you're thinking, but it's too risky," he told her. "The child is not an ordinary human; she might be a demon. You've already seen her core, Irene. You know that she has no vessel for magic, but judging from that outburst earlier, it is a very sign of a curse itself."
"Then what?" she asked, raising her brow, uninterested in his words.
"She must have used her curse on you for you to feel that kind of compassion for her, for you to be interested in a child not your own," he raised, raising his voice as he tried to convince her not to rescue and find the child.
Irene hissed and freed her hand, anger rushing through her veins at his words. Her eyes flashed with fury as she glared at him. "I had enough. You're wasting my time. How dare you suggest such a thing? Erza is my daughter, and I will not abandon her." She replied and paused, then took a step back and continued.
"I will kill anyone who dares to get in my way, even if it's you, Charteris Belserion," Irene replied coldly as she turned to look for a book on her desk.
"Are you planning on using your separation enchantment to contain the child's unstable magic?" he asked, watching her open the book of enchantments. Her jaw clenched, signaling that she was indeed doing what he had deduced.
"You cannot contain such magic without dying! This is a suicide mission, Irene," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "Besides, judging by that outburst earlier, the child might have already died. Her frail body could not possibly contain such magic for long."
"Judging by that outburst earlier, the child might have already died."
She flashed her eyes on him, her gaze piercing as she spoke. "If there is someone dying this instant, it should be you," she said, pushing past him as she went to the door. But before she could turn to open it, his face flashed before her, only a few inches away from her, as he looked down on her face.
"Why are you so interested in her? She is not your daughter! She is merely a shadow of the grief you've felt for your deceased daughter; she is never your daughter, so why concern yourself over that child?" Belserion demanded.
"I am not your companion or anything in your life, so why are you interested in meddling in my affairs, Charteris? I don't need your concern over my well-being, so stop getting in the way," she blurted, her eyes blazing with anger.
"No, you don't understand-" he tried to insist but was cut off midway.
"Did you know what was the greatest regret I had ever realized upon recovering those memories, Charteris? It is that I was so interested in avenging my family against your bloodline that I killed my own daughter." She paused, letting that sink in as she finally spat the bitter truth to his face.
"I vented my anger on your damned Belserion blood running through her veins that I strangled my daughter to death because I was so consumed with resentment at the thought that the princess of Dragnof had fallen in love with a Belserion."
Charteris' eyes widened with shock, his defiance wavering in the face of her confession. "D-Dragnof?" Colors draining in his face as he heard that obsolete last name in centuries.
"Did you and that witty head of yours never wonder why your brother told you that I reek of the scent of the white witches? Or did you refuse to believe his words about my existence?" Irene asked, her voice dripping with malice, seeing his face contorted in confusion.
"I guess your intellect failed you once more," she mocked.
Her words made his blood run cold. It was as if he were tasting his own medicine, the bitter words he had thrown at Erza now reflecting back at him. His mind reeled, his whole world crumbling before his eyes.
"The Princess of Dragnof had fallen in love with a Belserion."
Those words echoed in his mind. She is Iridea Dragnof? How? He asked himself, begrudgingly still dazed by her words. Irene turned away, and without another word, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Belserion utterly speechless. He stood frozen as he watched the spot where she had vanished; his mind was in disbelief. He saw signs, but he ignored them as his own interest in Irene clouded his logic. The very thought of it perfectly fitting the puzzle now with her confession tormented him.
"Did you and that witty head of yours never wonder why your brother told you that I reek of the scent of the white witches? Or did you refuse to believe his words about my existence?"
Irene teleported herself back to Erza's wrecked room. She had planned to take Heine and Juliet with her to expedite the search for her daughter, but she was shocked to find them somberly looking at a notebook left in the ruins. Heine cleared her throat and grabbed the book from Juliet's hands, holding it out to Irene.
"I think this was meant for you to see," she said.
"I had no time for this," Irene said as she stared blankly at the notebook, scanning it, hoping to find clues about her daughter. She frowned at seeing random drawings until she read those wretched handwritten letters.
The gnawing hunger, the cold nights I spent huddled in alleyways, and the disdainful glances from passersby made me feel my place in the world; I was an orphan and a beggar on top of that. Those experiences felt nothing new until someone heard my prayers. In the midst of the pain ringing in my head and the desperation to ease the burning pain all over my body, I stretched my hand to reach for her feet, hoping to receive the first mercy of my life. "Help me," I uttered those words, and before my consciousness went out, I saw her vibrant scarlet hair looking down at me. I prayed that she would help me. For once, I begged the heavens to send me some grace.
Then I wake up staring at the ceiling. The bed was soft, unlike the hard, cold ground I was used to. The sheets smelled clean, starkly contrasting with the filth that had clung to me for so long. I rose from the bed, looking at the windows; I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, it would all disappear like a dream until she spoke.
"You're finally awake," her voice sounded devoid of any emotions, but it felt surprisingly warm to me.
Finally, when she allowed me to stay, it was as if the heavens had answered my most desperate prayers. Her warmth seeped into me, melting away the icy walls of loneliness clouding around my heart. The touch of her skin against mine was so warm, and it was the kind of comfort I had never experienced in my life. Though her arms remained by her sides, the simple act of her allowing me to hug her felt like a silent promise, a gesture that tolerated my growing affection. It felt like hope, something elusively illusive. For so long, I had been nothing but a shadow, a nameless figure on the streets, but for once, in that embrace, I felt seen.
However, the more I stayed, the more I feared the day she would tell me to leave, to go back to the life I had known before her. We had a contract, after all; she would send me back once the rain ceased. So, I began to become selfish; I longed for more. I begged the heavens and asked the rain to continue for the excuse it gave me reasons to stay close to her. Each drop that fell felt like a borrowed moment, a reprieve from the inevitable goodbye. I would kneel next to the window, listening to the patter, silently begging it to continue, to delay the dreadful return of my reality.
Until the following day, Lady Irene named me. Hearing her say my name filled me with indescribable joy. Those four letters became the most precious gift I had ever received. Erza. For the first time, I had a name, something that was mine, something that connected me to her. I remember the way she smiled at me when I uttered that name back to her again. My name is Erza.
But as the rain stopped, the dread settled in. I realized how deeply I had come to rely on her presence. I had grown too comfortable, too attached to it. The cursed hope of being loved had already rooted in my heart. I longed for her to hold me, to tell me that I wouldn't be sent away. But I was afraid—afraid that voicing that desire would shatter the delicate comfort I had. So, I kept it to myself, clinging to the hope in silence that she would forget the contract. And I think she did. She asked me to come with her downtown to see the caravan; I was so happy. I smiled and watched the show, my heart soaring with joy at being by her side. But later that night, when she disappeared from my sight, I felt my whole world turning black and white. Panic surged through me, and when I saw the scarlet-haired woman running into the woods, I disobeyed her request to stay on the bench and followed her. I didn't want her to leave me. I was so desperate, and in the end, I got lost.
I hugged my knees, feeling the cold, biting fear that I would be alone again. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized she remembered our deal and would send me back. But a few minutes later, she appeared out of nowhere, beads of sweat forming on her face, which was evident in her despair of finding me. She didn't scold me for disobeying her. Instead, she hugged me for the first time. It was the first time I did not initiate the hug, and she voluntarily did it on her own. She reassured me that she was there and would not abandon me.
For that moment, I forgot the pain stinging in my knees. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder, snuggling closer to the warmth I had desperately needed. The comfort of her hug was overwhelming. I felt safe, truly safe, for the first time in what felt like forever. In that embrace, the world seemed to right itself. The fear and loneliness that had plagued me faded, replaced by the assurance of her presence. Her breath was warm against my hair as she whispered, "I'm here, Erza. I'm here."I clung to her, afraid to let go, afraid that if I did, the darkness would return. But she held me tight, her grip firm, promising me that she would never leave.
Everything seemed perfectly shaped into place. She brought me to a new home and introduced me to her friends in another kingdom. She was smiling more often now, much more than before. I loved seeing the light in her eyes.
But one night, everything changed. I woke up to the sound of muffled sobs and found Lady Irene crying in her sleep. She was curled up like a ball, desperately clutching her chest in sorrow, her face contorted in anguish. "I killed her," she cried, mourning in her sleep. Her voice was filled with such pain and remorse that it took my breath away.
"My poor daughter,"
Hearing those words, I felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under me. It was the moment I realized I was only a shadow of a dead person. She had taken me under her wing to console her broken heart. She was silently missing someone without even remembering it fully. I wondered how much she must have loved her daughter and that despite not remembering everything, every night, she would beg the heavens for forgiveness.
She was a light sleeper, but when she started dreaming of that nightmare, her anguish would make her numb to anything. Her cries continued, night after night, and with it, so did the ache in my heart. I always wiped her tears, wanting to console her, but I couldn't ease her pain. I longed to live as her daughter's shadow, to be loved even as a replacement for the daughter she had lost, as seeing her suffer tore me apart. I would sit by her bedside, watching her restless sleep. Each tear I wiped away felt like a futile attempt to mend her broken soul. I wished I could reach into her dreams and pull her from the depths of her nightmares, to tell her that I was here for her like how she was to me. I want to hug her and reassure her, but I can't, and I could never comfort her in any way. I couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness, knowing that no matter how much I tried, I could never replace the daughter she had lost.
Irene was shaking; she couldn't believe what she was reading.
She would sit beside me as she guided my hand over the paper. The way her fingers lightly held mine, the sound of her voice encouraging me. I remember how she would laugh when I pretended to struggle with a word, her eyes lighting up with amusement. It made me happy to see her smile, to be the cause of her joy, even if it was just for a little while.
Irene gritted her teeth, biting back her tears as she continued to read the poignant words penned in her daughter's diary.
"She is my daughter, not by bond but by every blood and flesh running in her veins."
When I heard her speak those words proudly to the nobles in the empire, my heart leaped. I knew she lied—we were never connected by blood—but she lied to protect me. The thought of her finally accepting me as her daughter filled me with ecstasy. So I asked her, out of my selfishness and desire to be loved, if I could call her mommy. Mommy. I wanted to call her that. The two-syllable word sounded like millions of gold when she nodded and opened her arms to welcome me as her daughter. She accepted me, and my heart was filled with love. At that moment, I was loved. My savior, my Mama Duck, my Mommy Irene. I could call her mom now; that was the only thing that mattered. The doubts and fears that had plagued me vanished, as I felt truly valued, not as an orphan or a beggar, but as her own daughter. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I buried my head in her shoulder, my small arms wrapping around her tightly. The sound of her heartbeat against mine was so comforting.
She closed the notebook, unable to bring herself to continue reading as the tears started pricking the corner of her eyelids. Each word felt like a dagger to her heart, stabbing her with the realization of the child's feelings. Her heart pounded and tightened in her chest as she requipped the notebook to the other dimension, keeping it safe.
"I will save you, Erza." She said, resolving her doubts, desperate to find the child.
She glanced at the sun rising over the horizon. 24 hours. She thought to herself, that was all she had left to save her. Irene knew the Separation Enchantment well. She knew all the enchantments and spells, nuances, and dangers associated with it. However, she was particularly concerned about how long someone could endure the immeasurable pain associated with unleashing such unstable, powerful mana, so she referred to the book. The ancient book promised 24 hours, but in reality, considering Erza's tender age, she might only have 12 hours left to save her. The precarious magic within her daughter needed to be contained sooner, as she knew her frail body could never withstand such immense pain. She had been powerless then, unable to save her firstborn daughter from the darkness that consumed her. That loss had shattered her for centuries, but she vowed that things would be different this time. She would not let history repeat itself. She would save Erza, no matter what. I will save my daughter no matter what it takes. She thought as she summoned her staff.
Meanwhile, in his tower, Charteris trembled with anger. He stood by the window, staring out in the window, his mind consumed by rage. It was at that moment he realized that his long-standing interest in Irene was finally paying off. Like a debt piling up, the will of fate was now collecting its due. He clenched his fists, seething about hearing that last name, Dragnof again. He knew his sister, Faris, had always been a clairvoyant, so he thought she had her reasons for helping the mother and daughter escape centuries ago. However, despite his efforts, his beloved sister never listened to him, and she even insisted he stop aiding their father, Alvarez.
He hated it. He detested the fact that his sister was more interested in helping the bloodline his father cursed so vehemently. Alvarez had never liked the idea of being ruled over by matriarchs; he despised that system. So, he asked his son, whom he adored so much, to help him overthrow the kingdom in exchange for acknowledging his sister before everyone. As naïve and young as he was, Charteris had done everything he could to satiate his father's wishes, hoping to finally gain his father's approval, hoping that his father would finally acknowledge his sister's existence.
Charteris had always adored his twin sister, Faris. She acted like his second mother despite her being the same age as him. He wanted her to be acknowledged for her efforts. But Alvarez's words were empty promises. It was already too late when Charteris realized that Faris had been right all along. Charteris had watched in horror as his father turned away after seeing her lifeless body on the ground, showing no signs of sadness after she had sneaked out with the black witches in an attempt to save the Dragnof princess. Instead of mourning, Alvarez celebrated his victory by marrying the head of the black witches, the previous kingdom's enemy.
Faris was never written in the records of the empire as part of their family. She was not even given a proper burial. When Charteris confronted Alvarez about it, his father asked him to undertake another quest. He promised to acknowledge Faris and allow her to be buried in the royal graveyard if Charteris could fulfill his wishes. Alvarez wanted him to be his tactician, to help him consolidate his power and crush all neighboring kingdoms.
Charteris played along, biding his time, executing his father's orders ruthlessly. Until one day, he had enough. He poisoned his father's wine, making it seem as if Alvarez had suffered a heart attack. As his father gasped his last breath, Charteris laughed, the sound filled with cold, bitter satisfaction. He was the greatest monster his father had created, and now, that monster was in control until his brother betrayed him.
He laughed, scorned by the realization, as he brought his hands up and punched the mirror before him. "My life is the greatest satire the heavens have concocted," he laughed miserably.
To think that the princess whom he had blamed for his sister's demise was the very woman who saved his own life, and now he found himself wanting to protect her more than his own life. His knuckles bled from the shattered glass, but he didn't feel the pain. The irony of it all was unbearable. He had seen many signs of their star-crossed connection, but he had never anticipated it would lead to this. He had suppressed his rationality, unable to entertain the thought of harboring any ill intentions toward her when Acnologia mocked him for protecting one of the white witches, but he recalled well the intense resentment that burned in Irene's eyes when he had revealed he was one of the Belserion. He had downplayed it at the time, thinking her family might have been among the survivors of the war. But now, as the pieces fell into place, he realized the truth: he was the one who had ruined her life.
He felt scorned as he stared at his broken reflection in the cracked mirror. The man staring back at him was the very Charteris whom Alvarez had raised—Charteris Belserion, the perfect monster Alvarez proudly loved—the abhorrent animal that ended his own father's life. His face twitched with bitterness. Did he unwittingly fall for the woman he considered his greatest enemy?
"Is this the punishment you told me of, Faris?" he asked himself as he collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands, laughter turning to sobs. It was a bitter pill to swallow for him to think that all his desperation and cruelty had met their due; now, he needed to pay for it. Time had finally come to collect his share of regret and self-loathing for his own doings.
The black-haired knight was stunned to see that the very powerful magic he had sensed at the outskirts was the very woman Prince Rung was interested in. He had deliberately let her go and had suffered the humiliation of being slapped by his master for his failure. He wanted to twist his neck for the mockery he had received from him for failing his first quest, but he needed to keep his emotions at bay to successfully play his cards. Nobody must find out that he was a Belserion.
When he saw Zera walking in the gardens, his mind twisted with deceit. He wanted to fool her and play with her feelings to gain information from her. If she fell in love with him, he could easily manipulate her. He laughed at the thought, a sinister plan forming in his mind.
When he laid her in his bed and her face twisted with pleasure under his touch, he was so pleased to see those eyes burning with the same intensity he wanted her to feel. He wanted her to fall in love with him.
"How would she feel if she found out that she would bear the blood of her sworn enemies?" he thought, thrilled with the idea as he continued kissing her. It was such a thrilling and exciting thought; he wanted to see her angry eyes gleaming with more rage. He had always loved that fire and intensity in her eyes. He loved to see more of that resentment.
"The time has finally come; I will now collect the blood that belongs to me," Acnologia declared as he emerged from the shadows, clutching his mechanical arm.
His voice turned into a terrifying growl as his form began to shift, the air around him crackling with dark magic. Scales erupted from his skin, wings unfurled with a mighty whoosh, and in moments, he had transformed into a fearsome black dragon.
A/N: WAHAHA, this is probably the craziest twist I've written. OMFG, ACNO is STILL ALIVE(just as some predicted)! Though my favorite part in this chapter is writing Erza's diary, I really find it satisfying to make Charteris taste a dose of his own medicine. And oops, so who kidnapped Erza all along? Stay tuned! Please leave reviews, though. I love reading them. Bye.