Chapter 99 When The Crown is Removed
The sky above Gaia shimmered with artificial light—crystal domes glowing softly like captive stars, their luminescence bending to human will. The streets below buzzed with an almost festive energy, as if the people were gathered to honor one of the Avatars. Yet in the quiet solitude of her private chamber, Iris refused to ignite a single lantern.
Seated on the edge of her bed, she stared intently into the mirror. Her reflection revealed the great queen—the revered leader of Gaia—a living symbol of strength and purity. But behind the steady gaze of those eyes, there was an Iris unknown to anyone. Inside her, a fierce storm raged, like relentless waves battering jagged rocks. Every doubtful thought she tried to quell surged back with greater force. What could she hope to achieve when facing Fitran? Would she dare reveal her uncertainties, or must she remain the unshakable icon the kingdom depended on?
"I do not hate Rinoa. I understand why you chose her. She lives for you... and I only live for the kingdom." Her voice wavered, not with hatred but with a raw ache gnawing at her from within, as if even her own convictions trembled under the weight of those words. Each syllable was a heavy stone dragged across her chest; behind them, she felt her soul fracture in two. On one side burned a fierce, tender love; on the other, a somber sense of duty that threatened to snuff out every flicker of hope.
She stared longer into the mirror's cold reflection. Her nightgown, still unworn, hung untouched beside her. Slowly, almost reverently, she slipped into it—not as a lure, but as a shield to cloak her trembling heart. In the suffocating silence, she wondered if the delicate fabric could conceal the cutting edges of her vulnerability, if it would smother the restless anxiety gnawing at her spirit. Did the world see her as she wished—a queen of strength—or merely as a faint silhouette, an empty shadow masking the turmoil within?
"Do you know what it feels like to be the first to raise a sword, but the last in someone's heart?" The question burst forth involuntarily, shattering the fragile calm and echoing through the very depths of Iris's soul. She was trapped in a relentless cycle of sorrow, a prisoner of heartbreak and hope entwined. Though the sword rested firm in her hand, it was this same weapon that carved a lonely path between her and those she longed to reach.
Her hands trembled as she pushed open Fitran's bedroom door. Each step forward felt like walking barefoot over shattered glass—every fragment a sharp pang of pain, a whisper urging retreat, yet she moved on regardless. Beneath the storm inside her, tension thrummed—a fierce clash between boundless hope and the harsh sting of reality.
The room lay shrouded in darkness, its only illumination a pale sliver of moonlight spilling through the cracked window, casting ghostly patterns across the worn floorboards. In the far corner, Fitran stood motionless, a looming shadow blending seamlessly into the gloom. Without turning, as if already sensing her presence, he slowly faced her entrance. No greeting escaped his lips, nor did he offer rejection. In that suspended moment, Iris felt the world contract around her—every distant sound seemed to fade into a heavy silence, leaving only the two of them locked in a fragile stillness. She searched his eyes desperately for understanding, while dreading the cold possibility of indifference reflected back at her.
With hesitant steps, Iris moved forward, stopping just before him. She bore no titles, no crowns—only the raw essence of herself. Inside, a tempest brewed: a swirling mix of curiosity tangled with deep alienation, underlined by a fragile hope that beneath this oppressive silence lay a chance to exchange truths that both humbled and might liberate her. Fear and hope wove tightly together within her chest, neither willing to overshadow the other, as she prepared to face the shadow that was Fitran.
"If I die tomorrow in war, I don't want the only legacy left of my life to be law, politics, and blood."