Chapter 101 One Life, A Thousand Questions
Three weeks after that mysterious night, an inexplicable unease began to crawl through Iris's veins. It was not a sharp pain nor any visible change to her form, but something far more profound—a subtle pulse vibrating deep within her soul. It felt as if the very fabric of the world was quietly shifting around her, molding a new fragment of her being that unveiled possibilities she had never dared to imagine. A hidden rhythm swirled inside her, a secret cadence whispering that everything she knew was on the brink of an unforeseen transformation.
Alone in the quiet sanctuary of her private chamber, Iris stood before the towering crystal window, watching raindrops tiptoe delicately across the surface of Gaia's underground city. Each droplet shimmered as it caught the gentle glow of the magical stones embedded in the cavern walls, casting a tranquil spell meant to calm restless hearts. Normally, this enchanting view was a balm to her spirit, a comforting reminder of enduring beauty. Yet now, a strange dissonance gnawed at her from within. Every time her gaze met the golden-framed mirror nearby, she noticed a faint tremor ripple through her arm, sending beads of cold sweat meandering down her temple. Her heart stumbled irregularly—a staccato warning from within—signaling that something far greater than herself was stirring, weaving together threads of both unease and fragile hope.
"This body is no longer mine alone."
The royal physician had been summoned in secrecy, sworn to silence as he approached the queen with a grave yet gentle demeanor. When the truth finally escaped his lips, it came barely above a whisper: in the early weeks of her pregnancy, Iris was ensnared in a relentless grip of nausea that overshadowed every waking moment, stealing away the simple joy of tasting foods she once cherished. Every familiar aroma twisted into a sharp, vile assault on her senses, as if the very ingredients that once delighted her palate had transmuted into poison, forcing her body to recoil, sometimes violently, in rejection. Fatigue seeped into her bones like a slow poison, draining her strength with each passing day, as if her life force was being sapped just to endure the cold majesty of the palace's imposing walls. Long, dark nights stretched endlessly before her, heavy with loneliness and despair.
Desperately, Iris fought to hide her weakening state, darting silently from one grand chamber to another, her heart hammering fiercely beneath her ribcage, haunted by the fear that any observer might glimpse the pale, exhausted shadow she had become. Within her rose a tempest of feelings—a fragile bloom of joy trembling at the thought of the life growing inside her, entwined tightly with a suffocating anxiety that pressed heavily upon her soul. This uncertainty, as palpable as the night's inescapable shadows, enveloped her completely, drawing her deeper into its oppressive grasp.
"Your Majesty... you are with child."
Silence enveloped the room like a starless night, thick and unyielding, as if time itself had frozen in the stillness. The steady beat of her heart thundered in her ears, a small, relentless explosion—erratic, urgent—demanding her full attention. Iris sat alone in the dim shadows of her private chamber, her fingers tightly clutching a worn scrap of cloth once draped over Fitran that fateful night—a fabric now stripped of the scent of life it once carried. Yet those memories lingered, etched deep into her soul like a gentle curse, refusing to fade despite the passage of time. Suddenly, a fierce wave of nausea crashed over her, shaking her to the core. A dizzying storm raged inside her head, spinning wildly like a crazed wheel that refused to stop, while cold sweat traced icy paths down her temples, amplifying the gnawing anxiety clawing at her spirit. Her chest, previously steady and calm, constricted as if crushed beneath the weight of an invisible burden—an unyielding pressure so heavy no remaining strength could lift it.
"I was foolish... I knew this could happen. But I also knew I did not want that night to end without meaning or consequences to face."