Chapter 110 The Uterus That Is Not a Uterus
Ratu Iris sat enveloped in utter darkness, the barely perceptible flicker of a blood-rose scented candle casting haunting shadows that danced upon the walls. Her once-majestic gown lay crumpled at her feet, and her crown rested delicately to the side, abandoned like a forgotten dream. Clutched tightly in her hand was a gleaming silver dagger—an ancestral heirloom known as Silariel, a blade forged to pierce not flesh, but the very essence of noble souls.
Opposite her, Lady Ravencia remained motionless, her presence a silent weight in the dimly lit chamber. Once childhood friends and keepers of each other's deepest secrets, now she embodied a silent threat—a rival whose battle was waged not on the battlefield, but within the fragile sanctuary of Iris's womb.
No war had erupted beyond these dark walls. No coup stirred the realm's uneasy peace. Yet within the depths of Iris's being, a profound violation festered: she had been stolen from. Not just her crown or her kingdom, but something far more primal and sacred was at stake.
It was her birthright itself that trembled—something ancient and inviolate: her divine claim to be the mother of the great demon.
They shared a dream, a vivid vision that stirred the depths of their souls. It was a dream of an unborn child, whispering in the fractured language of cracks—an ethereal presence that did not kick from the womb, but pulsed alive within their very spirits. In this haunting vision, they both saw clearly:
"Two women, one demon. Two wombs, one destiny of birth."
The prophecy was cruel and undeniable: one must be destroyed before the next full moon. If not, the world would bear witness to a terror born from the collision of two women's love, a union that fate itself forbade. Serelith would come forth, forged by pain and forbidden devotion.
Queen Iris lifted her dagger slowly, her hand trembling ever so slightly. But the tremor was not born of fear—it was the trembling of a heart torn in two, for there was no fragment of her soul untouched by love for Ravencia.
"What do you feel inside your body?" Iris's voice was a fragile whisper, taut with tension and unspoken desperation.
Ravencia's dark eyes burned steadily, unwavering and deep. "I feel chosen," she said, her tone resolute. "Not as a sinner, but as a mother. The mother of something destined to be born... with or without you."
In that suspended moment, time itself seemed to catch its breath. The world fell silent, shadows lengthening as Iris swung her dagger forward. But the blade halted midair, quivering helplessly as if gripped by invisible chains.