Chapter 111 Voice from the Sealed Womb
That night, Iris's dream carried a peculiar weight, wrapped in profound silence where each second lingered palpably in the air. Within this stillness, no Lamashtu haunted her, no ghastly splash of blood marred the scene, and no unsettling cries of a baby pierced the quiet.
Instead, there was a quiet white lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight like a flawless mirror—smooth, calm, and void of shadows. It stretched endlessly, resembling an untouched blanket of snow that stirred a faint blend of curiosity and unease. The air around it was crisp and cool, yet taut with a silent tension that seemed to anticipate some imminent transformation.
Stepping cautiously onto the tranquil water, Iris felt the silky texture ripple softly beneath her feet. She carried no crown signifying status, bore no weapon for protection, and was accompanied by no guardians this time. Each step unfolded in a delicate, magical silence, as the ripples beneath her revealed vivid reflections of her past: her small, joyous self; the tender moment when Fitran first kissed her warmly; and the profound choice to seal her womb, relinquishing an unexpected part of herself.
A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, deepening the enveloping silence around her. Gradually, Iris's awareness began to tremble—as if the boundaries between dream and reality were dissolving into sharper, more vivid hues. The cool water that lapped softly at her feet grew heavier in its embrace, while the whispering wind gave way to the steady, insistent rhythm of her own heartbeat. With each step, the world around her seemed to reshape itself, the shimmering faces from her fleeting memories dissolving into faint, shadowy echoes. She sensed she was on the cusp of awakening from this ethereal dreamscape. Within her chest, emotions churned fiercely—an uneasy blend of fear for the truths looming just beyond reach, and a fragile hope to return to the waking world.
Then, from the depths beneath her, a voice called out—soft, yet resonant—a vibration that shook the very core of her soul. It pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, faint but insistent, like a thread unraveling the veil of oblivion. Iris felt the cool dampness of the air brush against her skin, like morning dew settling softly, grounding her back to the physical world.
This was no external sound; it arose from within her chest, emanating from her very womb. The voice carried the weight of recorded memories and buried emotions, now sharper and more urgent than ever—laden with a painful, unbearable need to be heard. Holding her breath, Iris felt her heart pounding wildly, sensing the call intensify, drawing her deeper into a forgotten truth.
"...Mother?"
Iris paused, stunned by the voice—so achingly familiar, yet distant as if carried on a sudden gust of wind scented with forgotten memories. Each inhale grew deeper, weighted with a dull, aching heaviness that clawed at her lungs, reminding her of harsh truths lurking just beyond the veil of dreams. The emotional tether to the voice coiled tighter around her chest, pulling her desperately upwards toward the surface of consciousness.
"What... is this? Who... are you?"