Chapter 65: Suffering Personified
"W—what?" Laura stammered, squirming. "It’s not what you think!"
Mirelda’s eyes narrowed into slits, studying her niece’s flustered expression. "The last time I saw her like this was..." She trailed off, the thought unfinished.
"Mirelda, let her go," Castilla said evenly. "She’ll be busy with the tournament and needs rest. I’ll tell you about him."
Surprise flickered across Mirelda’s face, and Laura seized the chance to slip free of her aunt’s embrace.
"I’ll see you later! Don’t miss me too much—love you, byee!" Her voice echoed through the hall as she ran out.
Left behind, Mirelda sat across from Castilla, her wings giving a faint, restless tremor. "Tell me everything," she pressed.
Castilla’s eyes opened fully, a subtle ripple of power passing through them. "I couldn’t watch his every move or intervene—his threads of fate lie beyond our seekers."
Mirelda gave a curt nod.
"But this much I can tell you," Castilla’s tone softened, almost regretful. "That boy has suffered. And he will continue to suffer."
The air grew heavy. Mirelda’s frown deepened. "Show me his Eidocrian records."
Castilla waved her hand, conjuring a semi-transparent blue interface that hovered between them. "You can watch it all, or skip to the most recent events. But I must ask one thing—"
"Yes, I know," Mirelda interrupted. "Yamira won’t hear a word of this. Not from me."
Castilla inclined her head, then snapped her fingers. The projection shimmered to life—unfolding the short, tragic life of Clark Thompson before Mirelda’s eyes.
The projection rippled to life, fragments of Clark’s life flashing before Mirelda’s eyes like shards of broken glass. His happy smile persevered through the most daunting situations until it couldn’t.
With every hit, every punch, every broken bone, that smile dimmed until a shadow remained.
But at least a shadow still had some form of existence.
As she watched the boy’s body continually being pummeled into the ground, his bones breaking, his flesh mixing with his blood in a grotesque mush and being forcefully regenerated, that fragile smile finally broke.
Her wings had folded long ago, her nails digging into her palms as she watched his desperate struggle to reclaim his humanity—to piece together the emotions shattered with every blow of that merciless hammer.
But fate had never been kind to him.
Instead of granting even a fleeting moment of peace, it thrust him into devastation again and again, each trial stripping away what little remained. His mind, his heart, and his very sense of self were tested relentlessly, as though the universe itself sought to remind him that he could never return to the man he once was.
Her vision blurred with tears, yet she refused to look away. She couldn’t—not when the boy struggled so desperately to escape the cruel fate forced upon him. A part of her feared that if she turned aside, even for a moment, he would be left to face his torment in loneliness once more.
And then came the climax of his suffering. In one final, desperate attempt to prove he still held even a shred of humanity, despite the fearful gazes that shadowed him, he fought a battle that would shatter him.
And shatter him it did. Body and mind alike, torn apart. The last fragile hope he clung to was ripped from his grasp—along with his very limbs.
Mirelda’s wings folded in on themselves, trembling as though they could shield her from the boy’s torment. Her nails dug crescents into her palms, but she didn’t even feel the sting. For just an instant, she saw not a warrior, but a child—small, lost, and reaching for a hand that never came.
Her vision blurred. She couldn’t watch anymore. With a sharp gesture, she urged her sister to end the recording.
"Why didn’t you do anything?" She asked, her eyes betraying her sharp tone.
"I did all I could." she leaned forward. "It clearly wasn’t enough."
"Clearly," she spat, her voice laced with anger.
"You think it makes me happy seeing my daughter’s beloved go through all of this?" Castilla retorted, "I’ve bent the rules to the reincarnation’s system so much that I can barely speak through it."
"Maybe you can’t do anything about it, but I can." Mirelda replied, her eyes cold.
"What do you want to do, Mirelda?" Castilla replied with narrowed eyes.
Mirelda didn’t see the need to hide her intentions since she would find out anyway."I’m going to wipe out those Crimson whatever and everybody responsible for the things he’s been put through."
Castilla’s expression didn’t change. "There are repercussions to rash moves. Say you wipe out those Crimson mortals—what then? You’ll end facing their leader, because those men were only the underlings. The real threat isn’t in his planet; it’s out here, in this galaxy. If you want to actually help him, you don’t burn the leaves. You cut the root."
Mirelda fell silent, her eyes still gleaming with anger, she replied, "I’ll have to take this Crivornian species’ rebellion seriously, if that’s the case."
Castilla and Mirelda’s discussion had ended with reluctant nods and quiet resolve. By nightfall, they returned to their respective homes, each carrying plans they would never openly admit to.
The stars hung bright over Aetheria, constellations glittering like jewels scattered across velvet space. A comet streaked past in a slow arc, painting the sky with fire.
On her verandah, Laura leaned against the railing, her golden hair catching the starlight. Her eyes shimmered with longing as she whispered into the night.
"I miss you, Clark, I really do, and I want to come back, but I can’t without without the space coordinates to your planet and mother can’t possibly give them to me at this time." She paused, a small frown tugging at her lips. "I just hope you’re okay. Maybe Miriam’s looking after you... though I’m not thrilled about that either."
"Yamira? What are you doing here?"
The voice came from behind. Laura stiffened, then slowly turned her head. A tall figure stood in the doorway: a blue-haired man, wings folded neatly against his back, a practiced smile on his face.
Her expression soured instantly. "What kind of dumb question is that? This is my room. Can’t I stand outside and look at the stars without being interrogated?"
He chuckled softly, taking a step closer. "You misunderstand me. I’m not here to scold you. I’m here to watch over you as my future wife."
Laura’s glare could have cut glass. "Future wife? You could lose your head for that."
His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes hardened ever so slightly. "We both know that can never happen— your mother can’t afford that. It’s a matter of alliance. Our families agreed long before you were even born. Aetheria’s treaty with Tharvos depends on this union. Whether you like me or not isn’t the issue."
Laura’s hands tightened on the railing, her eyes meeting his. "Listen to me very closely Gharkva, I couldn’t care less about you or your stupid treaty. I’m not some bargaining chip and I will go against whoever dares stand in the way of my happiness."
The air chilled as Laura ended her words, Gharkva’s expression hardened, his eyes shining with ruthlessness.
"Without this marriage, the peace your mother worked so hard to build will shatter. You can’t deny me, Yamira. Not without dooming your own people."
Laura’s lips curved upwards in a cruel smile. "You seem to be forgetting something Gharkva. I’m not queen yet"
Gharkva clenched his teeth in unrestrained anger. "You will be soon enough and you will have no choice but to attend to the needs of the kingdom first!"
Laura’s expression turned thoughtful, her hands under her chin, she replied, "Is it really after the kingdom’s well being you’re after or are you so desperate to find a wife that you’ve stooped to manipulation since you know no woman would truly love you without it?"
Gharkvak face reddened in anger, but he couldn’t raise a finger to wipe that smug grin off her face— because he knew the moment he tried even the smallest acts of violence, he would be destroying everything he had worked so hard for.
Taking deep breaths, Gharkvak clenched and unclenched his fists. "I won’t play this little word game with you. You’ll come to see that you can’t escape this fate"
Laura’s eyes turned cold. "I decide my fate"
Gusts of cold wind blew, causing their hair to cover their eyes, by the time the wind settled, Gharkvak was gone.
Laura stared at his fomer position and scoffed. "Does he think that was some kind of cool outro?"
Laura sat on a chair by the wall, a sudden thought crossing her mind. "What did Clark call that thing again?"
"Aurora? Arhova?..... Aura, yes!" She squealed, her mind wandering to the memories she spent with Clark, forgetting about the encounter she just had and the tournament that she still had to prepare for.
Laura eventually stood up, her movements having a certain bounce to them and jumped on her spacious bed with a silly smile. "Don’t worry Clark, I’ll be with you soon."