Last Born Of The Desdemona Chapter 120: Reader

Chapter 120 – Reader

At the wealthy, outrageously beautiful Wealth family mansion, inside a room where every light except the small lamp illuminating a desk had been switched off — plunging everything else into a shadowless darkness — Meadow sat with an expression brimming with excitement that was desperate to be released.

"I need to finalise everything for tomorrow." She muttered, low and hushed, her heart hammering inside her chest.

She was wearing her pink pyjama set, the pants so baggy they dragged along the floor. She had swapped her glasses for a black pair set in black diamond: a gift from her Third Brother on her seventeenth birthday, a year ago.

Unbothered by the darkness pressing in on all sides, Meadow tried to focus and draw back the memories of the recent events.

She filtered out the lengthy interrogation from her family about why she had e home so late and what had happened at the Event, and reached for a quieter, more concentrated space inside herself.

In front of her was a fresh sheet of paper and her pen. Everything was ready.

The only thing left was to write what she had experienced during the week, then refine it into a file she would send Cassius tomorrow.

But Meadow inexplicably found herself stuck.

She had witnessed so much during the Royal Event that she couldn’t decide what to write or where to begin.

Should she write about the Red Moon, and the monsters that had sent genuine shivers through her heart?

Should she write about her impressions of the other Heirs?

Or perhaps the battle between Cassius and Emrys, which had proven something none of them could have foreseen?

Or...should she write about Cassius and Isolde, dancing together in that shattered Hall, looking like beings from a distant world who had graced her with a love she had only ever believed possible in fiction?

All these questions. All these options, making the act of choosing feel more nightmarish than it had any right to.

After a moment of tense silence spent thinking in dizzying circles, Meadow let out a deep, long sigh.

’No need to overthink it.’ She decided, taking the pen slowly into her right hand and feeling the coolness of it at her fingertips. ’Cassius told me to write what I went through. That is more than enough. I only need to recount what I witnessed and felt.’

But that was precisely the problem. She had felt far too many emotions at the same time; and not only had she forgotten most of them already, but even the ones she still remembered...how could she possibly translate them onto paper with any accuracy?

Meadow had no idea. But she knew sitting here thinking about it would not help. So without another thought in her head, she pressed the pen to the paper and began to write, her mind travelling back through whatever she still could retrieve.