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Chapter 178: A Mother’s Grief

Queen Morgana sat beside Queen Elena’s bed, her figure hunched and weary, every movent slow, as though the weight of her sorrow held her down. Her face was etched with an unshakable sorrow.

For weeks, she had co to this quiet room, finding so odd comfort in the silence since her son, Eirik, had been taken.

It had been two agonizing weeks since Eirik’s disappearance, and still, no word had reached the palace about his whereabouts.

Each day stretched longer than the last, and every mont brought fresh waves of grief. Here, in Queen’s Elena healing chambers, she found a place where she could release her pain, away from prying eyes, away from her sons who tried, unsuccessfully, to console her.

Queen Elena lay there, looking almost as if she were rely sleeping, her cheeks no longer pale, her skin vibrant with a warmth and color that had long been absent. Her breathing was now steady.

The healers had confird the Nyrax Syndro that had plagued her had finally loosened its grip.

Gone was the waxy pallor that had shadowed her features.

Now, she appeared almost serene, as if she were resting peacefully, caught sowhere between sleep and wakefulness. Yet, no matter how long Morgana waited, hoping to see the queen’s eyes open, Queen Elena remained silent.

Morgana clung to that hope, finding so asure of strength in it, even as her own heart continued to break.

Morgana reached out, letting her fingers trace over the warmth of Elena’s hand, her voice barely a murmur in the room.

"Elena..." she whispered, as if speaking to a dear confidante.

She often did this, leaning close as if to hear so whisper from her unconscious friend. Her voice always a low murmur, intimate, carrying all the heartbreak of a mother who had lost her child to the unknown.

"If you could only hear

now..." her voice trembled. "My boy... my precious Eirik, he’s out there, sowhere... still not found. And don’t know how to bear it." Each word, laced with a pain that seed to echo in the stillness.

The quiet of the room held her grief like an unspoken promise. There was no one here to see her break, no one to hear the fragile whispers that slipped from her lips.

Her grip tightened on Elena’s hand, her lips pressing into a thin line as she struggled to contain her tears. "You know this pain, don’t you? The fear that holds you captive, the dread of not knowing. My heart feels like it’s tearing itself apart, piece by piece."

She sighed, lifting her gaze to Elena’s peaceful face, finding solace in her silent company. "You would understand... if only you are awake." She let out a faint, humorless chuckle, almost as if Elena could share in her sorrow.

"And Kaelix... your Kaelix is breaking, too. He’s suffering without Eirik." She swallowed hard, her eyes closing briefly as she held back ttears

"I keep wondering... could this have been stopped ? Could we have done sothing different? Would he still be here with

if we didn’t marry him off?"

The mories of Eirik’s laughter, his voice, and the joy he brought to the palace seed to slip through her fingers, intangible yet painfully vivid. She rembered his smile, and his unyielding spirit.

The thought of him suffering, sowhere far from her reach, gnawed at her constantly.

"It’s strange, isn’t it?" she whispered, brushing her thumb along the back of Elena’s hand. "I would have done anything to protect him. But what mother can truly shield her child from the world? All I want is for my baby to be safe, but now..." Her voice caught, and her gaze dropped. "If only I could... If only I have the power to stop all this from happening."

Morgana’s grip on Elena’s hand tightened as her voice cracked. "Wake up, Elena. Please, wake up. Your Kaelix needs you now more than ever." Her words were raw, a desperate plea that hung in the air.

"I need you. If you were here... if you could see the pain we’re all in, maybe you could help

find a way through it. I don’t know how much longer I can bear this alone."

The chamber was filled with the soft light of the setting sun, casting a warm glow across Elena’s face, illuminating the faint color in her cheeks, the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Morgana leaned in closer, her forehead almost touching Elena’s hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around her friend’s. "I’m losing him, Elena. Eirik was my heart, my world, and without him... everything feels empty."

The silence stretched, and Morgana’s mind drifted to mories of Eirik, the sound of his laughter, his mischievous smile, his strength, his unyielding loyalty to those he loved. The pain of his absence gnawed at her, relentless and unending.

In her grief, she missed the tear that slipped from Elena’s closed eye, trailing softly down her cheek. Her focus was entirely on her own mories, her voice a broken murmur. "If I could take his place, if I could be the one lost instead..." Her voice faltered, and she let out a shaky breath. "But I can’t, can I? And that... that’s what kills ."

Suddenly, she felt sothing, a faint pressure in her hand, a movent so subtle she almost doubted it was real. Her eyes snapped open, and her gaze fell to where her hand lay over Elena’s. Her breath hitched as she felt Elena’s fingers respond, gently curling around hers.

"Elena?" Morgana’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide with hope and disbelief. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look away, terrified this was just a trick of her grief-clouded mind. But the grip remained steady, growing stronger, as though Elena was reaching out, pulling herself back into the world.

"Elena... please..." Morgana’s voice trembled as she watched the queen’s eyelids flutter, struggling against whatever weight had held them closed for so long. Slowly, carefully, Elena’s eyes opened, dazed and unfocused at first, adjusting to the light that filled the room.

"Elena." Morgana’s voice broke, and she leaned forward, clutching her friend’s hand with both of her own, her face a mixture of relief and overwhelming joy. A tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, "Thank you. Thank you..."

Elena’s gaze slowly found Morgana’s, and though her expression was weak, there was a flicker of recognition, of shared understanding.

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