Chapter 59 - The Duchess of Valentine The air hung heavy with the st of dust, old wood, and a faiallig. Around Luxana's ptform, shards of css glinted in the red light, their broken edges sharp and threatening. Splintered wood, perhaps from destroyed furniture or fallen decorations, y scattered in a rough circle arouhese fragments created a barrier of sorts, separating her from the rest of the hall. The stained gss windows, their ses now barely disible in the red glow, cast distorted patterns across the floor and walls. These patterns seemed to crawl and writhe, adding to the uling atmosphere. The that bound Luxana's hands glinted dully, its links showing signs of age and wear."AHH," purred a little girl’s voice, soft and almost melodic. The sound drifted away from me, teasing the edges of my sciousness. But before I could even process it, a louder, more manic ugh erupted from the same voice, slig through the oppressive silence like a jagged bde. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" This time, it was closer—too close. I couldn’t move. My body felt like it wasn’t mine anymore, as if I had been drained of every ounce of strength. My head hung limply to the side, my oo weak to hold it upright. My wrists were bound in cold steel cuffs that bit into my skiherio the unfiving . Every breath was shallow, bored, as though eve of inhaling was a battle I was destio lose. And then I felt it—her toubsp;"Oh my. Oh my," she purred again, her voice dripping with a siing sweethat made my stomach . Her small hands cupped my cheeks with an ulileness, tilting my face upward so our eyes could meet. I didn’t want to look at her. I wao resist, to turn away, to y eyes and shut her out—but I couldn’t. My lids fluttered open just enough for me to see her face through the blur of tears pooling in my eyes. And when azes locked... A chill rippled down my spine like icy fingers g at my soul. She was simir—too simir. The word echoed in my mind like a broken record: simir...simir...simir. But simir to what? Or who? My thoughts fragmented into static as I struggled to make sense of it all. And then the name cwed its way to the forefront of my mind: The Whisperer. The Whisperer—the guardian of Omeen. A figure spoken of in hushed tones by those who dared cross into this pce between worlds. He wasn’t supposed to be a monster or a tormentor; he was said to be a healer of broken souls, a guide for those lost in the void. But now... now I couldn’t help but wonder if those stories had been wrong—or if I had misuood his purpose entirely. My head lolled against my right hand, which dangled uselessly in its cuffed restraint. My vision blurred further as tears spilled over and slid down my cheeks in slow, deliberate streams. Each droplet felt heavy, as though it carried with it pieyself that I could never recim. They traced cold paths down to my jawline before falling away entirely, nding silently on the fabriy dress below. And then... she noticed them. "AHHHHHHHhh!" she excimed with childlike glee, her voice rising in pitch as she twirled through the air iic spirals. Her movements were unnatural—too fast and too fluid for anything human—and they made my stomach twist with unease. She leaned in close again, her wide eyes fixated orail of tears casg down my fabsp;Her gaze dropped lower—to where the tears had fallen onto my dress—and her lips curled into a grin so wide it seemed to split her fa two. "What a perfect jewel," she whispered reverently, plug one of the crimson droplets from where it had pooled on the fabric. She held it up between her fingers like a treasure plucked from the depths of the earth and admired it with an iy that made bile rise in my throat. The jewel wasn’t just a jewel at all—it was blood. My blood. My crystallized blood. *Cck**Clibsp;The sound of a door opening and closing shattered the moment like gss hitting crete. The little girl froze mid-motion, her head snapping toward the source of the h an unnervingly slow turn that sent shivers rag through me. Her smile didn’t falter—in fact, it grew wider still—but there was something different about it now. It wasn’t pyful anymore; it was knowing...expet. The air grew heavier as footsteps echoed through the hall, eae deliberate and measured. A figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room, their silhouette distorted by the dim light filtering through cracks in the walls. As they stepped closer, their features came into focus—and dread coiled tightly around my chest like a vibsp; It was her than... The Duchess of Valentine. She stood before us, a vision of ic beauty that transded mortal prehension. Her celestial gown seemed to pulse with the very heartbeat of the universe, each shimmer and sparkle a testament to the infinite wonders beyond our world. As she moved, the steltions on her dress danced and swirled, creating new patterns and stories with every graceful step. Her presence was both awe-inspiring and intimidating. The golden atop her head, with its radiant spikes, gave her an almost divine aura. It was as if she wore the sun itself, its rays extending outward to illumihe darkness arouhe midnight-blue veil that cascaded from this only served to enhahe ethereal quality of her appearance, like a piece of the night sky had been captured and tamed to do her bidding. As I gazed upon her face, I found myself lost in those aquamarine eyes. They held depths I couldn't begin to fathom, swirling with secrets of distant gaxies and the wisdom of eons. Her blonde hair, falling in waves around her shoulders, seemed to catd reflect every avaible light source, creating a halo effect that only added to her otherworldly beauty. The Duchess moved with a grace that belied her eborate attire. Each step was deliberate, purposeful, as if she were treading upon the very fabric of spad time. The hem of her dress whispered across the floor, leaving trails of stardust in her wake. It was as though the universe itself bent to her will, rearranging its ic tapestry to suit her whims. As she approached, I felt a mixture of reverend trepidation. This was no ordinary noblewoman; the Duchess of Valentine carried herself with the authority of one who had gazed into the heart of creation and emerged unscathed. Her lips parted, and I braced myself for words that I imagined would carry the weight of celestial decrees. "What a shame," she spoke, her voice a melody that seemed to resoh the music of the spheres as she bore her eyes into mine. The Duchess of Valentine—no, Rudbeckia—strode toward us, her celestial gown flowing behind her like the very fabric of the os itself. Her smile was soft, almost serene, but her aquamarine eyes betrayed a flicker of something darker as they nded otle girl cradling the crimson jewels in her hands. "So it did work, huh?" Rudbeckia questioned, her tone ced with satisfa. Each word carried the weight of someone who had anticipated this moment for far too long. I hung there, motionless, my head heavy and my body limp. Tears tio stream down my cheeks, but I felt nothing. No pain, no fear—just a hollow emptihat g the edges of my soul. I must have looked like a lifeless doll, suspended in s and stripped of everything that made me human. "Never ever in my life have I everrr tried to show people the truth," the little girl excimed suddenly, her voice breaking through the oppressive silence like a burst of chaotiergy. She crouched down, scooping up a handful of the blood-red jewels with trembling hands, her wide eyes glimmering with uraiement. "I only thought showing fake things to others would make them cry. But I was wrong all along!" Her words sent a shiver through me—not because of their meaning, but because of the sheer joy in her voice as she spoke them. She turned back toward Rudbeckia, her gaze sharp and pierg as if it could cut through to the very core of the Duchess’s soul. "So," she chimed ily, though there was nothing i about the way her lips curled into a grin that stretched too wide for her small face. "These jewels should allow me to even haunt the souls of children who had father issues too?" Rudbeckia tilted her head slightly, her golden catg what little light filtered into the hall. Her hands rested one over the other in front of her as she regarded the girl with an expression that was almost maternal—almost. "Yes," Rudbeckia replied softly, her voice smooth and measured. "They definitely will." For a moment, silenveloped us like a heavy fog. The little girl’s attentiouro the jewels in her hands as she studied them with an iy that bordered on obsession. Meanwhile, Rudbeckia’s serene expression faltered ever so slightly as her thoughts seemed to drift elsewhere. What a bother, Rudbeckia thought, narrowing her gaze at the child before her. What did that patheti think when he handed his entire realm to a child he knew would twist it into something so vile? That fool... Whisperer of Omeen. Her lips pressed into a thin line as anger began to simmer beh her posed exterior. If it were me, she mused bitterly, I would’ve ensured my reign never ended. I would’ve ruled this nd with all my might and power. Her aquamarine eyes darkened as they flickered toward the little girl again. Unlike him... who fell in love with a worthless hurt soul a behind this child—a child who knows nothing but how to spread despair. Rudbeckia’s fists ched briefly before she forced herself to rex agaihoughts ed like a storm within her mind: Had it not been for his st dying wish for this girl to i his realm and "keep souls at peace," I would’ve ended her existence myself. She exhaled sharply through her nose, slumping slightly as if trying to shake off the weight of these thoughts. But what I say? Rudbeckia thought grimly, her aquamarine eyes narrowing as she straightened herself once more. The weight of her celestial gown seemed to flow with her movements, shimmering faintly as if mog the tension in the air. Her gaze flickered between me—weak, broken, and suspended in s—and the little girl who clutched those cursed crimson jewels so tightly in her small hands. I too am one hell of a mother to my children, Rudbeckia mused, a bitter edge to her thoughts. She exhaled softly, smoothing the golden filigree of her gown as she approached us with deliberate grabsp;L herself into a squat, she brought her face level with mine. Her aquamarine eyes locked onto my own crimson ones, and for a moment, there was silen unbearable stillhat seemed to stret forever. Then, with a soft smile that carried an uling mixture of pity and malice, she reached out. Her right hand cupped my face gently, tilting it upward so that I had no choice but to meet her gaze. Her touch was cold, yet deceptively tender, like frost settling ile gss. "Hmm," she chimed, her voice lilting with mock curiosity as she studied me ily. "No wonder Cillian's so obsessed with you." Her words hung in the air like a dagger poised to strike. My expression remained impassive—empty—as though I were nothing more than a soulless vessel. Tears tio stream silently down my cheeks, but I made no effort to resist her touch or respond to her words. Rudbeckia’s smile widened slightly as she released my face, letting it fall bato its lifeless position. She stood gracefully, brushing invisible dust from the flowing fabric of her gown. "Oh!" she excimed suddenly, her tone light and almost pyful as if we were discussing something trivial over tea. "And when you meet your sweet little psycho of a hubby, make sure to tell him how well his mother has treated you." Her words were a bde ed in silk—a cruel jest delivered with such casual elegahat it almost sounded like a pliment. But before I could process the venomous weight of her statement, another voice cut through the oppressive air like lightning splitting the night sky. "That won’t be necessary," the voice decred. It was calm yet sharp—a voice that carried authority and danger in equal measure. Rudbeckia froze mid-step, the little girl’s wide eyes snapping toward the source of the sound as well. The voice was unmistakable—familiar enough to send ripples of tension through the room. Rudbeckia turned slightly, just enough for the edges of her golden to catch the fractured light filtering through the broken hall. Her lips curled into a faint smile as though she had been expeg this moment all along. But before she could fully turn to face him—before she could utter even a single word—a bck light struck her like an uing storm. The impact was instantaneous and brutal. The force hurled Rudbeckia across the hall like a ragdoll caught in a hurrie’s wrath. Her celestial gown billowed violently around her as she smmed into the far wall with such ferocity that cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. The resonance echoed through the vast chamber like thunder rolling through ay yon. The little girl gasped audibly, her wide eyes darting toward where Rudbeckia had nded amidst the rubble. But before she could react further, hands—strong and unyielding—grabbed her sides from behind. She shrieked in terror as she was lifted off the ground, her small hands releasing their grip on the crimson jewels. The blood-like crystals scattered across the floor in a cascade of red light as her screams filled the air. "AHHHHH!" she cried out desperately, thrashing against the iron grip that held her aloft. The figure who had seized her floated effortlessly above the ground, his presenanding and chaotic all at once. His ughter rang out—a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers rag down my spine. The Circus Joker. The man Cillian and his group had been tasked with assassinating now loomed above us all like some malevolent specter pulled from nightmares. The Joker’s mismatched eyes gleamed with manic glee as he tightened his grip on the child’s waist with one hand while c her mouth with the other to stifle her screams. His grin stretched impossibly wide across his painted face as he surveyed his trade. "DAMN MAN," he bellowed between fits of ughter, his voice reverberating through the hall like an unhinged symphony of chaos. "This good is worth way more than those circus fools! This really was worth the trade."Tears streamed dowtle girl's face as she thrashed helplessly in his grasp. Her muffled cries only seemed to amuse him further as his smirk deepened into something truly sinister. And then—just like that—they vanished into thin air.To be tinued...