Chapter 3
By the third day, the cub’s cries grew weaker and weaker.
Lyra’s inept care was rapidly draining his life.
High fever, refusing to eat, his life hanging by a thread.
She knew nothing of infant care, only roughly shaking him, trying to make him stop crying.
Archon Gabriel burst into the nursery, his face etched with horror.
“My King, the Royal Heir is failing!”
“His temperature is too high, his breathing shallow. He could die at any moment!”
Rhys’s face turned ashen, rage burning in his eyes.
“How can this be? Wasn’t Lyra taking care of him?”
“The Royal Heir needs his mother’s essence. Only his true mother’s essence can save him.”
Archon Gabriel pointed, trembling, towards my prison.
“The Queen must come here. Otherwise, the Royal Heir won’t survive the night.”
“She’s the source of the curse! Letting her near will only worsen things!”
Rhys’s fists clenched, veins bulging.
“There must be another way!”
“My King, bloodlines do not lie.”
Archon Gabriel’s voice was stern and urgent.
“The Royal Heir’s body is instinctively rejecting everything but his true mother.”
“He cannot wait. Any more delay and it will be too late.”
Rhys gritted his teeth, finally giving in.
He had no choice but to bring me from my chambers to the nursery.
My clothes were disheveled, and I was dragged along like a prisoner, heavy shackles clanking on my wrists.
Lyra stood nearby, her eyes burning with hatred.
“Hurry up. Don’t waste time.”
Her voice dripped with disgust and impatience.
“Once he’s recovered, you can crawl back into your cage.”
The moment the cub was back in my arms, I nearly broke down in tears.
His little face was pale, his breathing ragged.
But sensing my presence, he instantly calmed, greedily suckling.
His tiny hands clutched my clothes tightly, as if afraid I’d disappear again.
“My precious, Mommy’s here.”
I gently stroked his little face, tears streaming down my own.
“Mommy will always love you, and I will never abandon you.”
It was my only comfort in days.
Feeling his strong suckling, hearing his satisfied murmurs, my heart finally found a moment of peace.
The cub’s temperature slowly returned to normal.
His little face regained its color, his breathing steadied.
He slept contentedly in my arms, his tiny mouth still softly moving.
Just then, Rhys abruptly snatched him from my embrace, handing him back to Lyra, who had been waiting impatiently.
“Enough. Your purpose is served.”
His voice was icy and devoid of gratitude.
“Your use is at an end.”
Lyra took the child, flashing me a cold, triumphant smirk.
“Thank you for the ‘nourishment,’ my good milch cow.”
She deliberately emphasized the words ‘milch cow’.
She turned to Rhys, malicious glints in her eyes.
“My King, since her purpose has been fulfilled…”
“It’s time for the ‘Severance Ritual’.”
“To completely eradicate this curse and restore the Royal Heir’s pure bloodline.”
Rhys looked at me, his gaze utterly devoid of warmth.
As if I were a tool, used up and ready to be discarded.
“Tomorrow, at the Hundred Clans Homage Ceremony.”
“I will, before all assembled…”
“Drain every last drop of your tainted blood from my son’s life.”
“Drain it all, until nothing remains!”
“Let everyone witness the consequence of defying the royal will!”
I was roughly dragged back to my chambers, my shackles scraping a harsh sound across the floor.
I stared at my fingers, where my child had suckled.
Feeling the ancient power stirring within me, awakened by the Sacred Fruit.
A plan, for mutual destruction, began to form in my mind.
If you want my blood, then I’ll give you a ‘gift’ you’ll never forget.
Let you pay the price for your greed and cruelty.
The Hundred Clans Homage Ceremony began as scheduled.
The entire royal palace was adorned with colorful banners and flowing flags.
I was chained like a sacrificial offering, dragged to the foot of the hundred-step staircase leading to the throne.
All the tribal chiefs were present, observing the ritual.
The Tiger Clan, the Eagle Clan, the Wolf Clan… hundreds of nobles gathered.
Their gazes held curiosity, indifference, and cruel excitement.
Rhys, in his golden royal robes, stood majestically on the throne.
Crown on his head, scepter in hand, he seemed sacred and inviolable.
“Fellow kin!”