Chapter 10 â The Final Prayer
The sky above was a pale gray, clouds thick and unmoving, casting a dull light over the execution courtyard of the Imperial Castle. Seraphina stood on the wooden platform, her wrists bound in heavy iron cuffs, ankles shackled to the floor beneath her. Her maid uniform was torn in several places, stained with dried blood and dirt. Her once-soft hair clung to her face, matted and tangled.
Her body screamed with pain. Every movement sent a shock through her nerves, a reminder of the nine days she had endured in the underground prison. The torture had been cruel, mercilessâdesigned to extract confession, not truth. But through it all, Seraphina never once spoke the name that mattered. Not Aurelia. Not her child-like mistress. Never.
This was her choice.
And now, she would die for it.
The platform had been assembled hastily but stood solid before the watching eyes of nobility, guards, diplomats, and servants alike. Among them stood the envoys from the kingdom whose ambassador had been murderedâallegedly by Seraphinaâs hand. She could see their faces, cold and unreadable, as if her life meant no more than a blot on parchment.
But she wasnât looking at them.
Her eyes searched the crowd until they locked with a pair of wide, tear-streaked ones.
Aurelia.
The child was struggling against the arms of the guard that held her back, shouting something Seraphina could not hear over the murmurs of the crowd. Her tiny fists pounded at the manâs side. Her hair, so much like Lysandraâs, was messy and loose, her cheeks blotchy from crying.
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Seraphina's heart cracked.
Aurelia... please donât cry.
She turned her face slightly, breaking eye contact. Her chest tightened. She couldnât let Aurelia see her break. If she saw her crying, if she saw her frightenedâhow could she carry on?
So she smiled.
A soft, trembling smile.
âSo this,â she whispered aloud, more to herself than anyone else, âis what it feels like... when your big sister smiles at you for the last time.â
The image of Lysandra returned to herâlying still, her hand cold, her eyes shut forever. That same fragile, final smile. Seraphina bit her lip, tasted blood, and kept smiling.
The executioner approached, his hood pulled low over his face. He held a long, curved blade, recently sharpened. Seraphina knelt at the platformâs center. The wood beneath her knees felt damp with the morning dew or maybe with old blood. She couldnât tell.
A shout echoed in the courtyardâAureliaâs voice. She was still fighting. Still screaming. Seraphina longed to run to her, to cradle her once more, to whisper the lullabies Lysandra used to sing. But she couldnât.
This is the only way.
She lowered her head. And for the first time in years, she prayed.
Not to the goddess of the this world, not to the hollow gods whose names she had repeated during rituals. No. This time, her words were sent somewhere deeperâolder. She didnât know the name. She didnât even know if it was real. But she spoke from the core of her being.
Please. If someone, anyone is listening... not for me. For her. For Aurelia. Let her live happily. Let her smile again. Let her be happy. If you need something in return, take me. Take everything.
The moment she finished her silent plea, the world changed.
A pressure settled around her like fog. The murmurs of the crowd faded into an eerie silence. The wind stopped. Even her pain dulled for a breath.
Then came a voice.
Not from above. Not from below. From everywhere and nowhere.
"What do you desire, child?"
Seraphinaâs breath caught. The voice wasn't divine. It was... something else. Older than gods. Colder than death. And yet, it held no cruelty.
She answered in her mind, without hesitation.
"Protect her. Aurelia her mistress. Please... keep her safe."
"Is that all you desire?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Thatâs all I need."
A pause. A silence so vast it could swallow stars.
Then:
"I will try."
The voice faded.
Seraphina smiled, just as the executioner stepped forward.
A noblewoman from the visiting kingdom raised her hand.
"Proceed."
The blade was raised.
The blade fell.
And Seraphina, with her final breath, smiled wider.
Not because she was unafraid.
Not because she was ready.
But because someoneâsomethingâhad heard her prayer.
And perhaps, just perhaps, Aurelia would be saved.