Chapter 83 – The Half-Truth III

The girl met his gaze with a calm smile and unblinking eyes. “I am Princess Thyra,” she said, her tone steady. She looked younger, almost fragile, as though the commanding presence he had once faced earlier had melted away to reveal a gentler, more innocent version of her.

Shawn’s frown deepened as he scrutinised her. “You can’t be Princess Thyra,” he stated bluntly, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I’ve seen her. She was taller… older. You’re just a child.”

The girl tilted her head, her expression thoughtful rather than offended. “Yes, the one you saw was the embodiment of my curse power. My curse power took over me when I was on the verge of death and preserved me in my younger form and created this sanctuary,” she explained softly, her voice carrying a wisdom far beyond her apparent age. “My curse power took on my appearance and aged as I would have.”

Shawn’s mind raced. ‘Is her curse power… like a bloodline power? It reacted—just like mine does whenever I’m in danger.’

Princess Thyra gave a small nod, stepping past him with quiet grace. “Yes… my curse power is similar to a bloodline ability, but it wasn’t inherited—it was passed down to me rather than born from me.”

Shawn’s eyes widened in disbelief as her words sank in. ‘How can she know what I just thought…?’ The questions pounded in his mind, edged with rising frustration, ‘And how does she know about my power?’

Princess Thyra answered without hesitation, her tone calm but unwavering. “When I tried to stop you from going berserk with my power, I drew your mind into my Tranquillity Domain. In simple terms, when you’re inside my domain, I control everything… including hearing your thoughts.” She turned fully toward him, her expression softening, yet her voice carried unmistakable authority despite her appearance. “And like your power, mine responds the same way—just as it did when it saved you from drowning. It listens to your final thoughts… your most desperate wishes… and acts upon them.”

Princess Thyra paused, and her expression was calm yet knowing. “My power also did the same,” she said gently. “It tried to protect me, and fulfil my desire, but I feared it because I was so young to understand it… too young to control it. That fear made me not trust my power, and it allowed my power to consume me, just as yours consumed you.” Her voice softened further, “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That moment when it feels like your power acts on its own.”

Shawn nodded reluctantly, flashes of his own struggle surfacing in his mind.

Now calm, Shawn asked Princess Thyra, “How do you know all this?”

Princess Thyra’s gaze softened, her voice carrying a quiet, steady strength. “The witches taught me the nature of my power.” She let out a small, rueful laugh. “But to truly understand it…” She shook her head lightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That took far longer than I ever expected.”

Princess Thyra moved to the grass and sat down gracefully, motioning for Shawn to join her. He hesitated, but eventually lowered himself to the ground.

“My mother…” Princess Thyra began, her eyes drifting toward the distant horizon. “She was punished for abandoning her coven. A curse was cast upon her bloodline—one meant to be inherited by me.” Her voice thinned, almost carried away by the wind. “But on her deathbed, she refused to let that fate reach me. She took the curse into herself, wove it with her own power, and reshaped it into something else—something protective. And then… she passed it all down to me, when I was just an infant.”

Shawn frowned, processing her words.

“I think like mine, your power isn’t just yours,” Princess Thyra continued, her voice steady but tinged with empathy. “Unlike mine, which was only my mother’s, your power carries the weight of generations—your ancestors’ strength and knowledge, but your power listens to your heart, and it’s waiting for you to guide it.”

Shawn’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he looked down at his calloused hands, still trembling. “What if I can’t?” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“You can,” Princess Thyra said firmly, her gaze unwavering. “Your power isn’t something to fear. Speak to it, Shawn. Acknowledge it, not as a master commanding a servant, but as a companion seeking guidance. It’s like guiding a river; you cannot stop its flow, but you can shape its path. Only then, both you and your power can perform miracles.”

Her words lingered in the air, carrying a weight that resonated deep within him. Shawn’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the doubt in his eyes remained.

For a while, they sat in silence, the world around them humming with quiet energy. Butterflies danced above them, their delicate wings catching the golden light, and the soft rustle of leaves filled the air like a gentle melody.

After what felt like an eternity, Princess Thyra spoke again. “How much do you know about King Azure?”

Shawn shook his head slowly. “Only that he was powerful, wise, but…. He is currently waging war across the lands and taking innocent lives.”

Princess Thyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze lowering. “He wasn’t like that at all,” she said softly, her voice laced with sorrow. “My father was a kind and gentle king, beloved by his people. But something… something changed him. I don’t know what it was, but it turned him into the man you’ve heard of—the man who sought conquest over harmony.”

Her voice faltered for a moment before she steadied herself. “Even so, I believe a part of him still remembers who he used to be. That’s why I’m asking you, Shawn.” She turned to face him, her eyes filled with earnestness. “Help him. Help him remember. I forgive you for what you’ve done—for taking my brothers from me. I know they would have done the same if it meant saving our father.”

Shawn’s breath hitched as her words sank in-Forgiveness. Even after the blood on his hands, after the lives he had taken—her brothers—she was extending forgiveness to him, and he felt relief of a huge weight that had been taken from his shoulder. His throat tightened, and he covered his face with his hand, hiding the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

Princess Thyra rose to her feet and reached into her robe, pulling out a small object. It was a seed—golden and faintly glowing, radiating a gentle warmth. She held it out to him.

“This…,” she said, her voice steady, “…will help. It won’t end the war, but it will suspend it—give you a brief time to find a way to stop it for good.”

Shawn stared at the seed in her hand before taking it. It pulsed softly in his palm, almost as if it were alive. “What is it?” he asked.

“You’ll know when the time comes,” she replied, “Use it wisely.”

For a moment, Shawn was at a loss for words. Then, with a shaky breath, he nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Princess Thyra offered him a bittersweet smile, one that tugged at his heart. “Goodbye, Shawn, it was good talking with you”, she said softly, her form beginning to fade like morning mist under the sun. “Remember what I’ve told you.”

“Goodbye?” Shawn repeated, confusion flashing across his face. But before he could question her further, the realm around him dissolved into a swirl of blinding light.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the real world.

The vines that had held Shawn captive loosened and slithered back into the ground, disappearing as though they had never been. Shawn staggered forward, his legs weak, barely able to support him. In one hand, he still held the golden seed Princess Thyra had entrusted to him. In the other, he held the complete King Azure’s Sword, its blade glimmering with an otherworldly light.

As he turned his gaze toward the centre of the field, his breath caught in his throat. There, lying in a pool of blood, was Princess Thyra. Her small, fragile form looked almost peaceful, her face calm as though she had finally found rest.

“No…” Shawn whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of what he was seeing. The sword and the golden seen in his hand dissipated into smoke, fading into nothingness as it slipped from his grasp as he ran towards her. He stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees beside her still body.

Gingerly, he lifted her into his lap, cradling her with trembling hands. Tears blurred his vision, falling freely as they traced down his cheeks.

“Princess Thyra…” he murmured, his voice hoarse and filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….”

As he held her, Princess Thyra’s body began to dissolve, breaking apart into delicate rose petals that shimmered faintly in the light. The petals floated upward, carried away by a gentle breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. The air filled with the faint, bittersweet scent of roses, a scent that lingered even as the last petal vanished into the sky.