“W-Where… am I?”

  The words trembled into the void, swallowed by the endless dark. A timeless silence pressed down until a faint glow bled through the shadows.

  From that glow, a figure slowly emerged, a woman with flowing green hair, her eyes shimmering faintly even against the suffocating black.

  She clutched the cloth close to her chest, brows knitting tight. Her breath hitched, her eyelids fluttering shut.

  “I… I cannot breathe.” The voice rang clear, though her lips never moved, as if the emptiness itself echoed her thoughts.

  Without warning, an unseen force yanked her downward. Her body slammed against a surface that hadn’t been there before yet there was no pain, only the weight of her confusion.

  She slowly rose to her feet.

  Then, a searing light cascaded from above. The void unraveled before her eyes.

  What was once a formless abyss twisted and reshaped, stone replacing nothingness.

  A colossal hall stretched into infinity, crowned by towering pillars.

  Three to her left, three to her right and one for her front. Between them, thrones materialized one by one, carved as if from the marrow of the world itself.

  Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, the sound loud in the sudden silence.

  Fear crawled up her face as she turned in every direction, taking in the impossible transformation.

  “What’s going on…?”

  The metamorphosis ended with a final echoing rumble. Seven thrones circled her, each radiating an oppressive aura that weighed down her chest.

  She froze as seven transparent figures shimmered into beings, faceless yet intimidating, seated upon those thrones.

  But the color of their eyes shone brighter, as it locked onto her, piercing straight through her soul.

  Her lips parted, but no sound escaped.

  Then, though she stood frozen in disbelief, a voice slipped through the stillness, low and heavy, carrying an intimidating weight.

  “You must be the one who touched the book.” The words rumbled like thunder rolling across empty skies, echoing through the unseen walls around her.

  Diana’s throat tightened while her thoughts tangled into chaos, smothered by the sheer force of dread, until even her breath faltered. Her lips trembled uncontrollably, as though fear itself crushed the words that were in her mind.

  A sigh drifted through the silence, softer this time.

  “Judging by that look, you’re too frightened to even speak.” This second voice was gentler, wrapped in a warmth that contrasted sharply with the first.

  With trembling resolve, Diana forced her gaze toward the direction of the voice. Her eyes widened when they landed on the source.

  A faint, transparent figure of a woman, her form glimmering like mist in moonlight yet her blue eyes shimmered brightly, lifting one delicate hand in a slow, graceful wave.

  “W-What’s happening? W-Who are you guys?” Diana finally managed to force out, her words broken, her voice quivering as though each syllable was a struggle.

  Her hands shook violently at her sides.

  “W-Where am I?!”

  “You're now stand in a sacred place where only the Gods themselves may tread,” a man’s voice resonated, deep and unyielding. His red eyes fixed on Diana with amusement.

  “The only path by which we may reach you is through your dreams. That is why, in your eyes, our forms appear incomplete. Yet even so… you should be grateful. For you are the only mortal ever permitted to behold us face to face.”

  Her throat tightened. “W-Why am I here?” The words left her lips scarcely above a whisper.

  “Because you are the chosen one!”

  All seven figures spoke in unison. The force of their voices reverberated through the dreamscape, making the very air thicken. The sound pressed against her ears until she winced, covering them slightly, her body trembling under its weight.

  Her mind spun. And then, she remembered. The skeletal being’s words in the tunnel, its cryptic warning echoing back to her now with terrifying clarity.

  Slowly, with breath quickening, she raised her gaze to the figure that stood at the very center of them all. Her voice cracked as she forced the words out:

  “A-Are you saying… th-that I… I am the cho-chosen one… to save the w-world?”

  The figure she had fixed her gaze upon moved forward without a sound.

  Diana instinctively stepped back but her body refused to obey her. She could neither close her eyes nor turn her head away.

  Fear rooted her in place, leaving her with no choice but to watch the figure draw closer.

  “Unfortunately,” the figure murmured, voice soft, a woman. Her glowing emerald eyes bore into Diana.

  “You are not the one destined to save the world.”

  Diana’s breath hitched as the figure halted before her. A transparent hand rose slowly, brushing against her cheek like a ghostly caress.

  “You are the one destined to give birth to the child who will.”

  Her eyes widened. H-Huh? The words echoed inside her mind. Her lips trembled, her irises quivered. Disbelief hollowed out her chest.

  The figure tilted her head with a sigh.

  “But your problems are far from over. Even now, the great army of the Demon God Zaroth marches. They will burn the Kingdom you struggle to protect. And if they succeed, the Apocrypha will be reduced to ash… and for that, the world will eventually be destroyed.”

  Diana’s teeth sank into her lip so hard she could feel the pain.

  The figure blinked in surprise at the sudden defiance but when her gaze met Diana’s once again, she saw something else. The girl’s eyes blazed, starlight flickering into flame.

  “If I die,” Diana rasped, her voice trembling but unyielding, “then the child you speak of will never be born. And all your grand designs will collapse.”

  The figure’s emerald eyes locked into her resolve eyes.

  “So tell me—” Diana’s eyes narrowed, heat shimmering in their depths. “—doesn’t that mean it’s your job to protect me?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Diana’s lips curved into a strained smile, sweat sliding down her cheek, but her resolve burned bright.

  “Then give me your aid… or your prophecy dies with me.”

  After her words, silence swallowed the place. Then, unexpectedly, the figure before her burst into laughter, the sound echoing so suddenly that she instinctively covered her mouth with her hands.

  But Diana’s gaze remained sharp, her eyes narrowed at the figure with unflinching seriousness. When the laughter finally faded, the figure leaned forward, patting Diana’s head with surprising gentleness.

  “I’m afraid to tell you, we cannot interfere with your problems.” She paused as she gestured her hand with grace.

  “The trials that are set upon you must be solved without any help coming from us.” She patted her shoulder twice.

  “However, if you die, the prophecy child will never be born. For that reason, I will grant you one piece of valuable knowledge.”

  Her tone softened as she cupped Diana’s cheek, a graceful smile curving her lips.

  “You must save your secretary. He is not your enemy but only he is possessed by Zaroth himself. If you manage to free him, your chances of victory will rise immensely.”

  Diana let out a quiet breath, the tension in her shoulders easing. Her lips curved faintly as she lifted her own hand to rest upon the figure’s.

  “T-Thank you.”

  “The time for you to remain here is over,” the figure said.

  “When you awaken, pain will overwhelm your body. It will not kill you but it will feel as though it might. Endure it, Diana… you must wake now.”

  As soon as the figure’s words faded, Diana’s body jolted as if her very soul had been dragged into a bottomless abyss.

  She awoke in violent convulsions, gasping desperately as though she had just been pulled from drowning.

  She sat upright in her bed without realizing it, her chest heaving. Each breath clawed at her lungs, sharp and unbearable, her heart hammering so wildly that the pain shot through her heart like blades. Every inhale and exhale was torture, and the sounds she made were ragged, choking cries were so loud that the maids outside froze in alarm.

  The door burst open. Rose rushed inside, her eyes widening in horror at the sight:

  Diana drenched in sweat, her skin ghostly pale, her trembling body straining simply to draw breath.

  What is this…? Diana’s thoughts screamed through the haze of agony.

  It feels like my whole body is boiling alive, like I’m drowning in fire.

  My heart… it’s being pierced again and again… I can’t… breathe… It hurts so much. Please… someone, help me.

  “Your Majesty!!” Rose shouted as she rushed to Diana’s side, cupping her face with trembling hands. Her skin was ice-cold.

  Why is she so cold?

  With panic driving her, Rose grabbed a glass of water, though she knew Diana doesn't have the strength to hold it.

  Carefully, she pressed it to her lips, tilting it just enough to let a trickle slip in. But before she could take more, Diana suddenly gasped, her hand clutching the fabric over her chest.

  Her tearful eyes locked onto Rose’s. “R-Rose… I-I can’t… breathe…” Her voice was faint, ragged yet it shattered Rose’s heart into pieces.

  “Your Majesty, please! Hold on!” Rose’s voice quivered, tears threatening to spill as she fought to stay composed.

  Then, footsteps echoed through the room. Rose’s eyes darted toward the door, and she saw Sasha, bent over while trying to gasp for air.

  “T-The doctor is here!” Sasha announced, her voice ragged with urgency.

  After several tense minutes, the sharp pain in her chest finally eased, though her breaths remained shallow and uneven.

  The images from her dream still lingered vividly in her mind, the voices and she recalled every detail as if it had truly happened.

  With a shaky inhale, she tried to steady herself.

  “Are you feeling better, Your Majesty?” Rose asked gently, her voice cutting through the lingering tension.

  Diana nodded slightly, a faint curve touching her lips.

  “Yes… thank you for helping me, Rose.”

  Rose shook her head twice, pressing her lips together with a frown of concern.

  “I’m just relieved that Your Majesty is safe.”

  Diana’s gaze sharpened as she shifted her thoughts.

  “By the way… I know the Marquis is in the palace, but where is he staying? And have you given him something to eat?”

  “He’s currently in Leo-san's office. I believe they’re still playing in a game of chess,” Rose replied.

  “And Lucas?” Diana asked, her voice tinged with a subtle edge.

  Rose hesitated briefly. “I haven’t heard much about his whereabouts, but Beatrice mentioned that he’s been working diligently in his office, dealing with the aftermath of the four plantations.”

  Diana’s chest tightened, a sharp pang stabbing through her as if someone had plunged a knife straight into her heart.

  She bit her lip, her hand instinctively pressing against her chest.

  This… this must be Towa’s feelings right now.

  The lingering presence of Towa during her dream had left an imprint, a thread connecting their emotions.

  The weight of it pressed heavily on Diana. She drew in a deep, shaky breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.

  Rose, standing nearby, knitted her brows with concern.

  “Your Majesty… are you truly alright?”

  Diana nodded, attempting to rise, but her legs betrayed her, trembling under her weight. Still, she refused to yield.

  “Help me change into my working attire,” she said, her voice firm.

  Rose hesitated. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to rest for a while, Your Majesty?”

  Diana shook her head decisively. “I can’t afford to rest when the enemies are coming. I must act immediately.”

  Rose nodded silently.

  With deliberate steps, Diana moved down the palace corridors. Her movements were slow but purposeful.

  Even now, Towa’s lingering emotions pressed against her, a bittersweet reminder of everything that had occurred in her dream.

  She swallowed the pain, letting it harden into resolve. Her eyes burned with determination.

  Finally, she reached the door of Lucas’ office. Letting out a shaky breath, she knocked firmly.

  “You may enter!” came the voice from inside.

  Diana opened the door and stepped in, her expression serious but softened by a faint, composed smile.

  “Good afternoon, Lucas,” she greeted.

  Lucas’ eyes widened at the sight of her. He sprang from his seat. “Your Majesty?!”

  Diana closed the door behind her, waving him gently to stay calm.

  “Forgive the sudden visit, but I needed to see you immediately.” She walked deliberately to the sofa and sat down with measured poise.

  Lucas returned to his seat, flipping through documents, yet the atmosphere thickened with each passing second. When he finally looked at her, his gaze met hers, intense and unflinching.

  “What is it, Your Majesty?” he asked, though his voice betrayed curiosity.

  “I read something in a book… names of the Gods. One, in particular, caught my attention. The Demon God, Zaroth.” Her tone carried weight, conviction, and the sharp edge of warning.

  Lucas tilted his head, a smirk forming as he rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. His eyes sparkled with quiet fascination. Their gazes locked, unblinking and unyielding.

  “You speak of Zaroth?” he said, his voice low. “That name… it intrigues me as well, Your Majesty.”

  Diana’s lips curved slightly, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Naturally. It would intrigue you. After all, it’s your name.”