The Death-Chosen Daughter Chapter 05
Author: Bagel
The silver-black stain on the silk was like a star extinguished upon fresh snow. My legs gave way, and I nearly collapsed.
“Elowen!” Caelum’s expression changed. He strode forward, catching me in his arms. “Summon the royal priest! Now!”
His palm pressed firmly against my back, the force so great it felt as if he were trying to knead my splintering soul back into my bones.
The entire corridor erupted into chaos, servants scrambling in every direction.
Faye came stumbling over, her face as white as a sheet. “I’ll get the high priest, I’ll go right now…”
Caelum said nothing more. He bent down, swept me into his arms, and practically flew back to my chambers, placing me on the bed.
He leaned over me, his pale gold eyes, usually so calm, now churning with an emotion I had never seen before. It was the panic of someone watching things spiral out of their control.
“How could you be coughing up this kind of blood?”
“Did the wound from last night tear open again? Didn’t you apply your medicine?”
I clutched the blood-stained handkerchief, my knuckles white.
I remembered the voice from my dreams: as the Night of the Shattered Moon approached, this mortal vessel of mine would wither day by day, until the gates of the Underworld opened for my return.
I had told so many people, so many times.
Over and over, and no one would believe me.
Now, I just shook my head numbly. “It’s nothing.”
The royal priest arrived swiftly. The elderly high elf placed fingers imbued with diagnostic magic against my pulse. The longer his magic flowed, the deeper his brow furrowed.
“The cold iron wounds that pierced her bones have accelerated the dissipation of her magic. Her elven core is failing.” He paused, his tone grave. “The soul-imprint within her is fracturing.”
“It’s as if a hand is reaching up from the deepest part of the World Tree and pulling her soul down, inch by inch.”
“She absolutely cannot be exposed to cold iron again. Nor can she perform any more healing arts. Otherwise, she will not last the night.”
Tears welled in Faye’s eyes. “But the Lady just gave a strict order for Lady Elowen to go to the Abyssal Shrine in the lowest level and kneel in prayer for the Second Lady’s ceremony…”
The priest didn’t dare respond. He quickly pressed a parchment with the recipe for a high-grade magical potion into Faye’s hand.
“Brew these spiritual herbs into a tonic. Find a way to make her drink it. And do not let her get cold again.”
At the door, he turned and glanced at Caelum, his lips moving as if to say something. In the end, he just sighed, shook his head, and disappeared down the corridor.
Caelum sat down on the edge of my bed.
In the long silence that followed, I waited for his performance of regret.
Finally, he spoke, his voice once again taking on that sickly sweet tone.
“I was a bit harsh… back in the corridor.” He paused, carefully selecting the softest words.
“As long as you… stop fighting with Nyssa over every little thing.”
“Once she has passed, everything will go back to the way it was.”
Did he really think we could go back to the way it was?
The last, absurd flicker of hope in my heart was finally crushed to dust in that moment.
“Has Your Highness forgotten his own words?”
I looked at him, each word feeling as if it were being torn from the cracks in my soul.
“An elf only has one soul-bond in a lifetime. You gave that one and only vow to her. After she dies, what will you have left to give me?”
I watched Caelum’s Adam’s apple bob slowly.
He was silent for the span of several heartbeats, as if finally making a decision. “I have already sworn an oath to her,” he said, looking at me. “When she passes, I will mourn her with the rites befitting a princess for a hundred years.”
The pretense was finally shattered.
A hundred years was not a long time for an elf.
And his talk of a hundred years was just a way of telling me to be his companion, forever without a soul-bond, to live out the future he deigned to grant me.
I smiled faintly and didn’t press further.
This answer was more than enough.
I closed my eyes, trying to rest, but my mind refused to settle.
Once, the silences between us were never this cold and merciless.
We used to talk about everything, from the paths of the stars to the maps of the elven continent, from the power struggles of the royal court to the children we would raise together. We even romantically imagined which sacred leaf of the World Tree would bear both of our names entwined.
And now, we had gone from having everything to say to having nothing left to say at all.
The door creaked open.
Nyssa entered quietly, holding a small glass vial that shimmered with a light like dawn.
Her white dress was perfectly unwrinkled, as if in this tower there was no blood, no sickness, and no sister on the verge of returning to the Underworld.
She walked to Caelum’s side, her voice soft. “You’ve been with Sister for so long. Let me take care of her now.”
Caelum’s tense expression immediately softened. “Alright.”
He stood up at once, unhesitatingly ceding his spot on the bed, along with the right to “care for me,” to my sister.
Nyssa sat on the edge of the bed and poured a little of the liquid from the vial onto her fingertip.
“Sister, this is a Dawnlight Purification Potion, the most precious healing balm in the royal court,” she said, her tone full of concern. “It’s specifically for disinfecting wounds.”
I looked at the vial, knowing full well what it was.
I knew what that was. The Dawnlight Potion. Un-neutralized, on a festering wound left by cold iron, it was an agony akin to molten lava. The liquid hadn’t even touched me, but I instinctively flinched back.
Then, with a practiced stumble, Nyssa tilted the vial, trying to pour the horrific liquid directly onto my mangled wound.
Her movement was swift, as if rehearsed countless times.
I twisted my shoulder away and raised a hand to block her arm. With a clatter, a few drops of the scalding potion splashed out.
Nyssa immediately used the momentum to fall to the floor. “Ah! It hurts!”
She cradled the back of her hand, her voice choked with tears. “Sister, I was just… trying to help you heal…”
A single, clear tear fell from her lashes. Then, her other hand quickly swept through the small puddle of uncleaned black blood on my bedside.
After smearing her fingertips with the necrotic, silver-black blood, she wiped it on the Sacred Bough of the World Tree enshrined in the corner of the room.
The moment the black blood touched the sacred branch, the bough, which had been glowing with a soft golden light, visibly withered and blackened, as if seared by poison.
Nyssa whipped her head around and pointed at the shrine, her scream tearing through the air. “Sister, you—how could you do this?!”
“The Sacred Bough of the World Tree… you dared to defile it!”
In the most ancient laws of the elves, defiling a sacred artifact of the World Tree was an unforgivable sin.
Its gravity was second only to kinslaying.
At the same time, the door was thrown open and Caelum burst in.
What he saw was Nyssa on the floor, weeping pitifully, a bedsheet with several burn holes, and the sacred bough, which was visibly rotting and blackening.
A towering rage ignited in his calm eyes.
“Elowen!”
Caelum rushed over and seized me by the shoulders, his grip so tight it felt like he wanted to tear my wounds open.
“I heard Sister was ill, so I kindly brought her a sacred potion,” Nyssa delivered her lines perfectly. “I never imagined… that Sister’s heart could be so dark and venomous, that she would even destroy a divine blessing.”
“Elowen, how could you be so vile!” Caelum spat, his glare brutal as he gently wiped away Nyssa’s tears.
“She was only trying to treat your wounds, and you used necrotic power to defile a sacred bough just to frame her?!”
I opened my mouth, but only more black blood rose in my throat. I couldn’t get a single word out.
From beginning to end, Caelum never gave me a chance to speak.
He held me down, pressing me into the bed so I couldn’t move.
“Nyssa was doing this for your own good. You will accept her kindness!”
I stared at him in horror, my throat tightening. “Don’t. It will tear open…”
But before I could finish, Caelum poured the entire bottle of un-neutralized Dawnlight Purification Potion into the two bloody, festering cold iron wounds in my collarbones.
For an instant, my vision went white. A searing pain, like lava being poured into the cracks of my bones, shot through my entire body.
The silvery liquid seeped into my flesh, and with every inch it penetrated, an invisible hook scraped against my soul. I curled into a ball, my body convulsing, but I could no longer make a sound.
I could only feel the thick, metallic taste flooding my mouth.
Caelum didn’t spare me a glance. He turned and swept Nyssa into his arms, his touch so gentle it was almost trembling, using his sleeve to carefully wipe away the nearly invisible red mark on her hand.
As he walked out the door, Nyssa looked back over his shoulder. Then, seeing me curled up on the bed and twitching in agony, she smiled.
I will never forget that smile. It was a proud, triumphant smirk, utterly devoid of guilt.
From the corridor, their conversation drifted back to me.
“Caelum, we’re about to make our soul-bond, but when I think about you and Sister… it’s like a thorn in my heart.”
Caelum’s reply was low and certain, like a vow of absolute fealty. “What I felt for her before was real.”
“But from now on, until eternity’s end, your name will be the only one on my soul.”
The door clicked shut.
I lay on the potion-soaked, scorched bedsheets, the wounds on my collarbones still smoking, the taste of rust thick in my throat.
I stared at the dim ceiling with wide, empty eyes.
The last wisp of life inside me, along with the closing of that door, was extinguished.
