NOVEL WEB Chapter 120: Acceptance
The VIP section of the cafeteria was a quiet sanctuary compared to the cacophony of the general dining hall. Velvet chairs and mahogany tables replaced the standard wooden benches, and golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elegantly appointed space. For once, I was grateful for the exclusivity, even if it came with the perpetual glares of nobles who clearly thought I didn't belong here.
Enara sat across from me, her posture perfect as she delicately sliced into her steak. Her midnight eyes betrayed none of the inner turmoil I suspected brewed beneath her composed surface. On the table between us, Ananara lounged lazily, his leafy crown tilted like a hat perched on a rakish angle.
"You're unusually quiet," I said, breaking the silence as I stabbed a piece of roasted potato with my fork. "Not plotting my demise, are you?"
Enara's gaze flicked up, sharp as a blade. "Don't tempt me."
"Charming," I muttered, chewing slowly.
The tension from Valmor's lecture still hung over us like a storm cloud. It wasn't just me Enara's clipped tone and the way she kept glancing toward the window betrayed her unease. Even Ananara seemed quieter than usual, though his natural disdainful air remained intact.
"You're brooding again," I pointed out, gesturing with my fork.
Enara set her knife down with a deliberate clink. "Of course I'm brooding. That lecture wasn't exactly light reading material, was it?"
"Oh, I don't know," Ananara drawled, his voice rich with sarcasm. "It's not every day you get to hear about how society molds tyrants like dough in the hands of a careless baker. Fascinating, really."
"Thank you for your invaluable contribution, O great pineapple sage," I said, rolling my eyes.
Ananara tilted his leafy crown smugly. "You're welcome, mortal."
Enara sighed, brushing a strand of raven-black hair from her face. "What bothers me isn't just the lecture. It's the way he made her—" She hesitated, searching for the word. "Understandable."
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. "You think it's wrong to try and understand her?"
"No," she said sharply. "But it's dangerous. Sympathy for someone like the Dark Sovereign it's a slippery slope."
"She wasn't always a monster," I pointed out. "Doesn't mean we have to excuse what she did, but pretending she was born evil is just as dangerous, don't you think?"
Enara's lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, I thought she'd argue, but instead, she picked up her glass of juice and took a slow sip.
Ananara, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. "The two of you are terribly boring when you get philosophical. Honestly, what's the point of rehashing ancient history? She's dead, sealed, or whatever, isn't she? Let the past rot where it belongs."
"Funny," I said dryly, "coming from someone who's literally centuries old."
"I'm timeless," Ananara corrected haughtily. "Not ancient. There's a difference."
"Right. My mistake."
Enara ignored us, her gaze distant as she twirled her fork absently. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "You know what really struck me? The child in that projection. She didn't look like a monster. Just… lost."
I nodded slowly, remembering the flickering image of the small, terrified girl. "Yeah. That got to me too."
"What do you think she wanted?" Enara asked, almost to herself. "Before it all went wrong?"
"Acceptance," I said without hesitation. "Isn't that what everyone wants?"
Ananara snorted. "Speak for yourself. I want reverence, power, and an endless supply of sunlight. Acceptance is for the weak."
"Spoken like someone who's never been rejected a day in his life," I shot back.
"Obviously," he said smugly.
Enara's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it faded as quickly as it came. "I suppose that's what makes it tragic. The Sovereign wanted something simple, but the world denied her even that."
For once, Ananara didn't interject. The weight of her words settled over the table, heavy and inescapable.
I set my fork down, leaning forward. "Do you think she's really gone? Completely?"
Enara's midnight eyes met mine, her expression unreadable. "I don't know. But if she isn't…"
Her words trailed off, but the implication hung in the air.
"If she isn't," Ananara said, breaking the silence, "then you mortals have bigger problems than deciding what's for lunch."
From the depths of her ethereal prison, the Dark Sovereign observed them, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the swirling darkness. A jagged crack in the veil between her realm and theirs gave her the perfect vantage point. She leaned forward, her fiery hair cascading around her like molten lava, a smirk playing on her crimson lips.
"Mortals," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Always so certain their little musings matter."
Her gaze locked onto Liria first. The girl with mismatched eyes and hair like opposing forces of night and moonlight. There was something about her—something oddly compelling. A curiosity that niggled at the edges of the Sovereign's mind, like an itch she couldn't quite scratch.
"You're clever," she murmured, watching Liria's expressive face shift between exasperation and thoughtfulness as she bantered with the demon princess. "Too clever for your own good, perhaps. But you're still blind, little one. Blind to what you are, what you could be."
The Dark Sovereign tilted her head, examining Enara next. Regal even in her youth, with that piercing midnight gaze that seemed to judge the world unworthy of her attention. A soft chuckle escaped her lips.
"And you," she said, her tone mockingly maternal. "So much arrogance for one so young. You play at power, child, but you have no idea what it truly means. You think your mother's crown makes you strong? How quaint."
Her attention flicked to the third member of their odd little group—Ananara. A sentient pineapple of all things, lounging on the table like a king on his throne. The absurdity of it drew a sharp, mocking laugh from the Sovereign.
"And this," she said, gesturing to no one, "is your companion? A fruit with delusions of grandeur? Oh, how the mighty demons have fallen. If this is the company you keep, no wonder your kind is in decline."
The Dark Sovereign leaned back, her gaze lingering on Liria for a moment longer. There was something about the girl's aura—something faintly familiar. A fragment of power she hadn't seen in centuries, though it was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of inexperience and mortal ignorance.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Very interesting indeed."
But as fascinating as the trio in the cafeteria was, they weren't the only ones who had caught her attention today. With a wave of her hand, the vision shifted, the crack in the veil expanding to reveal another scene.
Daena.
The former Demon Queen stood in the grand hall of the demon palace, her obsidian skin gleaming under the light of enchanted torches. She was in deep conversation with Verida and Nyssara, their voices sharp and their expressions tense.
"Oh, my darling Daena," the Dark Sovereign said, her tone laced with mock affection. "Still playing the noble protector, are we? How tedious."
Her gaze slid to Verida, the current queen, whose muscular form radiated power and authority.
"And you," the Sovereign continued. "So fierce, so commanding. Yet even you flinch when the right buttons are pressed, don't you? How much of that strength is real, and how much is just a mask to keep your little family in line?"
Nyssara's lilac eyes and ethereal presence caught her attention next. The gentler of the two queens, but no less formidable in her own way. The Sovereign's smirk widened.
"And you, starry one," she said, her tone turning saccharine. "Always the voice of reason, the calm in the storm. Do you ever tire of pretending to be above it all? Or do you enjoy watching your beloved struggle with the burdens you so conveniently avoid?"
The Dark Sovereign's golden eyes glinted as she watched the trio argue. She couldn't hear their words clearly through the veil, but their body language spoke volumes. Daena's whip-like tail lashed behind her, a sure sign of her frustration, while Verida's sharp gestures suggested a brewing storm. Nyssara, as always, tried to mediate, her calm exterior betraying only the slightest hint of exasperation.
"How delightful," the Sovereign purred. "Three powerful women, each convinced they hold the key to the future. And yet none of you see the cracks forming beneath your feet."
She leaned closer to the vision, her fiery hair framing her face like a living flame. "You fret over Liria, don't you?" she whispered, her voice dripping with mock concern. "You should. She's more mine than she is yours, though you haven't realized it yet."
A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips.
"Oh, I do hope you keep underestimating her. It will make it all the more satisfying when she chooses me over you." Find more chapters on empire
The Dark Sovereign let out a low, melodic laugh, her voice echoing through the emptiness of her prison. The vision began to waver as the crack in the veil threatened to close.
"Soon," she murmured, her tone dark and promising. "Soon, my darlings, you'll see. And when you do, I'll be waiting."
With a final flick of her wrist, the vision disappeared, leaving her once again alone in the darkness. But the Sovereign didn't mind. Patience was her ally, and the seeds of her return were already sown.
For now, she would watch. And she would wait.