Chapter twenty-eight
Darling, Please Don’t Forget Me When You Go
They had landed in a peculiar place, one they had only visited once and had nearly lost their lives there, though Elizabeth had had a narrow escape; she was shocked to find herself there again.
Sitting up in the white clouds, wondering why they have gotten there. Penelope suddenly felt a warmth envelop her, reminiscent of when she first donned the power ring.
She looked down and saw that the ring was spreading blue sparkles again. It was the signal that they were in grave danger.
Elizabeth straightened up, but her hand had pressed against something hard. She picked it up, holding it up toward the sunlight.
It was Josephine’s diary.
Elizabeth opened it uncontrollably, and in it, where there should be a blank, now wrote:
My first and bravest daughter of all, Dolores the Evil, had the worst childhood she could ever have had.
Elizabeth loosened her grip on the book, and it dropped to the ground. Suddenly, the sealed memories resurfaced in her mind.
The room was shrouded in an oppressive darkness, thick and heavy like a forgotten secret. Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from the depths of the looming palace, piercing the silence with a chilling urgency.
The heavy door swung open, only to slam shut with a definitive bang that reverberated through the stillness.
"Just a mere moment, darling, just a mere moment," a deep, grown man's voice echoed ominously from somewhere beyond the threshold.
In the gloom, he approached a girl lying motionless on the ornate bed, taking careful steps to avoid the scattered debris that littered the floor. Cupping a glowing orb in his hands, he positioned it above her head, its luminescence bathing the room in an ethereal light.
As he worked, delicate threads of vibrant light began to emerge from the girl's temple, shimmering like strands of spun gold. They twirled and danced into the vial he cradled—pulsating with an otherworldly energy.
"I know," he whispered softly, almost to himself, as if acknowledging an unspoken bond between them.
Suddenly, the girl's body convulsed slightly, a tremor rippling through her as the connections of ethereal light abruptly severed.
The man's face fell, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
"Looks like we both need a break," he sighed heavily, surrendering to exhaustion.
He sank onto the bedside chair, his eyes fixated anxiously on the glowing light he had already harvested.
Minutes turned into an eternity as he stared, lost in thought, until the rhythmic sound of his breathing transformed into soft snores, gradually breaking the suffocating quiet.
Then, the door creaked slowly open once more, its hinges protesting against the disturbance. A maiden, her expression a mixture of shock and fear, slipped inside. Her hands flew instinctively to her mouth as she laid eyes on the girl sprawled across the bed, unconscious and vulnerable. As her gaze shifted toward the slumbering man, a bitter hatred surged within her, and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips, laced with desperation. Gently yet urgently, she approached the bed, careful not to make a sound.
With practiced ease, she scooped the girl into her arms, wrapped her in a cozy blanket, and tucked it around her to shield her from the darkness. Her heart raced as she turned away, each step carefully measured, her body trembling with the weight of her fear.
They all knew the consequences if the man awoke before they could escape—neither of their end would be a whole lot of fun.
But she had to.
It’ll be too late.
Drawing in a sharp breath, she crept quietly toward him, her pulse thrumming like a caged bird ready to burst forth.
As she passed by, her knees brushed against his legs, and a shudder coursed through her — she nearly lost her grip on the girl nestled securely in her arms.
Yet failure was unthinkable.
Memories of their last attempt flooded her mind—how close they had come and yet how far they fell.
This was it.
There would be no second chance.
With determination shimmering in her resolve, she cracked the door open, a thin line of darkness beyond beckoning her forward. She stepped into the void, cradling the girl tightly against her, her heart racing as she dashed past the haunting silhouettes of ancient trees flanking the path.
Suddenly, a shining orb materialized ahead, pulsing with a bright, inviting light. The maiden dared not exhale a sigh of relief as she propelled herself into the orb, feeling the world around her shift and blur as the light enveloped her.
Elizabeth stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the girl’s face before her. The features shifted. The curve of the lips, the arch of the eyebrows, and the shape of the nose all began to meld. Blurring and bleeding into one another like a watercolor painting left in the rain.
A calm settled over the chaos.
Time froze.
And then it hit her.
She was gazing into her own face.
With a sudden jolt, Elizabeth felt her consciousness land in a space that was all too familiar—a cozy house filled with the warmth of worn wooden floors and the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. She cast a sweeping glance around the softly lit room, her gaze settling on the vibrant painting that adorned the wall, a scene of blooming wildflowers under a bright sun. Her eyes were drawn to the large, ornately framed mirror that dominated one corner. The soft creak of floorboards echoed as a maiden tenderly laid a girl down in the upstairs bedroom before slipping silently into the enveloping darkness of the hallway.
Across the room, Elizabeth felt her heart do a backflip. There he was—the man who had turned her life upside down. The guy who had tried to put an end to her. Anger bubbled beneath her skin as memories of his treachery swirled in her mind. Christopher Jordan lounged against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly, and a disconcerting smile unfurled at the edges of his mouth.
He had the look of someone who knew exactly how this story would play out.
Orders were orders, after all.
He was just doing his job. As the pieces clicked into place, Elizabeth’s mind raced. The truth hit her like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just luck. Nope, this was fate—twisted and sinister. She got it now. The stakes were high. Game on. And she wasn’t about to back down.
Not now. Not ever.
How could he? It all clicked—the Dark Lord’s plans, her role in his twisted game.
"The Dark Lord wants to live eternally."
"He needs two things—his blood child's essence and the Interstellar Crown."
The words echoed, heavy and suffocating.
She was his blood child.
This wasn't shrouded in mystery—
She was his blood child.
And all this time, what she had been chasing was the very Interstellar Crown he desired so desperately.
The echoes of ominous whispers reverberated in Elizabteh’s mind, and she struggled to shake off the weight of that troubling truth.
No. She wouldn’t accept this fate, wouldn’t be a pawn in their game.
Her past, her present, and her future—they could be rewritten.
She had to fight back.
The echoes of their sinister laughter faded, leaving only her fierce determination.
This was only the beginning.
Elizabeth plopped down, running her fingers through the pages.
Beside her sat Percy Harrison, who was observing this strange place when, finally, he emanated, “I think I got an idea why we got here in the first place, Penelope. Let’s save Lucius, quick!”
Before Elizabeth could even gather her thoughts on the order, Penelope surged toward the towering iron gate with an unrestrained boldness.
The sentinels stationed nearby stared in disbelief, momentarily frozen by her audacity, while Elizabeth and Percy scrambled to keep pace, their breaths becoming labored as anxiety surged through them.
Penelope lifted her sleek bow above her head, its smooth wood catching the faint glimmers of flickering torches that lined the stone walls. A single, deadly arrow—its tip coated in a shimmering, toxic venom—was firmly grasped in her hand, the fletching barbed and glistening with a deadly sheen.
Stolen novel; please report.
It swiftly dawned on Elizabeth what was about to unfold, igniting a primal urge within her. She took off running, her heart pounding in sync with Percy, who was already struggling to catch his breath, each gasp coming out in short, desperate bursts.
“Wait, we need some sort of plan!” Elizabeth wheezed, her voice barely escaping her lips as she followed Penelope’s reckless lead.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, her worries mounting as she saw Percy lagging behind, his face drawn and pale from exertion.
“Plan?” Penelope shrieked, her voice carrying a manic edge that sliced through the tension in the air. She laughed, a haunting sound that echoed off the stone walls, steeped in a blend of exhilaration and impending madness.
Her hair billowed fiercely behind her, an ethereal curtain that danced like wild flames, reflecting her spiraling emotions.
With a primal scream, she incapacitated another guard, his body crumpling to the floor with a dull thud, as she pushed onward, flinging herself toward the heavy door that separated her from the one she loved.
As Elizabeth and Percy, panting heavily and struggling to maintain their momentum, advanced toward her, an ominous sound began to echo through the corridor.
Suddenly, an unmistakable crunch of boots on stone echoed, reverberating against the walls.
Each step signaled the approaching danger, heightening their senses as they prepared for whatever might emerge from the shadows.
"Quick, behind that column!" Penelope whispered urgently, darting toward the massive structure that dominated the hall. They barely managed to hide just as Datura, Emily, and the Fairy Lord came into view.
“He's so damn sly,” Datura spat, pouring hot drinks for the Fairy Lord with a scowl.
“Got any ideas?” the Fairy Lord asked, his eyebrows lifting with curiosity and a hint of nobility.
“Yeah, my lord, I was thinking we might’ve snagged the wrong guy. We couldn’t let McTavish catch on, but his girlfriend—”
“You’re as devious as your father,” the Fairy Lord chuckled, a twisted smile creeping across his face.
“Datura is his daughter?” Elizabeth murmured, shock rippling through her voice. “Is that really the case? She once hinted that she might be my sister, so does that mean—”
“Yep, it means that,” Penelope sighed heavily, anxiety settling in.
“But my dad is a monster like him?” Elizabeth blurted out, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“Shh, just watch how they slip through that door,” Percy nudged her sharply between the shoulders.
They turned just in time to see Datura and her crew waltz right through the door as if it were made of mist. Penelope barely held back a scream when the door started to shimmer away, exposing everything that was happening in the room beyond.
Datura stepped in, sword in hand, aimed straight at Lucius.
“Why the hell didn’t you get the diamond? Where is it?” she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut. Lucius just gave her a grin, but it was a weak one. He looked like he’d been through hell and back. Conscious, sure, but still sinking fast.
“Answer me!” Datura thundered, fury igniting in her eyes. A burst of light shot from the black mirror she gripped, hurtling toward Lucius. The Curse Mirror was at it again, and for Penelope, it felt like she was watching a slow-motion horror movie.
Lucius writhed in pain, his face controted in agony, and every twisted moment felt like a dagger in her gut.
Why couldn't it be her instead?
It felt unbearable, like her heart had been yanked right out of her chest. Hot tears ran down her cheeks--what kind of twisted fate was this?
Did it always have to come with this gut-wrenching agony, leaving her aching to save him while being stuck on the sidelines?
Wasn’t love supposed to mean fighting together, not standing back and watching the other suffer--Didn’t love mean you’d do anything for the one you cared about? She wanted nothing more than to leap in front of that blaze, to trap the agony within herself if it meant sparing him. But here she was, paralyzed, grappling with the fact that all she could do was watch—the weight of her despair pulled her under, a dark voice whispering that she was nothing but a bystander in a cruel world where she should be standing tall beside him.
She had gotten so far, she had come so near, but she could do nothing.
She had been in his vicinity; she had been right here, within his reach, but all she could do was to feel less tough and strong minute by minute, more vulnerable and fragile second by second.
Penelope shut her eyes tight; it was like the transparent door was still right there, mocking her from behind her eyelids. She spun around, facing away from it, and opened her eyes again, but the walls—oh, the walls!—were like some twisted movie screen, reflecting everything happening in that room like a cruel play on repeat. She spun again, but the reflections didn’t budge—they felt like they were set in stone. It felt like she was trapped in some never-ending loop, and it struck her then: had she lost her mind altogether? Panic set in, and without really thinking, she bolted toward the door, ready to escape the madness—or so she thought. But reality hit hard. There wasn’t a door to rush through; it was just this sticky veil that felt like it was pulling her in deeper. Stuck there, right up close to the chaos, she felt her heart race, and a scream bubbled up inside her, but it got caught in her throat like a fish on a hook. Moving? That was out of the question. Blinking? Forget it. It was as if some unseen force had her eyes pried open, forcing her to witness her own nightmare unfold.
And then came that icy voice, the Fairy Lord's words slicing through the air.
"And now, let’s keep this simple, shall we? You have a choice: either face death, which really isn’t a good idea, or just tell me the truth, And the truth... well, let’s see—the truth is that your girlfriend took it from my office.”
But Lucius? He didn’t budge an inch. There was no fear on his face, just a cool calm that was almost unnerving. He knew how this game worked. Once the Fairy Lord latched onto a story, everything else was just background noise.
He leaned in, and it was all Penelope could do to listen, her heart thundering in her chest, the air felt thick in her throat.
“You’re not worried about her at all?” Datura sneered, the malice dripped from her tone like poison.
“I care about her. It’s just… my love is something she’ll carry with her,” he replied softly, his eyes locked on Datura but filled with an intensity that was almost heart-wrenching. “She’ll find a way to keep going. I know that one day, she’ll step out into the light of a new dawn.” Datura’s smile was nothing short of wicked.
“How sweet. But you’re making this so easy for me!” She lifted the Curse Mirror, its surface reflecting not only Lucius’s face but also the despair etching deeper into the lines of his features.
“That’s your choice, is it?” she taunted. “Do you even grasp the weight of what you’ve done?”
Lucius breathed out, “You’ve forced my hand! So, do you own up to what you’ve done?”
Datura’s eyes narrowed, her rage bubbling over. With a flick of her wrist, she turned the Curse Mirror toward him. “Oh, trying to play the innocent victim? I’ll help you with that tongue of yours!” Her smile twisted into something malicious as she leaned in, her voice a low hiss. “Because of your damn stubbornness, Veronica’s dead, Victoria’s gone, and Josephine—she's gone too—all on your hands because you couldn’t just admit the truth.”
“How can you say that?” Lucius roared, the weight of each name crashing over him like waves, bringing with it a tidal wave of grief. His face twisted in fury, an anger born of guilt and grief.
“You did this! Stop pretending you’re some kind of martyr—” “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?” Datura screamed, the chandeliers above trembling with her fury. In that moment, Penelope felt the air grow heavy, thick with the madness in Datura’s eyes—a chaotic cocktail of rage, suspicion, and an unsettling cruelty. She stopped, a dangerous calm settling over her as her fingers drummed on the wooden desk. Her dark eyes sparkled with a wicked light as she aimed the Curse Mirror straight at his heart.
And in that instant, Penelope’s own heart shattered into a million pieces. What if this was it?
Lucius raised his head loftily; his pupils bulged as he saw the bolt of lightning shot toward him. He tried to duck, he shut his eyes, and snapped his head to the side. What followed was an excruciating pain that seared over him.
He clutched the handle of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
He gasped as the pain spread, as if every muscle was on fire. He leaned back in agony, his face contorted in pain, his head on the chair. His wrist rubbed against the ropes so often that his hands were raw with dripping blood.
He panted as another lightning strike struck down.
His whole body shook in a tremor.
This was followed by a scream so terrible that it echoed around the entire office. But when it echoed in Penelope’s eardrums, it was worsened a hundred times.
Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hands; she’d never imagined Lucius would ever scream, but it turned out to be the hard way.
She stood there, aghast.
Looking around, Penelope convulsed against the wall, then sank to the floor.
The pain felt like it was dragging him down into darkness, and it was almost too much to bear. How much longer could he hold on like this? It was like a twisted game of survival, one he never wanted to play. But even as the world blurred around him, he refused to give up. With every ounce of strength left in him, he fought not just for himself but for her—his love, his everything. Was it really worth it to suffer this much for someone who meant so much? Would his sacrifice even reach her, or would it all be in vain? He couldn’t help but wonder if love always came with a price, and if he was paying too dearly. In that endless pit of torment, the thought of losing her felt sharper than any pain he was enduring.
Then, just like that, the heavy haze lifted, and Datura, looking totally lost, faded away. Without even thinking, Penelope bolted forward. “
Lucius!” she shouted, practically pleading for him to respond. Elizabeth and the others rushed in behind her.
“Penelope, I’m fine,” Lucius said, his voice unnervingly calm, like a still lake before a storm. That calmness scared Penelope, sending chills dancing down her spine.
“No, Lucius. No!” She dropped to her knees, shaking him, desperation clawing at her throat.
“Don’t you dare be reckless!”
“You can handle this; you’ll be okay,” he said, trying to reassure her. But her insides twisted tight.
“But—” she stammered, panic creeping up on her. “Penelope,” he breathed out, weak but resolute, “you’ve got to keep moving forward, alright?”
“Lucius, please don’t—” she choked out.
“Penelope, we can try to bring him back in the nursery at the Ethereal House.” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the storm, a gentle whisper as she opened a door.
Tears streamed down Penelope’s face as she nodded, her heart shattering at the thought that this might be her last chance to save him. She wouldn’t let him slip away without putting up the fiercest fight.
In the nursery, Elizabeth hurried to set up a monitor—Lucius's EKG. Penelope dashed to his bedside, heart racing, as his eyelids began to flutter, finally parting.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice quaking with the weight of her fear. “Do you really trust me enough to think I wouldn’t swipe something from the Fairy Lord’s office?” Lucius managed a faint smile.
“I don’t need proof. I completely believe in you. My dear Penelope, I always have.” She knelt down, pressing her lips to his, wishing she could transfer all her strength to him.
“You’re going to pull through,” she promised, tears spilling like rain. But deep down, while she whispered hopeful reassurances, her mind spiraled with relentless questions. How could she remain strong when her heart felt like it was shattering? What if her faith wasn’t enough to stand against fate?
Would losing him break her, or would the slow dance of watching him slip away, heartbeat by heartbeat, be the real torture? What if, in the end, love wasn’t a shield but a cruel tormentor? And if she couldn’t fight the universe, what power did she really have in a world where fate always had the upper hand?
"Leave me behind your head, I—"
"No, I’m not gonna leave you, I gotta—"
Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat, a startled gasp escaping her lips, causing Penelope to lift her gaze. The once rhythmic rises and falls of Lucius’s EKG had started to diminish, each pulse becoming feebler than the last.
In agonizing silence, the monitor's once vibrant lines surrendered to a haunting stillness, transforming into a straight, lifeless line.
Penelope’s heart shattered as she turned her head, witnessing the heartbreaking sight of Lucius settling into an eternal slumber, his eyes fluttering shut with serene finality. A visceral, piercing cry erupted from her throat, echoing through the nursery—a desperate, raw sound that reverberated off the sterile walls as she crumpled to the floor, overwhelmed by grief.
The moment she had dreaded most had arrived—death had claimed Lucius, and with that, a chasm of separation yawned wide between them.
“Penelope, there’s nothing you can do. Come on,” Elizabeth’s voice broke through the fog of despair, urging her as she knelt, paralyzed by fear, her eyes wild with a storm of emotions. “Penelope, it is his choice," Elizabeth implored gently, a whisper of strength in her tone. "put yourself in his shoes, you will know, in his case, death is a relief, indeed. Be brave like him, Penelope, you can stand up again, and move forward with him—”
But Penelope’s resolve shattered beneath the weight of her torment. In that suffocating moment, she unleashed a shrill wail, a cacophony of fear and anguish that spiraled into maddened laughter.
Desperation fueled her actions as she tore at her traveling cloak, cursing the universe for this cruel twist of fate. Her hysteria spiraled, pulling her deeper into a chasm of madness, as she grappled with the harrowing reality of losing her lover mere inches away… a distance that felt both infinitesimal and insurmountable.
Agonizing thoughts consumed her—if only she could have broken through that shroud of inevitability faster, perhaps he would still be here. But the chilling truth only deepened her despair, spiraling her thoughts into madness.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly before her, and eventually, she sank down to the floor, her cheeks stained with tears that flowed like a river of sorrow. She didn’t move, encased in a cloak of melancholia that clung to her soul.
A haunting calm settled over her, interwoven with an unbearable sorrow—the most perplexing blend of emotions she had ever experienced, and it left her feeling utterly overwhelmed.
“Penelope, pull yourself together,” Elizabeth’s voice emerged again, calm and steady amidst the chaos.
Penelope's gaze dropped to the power ring resting in her palm, and with trembling lips, she pressed a kiss to its cool surface.
“This is all my fault—” she whispered, her voice thick with guilt and longing.
Yet deep within her heart, she knew that surrendering to this abyss of melancholy was not the path to moving forward.