Weapons of an Empress

Chapter 1: Death and Tragedy Cont'd

I walked around the room to become accustomed to my surroundings. On the mink walls were countless pictures of my many accomplishments, my childhood, places that I visited or wanted to visit and much more. 

In the centre, hung a huge painting of my parents and I. The frame was of pure gold, adorned with the most precious stones, making it the most stunning piece of artwork I had seen in my life. On the top of the painting were the words: "Long live the royal family," in a font so elegant that it would make anyone who studied calligraphy, jealous. 

The beauty of it all caused me to gaze at it for what felt like hours. I appreciated every brush-stroke, gem and letter to its fullest. I was so fascinated that my heart throbbed a little less. However, my heart's wounds were still there, and nothing could change what I had experienced.

Interested, I explored the rest of my new abode, hoping it would also reduce my uneasiness like the painting did. In the same room as the artwork, there were some cabinets at the bottom. On the upper portion of the wall were some shelves, including a staircase leading to a hatch. 

Searching the place further, I discovered a compact room with a tiny, comfy bed covered by lavender-coloured silk sheets, along with the pillows covered with a delicate floral print. The oak wood drawers beside the bed contained a variety of clothes with muted colours worn by citizens. I glanced here and there, taking in what would surround me every morning. A glowing mushroom that was slightly larger than my fist brightly lit the room. 

On the opposite side of the bed stood multiple large shelves holding many books about art, history, spells, including maps and some artifacts I learned about form my mom. I brushed the books with my fingers as I admired how people could add such information that could expand our knowledge of the world. All of them looked very appealing, but one grasped my attention. 

The cover of the book was a velvet red with a bit of gold around it. I glanced at the title, noticing it was in another language that I could barely understand. Feeling too intrigued by the book, I was hoping to find a book that could help me translate the foreign text. I went through the books, one by one, but it was overwhelming. 

To speed up the process, I used my magic to find the book. In seconds, the book flew from the shelves and landed in my hands. Satisfied with my finding, I sat on the bed and cast a spell that would help me retain the information to understand the words from the novel. I enjoyed the story since it was about a girl roughly my age, who travels across the country to find her lost brother. Her courage, selflessness, and kindness were inspiring, even if it was only a story. I stared at the ceiling, imagining the future and if I could possess the character's attributes.

My happiness soon faded when I realized that I could not share this story with my parents. I could no longer talk to them, let alone hold them in my arms. At that moment, I remembered my sword, and my parents saying words about their souls being inside it when they leave this world. 

Sadly, I had left my sword at the destroyed palace when it slipped out of my hands as I collapsed to the ground. Thoughts of the sword falling into the wrong hands made me uneasy. My mind was racing, thinking of all the possible dreadful things they could if they could unlock the secrets of such a mighty weapon. It was also the last memory of my parents.

Over time, the anxiety made my eyelids heavier, and I fell asleep. It was not the most relaxing sleep I have gotten in my life, even though I was resting in a cozy bed. Each time I shut my eyes, the same recurring nightmare would wake me. It showed my father fighting with all his strength against those demons to protect me, while I failed to do anything that could help. The savage beasts tore at my father's flesh, showing no mercy. I could not bear to imagine the pain he could have been feeling then.