*Shatter.*
After Flora collapsed, the world fell into silence, but in less than ten seconds, that silence was shattered by the sound of something tearing through the air at high speed.
It was a form of high-speed movement fueled by mana, so fast that the leaves were kicked up by the aftershock.
In the darkness, a figure crossed through the woods at a nearly incredible speed, broken branches falling like rain behind her.
It was Ilya.
The moment Flora ran out of the castle, Ilya felt a tightening in her chest. A moment later, she sensed that Flora was gone.
Indeed, before the other guards and maids had even realized the Princess was missing, Ilya had already noticed. Carrying a flood of anger, she rushed directly toward the north.
Her mana was cold and sharp, suppressing the aura of the entire forest. All magical beasts fled far away at that moment.
When she reached the spot and stopped, she saw Flora collapsed by the roots of a tree.
Her long, white-purple hair was scattered across the damp grass, lightly moistened by the night dew.
Her face was as pale as a flower suddenly snapped, her chest rising and falling weakly, and her breathing was so light it seemed it might be scattered by the wind at any time.
There was a barely noticeable scratch on her calf; the blood was shallow, yet it carried the dark luster unique to vine toxin.
At that moment, Ilya was completely stunned.
She stopped, so abruptly that the shadows of the trees vibrated slightly from the shock of her mana.
She stepped forward slowly, each step exceptionally steady yet carrying a suppressed tension.
Ilya’s silver eyes were brighter than any light in the night, reflecting the girl lying on the ground. It was the first time in many — too many — years that she felt ‘fear’ in its truest sense.
It wasn’t anger, nor was it anxiety; it was a sense of emptiness instantly torn open in the depths of her marrow. Cold wind poured in, making it so painful she could hardly breathe.
*Tsk.*
Ilya knelt down, an action that didn’t seem like something she would ever do.
Her fingertips trembled ever so slightly, but she forced them down to stop the shaking.
She first turned Flora onto her side to lean against her lap, then her other hand gently touched her face. The moment Ilya’s hand met Flora, she felt as if she had touched a block of ice.
Too cold. Flora’s body was far too cold right now.
Ilya’s breathing hitched for a moment, and her eyes darkened slightly.
“Flora,” she called out her name softly.
But Flora did not respond.
She called out again, her voice sounding even more anxious. “Flora, open your eyes.”
There was still no response.
Her throat felt as if it were being strangled, and even the air became heavy.
She lowered her head to inspect Flora’s wound. After absorbing the moonlight, the tiny scratch on her calf revealed faint purple lines.
It was from vine toxin, and it was quite serious now.
She understood that Flora had been poisoned for some time. Estimating how long she had been running, the toxin would spread quickly.
Ilya’s gaze instantly became cold as ice.
It was an extremely dangerous cold — not directed at others, but an irritation at her own sense of powerlessness.
‘How could I let Flora get hurt like this?’
‘How could I… let her run to a place like this without even knowing?’
Ilya closed her eyes, seemingly suppressing all her emotions in a brief instant.
Then, she picked Flora up.
Her movements were as gentle as if she were holding a newborn baby. Her arms were steady, her strength even, and she even avoided pulling on the fabric of the dress.
But those arms were tensed like steel beneath her sleeves.
Just as she stepped out of the edge of the forest, the guards rushed over like a tide.
“Your Majesty — !”
Before they could finish, everyone was forced back half a step by the mana she radiated.
It wasn’t anger, but a pressure formed from an intense and urgent desire to protect, instinctively rejecting anyone who approached.
For the first time, the guards sensed such an obvious loss of control from the Queen.
Ilya held Flora and looked down at the girl in her arms, her voice so deep it hardly sounded like her usual self.
“Make way.”
The guards immediately parted. No one dared to look up at her face.
In that moment, Ilya was more terrifying than she had ever been on any battlefield.
It wasn’t because of rage, but because of a worry so intense that it oppressed everyone.
Ilya walked toward the castle at a speed that was almost like teleporting.
The girl in her arms was as light as a cloud. She should have been easy to carry, yet Ilya felt as though every step was on the edge of a cliff.
She looked down at Flora’s face.
It was impossibly pale, and her lips had lost their color.
“… Why would you run here?”
She spoke softly, as if asking herself, yet also as if blaming herself.
Of course, Flora could not hear her.
Ilya carried her through the garden and through the west wing, not even letting a single guard come near. Her mana weighed down the air the entire way.
Until they reached Flora’s private chamber.
The maids heard the commotion and rushed over, but the moment they stepped into the doorway, Ilya swept them with a glance, freezing them all in place.
“Water, bandages, and medicinal powder — bring them all. Quickly.”
She did not raise her voice, but anyone who heard her would know that this was not the Queen’s usual steady calm, but an urgency suppressed to its lowest point.
The maids practically ran to prepare the items.
Ilya gently placed Flora on the bed, her fingers never leaving the girl’s face, as if she were afraid that if she let go, Flora would become even weaker.
She carefully checked her breathing, her pulse, and even gently spread open Flora’s palm to check her temperature.
Every movement was excessively meticulous.
The maids hurriedly entered the room carrying the medicine. As they approached, Ilya reached out and took it from them instead of letting them touch Flora.
She rolled up the hem of Flora’s skirt on her calf and saw that the purple lines at the wound had deepened slightly.
A maid whispered, “Your Majesty, do you need us to — “
“No need.”
Ilya’s tone was flat, like cold iron.
She cleaned the wound herself. When the medicinal powder was gently applied, her fingertips were lighter than a feather, as if she feared the medicine itself would hurt Flora.
The purple veins began to slowly recede as the medicine took effect, but Flora remained in a deep coma.
At this point, Ilya stopped her movements. She sat by the edge of the bed, watching Flora’s face.
A long silence followed.
Ilya reached out and gently brushed aside a strand of hair stuck to Flora’s forehead by sweat.
Her movement was so tender it hardly seemed like that of a Queen; it was more like an elder who had not stroked a family member’s hair in a very, very long time.
“Why did you run?” she asked in a near whisper.
“You are so weak… to come to a place like this alone… if I hadn’t found you…”
She could not continue.
The maids stood by the door with their heads bowed, none of them daring to make a sound.
Because for the first time, they saw the Queen’s shoulder tremble slightly.
It was only for an instant, and she regained control in the next second.
But no one would forget that moment.
She took Flora’s hand, gently wrapping it in her palm.
Her voice was very soft, yet it was as heavy as a stone falling into her heart.
“Flora… don’t do this again.”
“I don’t want to — and I won’t — let anything happen to you again.”