Chapter 2 Little Savior

• Author's POV
• “What…?” The King’s voice breaks. His face fails to contain the horror clawing through his heart as he hears the news.
• “I am sorry, Your Highness. I was too late.”General Roderic Vale stands with his head bowed — not out of respect, but sorrow and guilt. The very performance he had rehearsed for months. Each word delivered with practiced tremor, each breath laced with fabricated grief.
• “Why would she…?” Clara chokes out, clutching her husband’s arm as if her knees might fail. Her hand rises to her chest — dramatic, trembling — the gesture she had perfected over the past year, anticipating this moment.
• The King grips the bedpost for support, knees weakening. He lowers himself to the edge of the bed, eyes stinging, breath shuddering. Tears threaten. His heart feels as though it’s collapsing inside him.
• “We are still searching the sea for her body. However…”Roderic lets the pause hang, deliberate poison.
• “What?” Clara presses, voice a whip crack of feigned fear.
• “However…” he continues, lowering his gaze, “there is a possibility we may never find her.”
• Silence descends — heavy, suffocating — stretching across the room like an open wound.
• The King drags a trembling hand across his face, as if trying to tear grief from his skin. His chest feels hollow, his heartbeat frantic and empty all at once.“My daughter… my blood…”His voice shatters — not royal, not commanding — but human.Raw. Wounded. Breaking.
• Clara’s fingers curl a touch tighter around his sleeve.“She was suffering, Your Grace,” she murmurs, soft as silk and twice as false. “Perhaps she has finally found peace.”
• The King’s gaze falls to the fireplace, flames blurring through his tears. He whispers to the smoke, voice barely breath:
• “My little girl… forgive me.”
• ****
• A group of boys splashed in the sea competing with each other to find the most Oysters, by nightfall. Arin the youngest and the most agile, dives deeper passionate to win for the third night in a row. Darting through the waves, he swims deeper and his eyes fall on a faint glow, pulsing beneath the dark folds of water. His curiosity overrides caution as he dives closer to the mystical obeject or being.
• The light came from the neck of a girl. Her hair fanned out like silk ribbons and her skin becomes pale and still as marble.
• He dragged her ashore, at a distance from his friends’ laughter, to a quiet stretch of sand sheltered by jagged cliffs. When he laid her down, the light from her neck flared once more. Red, sharp, like calling for immediate attention.
• Arin’s cottage stood on the edge of the woods, where the salt wind tangled with the scent of wild herbs. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney. Inside, the air was thick with the perfume of dried flowers, roots, and secrets.
• His grandmother, Elder Mireya, looks up from the pot she was cooking as he bursts through the door. Her eyes, clouded with age but sharp with power, widened at the sight of the girl.
• “By the spirits, boy,” she rasped, “what have you brought into my home? Who is she?”
• “She was in the sea. I couldn’t leave her,” Arin stammers as he lays her on the mattress on the floor.
• Mireya holds the girls hand feeling a faint pulse. Arin watches as his grandmother began her work. She lights candles laced with salt and rue, whispers incantations older than the kingdom itself, while pressing her palms gently to the girl’s forehead.
• ****
• Tatianna's POV
• Rays of the sun coming from the window disturbs my sleep. I rub my eyes slowly, yawning, just as I hear a knock on the door.
• "Who is it?"
• "It's Anya, princess. Your bath is ready. The Her Highness waits for you in her chambers."
• "Tell mother, I'll be there shortly."
• I get ready the soonest I can to avoid any lectures on 'Puntuality and Responsibilities...' and knock on her chamber doors. A small voice allows me in, making my gut ache with an unknown worry. I see my father's distressed face and people gathered near the bed. I sprint closer the edge of the bed and what I see makes my heart sink. My mother's pale fale and weak body as she lies there with her eyes closed.
• "Mother" I call to her. Her eyes open and find me. She gives me a feeble smile, making my eyes sting with tears. Not being able to watch her in this condition, I run away to the gardens stop near the fountains. I see my reflection in the water and the tears I have been holding back finally release.
• "My Child." I hear my mother voice behind me. Relief washes over, as I turn around smiling, only to be disheartened again.
• Clara stands before me, in my mother's clothes which have her blood on them. "Oh, did you mistake me to be your mother!" She mocks.
• "Don't take her name from your filthy mouth. You can never take her place, let alone be her."
• "That's it, child. Don't forget Clara isn't only your mother, but the Queen as well."
• "How can you...?"
• "General, throw her in the dungeons." He commands, as he takes Clara's hand in his, heading inside, without another glance at his own blood.
• "What did you do, Anna?" Ric's smooth voice distracts me from the couple.
• "Ric... My love... I ..."
• "I am not yours to be loved." His hand brushes my face, clutching my chin.
• All of a sudden, I wasn't in my garden anymore. We are standing on the cliff, we used to meet at, as it was too dangerous to meet in the palace.
• "Ric... I... I don't understand."
• "Shall I explain, my love." Clara returns. They gaze into each others eyes.
• "Why not, my sweet."
• She looks at me dead in the eye. "We don't need you anymore, Princess." She annonces the last word with disgust. She whispers in Ric's ear. "Throw her, Ric. Out of our lives."
• Roderic paces towards me, making me step back, pushes me off the cliff.
• My eyes snap open and I take in my surroundings.
• “Where am I?” The words come out in a meek voice.
• The old lady leans closer to me. “You are safe, child. You’ve crossed into the lands of Elyndor — the King’s southern border. Rest easy.” Her words are gentle.
• I blink, confusion spreading like frost across my mind. “Elyndor…?”
• "What's your name, Child?"
• "I am..." The idea of revealing my true identity could be fatal. "Anna. My name is Anna. Who are you? How did I..."
• "I found you, in the sea. So I brought you home. This is my grandmother, Mireya." A boy, about fourteen-fifteen years, replies, who I just noticed.
• "Thank you." I smiled at him. "For saving my life."
• A red blush spreads across his cheeks. "My pleasure, lady." He bows.
• "Arin..." Mireya calls out. "Why don't you get her something to drink?"
• "Yes, of course. Would you like some tea?"
• I nod. He leaves through a small door, which I understand as a kitchen.
• "Where are your parents, dear?"
• "I..." Tears threaten to fall out again, as I prepare myself to say the words. "I am an orphan. My mother... died of an illness, two years ago... and my father... recently." A tear slips out, as I spoke which I wipe off quickly.
• Mireya pats my back soothingly pulling me in her embrace.
• "If it's not too much to ask... can I live here, till I find a place to live."
• "It isn't. I would be honored to help someone like yourself."
• Did I hear that right? I sit upright, with my attire and my current circumstances, she couldn't have in any chance recognized me.
• "My apologies... I don't understand 'someone like me'? Do you know me?"
• "Yes, of course. You are a royal." My heart almost climbs to my mouth, at her words.
• "I think you are mistaken. I am no..."
• "My dear. Its alright. I won't tell anyone. But if you are to hide your identity, you should cover this mark."
• What 'mark'?