𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 4 Chapter 152 JAYLAH
Seven days later, the covert expedition was over when Jaylah's ship landed back in Oceana. They were less than ten kilometers from the capital; it was much faster moving in and out of that harbor than the chaotic ones in Naxaros. Jaylah took one look at the thousand steps ascending to the cliff's peak and opted to walk to her greeting party, which would be waiting to receive her just outside of the town atop it. She needed to feel the burning of her legs to be sure she could even keep moving.
The dock workers all smiled and bowed as she passed. Oh, they recognized her now. They loved her now. Between her total annihilation of the Kalingi and the Navrikans' brutal defeat, she had become something of a war hero.
A hero. Was that what she was? She had no problem bloodying her hands to ensure her people would no longer suffer, but this was past that. Alexander was the sole person who knew the depths of her depravity firsthand and still remained by her side. She had only punished him for it.
He was dead, and the world was so horrifically empty without him, and while his absence should have been gripping her by the throat and shaking her without abandon, it only made her feel as gray as the sky. Just...lifeless. Seven days, and the magnitude of what she had done had not set in yet. She still felt as though it had all been a visceral dream. Perhaps it was. She could not think of a single other thing through the clouded chambers of her mind.
Just mere months ago, her people spat in her face and weeped as she purposefully burned them. They called her every insult under the sun. She was a whore, a bitch, a tyrant, an egomaniac. And now they loved her, because...what? Because she had been ruthless enough to kill anything that stood in her way? They called her a monster for being a murderer but now lauded her for the blood dripping from her hands despite the fact that most of it was from her own people. She exhaled a shaky breath as she stepped up another wide stair. She had sent nearly half a million people to their deaths, willingly and unwillingly. And yet the murder she felt most remorseful for was of a boy they would all see as an enemy.
Perhaps she should hate him for believing in her father's reign more than hers, but this was the one instance she could not move herself to hatred. She might have been his enemy, yet he was not hers. That made it agonizing.
"Hey." Adelié suddenly rested a hand on Jaylah's shoulder from behind. "You okay?"
What she wanted to say was, I would have inflicted unspeakable acts on anyone that harmed him even a fraction. What am I meant to do now that I am the transgressor I swore I would never be?
Instead, she nodded. "It hurts. But I did what had to be done." She always knew what to say to make them look away.
"You didn't have to."
I know.
But was that resentment building behind Adelié's lovely eyes? She, of all people, should understand that Jaylah was conflicted about her own actions; she had been there to watch it unfold. Had Jaylah chosen correctly? Why was Adelié calm at the thought of Jaylah mass murdering hundreds of their enemies yet prickled the moment a boy she barely knew died with them? She had not known Alexander like Jaylah had. No one did. She did not deserve to judge Jaylah in this way, not when Jaylah's stomach was so upset she would never eat again because of what she did.
