DEMON CRY

44.

Amusement sparkled in the older woman's eyes as her daughter sputtered her words out. She chuckled at the deep red colour that tinted the younger woman's cheeks.

Amara gave her a mock glare, 'You know who he is, don't you?'

'Of course, child.'

'Then please, tell me where he is, mother. Please help me find him.'

Her mother's smile faded. She exhaled as she glided away from her, 'Amara, I cannot tell you that.'

'Why not?' Amara asked, startled. 

'Because I cannot see him.' 

Her blood ran cold. The fear that she faced moments ago was nothing compared to what broke down on her. Her limbs began to quake and she struggled to keep herself on her feet. Gathering enough courage, she asked, 'Is he...' dead?

'I don't know, my child.'

That did it. Amara fell on her knees, her hands cupping over her face as she bawled her eyes out. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt a gaping hole in her chest. No words left her mouth. There were only sobs of misery and loss. It was a useless action but that was all she could do. Her mind screamed and thrashed about, destroying everything but her physical self stayed put, hopelessly wailing on the ground. 

'Dear,' her mother's wispy form knelt next to her, 'it does not mean he's gone. There's still hope.'

The teary-eyed woman looked up at the kind face that looked back at her. 

'He can't be dead,' Amara whispered more to herself. That wasn't the Damien she knew. He wasn't the type to give up easily. He was resilient and loyal. He was the Estao Drakai who had laid waste to the Demon Army at the age of nineteen. 

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she repeated her words with more conviction. 'He can't be dead.'

He was strong. Brave. Kind... And all those wonderful things. 

But he kept a lot of secrets. 

She attempted to look up at her mother but ended up sobbing into her hands again. She wished for it to end. If this was a test, she was failing miserably. Pretending to be strong was easy at first but as time progressed, she was becoming a shell of the person she was.

Am I this desperate?

As if hearing her thoughts, her mother spoke, 'What you're going through is terrible, Amara but you need to hold yourself together.'

There was something about those words that pulled her out of her dark place. When she looked at the familiar face, she saw the sacrifice her mother had made. Her clan had sacrificed itself so that she may live on. By crying her eyes out and wallowing in her self-pity, she was throwing it away. 

Sniffing, she got to her feet and managed a smile, 'I'm okay now.' 

Her mother mirrored her expression and ran her hand over the younger woman's head as if she were brushing her hair with her fingers. The simple gesture made Amara feel vulnerable- she wanted to curl up on her lap and forget- but that was not possible so she decided to focus on the important matters at hand. 

'Mother, the Queen wants me to be the Chosen Heir,' she drew in a deep breath. 'I am conflicted.'

Her mother tilted her head, 'And why is that, my child?'

'I-' Amara bit her lower lip and attempted to explain, 'I cannot take his place, mother. He's alive and I don't want anyone else... I can't.'

'Do you believe that Prince Damien would want you to take his place?'

It was strange how she didn't even hesitate for a moment before answering. 'Yes.'

'Then what's holding you back?'

Amara struggled to put her irritation in words. 'I- They had come infuriating man take his place to pretend.' Her blood boiled as she thought of Wilshire's smug face. 'And now they want to choose an heir? I don't understand! How could they hide a piece of news like that! Don't the people deserve to know what has happened to him? Then the Demon King accuses the Dithrai of stealing and claim that they have Damien! We have no idea what the Demon King wants. We don't even know if he has Damien. 

'And now the Queen... she wants me to be the Chosen Heir! Me!' She pointed at herself incredulously, 'I have no knowledge about warcraft or politics whatsoever... I-' Tears formed in her eyes and she found herself crumbling down yet again, 'I want him back, mother. I want Damien back, safe and sound.'

By the time she was done, her chest was heaving. 

'Breathe, child,' her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Amara was embarrassed by her outburst. It was so unlike her to be so unbalanced. 'I'm sorry, mother. I don't know what came over me.' 

'It happens to the best of us, Amara.'

'Please help me.' She pleaded. 'I feel as though I am losing my mind.'

'You must know, Amara, that being a leader is hard. What is often seen is the fancy names and the jewellery adorned by a monarch but what is ignored is their share of sacrifices. Leaders have to sacrifice more than any individual. 

'Do you not believe that the King and Queen want their son back?

'Do you think it was easy for them to watch someone else wander the halls pretending to be their son?'

'But the answer to that is simple, mother,' Amara argued, 'if they just told their subjects the truth.'

'And destroy their faith in them?'

The younger woman was at loss for words. 

'He is the Crown Prince, is he not? Does that not mean that his subjects will look up to him for protection? If they ever learnt of his disappearance, don't you think they will feel threatened? What will that do to order of society?'

Strangely enough, that was all Amara needed to see everything in a new light. 

'You must believe this, Amara. To a leader, their followers are like children. They must be protected, no matter the cost.'

Goosebumps trailed her arms. 

No matter the cost.

She shut her eyes. Those words were so bitter. 

'It's not fair.' Her voice was small. 

'I could not watch you grow, Amara. For you to fulfil the prophecy, our clan had to go. Do you think that was fair?'

Those words resonated across the lab like a slap. 

'I never asked for it.' As soon as she said it, she cringed. It was a sorry excuse of an argument.

'I never asked for it either, child but here I am.'

'So I just have to accept their decision?'

'No, you don't,' her mother proceeded to elaborate, 'You have to make a choice with a clear head and see it through till the end.'