CHAPTER 114: WHAT MALDA KNOWS

CHAPTER 114: WHAT MALDA KNOWS

POV: Kristine

The east tower room was darker than I imagined.

Malda had extinguished the oil lamp, leaving only moonlight spilling through the narrow window. The silver light stretched across the stone floor and stopped beside the baby's basket, as if even the moon understood where it was needed most.

I stood frozen in the doorway for a moment.

I had crossed half the palace to get here.

Sira’s contact had opened my chamber door without a word, slipping a knife into my hand before disappearing into the shadows again. From there, I followed the route Eli mapped for me—the hidden kitchen passage, the narrow corridor inside the walls, the eastern stairs during the exact guard rotation gap he calculated down to the minute.

No one saw me.

No alarms.

No blood.

But somehow this room terrified me more than the entire palace.

Because inside the basket was my son.

My legs suddenly felt weak as I crossed the room.

I knelt beside him carefully.

He was so small.

For some reason, I had imagined him bigger. Maybe because fear had made everything inside this palace feel enormous: Zedrak, the walls, the danger, and the prophecy. But Kairu was only a baby. Tiny fingers. Tiny breaths. Tiny fists curled beside his face while he slept peacefully, completely unaware of the war surrounding his existence.

My chest tightened painfully.

He had Tyron’s jaw already.

I could see it clearly—the stubborn shape of it, the same quiet strength written into the bone even now.

Slowly, I touched the back of his tiny hand with two fingers.

Warm.

Soft.

And then the vision came.

Not the violent flashes I had seen before. Not death.

Life.

A long one.

The feeling poured through me gently—laughter, movement, sunlight, voices, growth. Not clear images but emotions layered over years. I felt kindness in him. Courage. I felt people gathering around him instead of running away. I built bridges where there should have been division.

Bridge.

The word Eli whispered through the wall suddenly made sense.

Kairu was never meant to destroy worlds.

He was meant to connect them.

Tears burned my eyes unexpectedly.

He would live.

I knew it with terrifying certainty.

I pulled my hand away and inhaled shakily.

“You have your mother’s restraint,” Malda said softly from the corner. “Tara would not have cried either.”

I turned toward her.

The old woman sat quietly in her chair, blind eyes fixed toward me with impossible accuracy.

“You knew my mother? ”I asked.

“I knew of her. Everyone who guarded the old prophecies did.” Malda folded her hands together. “Before Zedrak twisted them into weapons.”

The room seemed colder at the mention of his name.

“Tara of the forest,” Malda continued quietly. “She hid between worlds to keep you from this fate.”

A sad smile touched my lips.

“And I ended up here anyway.”

“Yes,” Malda said. “You did.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Kairu shifted softly in his sleep.

“Sit,” Malda said gently. “There are truths you deserve before tonight begins.”

I lowered myself onto the floor beside the basket, unable to move far from my son.

Malda leaned back slowly.

“The prophecy Zedrak follows is incomplete,” she said. “Or rather... altered. His oracle gave him only what fed his ambition.”

I frowned.

“He believes my son is the prophecy.”

“He believes a child will secure his immortality.” Malda’s mouth tightened faintly. “But the original prophecy never spoke of a son.”

Silence settled heavily between us.

Then she spoke the words carefully.

“A child of two worlds will carry the sword that ends the dark reign... and the sword will know her hand before she knows herself.”

A chill crawled down my spine.

“Her,” I whispered.

Malda nodded.

“You.”

I stared at her.

“You were born on OX,” she continued. “But your mother hid you between worlds and sent you to Earth. Human and not human. Belonging to both. There has never been another like you.”

The silver sword.

The way it reacted when I first touched it.

Like it recognized me.

“You felt it, didn’t you? ”Malda asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Because it was forged for you long before your birth.”

My throat tightened.

“Your mother knew someday you would return. That is why the sword waited in Mount Arat.”

I pressed trembling fingers against my lips.

Questions crashed through me too quickly to organize.

“My father,” I said finally. “Who was he? ”

Malda became still.

The silence itself felt heavy enough to break something inside me.

Finally, she spoke.

“Zedrak is not your father.”

The breath I released shook on the way out.

“But your real father was king of Brodax,” she continued softly. “A good man once. Zedrak destroyed his kingdom and absorbed it into his empire. Your father died defending his people.”

Grief hit me strangely.

Not sharp.

Not loud.

Just deep.

A quiet ache for someone I had never met.

For an entire life stolen before I could even remember it.

I swallowed hard.

“What else aren’t you telling me? ”

Malda reached into her robe.

When she pulled out the small glass vial, moonlight flashed against the liquid inside.

The same silver glow as the sword.

“This goes on the blade,” she said. “When you strike Zedrak.”

I took the vial carefully.

It was warm.

“The silver sword can wound him,” Malda explained. “But this prevents healing. Zedrak has protected himself with ancient rituals. Ordinary injuries close almost instantly.”

I looked down at the vial.

“So this kills him.”

“Yes.”

The word settled heavily inside the room.

Kill him.

End this.

End everything.

Malda turned her blind face toward the moonlit window.

“One more thing,” she said quietly.

I waited.

“When Zedrak falls, look beyond the river. Above the trees.”

“What will I see? ”

For the first time since I met her, Malda smiled.

Not a mysterious smile.

Not a fearful one.

A hopeful one.

“You’ll know when you see it.”

Behind me, Kairu stirred softly in his basket, uncurling his tiny fists before drifting back into sleep.

I looked at him one last time.

I wanted to stay.

God, I wanted to stay.

To forget prophecies. Forget swords. Forget kings.

Just hold my son until morning came.

But people were waiting for me.

Tyron.

Eli.

An entire world choking under Zedrak’s shadow.

I rose slowly and tucked the vial beside the silver sword.

“Malda,” I whispered.

“Go,” she said gently. “Your son will still be here when you return.”

I prayed she was right.

Then I turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the palace while the moonlight remained beside Kairu’s basket like a silent promise that refused to leave.