Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 127: Last Night at the Palace

My final night at the palace arrived quietly, sneaking in beneath a cloak of velvet darkness and silver moonlight. Tomorrow, I'd return to the Arcanum, stepping into shadows thicker and colder than any I'd yet faced. But for now, warmth lingered within the halls of home, gently woven through the tapestry of familiar voices and quiet laughter.

Dinner was held in the intimate warmth of the family dining hall, golden chandeliers casting soft, honeyed light over polished oak and velvet cushions. My siblings filled the room with chaotic joy, Aeris trying unsuccessfully to braid flowers into Smaug's scales, while Arion valiantly attempted to negotiate a trade: my dessert for his personal drawings, generously described as "future masterpieces."

"No deal," I said dryly, shielding my caramel tart possessively. "I prefer desserts that don't involve crayon-sketched dragons that look suspiciously like angry cats."

"Uncultured," Arion huffed dramatically, holding up his latest piece. "I call this 'Smaug, Angry at Breakfast.'"

Smaug lifted his great head indignantly. "I do not look like that."

"You kind of do," Aeris said, giggling. "Especially in the mornings."

Smaug grumbled deeply, a curl of smoke escaping his nostrils. "I'm majestic. Majestic!"

Verania's amused gaze softened as she reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "Remember to write, Elyzara. Frequently. And thoroughly."

Sylvithra nodded gently, her silver eyes soft yet fierce. "And never hesitate to call for us. Ever."

"I promise," I murmured softly, heart squeezing gently at their open concern.

After dinner, Mara and Elira arrived to help pack my belongings. Mara carefully folded robes embroidered with silver and gold, while Elira stacked spellbooks neatly into my enchanted travel trunk.

"You're unusually quiet," Mara teased gently, glancing toward me as she sealed my trunk. "Plotting your dramatic return?"

I forced a weak smile. "More like plotting how to survive this semester."

Elira's eyes softened warmly. "We won't let anything happen to you, Elyzara."

Mara smiled reassuringly, pulling something carefully from her pocket. "And we brought you this."

It was a small talisman, carved from dark obsidian and engraved with delicate silver runes. Magic shimmered faintly within its depths, warm and comforting to the touch.

"It's a protection charm," Mara explained gently. "If anything happens, break it. We'll feel it instantly."

"Thank you," I whispered softly, clutching it tightly. "Truly."

Elira's expression softened tenderly. "We'll always protect you, Elyzara. No matter what."

When Mara and Elira finally left, I found myself wandering quietly through the shadowed halls, footsteps muffled by soft carpets, until I reached the library a haven of parchment, ink, and quiet reflection. There, tucked among leather-bound tomes and flickering lanterns, sat Riven and Aria.

Riven glanced up first, dark eyes wary but kind. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"No," I sighed, slumping dramatically into a nearby chair. "I'm deeply considering faking my own death to avoid it."

Riven snorted softly. "Typical Elyzara always choosing the easy way out."

Aria smiled warmly, nudging his shoulder playfully. "She'll manage. She always does."

"I suppose I must," I sighed dramatically, pressing a hand theatrically against my forehead. "If only to spare you both the burden of grief."

Riven rolled his eyes, fighting a reluctant smile. "You're impossible."

Eventually, the night deepened, shadows lengthening quietly within the palace. My friends said their goodbyes, leaving me once more alone in my chambers, moonlight washing softly over silk curtains and velvet blankets. I curled beneath the covers, exhaustion pulling gently at my consciousness, pulling me swiftly into dreams.

Yet these dreams felt different colder, sharper, reality bending softly into something darker. I stood alone in a shadowed hallway, walls of smooth obsidian stretching endlessly into darkness, lit only by flickering torches casting ghostly shapes along the stone.

A soft rustling sound caught my attention, heart quickening anxiously. I turned sharply, breath catching tightly in my chest.

A figure stood silently in the shadows small, about my height, watching intently. Long, midnight-black hair cascaded like dark silk over her shoulders, crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath thick, dark lashes. Her expression was unreadable, her posture tense yet utterly still.

She stepped forward slowly, soundlessly, eyes locked unwaveringly onto mine. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, barely audible yet impossibly clear.

"You shouldn't come back," she murmured, gaze fierce yet strangely sorrowful. "They'll destroy you."

"Who are you?" I asked sharply, heartbeat quickening.

Her lips curved faintly into a ghostly smile, sadness flickering briefly in her gaze. "A warning."

Then she was gone vanished into shadows that swallowed her swiftly, leaving only silence and dread curling tightly in my chest.

I woke sharply, heart pounding fiercely, moonlight flooding softly through my window, room reassuringly familiar yet suddenly fragile.

[Well, that was delightfully ominous,] the system remarked dryly. [At least she wasn't cryptic.]

"Not helping," I muttered, forcing a shaky breath into my lungs.

[I rarely do,] it admitted lightly. [But hey, mysterious girls giving cryptic warnings? At least your life isn't boring.]

I laughed weakly, tension easing faintly beneath its dry humor. "I'd prefer boring at this point."

I sighed softly, closing my eyes again, heart gradually calming beneath moonlit reassurance. The silence of my room settled gently around me, thick and velvety, broken only by the faint rustle of wind against the curtains and Smaug's occasional sleepy snort from the foot of my bed.

But sleep, traitorous thing that it was, had fled.

That girl—the one in my dream—her crimson eyes still haunted the edges of my mind. She hadn't seemed threatening. Not really. There'd been no malice in her voice, no twisted glee or cryptic delight. Just… sorrow. A strange, quiet sadness. Like someone who already knew how the story ended.

[She looked like a warning wrapped in velvet,] the system murmured thoughtfully. [And sounded like she meant it.]

"I know," I whispered in my mind. "She didn't feel like an enemy."

[Not all enemies wear fangs and sneers, Elyzara.]

"I didn't say she was a friend, either," I replied, frowning slightly. "But it wasn't hate I saw in her. It was… regret."

[Even more concerning. People who regret usually know exactly what's coming.]

I pulled the blankets tighter around me, curling into the cool linen sheets. "She said they'll destroy me. Not 'hurt.' Not 'kill.' Destroy. That's not a word you use lightly."

[Unless you're a poet,] the system added unhelpfully. [Or a dramatic villain. Or a theatre student.]

I ignored that. My thoughts shifted suddenly back to the bandits. The one with the gray eyes. That cold voice.

They had said something before dragging me into the dark. Something meant to scare me… or warn me. I hadn't paid attention at the time, too consumed by pain and fury. But now, the words came back, hissing softly in the quiet like a snake in the grass.

"One of your beloveds wears a false face, little heir. The knife will come from within."

My blood turned to ice.

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I sat up slowly, breath catching.

"Someone close to me," I murmured silently. "Someone I trust."

[Exactly,] the system whispered. [And now we ask the real question… Who?]