The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Awakening of Ancient Magic

Athena slowly blinked, her senses gradually awakening from what felt like an endless slumber.

The first thing she noticed was the scent, rose petals, faintly sweet, mingling with the crisp morning air.

Then came the sensation of silk against her skin, the weight of a warm blanket covering her bare body.

As her eyes fully opened, she took in the grand room surrounding them.

Gold-trimmed walls, velvet curtains draped over tall windows, and a chandelier casting a soft glow over everything.

Her fingers brushed against the sheets, rich and luxurious, and her gaze drifted to the floor, where petals were scattered as if in celebration.

Beside her, Mors stirred. His dark lashes fluttered open, golden eyes sharpening as he took in their surroundings.

Golden eyes instead of blue? A deep crease formed between his brows as he turned to her, his expression unreadable.

His bare chest rose and fell with each steady breath, and Athena realized that both of them were unclothed. A sharp blush crept up her neck, but she willed herself to stay calm.

“Where are we?” Athena’s voice was soft but edged with wariness.

Mors sat up, scanning the room with a guarded expression. “Let’s not act rashly. We should investigate from the outside.”

Athena’s gaze dropped to their bodies, her face heating up. “Should we change our clothes first? We’re naked.”

Mors exhaled, his expression wry. “It seems like we have entered into marriage.”

Athena’s breath hitched at the implication.

Marriage? Her gaze swept the room again, noting the lavish table set near the window, two glasses of wine, untouched, next to an extravagant spread of food.

It was as if the room had been prepared for newlyweds. A slow unease settled in her chest, but she pushed it aside.

She stood, wrapping a sheet around her body, and made her way to the wardrobe.

Inside, she found intricately designed garments, robes embroidered with golden thread, adorned with symbols that felt strangely familiar.

She chose a modest yet elegant dress in white and blue, while Mors donned a regal black and silver ensemble that fit him perfectly, almost as if it had been tailored for him.

Just as they finished dressing, a soft knock echoed through the room.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, breakfast is ready,” a maidservant’s voice called from outside.

Athena exchanged a look with Mors. Your Majesty, Your Highness, so they were not captives. At least, not in the traditional sense.

Mors responded first. “We’ll be there.”

Athena hesitated for a moment before stepping in front of the mirror. She expected to see a different face, a different version of herself.

But no, she just possessed silver hair, that cascaded down her shoulders, and emerald eyes.

Even Mors, standing beside her, still bore the same features that she had always known. And yet… something about their presence here felt unnatural.

“Let’s go,” she murmured.

As they stepped into the hallway, a strange sensation washed over Athena. It was as if she had been here before, yet she knew she never had.

The long corridor stretched ahead, lined with paintings and relics that whispered of a past she could not recall.

It was only when they passed by a massive portrait that both of them froze in their tracks.

The painting was grand, detailed with exquisite craftsmanship, its golden frame glowing under the soft light of the chandeliers.

It depicted a man and a woman dressed in royal attire, his regal stance and protective gaze, her serene beauty and composed smile.

Their names were inscribed at the bottom in elegant script.

“Crown Prince Devancier and Saintess Alishiera.”

Athena’s breath caught in her throat. The names struck something deep within her, something she could not yet grasp. But it wasn’t just the names, it was their faces.

They were identical to her and Mors.

Her fingers curled into fists as she stepped closer, searching for any sign of illusion or deception. But there was none.

The painting was real. It was not some fabricated trick, nor was it a simple coincidence.

“Are we seeing the real thing?” Athena’s voice was barely above a whisper, her mind racing.

“If that picture is them and not an illusion, does that mean we are their reincarnation? Does that mean the swords want us to remember something?”

Mors, standing beside her, studied the painting with narrowed eyes. His usual stoic demeanor faltered for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Maybe.”

That single word sent a shiver down Athena’s spine. She had expected him to deny it, to rationalize the situation, to say it was all a misunderstanding.

But he didn’t. Instead, he entertained the possibility, which meant he, too, felt the weight of something greater pressing upon them.

Athena exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Mors. If they truly were Devancier and Alishiera reborn, then what did that mean for them now?

Were they meant to fulfill an unfinished destiny? To right a wrong from the past? Or had fate simply given them a second chance?

As she looked at Mors, she saw the same turmoil reflected in his golden eyes. Whatever truth lay ahead, they would uncover it together.

Athena’s mind swirled with endless possibilities as she continued to stare at the painting.

If this was real, if they were truly the reincarnation of Devancier and Alishiera, then what did that mean for their journey? For their fate?

Mors reached out, his fingers grazing the engraved names at the bottom of the portrait. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, something distant and unspoken.

“If we really are them,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, “then there’s something we must remember. Something important.”

Athena swallowed, trying to steady her racing thoughts. “But why now? Why would our swords awaken? Why would we find ourselves in this place?”

Before Mors could respond, a sudden pulse of energy surged through the hallway.

The air crackled, and the ancient symbols carved into the pillars nearby began to glow with golden light. Two swords appeared before them.

Athena instinctively reached for Arthivian, and Mors did the same with Elsienflora. The swords vibrated in their grasp as if recognizing their wielders in a way they never had before.

A deep hum resonated through the air, and the portraits along the walls shimmered, as if history itself was stirring. Athena turned to Mors, her heart pounding.

“I think… we’re about to find out.”