Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 259

Chapter 259: A New Direction (23)

The air between them vibrated with power and tension, like a harp string stretched to its limit. Elydrith descended the obsidian steps of her throne, her movements precise and regal—like a queen who had long ruled a kingdom born of ash and broken stars.

Miraen didn’t flinch, even as shadows coiled at Elydrith’s heels.

“You’re not me,” Miraen said flatly, tightening her grip on the Flamepiercer.

Elydrith stopped several paces away. “No,” she agreed. “I’m what you could have become… had you been left in the dark. Had the world denied you everything.”

Miraen’s heart pounded. “This realm… it’s not just a reflection. It’s a creation. An answer to something lost.”

“Precisely,” Elydrith said, circling her. “Aeylith was born from the discarded pieces of your world. Every lie unspoken, every sorrow buried, every fate severed. We are the consequence.”

Elyon stepped forward. “Then we’ll unmake it. You don’t belong.”

Elydrith looked him over like a wolf inspecting prey. “Still trailing behind her like a faithful hound, I see.” She tilted her head. “You’re brave to come here, Elyon Thorne. Your soul burned bright in both realms.”

His expression didn’t waver. “You’re just a shadow. And shadows vanish when the sun rises.”

Elydrith laughed—a chilling sound. “Do you think this is darkness?” She opened her palm.

From the air gathered voidfire—a flame that consumed without heat. “This is what happens when the sun dies.”

Miraen stepped between them. “You said we’re sisters.”

“In a way,” Elydrith said. “You were born of the celestial flame. I was born of what that flame abandoned. We were once whole. Then the veil was cast, and we split. Now we stand at the edge of the Convergence.”

“The Convergence?” Miraen asked.

“When the last veil falls. And the two realms merge.”

The ground beneath them trembled faintly.

Elydrith’s expression softened.

“You’ve come seeking the Daughter of the Vanished Star,” she said, surprising Miraen. “Aeliana Bloodstone.”

“Where is she?” Miraen demanded.

Elydrith looked upward toward the swirling sky. “She’s not here. Not entirely. But fragments of her… pieces… linger.”

“What does that mean?” Elyon asked, his voice sharp with suspicion.

“She passed through this realm,” Elydrith said, voice quieter now. “Years ago. She opened a gate without realizing it. And the flame in her—oh, how it cried. Her essence clings to the thresholds, whispering in the dark. If you wish to find her, you must gather the remnants.”

Miraen narrowed her eyes. “You’re helping us?”

Elydrith smiled faintly. “I’m giving you a chance. Because I’m not your enemy, Miraen. Not yet.”

And with that, she turned and vanished into the smoke, leaving only the echo of her presence—and a path of shadow spiraling into the forest of crystal trees.

—

They followed the path for hours, silence heavy among the group. The terrain was both haunting and beautiful—landscapes twisted but recognizably mirrored: trees shaped like spires, rivers flowing backward, and stars hanging motionless in a violet sky.

Sister Lira broke the silence. “I can hear her.”

Miraen looked at her. “Who?”

“Aeliana,” she whispered, touching her chest. “Her fire is flickering… calling to us. But it’s like she’s… in pieces.”

Miraen swallowed hard. “Then we gather her back. Flame by flame.”

Korrin Duskfang led them to the edge of a ravine carved through the land like a bleeding wound. There, hovering above a pool of shimmering darkwater, floated a fragment—a glowing ember, shaped like a petal, pulsing with celestial warmth.

Jax stepped forward, his fingers twitching with instinct. “It’s not guarded.”

“That’s what worries me,” Elyon muttered.

Miraen reached for the ember—and the moment her fingers brushed it, the realm reacted.

The wind screamed.

The ground buckled.

And from the blackwater rose the Guardian of Echo Flame—a massive beast made of scorched bone and voidfire, its many eyes blinking with sorrow.

They barely had time to draw weapons before it lunged.

Miraen hurled a wall of starlight to block its advance, but the beast tore through it like parchment. Korrin threw up wards of blood and ash, while Lira channeled her celestial hymns, illuminating the area in golden glow.

Elyon leapt onto the creature’s back, slashing with twin blades, carving deep marks into its hide.

“We need to bind it!” Miraen shouted. “It’s not just guarding the ember—it’s part of it!”

Sister Lira’s eyes widened. “Then we purify it!”

She stepped forward, voice rising in a crescendo of sacred tongues, and light spilled from her hands like molten sunlight. The beast shrieked, its form unraveling—but not before it spoke in a cracked voice.

“Find… the rest… before the moon bleeds…”

And then it crumbled.

The ember fell into Miraen’s hands—warm, trembling.

She felt it pulse—and in that instant, she saw Aeliana’s face.

Pale. Grieving. Standing at a threshold, holding a blade she had never forged.

Miraen gasped, holding the vision in her breathless mind.

One piece retrieved.

Three remained.

—

They traveled west, toward the ruins of Kaleth-Syra—a citadel of mirrored glass swallowed by vines of obsidian thorns. Each step into the realm drew them closer to the veil’s thinnest point. Dreams began leaking into waking hours. They heard whispers that weren’t theirs. Saw flashes of memories that belonged to no one.

“I think we’re being followed,” Jax whispered one night.

Miraen knew he was right. Something moved just outside their vision, always watching.

In Kaleth-Syra, the second ember rested in the heart of the Mirror Crypts—a labyrinth beneath the citadel filled with reflections that moved when you didn’t.

It took them three days to navigate the maze. Lira grew faint from the psychic pressure. Korrin began hearing voices from his past—old sins coming back to torment him.

Elyon took Miraen’s hand one night in the crypt’s center. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“Always.”

“Then whatever happens, if I fall behind, don’t come back for me.”

Miraen shook her head. “Don’t ask that of me.”

But he only kissed her knuckles and said nothing more.

The second ember was harder to claim.

It lay in a room of mirrors where Miraen was forced to face every version of herself—the girl who fled her duties, the woman who gave up, the tyrant who accepted power, the mother who never was.

Only when she accepted them all, did the second ember descend.

And with it, another vision.

Aeliana holding a child wrapped in voidlight.

A voice said: “This is not the end you know.”