Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 78: Darkness swallowed everything

Sylphia returned to the inn tired, but smiling. She had spent the entire day laughing, running, and shouting with the city kids, as if she’d never known another life. When she opened the door to their room, she found Veynessa sitting on the windowsill, legs pulled up, eyes sharp as they watched the world outside.

"Why... did you want me to play with them?" she asked quietly, approaching.

Veynessa turned her head with a faint smile.

"Because I thought it might bring you a bit of joy. You’ve lived your whole life behind palace walls. You’ve only ever known the servants... and me. The only child your age you’ve spent time with is Shion. That’s... not much. And seeing your face while you played—I think I made the right call."

Sylphia nodded, her eyelids drooping with each passing second. She raised her arms and stretched, then yawned widely behind her hand. Her movements slowed, foggy and soft, like the mist over a lake at dawn.

"I’m sleepy..."

Veynessa reached for the familiar artifact. A soft glow wrapped around Sylphia’s body, lifting the dirt, sweat, and dust of the day. She handed her a clean nightgown.

"Change. You can play with them again tomorrow. We’ll stay here for three, maybe five days. I’ve still got a few things to take care of."

The girl smiled, slipping into the nightgown. For a moment she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, brow slightly furrowed. She glanced at her mother, who remained at the window, eyes locked on something in the distance.

What exactly did her mother need to take care of? If she hadn’t said, it meant she didn’t plan to.

Sylphia sighed, rolled onto her side, and buried herself in the pillow. She fell asleep almost instantly, a faint smile still on her lips.

After a long, quiet stretch, Veynessa exhaled softly and slipped down from the sill.

She reached into her spatial ring and pulled out a delicate silver chain etched with tiny runes. She gently wrapped it around Sylphia’s wrist. The artifact trembled, shimmered with faint light, and then faded completely—vanishing into her skin as if it had never been there.

Veynessa stared at the spot where the chain had disappeared. She gave a small nod, as if affirming her own decision. Then she stepped away from the bed, retrieved a silk nightshirt, and changed in silence. Carefully, she slid into the bed beside Sylphia.

Over the next three days, Sylphia immersed herself in a world she had never known. Laughter echoed through the filthy, narrow streets like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. The scent of fresh bread mingled with rot and sweat, but in that urban decay, children’s voices rang out in defiance of despair. Laughter, shouts, and songs—as if they could forget the darkness just by being kids.

On the first day, they played ball until the sun disappeared. Though hesitant at first, Sylphia quickly found her rhythm. Teren never left her side. He helped her up after every fumble, cheered even her failed kicks, and when she scored her first goal, he jumped in place, clapping wildly.

"I knew you could do it!" he shouted. "There’s something about you... something great!"

The second day, they led her to the ruins of an old mill. It was damp and dark, but every child had their own corner. The girls braided each other’s hair, laughing at Sylphia’s stories of her "weird and sometimes terrifying aunt Calista from far away."

Teren brought her flowers he’d picked from a bush nearby and handed them over like a treasure.

"For you," he said, looking away as if scared to meet her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, touched.

On the third day, they raced across the rooftops. Sylphia learned fast. Teren ran beside her, radiant with joy, like her smile alone made the world worthwhile. When she tripped, he caught her and pulled her close.

"Careful. I don’t want you falling."

"You worried about me?" she teased.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, blushing.

Later that afternoon, they all gathered atop a rooftop—an abandoned place adults never visited. Moss-covered beams and the hum of wind created a world all their own. Sylphia sat next to Teren, still flushed from the run.

"Don’t your parents mind you playing up here?" she asked.

Silence fell. One girl turned away. A boy leaned forward, resting his head on his arms.

"We don’t have parents," another boy finally said. "We grew up in the orphanage. Always have."

"Always...?" Sylphia’s brow furrowed.

"Some of us were dropped off as babies. We don’t remember anything else," said a red-haired girl. "Others... just lost their families."

Teren was quiet for a long moment before speaking.

He stared at the frayed hem of his sleeve, voice low.

"My parents used to trade herbs and potions. They traveled between cities a lot. One day... they just didn’t come back. Two months later, a merchant found their bodies, torn up by some beast."

He fell silent. Then added softly:

"I was four. I remember waiting by the window until nightfall. Days passed before the guards came and told me they were gone."

The girl next to him placed a hand on his shoulder.

She took a deep breath, fingers tightening on her knees.

"My mom... she started coughing. At first it was light. Then she couldn’t get out of bed. Dad said it was nothing, but I saw him selling our things. First her jewelry. Then his tools. Even our blankets..." She looked into the distance, reliving the memory. "Nothing helped. She died. Then Dad got sick too. One day he just laid down... and didn’t wake up."

Sylphia sat frozen. Her fingers gripped her pants tightly, throat tight with something she couldn’t name. She looked at their faces—tired, aged beyond their years, burdened by stories no child should carry. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she simply nodded and slowly reached out, placing a hand on Teren’s shoulder.

He looked up at her, quiet, and smiled—a small, fragile smile that masked his pain. Then he jumped to his feet, clapped his hands, and shouted with forced energy:

"Alright, break’s over! Back to the field before the sun’s gone!"

Each night, Sylphia returned to the inn exhausted, but always with that same smile. This time, though, as she closed the door behind her, the smile faded. She sat at the edge of the bed and looked at her mother, who was reading by the soft light of a crystal lamp.

"Mom..." she began quietly. "Today... I saw something I only understood in theory before."

Veynessa looked up but said nothing.

"I knew orphans existed. I’d heard of them. But it was always just... a word. A story. Something you know, but don’t feel. These past few days, I looked them in the eyes. I heard them speak of their parents. And now I know what it really means."

"They... don’t have families. Some never did. And still... they laugh. They play. Does that mean... this is just how the world is? That we have to get used to it?"

Veynessa closed the book and moved to sit beside her. For a moment, she was silent, choosing her words.

"The world isn’t fair, Sylphia. It’s often cruel. But that doesn’t mean we let it break us. Those children laugh not because they’ve forgotten. They laugh because it’s how they survive. Their way of fighting despair."

Sylphia held her gaze.

Veynessa reached out and placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s head.

"I wanted you to meet them because I knew—only by looking into their eyes would you truly understand what words can’t explain. Some children have lives far harder than yours... and yet they laugh, run, find joy in small things, and live with light in their hearts."

She looked at her daughter, soft but serious.

"I hope that one day, you too can walk through life with that kind of smile. Even if it’s not easy... I hope you’ll carry that joy with you."

Sylphia said nothing. Her eyes shimmered with unnamed feelings. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded and leaned into Veynessa, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, letting the warmth and silence ease her storming thoughts. Minutes later, her breath evened, her body softened.

Veynessa gently lifted her and laid her down, adjusting the pillow under her head. For a moment, she watched the girl’s peaceful face. Then she chuckled coldly.

"Not getting away this time," she whispered.

And in a blink, her body vanished, melting into the shadows of the room.

The next morning, Sylphia stretched lazily and glanced at the empty half of the bed. She frowned, unsurprised by her mother’s absence.

She dressed quickly and headed to their usual meeting spot. But no one was there. She tried another alley—also empty. Worried, she hurried toward the playground, thinking the others might be there.

Cutting through a narrow alley filled with damp, mossy stone, she turned a corner—

—and was grabbed from behind.

Before she could react, a rough hand clamped over her mouth, pressing a cloth against her lips.

The scent was sharp. Overpowering. Everything blurred. Her body, strengthened by years of absorbing Qi, was far beyond an ordinary child’s—but she couldn’t move the attacker’s hand an inch.

Sylphia’s eyes widened in panic. Then slowly, inevitably, they began to close.

This wasn’t an ordinary man.

He was a cultivator. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Before she could scream—darkness swallowed everything.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by fre(e)webnov(l).com