Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 140: Blood of the innocent

The old hag’s eyes stayed fixed ahead, unblinking, as if she saw through the stone wall and into some terrible past only she could witness. Her voice trembled, not from fear—but from a grief so ancient, so corroded by time, it had hardened into something darker.

"I was a queen," she said again, more firmly now. "Chosen not for lineage or politics, but because the king... saw something in me."

She looked down at her gnarled hands, skin like old parchment.

"I remember the day I was brought to the palace. I was nothing—just a scholar’s daughter. I wore threadbare robes, not silk. I stammered. I was too thin. Too quiet. But he—he saw past that. He spoke to me as though I mattered."

Liam shifted his weight, but said nothing. The others remained quiet too, even Marcus, who usually had some crude remark ready. But now, he only stood in place, his jaw locked, watching with wary silence.

"I was never the most beautiful," the old woman went on. "Never the most charming. Not like the others. They dripped in perfume and venom, smiling sweetly and waiting for the day they’d rise above the rest. They all wanted power. Influence. An heir."

She sighed.

"I only ever wanted peace."

She turned slowly, her hollow gaze sweeping across them all.

"Back then, this kingdom wasn’t ruins and whispers. It was Elyndral. The apex of all the cities in Elysium. A marvel carved from white stone and dreams. You would not believe it, looking at these crumbling halls—but this place once glowed at night. Lights lit up the sky like stars, lanterns powered by ancient magic and sciences you children have never even heard of."

She gave a hollow laugh. "The dwarves mined under our feet, building great tunnels of transport. The elves made gardens that sang. Giants studied the moon from our towers. And humans... we ruled. We stitched it all together."

Her voice lowered.

"And then—like all things too beautiful—we broke it."

She took a long breath. Her jaw clenched.

"I was barren," she said, finally bringing the pain back around. "Couldn’t give him what the kingdom demanded. And the whispers began. At first, it was pity. Then it turned to laughter. Then resentment."

She took a few weak steps forward, her robes dragging.

"I was the only queen the king would sit with during storms. He read to me. We played chess together. He trusted me, truly. And they hated that."

Jason blinked hard, but kept quiet.

"They twisted his love. Used his name to commit crimes in secret—smuggling, blood pacts, theft, worse. And when the king began to suspect, they knew their time was short."

She turned her eyes to Liam, hollow yet burning.

"So they gave him a name. My name."

The group stayed silent.

"They told him I had stolen children. That I had drunk their blood. That I had summoned things from the old world, just to bear a child."

The words were bitter acid on her tongue.

"They said I had made a deal with a demon to cure my womb. That I had taken in orphan girls and used their souls for spells. That I had been behind the sickness that struck the south quarter. They pinned everything on me. Every misfortune. Every rot in the city."

The old woman raised her arms, as though still reliving the moment.

"And I... said nothing."

Liam tilted his head.

"You didn’t defend yourself?" he asked, cautious.

"No," she said softly. "Because I believed the truth would speak for me. That my silence would be louder than any scream. That the king would know. He would know."

A pause.

"But he didn’t."

Her face twitched.

"They stripped me in the throne room. My robes, my jewelry—gone in moments. They dragged me through the palace barefoot. I remember the crowd. They didn’t even hesitate."

Her voice cracked, trembling now.

"They spat. They jeered. Threw dung. Bones. Rotten fruit. I—" her lip quivered, "I still see the faces of the children. The same ones I had taught letters to... they threw stones at me."

Liam looked down, the torchlight casting deep shadows under his eyes.

"I loved those people," the old hag said bitterly.

The air grew thick around them.

"They burned me alive..."

Her voice was no longer soft.

It echoed, sharp and serrated, like glass grinding on stone. Her fingers curled into claws at her sides as the firelight flickered across her twisted features.

"...and I cursed them in agony."

The air grew colder. A creeping stillness wrapped around the chamber, like the palace itself was listening.

"In misery," she hissed, her voice low, trembling not with weakness, but with fury fermented through the ages. "I screamed words I didn’t even know I remembered. Ancient words. Words not meant for the tongue of mortals. I didn’t care if they held. I was dying—I only wanted them to feel what I felt. I wanted their names forgotten. Their bones turned in their graves."

Her eyes burned now—not with fire, but with the embers of hatred so deep it refused to fade.

"I thought I died with those words."

She raised her chin slowly.

"But I didn’t."

Her voice cracked into a rasp. "Even I didn’t know the curse would truly hold."

She laughed then—low, bitter, almost disbelieving.

"They turned on each other like rabid dogs in the months that followed. The palace became a pit of betrayal. Assassinations. Poisoned wine. Families slaughtered in their beds. The guards that watched me burn? Most were dead within days. The ones who lived... they begged for madness to claim them."

Liam swallowed hard.

The others didn’t move.

"The king," she whispered, her voice trailing like smoke, "he couldn’t bear it. He locked himself in the Star Chamber and cried for days. They say he wrote apologies on the walls until his fingers bled."

She looked away, eyes dark with memory.

"Then one morning, the sun rose, and he was gone."

A long pause. Her voice fell to almost a breath.

"He committed suicide."

She closed her eyes.

"Not just my blood... no," she whispered. "The blood of the innocent. All the innocents. The ones they framed. The ones they blamed. The ones they broke."

A beat.

"They were all... taking revenge."