Exiled Prince: I'm the Unexpected Extra in the Novel-Chapter 119: The War for the North[7] A Girl’s Shattered World

Chapter 119: The War for the North[7] A Girl’s Shattered World

Duchess Cecilia POV

For Cecilia, everything had started when a warm dream turned into an icy nightmare.

She was being crushed under the heavy burden she had carried on her shoulders for days, even months. Bad news from the borders, whispers of betrayal from her generals, the silent screams of her people. She had taken a hot bath to escape these things for just a moment.

That half hour spent under the water had reminded her that the world could still be a warm place.

The sense of relief she felt when she stepped out of the bath into the safety of her room was shattered by the sight she encountered.

There was someone in her room.

A foreign boy with white hair and red eyes. And in his hand...

When Cecilia remembered that moment, she felt her cheeks burn with shame.

That boy was holding her most intimate item up in the air, examining it as if it were a laboratory rat.

The expression of pure curiosity on his face made the situation even more humiliating. A pervert. An assassin. An enemy.

Her anger had erupted like a volcano. She had sealed the room and pinned him to the wall. She was ready to kill him. Until she saw those letters.

Those letters. The parchments on her bed were like a life buoy for Cecilia, who was drifting in a dark ocean.

Evershade, Mooncrest, Amberfield. At a time when the Empire had forgotten her and the Gods had turned their backs, this boy had brought her an army. He had told her, You are not alone.

In that moment, her view of Cassian had changed. He was not a pervert; perhaps he was a strange messenger sent by the Gods.

When she saw him use Holy Mana, creating that small sun in the middle of the room, the ice in her heart had begun to melt. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Hope. That dangerous, sweet poison had spread through her veins. Her people could be saved.

But then Cryomara had arrived. And the boy had started speaking.

At that moment, the boy’s mask fell. The fake embarrassment in his eyes vanished, replaced by an arrogant, demanding expression. He said, I want Mordret’s Sword.

This demand was like a knife plunging into Cecilia’s heart. That sword was not just a piece of metal. That sword was her father’s last breath. It was the memory of that bloody night when her mother sacrificed herself to protect her. It was the honor of Frosthelm.

And this stranger was demanding that legacy as if he were asking for an apple at the market.

Is my life in your hands? the boy had laughed. Then he began to list those cruel, poisonous words.

Your family is dead, Cecilia. They will never come back. Clinging to their so called legacy will change nothing!

Every word was a lash of a whip. It was true. Yes, it was all true. Her family was dead. Her people were dying. She was weak. She was helpless. Every night she laid her head on the pillow fearing she might not see tomorrow.

But to have someone, especially someone who claimed he came to help, throw this in her face so brutally...

Your family caused the destruction of the people they tried to protect. They left their only daughter alone in this life!

This sentence had shattered Cecilia’s soul. It bled the guilt she had suppressed for years, the feeling of inadequacy.

Hearing that her father’s sacrifice was in vain. Hearing that her mother’s death was meaningless.

Cassian had arrived like a savior but spoke like a demon.

And when he left, he left behind only shattered pride and a deeper despair.

Now, her room was buried in silence again, but this silence was not peaceful at all.

Cecilia had curled up in the middle of her bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to isolate herself from the outside world. Her shoulders shook, and sobs burned her throat.

Under her eyes and her cheeks were red and irritated from crying. The mask of the Duchess had fallen, leaving only a frightened little girl.

Cryomara sat on the edge of the bed in her human form.

The cold, distant guardian of the North was now rubbing Cecilia’s back with a mother’s affection, stroking her silvery blue hair.

He... Cecilia sobbed, her voice sounding muffled from under the quilt. He knows nothing about me. He does not know what I have been through, what I feel!

She lifted her head and fixed her teary eyes on Cryomara.

He does not know how helpless I was when my family died, when I was left alone in the middle of that lake of blood. He does not know that on the very first day I ascended the throne, everyone, even my own generals, were looking for an opportunity to kill me, to overthrow me. He does not know what it is like to live fearing there is poison in every meal among traitors!

She clutched the quilt with her fingers and squeezed.

He called me selfish! He thinks I am enjoying myself in my palace, suffering no pain while my people are slaughtered, while they rot from that sickness! I die every day, Cryomara! Every day I feel their pain in my heart, but there is nothing I can do!

Cryomara reached out, took Cecilia into her arms, and pressed her to her chest. Her cold body was cool as if to soothe Cecilia’s fever.

Shhh... Cryomara whispered, resting Cecilia’s head on her chest.

I know, my sweet butterfly. I know. It is not your fault. You did the best you could. That boy... he is just an arrogant fool who does not know how to speak.

Cecilia continued to cry in Cryomara’s arms. The Mystic Beast, thousands of years old, held her tight while fixing her eyes on a dark corner of the room. Her gaze was hard and thoughtful.

Cryomara’s POV

Cryomara had known Cecilia since the first day she came into this world, from the moment she was a tiny, wrinkled baby.

She loved her not just as an heir, a contract holder, but as a piece of her own blood and soul, like her own child.

She had personally witnessed the fall of the Frosthelm family, that bloody night. As the bodies of her mother and father grew cold, she had witnessed the light in little Cecilia’s eyes fade away.

Since that day, she had been trying to hold the broken pieces of Cecilia’s soul together.

She had done everything she could to make her happy, to protect her. She had frozen everyone who posed a danger to her, skewered plotters with her ice.

But it had not been enough.

The darkness outside, the Obsidian Dawn, had grown like an avalanche. And Cryomara, despite her power of thousands of years, felt inadequate against a lone army and the dark divine powers behind it.

And today, that boy had suddenly appeared.

The Heir of Kaiser.

Years ago, at the other end of the empire, Cryomara had felt that ancient and wild mana, Kaiser’s aura, explode for a moment. Back then, she had thought, Has that stupid lizard returned?

But then she realized the aura had changed, taken shape in another body. He had chosen an heir for himself.

And now that heir had appeared right under her nose, in the room that should have been the safest.

Cryomara could not quite figure out what the boy intended. He supposedly offered them salvation, an army. But what he wanted in return... and the way he asked for it...

That damn boy... Cryomara thought, gritting her teeth. Just like Kaiser. He does not know where to speak or when to shut up. Emotionless, rude, and arrogant.

She had wanted to tear him apart for making Cecilia cry. The moment he entered the room, she had seriously considered turning that boy into an ice statue and shattering him in the palace courtyard.

But she hadn’t.

Because when she looked into the boy’s eyes... she could not see the slightest trace of fear in those red, vertical pupils.

There was a threat not only in that boy but also in the tremendous, chaotic potential behind him. This boy was either the biggest, most arrogant fool the world had ever seen... or he was strong enough, perhaps even stronger than herself, to back up that arrogance.

And his words, those cruel, poisonous words.

Cryomara knew the boy was right, even if she wanted to deny it. Frosthelm was falling. Cecilia was in danger. And that sword, that cursed piece of metal, would not save them.

What do you think I should do, Cryomara?

Cecilia’s shaky, choked question pulled Cryomara from her thoughts. Cecilia had lifted her head and was looking at her with red eyes. She was waiting for guidance from a goddess, from a mother.

Cryomara remained silent for a while. The cold air inside the room rippled with her indecision.

I do not think you would want to hear my answer, little butterfly, Cryomara said, her voice sorrowful.

Cryomara was well aware of how desperate they were.

Even though the way Kaiser’s heir said it was disgusting and annoying, there was not a single error in his analysis.

Frosthelm would last a month, maybe two or three at this rate. Every day they lived was actually borrowed time.

Cryomara could have intervened and silenced him if she wished; however, someone had to slap these bitter truths in Cecilia’s face. And that person could not be Cryomara.

Because she was the only safe harbor Cecilia trusted in life. If Cecilia felt that even Cryomara had turned her back on her, she would never recover.

They were nose to nose with death. The only obstacle currently standing between the Obsidian Dawn and Frosthelm was Cryomara herself and her barrier.

And when she fell, which she inevitably would one day, as she could not last forever, everything would be destroyed. Cecilia would fall into the hands of those monsters.

Cryomara looked at the girl in her lap. At her delicate face, her eyes filled with pain. She was still that little baby she had sworn to protect.

And a mother would do anything for her child.

She could sacrifice her pride, her past, even her beliefs. What she sacrificed was meaningless. As long as she could protect Cecilia, as long as she could ensure she lived, Cryomara was ready to do anything.

Kaiser’s heir’s cheeky, confident face came to her mind. I offer salvation, he had said. Armies, alliance, healing... It was all in the palm of his hand. The only price was a sword.

Cryomara took a deep sigh. She had made her decision.

With the devil... she whispered internally. If necessary, I will make a deal with that little devil.

She kissed Cecilia’s hair and stood up. Her human form began to disperse in beams of blue light.

Sleep now, Cecilia. Rest. I will be outside for a while.

Where are you going? asked Cecilia anxiously.

Cryomara spoke one last time before turning back into that blue butterfly form.

To fix a mistake... And perhaps, to give that arrogant boy one more chance.