The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 300: Her Chance

"Move!" the woman hissed, her voice laced with impatience as she urged Jessamyn to stand. Her sharp, narrow eyes flicked nervously towards the encroaching shadows, where the old seer’s silhouette loomed like a malevolent specter in the distance.

Jessamyn’s breath hitched in her throat as she frowned, her mind racing "That old hag is trying to kill my son. Help!" she cried out, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The words tumbled out before she could think, her body instinctively reacting to the imminent threat.

"What?" the woman’s voice cracked, her usual composure splintering as her gaze snapped back to Jessamyn, eyes wide with alarm.

"I..." Jessamyn gasped, her knees buckling beneath her as she collapsed to the ground. Her hands flew to her belly, clutching at it as if trying to shield the life within. Her eyebrows twisted in pain, a sharp cry escaping her lips as she doubled over, her entire body trembling.

The woman’s eyes darted to the old seer standing in the distance, her figure shrouded in a swirling mist of darkness. A sense of foreboding settled over them like a heavy fog, thickening the air with dread.

The woman closed her eyes and began to murmur incantations under her breath, her lips moving swiftly as she cast protective spells. The seer’s dark aura seemed to pulse, sending tendrils of black smoke curling through the air, forming an impenetrable fog around her. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

But suddenly, the woman’s eyes snapped open, her gaze narrowing with fury as she reached down and grabbed Jessamyn by the arms. Her fingers dug into Jessamyn’s skin, her grip bruising. "She’s not attacking you. Stop lying!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.

Jessamyn’s eyes widened in confusion, her pain momentarily forgotten as she stared up at the woman. "How are you sure?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

"She told me," the woman answered through clenched teeth, her face twisted with anger. "She doesn’t want to fight."

"You believe her?" Jessamyn’s voice was filled with disbelief, but within seconds, her expression shifted as realization dawned on her. "Then... am I in labor?" she asked, her voice quivering with rising panic. Her hands trembled as they pressed against her belly, her eyes widening in terror. "I can’t be. My son won’t survive..."

Tears, large and luminous like pearls, welled up in Jessamyn’s eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. Each tear was a silent plea, a mother’s desperate prayer for the life of her child. Her entire body trembled, her legs giving way as she crumpled further onto the ground, unable to move an inch.

"Dear son," Jessamyn whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she gently cupped her belly. "I am sorry I tried to kill you! I do not want you hurt. Please... wait... Not now... Not now..." Her words were a soft, heartbreaking lullaby, a mother’s plea to the child she loved more than life itself.

The woman’s hard expression faltered for a moment as she knelt beside Jessamyn. "It’s not time yet. It can’t be labor," she muttered, her voice a mix of frustration and uncertainty. She placed her hand on Jessamyn’s belly, her fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh.

But as her hand lingered, the woman’s face darkened, her features contorting with anger. "Your belly is soft as a pillow. You are not in labor! Are you mocking me?" she shouted, her voice rising in fury.

Her face twitched with rage, her patience wearing thin. Without warning, she drew the dagger she kept hidden at her waist and pressed it against Jessamyn’s neck, the blade cold and unforgiving against her skin.

Jessamyn winced as the sharp edge bit into her flesh, reopening old wounds. The pain shot through her like a lightning bolt, but she forced herself to remain calm. "I am not lying," she gasped, her voice tight with pain. "I cannot move..."

The woman’s hand shook with barely contained rage, her grip on the dagger tightening. Her eyes blazed with a dangerous light, her sanity teetering on the edge. "You think I care about anything? I’ll kill you right here and now," she snarled, her voice low and deadly.

Jessamyn’s heart raced, her mind whirling with panic. She knew she was walking a razor’s edge, one wrong move, one wrong word, and it could all be over. "You want to kill my son? It’s her!" Jessamyn cried out, pointing a trembling finger at the old seer. "Why is she still there if she’s not doing anything? You do not want to kill me, and yet now you want to kill me. Do you think this is a coincidence?"

Her words were like a seed of doubt, planted deep in the woman’s mind. She could see the hesitation flicker across the woman’s face, a moment of uncertainty breaking through her rage. Jessamyn seized the opportunity, knowing she had to exploit that doubt if she had any hope of surviving.

The woman’s grip on the dagger loosened, her eyes narrowing as she looked back at the old seer. Without warning, she dropped the dagger to the ground, the blade sinking into the dirt with a dull thud.

She rose to her feet, her body rigid with tension as she stormed towards the old seer. "Get lost!" she shouted, her voice ringing out across the clearing.

Jessamyn remained hunched on the ground, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she watched the woman march towards the seer. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what she had just witnessed.

The woman was not at her peak strength—Jessamyn had suspected it before, but now she was certain. That was the reason she wanted to leave so desperately, why she was so eager to get away.

And the old seer, she realized, was using the woman as a pawn. She was manipulating her, hoping to use her as a weapon to eliminate Jessamyn. The seer had underestimated her opponent, thinking the woman was merely an ordinary mortal, but now she was beginning to see that she was much more than that—someone well-versed in magic, someone with power of her own.

A fight was brewing, Jessamyn could feel it in the air. The tension crackled like a storm about to break, and she knew she had to use this chance to escape. Every second counted. With trembling hands, she reached out and picked up the dagger, hiding it beneath the folds of her skirt. The cold metal pressed against her thigh, a sharp reminder of the danger she was still in.

As Jessamyn crouched low, ready to flee at the first opportunity, she watched the confrontation unfold. The old seer’s dark fog began to swirl around her, thickening into a menacing cloud that rolled towards the woman. The air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, the fog swirling with dark energy as it pressed against the woman like an unseen force.

But the woman stood her ground, her eyes narrowing with fierce determination. She raised her hands, her fingers crackling with raw energy as she began to cast her own spells. A shimmering barrier of light appeared around her, a protective shield that pulsed with power. Jessamyn could feel the magic humming in the air, vibrating with intensity as the two forces clashed.

The fog pushed forward, thick tendrils of darkness wrapping around the barrier, pressing against it with relentless force. The woman gritted her teeth, her face twisted in concentration as she fought to maintain her shield. The old seer’s power was formidable, the darkness seething with malevolence, but the woman was not easily overpowered.

With a sharp cry, the woman unleashed a burst of energy, sending a shockwave rippling through the air. The fog recoiled, the tendrils retreating momentarily as the woman advanced, her hands glowing with an ethereal light. She began to chant in a language Jessamyn did not understand, her voice rising in a powerful incantation that filled the night with an eerie resonance.

The old seer’s fog pulsed in response, the darkness growing denser, thicker, as it surged forward once more. It wrapped around the woman’s barrier, pressing down with suffocating force, trying to smother the light. But the woman fought back, her voice rising in defiance as she cast another spell. The barrier around her flared brightly, sending tendrils of light shooting outwards, slicing through the fog with searing heat.

The air crackled with energy as the two forces collided, darkness against light, each pushing and pulling in a deadly dance. The woman’s face was a mask of determination, her eyes blazing with fierce intensity as she channeled her power. She was strong, stronger than Jessamyn had realized, and she was holding her own against the seer’s dark magic.

But Jessamyn knew the battle could not last long. The woman’s strength was waning, her energy draining with each passing moment.

This was her chance. Jessamyn knew she had to act quickly. Jessamyn quickly retreated, grabbing the dagger.

"We are going to be fine, son," Jessamyn gently rubbed her belly. "Give me strength..."

She rushed as fast as she could away from the crackling of magic while looking desperately for any animal who could aid her.

She did hear animals—horses, to be precise.

Was it help or was it danger?