The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 315: Salt

The pain of her son’s kick jolted through Jessamyn’s body, leaving her breathless. Jessamyn’s hand tightened around the bag, but she couldn’t focus on it now. The tunnel called to her, and her son’s growing urgency was impossible to ignore.

With a sigh of resignation, she cast one last glance at Jostein, silently instructing the horse to stay put, before stepping into the tunnel. The darkness swallowed her almost immediately, the weight of the earth pressing down on her from all sides. The air grew colder, more suffocating, and her footsteps echoed in the narrow space, amplifying her solitude. The damp, slick walls brushed against her arms as she descended, every step feeling like a descent into some hidden, forbidden place.

She moved cautiously, the uneven ground beneath her feet forcing her to balance her weight carefully. Her son’s stirring had quieted, though Jessamyn could still feel his presence guiding her. It was as though he knew something she didn’t, and the thought filled her with both awe and unease.

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the tunnel came to an end. She emerged into a small, dimly lit chamber, the light flickering from an unseen source. Jessamyn blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in brightness. For a moment, she stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. The air was thick with tension, as if the chamber itself was holding its breath. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, echoing through the chamber and reverberating into the tunnel behind her. Jessamyn’s blood ran cold as the voice cut through her, sharp and familiar—it was Cordelia. Her heart clenched with fear, and her legs moved before her mind could process the full weight of the situation. Cordelia was in danger.

At that very moment, her son stirred violently within her, the urgency of his movements pushing her forward. His kicks, once subtle and guiding, now felt like a forceful shove, as though he was physically propelling her to act. Jessamyn’s hand flew instinctively to her belly, her breath catching in her throat. How could he—an unborn child—be so aware of what was happening? His distress mirrored her own, only amplifying the panic that gripped her chest.

With no time to question the impossible, Jessamyn’s eyes frantically scanned her surroundings. She noticed a set of stairs she hadn’t seen before, partially hidden in the shadowy recess of the chamber. Without thinking, she rushed toward them.

As she ascended, the light from the chambers below faded, swallowed by the narrowing stairwell. The air grew thicker, colder, the oppressive darkness pressing in on her from all sides.

Cordelia’s scream tore through the silence again, this time filled with desperation and terror. It was more than just fear—there was fury in her voice, directed at someone. Jessamyn’s breath hitched as she heard the unmistakable sneer of another woman in response.

Her steps faltered for a moment, her heart racing as the pieces fell into place. The voice. That cruel, biting tone. Could it be Lady Celena?

Her stomach lurched as she quickened her pace, her fingers skimming the rough stone walls as she propelled herself upward. The rotating stairs seemed to go on forever, the circular motion disorienting, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Another scream—louder this time, closer. Jessamyn’s muscles burned as she neared the top, and then she heard the voice again. That unmistakable, cold voice, like venom dripping from each word. It was Lady Celena, without a doubt.

Her son had gone eerily still, his movements ceasing as though he too could feel the gravity of what was about to unfold. For a moment, she felt his stillness more deeply than the panic thrumming in her veins. It wasn’t just stillness—it was a silent rage, a brooding anger that was both foreign and unsettling.

How could an unborn child, barely eight months in the womb, feel such a range of emotions? How could he understand so much, sense so much?

And yet, Jessamyn could feel it too. Her child wasn’t just growing inside her—he was becoming something more, something deeply tied to the events unraveling around them. He was furious, a storm building quietly beneath her skin. Jessamyn’s motherly instincts kicked in, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for her son. He shouldn’t have to bear this burden, shouldn’t have to face the cruel world even before he was born.

Jessamyn’s hand rested protectively on her belly as she approached the top of the stairs, her pulse quickening. Her son’s silence was unnerving, but she knew he was still there, watching, waiting.

As Jessamyn reached the final step, the room at the top of the stairs came into view. The dim light flickered ominously, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Her eyes immediately fell upon Cordelia, standing at the far side of the room, face pale, her eyes wide with fear and fury. She was trembling, her hands clenched into tight fists as if trying to summon some form of strength to confront the enemy before her.

She must be living there for a while as Jessamyn noticed the essentials there. Louis might have kept her safe here and yet danger found her here.

Standing only a few feet away from Cordelia, was Lady Celena. Her expression was one of smug triumph, her lips curled into a cruel smile that sent a shiver down Jessamyn’s spine. Something was glistening in her hand and Jessamyn’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what it was.

A sword aimed at Cordelia’s belly.

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Meawhile, in Aurelia Castle...

Isadora tried her best to erase the spell circle. She tried everything that came to her mind and yet she couldn’t erase it. She knew that erasing the spell circle was the only way to save her brother. But how?

"Think, Isadora... think!" she whispered frantically to herself, tapping her forehead as if the action would somehow jog her memory. Her mind raced through all the lessons, all the teachings Jessamyn had passed down to her. Jessamyn had prepared her for a moment like this, had drilled into her the importance of precision, of focus. But now, with William’s life on the line, everything seemed to blur, slipping through her grasp like sand.

Her gaze darted to William, lying almost lifeless in the center of the circle. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and with every passing moment, the glowing energy of the spell intensified.

The air around him crackled, shimmering with an unnatural light that filled the room, casting ominous shadows on the walls. His chest rose and fell with such fragility that Isadora’s heart clenched with fear.

She had heard his faint whisper just moments ago, and those words still echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. "My brother... he’s dead."

Isadora had no idea what William had meant. Was he delirious? Dreaming? Or was it more than that? The implication that their King—his brother—was dead struck her like a blow.

She didn’t know how much weight his words carried, but it couldn’t be good. If their King was truly gone, what did that mean for the kingdom? What did it mean for her, for William, and for everything they had been fighting for?

The panic surged again, but Isadora forced herself to focus. She couldn’t think about that now. The only thing that mattered was saving William, and the key to that was the spell circle. She had to break it.

She ran her fingers over the glowing lines, feeling the hum of the magic beneath her touch. Jessamyn had warned her about spells like this—spells designed to trap, to drain, to bind.

The longer William stayed within the circle, the more his life would be drained away, his essence feeding the malicious enchantment. If she couldn’t break it in time... No, she wouldn’t let that happen. She refused to lose him. Not like this.

But how? How could she dismantle something so powerful, something so intricately woven?

Her mind flashed back to every lesson, every moment spent in study, every bit of knowledge Jessamyn had shared. And then, suddenly, something clicked. A memory surfaced, sharp and clear—one ingredient Jessamyn was so keen on to include in her bag. It had seemed so trivial at the time, but now it felt like a lifeline.

Salt.