Chapter 122: Shadows of War
Thelma Zane’s POV
The southern Duke looked at me with a mix of despair and hope, his tear–filled eyes reflecting the fragile vulnerability of a child. For a moment, I felt the weight of his sorrow, but I turned my head away, reluctant to let my emotions interfere with the truth I needed to deliver.
Adele didn’t care about you,” I began firmly, why would she risk everything to acknowledge you as her father? Why would she endure the pain of your indifference, the anguish of unrequited love, if she didn’t yearn for your acceptance?”
My words seemed to strike a chord, and Lennon’s face contorted in silent agony.
“She yearns for love,” I continued, “for a family that feels whole, for the warmth of a kind and devoted father. Whatever she endured in the past, it’s clear she hasn’t found peace. Her actions scream of resistance, of fear, and of a desperate attempt to escape the shadows of her
past.
“When Adele shouted at you, each word was laced with a longing for familial love. Her tears, streaming down her face like an unstoppable spring, carried not just sorrow but also an accusation. In her cries, I heard a plea–a cry for help to free herself from the chains of her history. She wanted to rewrite her story, to have the childhood she never had, one filled with happiness and love like Carolyn’s. Her kidnapping of Carolyn wasn’t an act of malice; it was a cry for the life she felt was stolen from her.”
The southern Duke seemed to shrink under the weight of my words. His trembling hands clutched the armrests of his chair, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“Punishing yourself for the past won’t help Adele.” I pressed on. “It will only deepen her pain, adding to the despair she already feels. Instead of giving her the love she craves, you’ll sever the fragile bond between you, leaving her in greater sorrow. And it wouldn’t be fair to Carolyn, either. She may share Adele’s blood, but she’s also a victim. Carolyn didn’t ask for any of this. She didn’t ask to be a pawn in someone else’s tragedy.”
Lennon’s silence was deafening, his anguish palpable. My parents, seated nearby, watched me with a mix of surprise and pride.
to
Η
“You’re caught between the past and the present I continued, my voice unwavering. Carolyn faces her own dilemma. Do you think she wants to use her pain as a weapon demand justice? Do you think she finds comfort in this? No, she is simply seeking fairness, a chance to heal from the wounds inflicted upon her. To burden her with your guilt or to sacrifice her needs for Adele’s sake would be unjust.
“So I urge you to think carefully. Trying to atone for Adele’s mistakes with your own suffering won’t resolve anything. It will only entangle everyone further in this web of sorrow and regret.”
Lennon finally lifted his head, his face etched with the torment of his inte
“You’ve grown so much,” my mother whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “To speak so clearly, so compassionately, and yet with such wisdom–it’s remarkable. You’re already showing the qualities of a true Queen. I’m proud of you.”
Her words warmed my heart, but I kept my focus on the southern Duke. He had stopped crying, but his body still trembled slightly, as if caught in the aftershocks of an emotional earthquake.
“Thelma is right,” my father said, breaking the silence. “Lennon, think about your daughters -both of them. Rather than drowning in guilt over the past, use this opportunity to give them a brighter future.”
Lennon inhaled deeply, his breath bitching as he fought to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said hoarsely, “You’re all right. I’ve been blind, so consumed by my own shame that I couldn’t see what really mattered. How did I become so lost?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Duke Frank interjected, placing a reassuring hand on Lennon’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it takes an outsider’s perspective to see the bigger picture.”
My father, ever the voice of authority, spoke next. “Adele’s actions have brought great harm, and her interrogation will proceed in private. The Council of Elders won’t be involved; they are too preoccupied with their own agendas to provide fair judgment. That said, I can’t overlook what Adele has done. Her intentions were dark, and her actions caused chaos, especially at the Sivir Academy. She won’t face execution, but she won’t escape punishment, either.”
Lennon nodded solemnly, his eyes downcast. “I understand, Your Majesty. I ask only for fairness, not leniency.”
“If the werewolf grandmaster can neutralize the threat she poses,” my father continued, ” Adele will be allowed to live among the Lycan pack under constant supervision. You’ll have the chance to visit her once a week. Use that time to rebuild your bond and make amends, not through guilt, but through genuine love and effort.”
Lennon’s eyes filled with gratitude, his expression softening. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness. I won’t squander this chance.”
As the discussion shifted, my father’s tone grew somber. “War,” he said, “is a merciless force. It spares no one, leaving behind only grief and loss. When we were younger, we measured victory by the number of casualties. But as we age, we come to realize that those numbers represent broken families and countless silent sufferings.”
The room fell into a reflective silence, the weight of my father’s words pressing on everyone present.
Their memories of war seemed to stretch beyond time, their regrets mingling with the unspoken pain of countless lives lost. Even I, young and untested by the horrors of war, felt a
deep sense of sorrow.
In my naivety, I had once imagined war as a glorious battle–a way to punish those who dared to invade our lands. But now, I understood the grim reality. War wasn’t just fought on battlefields; it left scars that lingered long after the fighting ceased.
Commanders might celebrate victories, but those who died never returned. Their families would never taste the sweetness of triumph, for every victory was paid for in blood.
I recalled my history lessons, where I had questioned why wise rulers often avoided war despite their strength. They could crush their enemies with ease, so why waste time at negotiation tables? Now, I understood.
The truly great leaders were those who valued their people over power. They saw their subjects not as numbers but as lives, each precious and irreplaceable. They understood that the cost of war was never truly worth the price.
As I sat there, the gravity of these lessons settled in my heart. War was a tragedy, a shadow that consumed everything in its path. And as the conversation in the room wound to a close, I resolved to remember this truth, to carry it with me as a future Queen, and to strive for a reign that sought peace over conflict.
