Chapter 146: The Children of Silvara

TW: Violence against Children (Jump to A/N for a summary!)

If only it were just a child.

In a cramped space that was never meant to contain life, a young prince tried to reassure the trembling children even as he himself shook to his knees.

“We just have to hold on. F-for sure they’ve been looking for us… once we’re free, we’ll eat a lot of candy! Right, Miss Risa?”

Around him, disheveled elven children huddled together. Their clothes were torn, their cheeks hollow, their eyes far too wide and tired for their age. In their midst, a shackled female elf forced out a smile.

Risa gathered as many of them as she could in her arms, though her wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints. The chains clinked softly when she shifted, but still she held them close, pressing her warmth into their shaking bodies.

Even the usually pristine prince, who regularly visited them out of the goodness of his heart, now looked no different from the orphans she had been raising. His once-perfect robes were ragged, his hair was tangled, and his silver eyes were dim.

Because right now, they were all the same: victims struggling to stay alive.

“Would it really be possible, Miss?” one of the children whispered, voice barely audible. “That man… he said Lily was able to leave because her parents were obedient… but what d-do we do? We don’t have parents?”

Risa stilled. Her lips pressed together, her arms tightening around the little ones. Tremors rippled through her, not from the cold, but from the weight of the name that had been spoken.

Lily.

A bubbly child. Always laughing, always asking for extra flowers to braid into her hair.

The same Lily, who had gone missing.

At first, whispers spread among commoners. People searched for her in the woods, in the streets, anywhere a small girl could wander. But one day, her parents stopped searching. They stopped asking. They stopped looking.

Risa always found it strange. But it had not been her place to press.

Until that day.

She had been leaving the palace halls with a stack of documents in her arms after receiving approval for the orphanage budget.

That was when the headmistress barreled into her, even stumbling on the floor with the box that fell over. The strict woman who never tolerated a breach of etiquette did not even look back. She simply grabbed the fallen box and ran straight into the main hall, her face twisted with something Risa had never seen before—raw panic.

What alarmed Risa even more were the two figures struggling against the palace guards. A man and a woman. Their cries rang through the marble corridor.

“!!!”

Lily’s parents.

Their eyes locked with hers. Recognition flashed, and then they screamed her name.

“Get our daughter back! Please, get Lily back!”

Risa froze, her heart hammering. The words made no sense, but Lily’s mother sobbed it out between choked breaths.

“The headmistress took her! She took our child!”

The desperation in their voices cut through her confusion. She was already inside the palace, already past the guards. She could have walked away. She could have convinced herself it was a mistake.

But she turned back. She ran after the headmistress.

Even now, Risa wondered if that had been her mistake.

Would things have turned out differently if she had stayed silent?

Would she and the others be here, trapped, if she had not been so foolishly nosy?

If she had understood the true darkness of people, maybe she would have known better. Maybe she could have stopped it.

But none of it mattered.

Because she managed to catch up to her.

Because in the end, she had seen it.

She had seen the small, withered hand. The pale skin drained of life. The floral hair clips, unique to Lily, were strewn together in the box.

That was the truth. The image carved itself into her memory, seared into her soul.

Lily never escaped.

Because the note written in what was probably Lily’s blood said only one thing.

You disobeyed.

Risa remembered barfing until her stomach was empty, dry heaving long after nothing came out.

It had been then, with her body shaking, that she learned from the headmistress what had happened.

The parents had come to her. They had pleaded with her because she was the highest person of authority they could immediately reach as commoners.

Of course, after hearing about their situation, the headmistress promised to help. She had promised to get the authorities to rescue their child.

But on the day the parents were supposed to give their statements, a box had arrived at her office.

There was no need to guess the expression the woman must have had when she first opened the box, because even now, the headmistress looked as though she were wallowing in immense guilt.

But even then, she managed to warn Risa, who was the caretaker of an orphanage.

“Watch the children.”

So with a heavy heart, Risa had rushed back and locked everything down. She accounted for every child, one by one, as if counting heads could erase the haunting image of that box.

It could’ve been a personal grudge, but after seeing what became of Lily, it had been impossible for Risa to sleep without checking obsessively.

Days later, with nothing but the children’s complaints about not being able to play outside, they received a visit from Prince Finnian.

The youngest and still unregistered prince. Frail in body, but bright in spirit.

The children adored him. Everyone did. Little Finn always brought the tastiest food, the sweetest fruits, and his laughter was enough to light up the halls. His visits were the most-awaited days of the month.

But that day did not end with laughter.

When Risa woke, she and the children were being pelted with cold water, only to find themselves caged like beasts.

The first thing she saw was a shape cloaked in magic, a figure so shrouded it was little more than a shadow with edges.

The voice that came from it was cold and deliberate. “If you cooperate, and if your people back home cooperate, then you will be released.”

It was probably meant to soothe, but Risa couldn’t think about such a thing in their current condition.

However, the children clung to those words, because children would cling to anything. They were too frightened not to. Even as some of them cried, they repeated those words to themselves like a prayer.

Endure. Just endure.

But endurance was not enough.

At one point, a girl grew too weak. Too pale. Her breathing became shallow, her skin clammy.

They all begged.

“Please, let her go. Please, she needs help.”

The shrouded man had not appeared for a long while, but on that day, he returned.

Risa and the children fell to their knees, their voices breaking as they pleaded for the girl’s life.

At first, the man said no. His voice was final, cutting through the cries. But just as he turned to leave, he stopped.

A pause.

Then he reached down, pulled the frail girl into his arms, and began to walk away.

“Wait—” another child cried, tears streaking her cheeks. She forced out the question with the courage only fear and love could give. “Mister, is she… is she going to be safe now?”

Risa’s heart nearly stopped.

Because she saw it.

The shadow’s mouth opened and then curled upward into something that resembled a grin.

“Yes. Of course. I don’t know if you knew her, but there was a sweet girl who was here before. Very obedient. She also managed to get her freedom.”

The children froze.

“Really?” another one asked, hope trembling in the small voice.

The being’s grin widened. Only the mouth moved; the rest swallowed in darkness.

“Yeah. Who knows. Maybe she’ll reunite with Lily, too.”

Risa’s blood ran cold.

Her scream tore through her throat. “Bring her back! Bring her back!”

The children were suddenly confused, and they wept as her cries echoed against the walls, the sound bouncing uselessly in the cramped space.

The shrouded figure did not turn back. He carried the girl into the dark corridor, his steps slow and deliberate.

Past the iron doors, another cloaked being stepped out of the shadows. He spoke quietly. “Sir. Why go through all the trouble?”

The one holding the child paused.

“Why?” His tone lingered in the air like a knife, then deepened. “Do you know the best kind of blood for what we are hoping to accomplish?”

The second figure bowed his head. “No, Sir.”

“Then remember it clearly.” The voice was almost gleeful now. “It is the blood of despairing innocents.”

The subordinate hesitated. “Then why do we tell them such things?”

“You really need to learn.”

A chuckle slid into a sneer, low and twisted.

“Do you know the best way to consistently get to that point?”

The second shook his head.

“It’s hope,” the first whispered. “Specifically, shattered hope.”

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