ALESSANDRA BOOK 2

"Alessandra."

The voice came from below, a soft, yet urgent whisper in the still air. Her instincts pushed her forward. She stepped into the corridor, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor, and found another door that led down into the unknown. She reached for the handle, her fingers brushing against the cold metal.

The chill wrapping around her like a heavy cloak, before pushing the door open. A faint staircase descended further into the depths of the palace. The shadows in the stone walls seemed to stretch and shift, whispering secrets long forgotten.

"Alessandra."

The voice echoed once more, growing louder with each step she took. Her heart pounded in her chest as she descended, her body pulsing with the glow of her white energy, which illuminated the path before her. The steps felt endless, and the deeper she went, the more oppressive the air became. It was as though the walls themselves were closing in, whispering of ancient secrets.

At last, she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes falling on another door. This one was old, weathered, its wood darkened with age and neglect. She touched it, and with a soft creak, it opened, revealing a vast, expansive space beyond.

The lights flickered dimly, casting eerie shadows across the room. The vast chamber was unlike any place she had seen before in the palace. The air hummed with an unfamiliar energy.

“Your Majesty!”

Alessandra’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of the voice. She turned to find a familiar figure standing in the center of the room. "Agatha!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and concern.

Agatha dropped to her knees immediately, her head bowing low. "Your Majesty Empress Alessandra," she said, her voice laced with reverence.

Alessandra’s brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? Stand up, Agatha," she commanded, her tone soft but firm.

Agatha obeyed, rising quickly to her feet. She then gestured to a distant corner of the room. "I saw this place in one of my visions," she explained. "When I escaped from the palace guards, I hid here. And look, Your Majesty, who I found hidden in this place."

Alessandra followed her gaze and froze. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. On two beds, side by side, lay a man and a woman. The woman’s face was a raw, scorched mess—her skin marred by burns. Alessandra gasped when she recognised the woman lying unconscious on the bed. Her mother, Princess Ahmira, was alive—though barely. The burns were horrific, not just on her face but on her hands and feet as well. It was the same brutal fire that had tried to claim her life, the fire that had been set to burn her alive.

So, the Dragon Lord had saved her.

Her mind raced as the pieces clicked into place. It had been her mother's voice calling her name. Ahmira’s face matched exactly the one in Alessandra’s dream on the beach.

“Princess Ahmira,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

Agatha nodded gravely. “Yes, Your Majesty. Your mother is alive. And this man here..." She hesitated before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. "He is the Dragon Lord. He is your father."

Alessandra’s gaze shifted to the man lying on the other bed. His appearance was striking—large, his body covered in scales that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The reality of what Agatha had just told her began to settle in, like a heavy weight in her chest. The Dragon Lord... her father.

Alessandra stepped closer, studying the man with a mixture of awe and confusion. She had never seen her father's human form in anyone’s memories.

“Why are they here?” she asked, her voice trembling with the enormity of it all.

Agatha hesitated before responding, her hands trembling as she handed Alessandra something—an intricately designed gold bracelet. Alessandra’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at it, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal. She looked down at her wrist, at the bracelet Queen Lhara had given her.

"Layla was wearing this," Agatha said, her voice quiet but filled with urgency. "And I found out it can absorb powers from someone else."

Alessandra’s gaze flicked between the two bracelets. “But I’m wearing the same bracelet,” she said, her confusion deepening.

Agatha’s eyes met hers, filled with a kind of sadness Alessandra couldn’t fully place. "Alessandra."

The call of her name brought her attention back to her mother, still unconscious on the bed. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“She’s calling my name,” Alessandra murmured, her voice barely audible as she gently took her mother’s hand in her own. She felt the pulse of her mother’s life force, faint but still there, still clinging to existence.

As her energy flowed into Princess Ahmira, Alessandra’s purple power spiraled from her palm and into her mother’s body. Slowly, the burn scars began to fade, their twisted, blackened marks dissolving into her skin. It was as if Alessandra’s energy was healing her, washing away the pain and trauma that had lingered for so long.

Ahmira’s eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the dim light of the chamber. Her gaze shifted to Alessandra, and her lips parted, her voice raspy but clear.

“Beware of Lhara,” she whispered, her words filled with foreboding.

The warning hit Alessandra like a punch to the gut. Her breath caught in her throat, and the room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening around her.

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Alessandra's thoughts swirled with uncertainty and determination as she gazed at the sky. The clouds parted at her command, revealing the vastness of the eight kingdoms beneath her. The air was thick with tension, and she could sense the presence of something dark, lingering, watching, and waiting.

"Where are you hiding, Lhara?" Alessandra whispered to herself, her eyes narrowing. The former queen of Abel had vanished, leaving behind only the remnants of her chaos. She had slipped into the shadows, her dark power hiding her presence from Alessandra’s senses. The game had changed, and Alessandra knew she had to be prepared for whatever was coming.

The silence of the palace felt comforting, yet unsettling. The weight of her duty pressed heavily on her shoulders. As Goddess Iona, she was responsible for not only her own realm but the fates of the eight kingdoms below. She could no longer afford the luxury of simply being Alessandra, the lost princess—she had to embrace her true identity.

Zen’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Your Highness, we’ve prepared a meal for you. Or would you prefer to bathe in the stream first?”

Alessandra turned, offering Zen a small smile. “I’ll bathe in the stream first,” she said, her voice steady, though a flicker of unease lingered in her chest. “I’ll eat after, then head back below to start cleaning up the mess left by the former queen of the Kingdom of Abel.” Her gaze shifted to the distant land, where dark smoke curled ominously in the distance. The sight reminded her of the devastation Lhara had caused.

The stream was serene, a quiet sanctuary hidden deep within the palace grounds. Alessandra stepped into the cool waters, allowing the gentle current to wash over her, as though cleansing her from the weight of the world she now carried. The peacefulness of the moment contrasted sharply with the turmoil brewing in the kingdoms below, but Alessandra knew it was necessary—she needed to ground herself before facing the storm ahead.

As she submerged herself in the stream, her thoughts turned back to her mother. Ahmira had come back into her life after so many years, and yet, Alessandra couldn’t help but feel that her place in the world was still uncertain. She was no longer just a daughter—she was a goddess, a protector, and the ruler of a realm that was hers to heal and protect.

When she emerged from the stream, the air seemed fresher, as though the very world had acknowledged her decision to embrace her destiny. She walked back to the palace, feeling the connection between herself and her domain. It was time to restore order, to undo the damage caused by Lhara and her dark influence.

Inside the palace, Zen was waiting, already seated at a table laden with food. The maids had set everything out meticulously, as if they had been anticipating Alessandra’s return for ages.

"Eat, Your Highness," Zen urged, her tone gentle but filled with concern. "You’ll need your strength."

Alessandra nodded, sitting down at the table. She could feel the weight of the past pressing down on her, but she knew that eating and replenishing herself was the first step. After all, the battle ahead would require more than just her powers—it would require her mind, her will, and the strength to face what was to come.

As she ate, her thoughts drifted back to the mysteries surrounding Lhara. The former queen's sudden disappearance was no coincidence. Alessandra had to find her, had to uncover the dark magic that Lhara had concealed so well. But the true question that lingered in her mind was where Maia was.

The soul of Maia had always been tied to this realm, but now it felt as though she was missing—lost. Was her soul truly gone, or had it been reborn in another being? If Maia’s soul had been taken from the realm, the balance of power could shift in ways Alessandra couldn’t yet predict. She had to find out the truth.

After finishing her meal, Alessandra rose from the table, her decision clear.

“I’m going below,” she said, her voice firm. “There’s work to be done.”

Zen followed her, her eyes still filled with quiet concern. But Alessandra had made up her mind. The time for doubt was over. Lhara’s dark power would not be allowed to spread any further. And the mystery of Maia’s soul would be solved—no matter the cost.

As they descended from the palace to the world below, Alessandra could feel the weight of her ancestors guiding her. She was not just a ruler—she was the embodiment of the balance between light and dark, and she would fight to protect the realms that depended on her.