I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 287: A place worth returning to

Elysia didn’t know how long she stood there.

With Kaelith pressed between them, her tiny cheek tucked against Malvoria’s collarbone, the weight of everything finally felt real. Not in the pain of it. Not in the blood or heat or fury.

But in the stillness.

They were here. Safe. Together.

Saelira was the first to break the silence. She approached in her long navy robes, her hair braided tightly back, the lines on her face sharper tonight, though her expression held warmth beneath the formality.

"She’s been restless all day," Saelira murmured, brushing a hand over Kaelith’s back. "I told her you’d come home."

Elysia looked up at her. "She felt it?"

"Of course," Saelira said. "She’s your daughter."

Malvoria tightened her arms around Kaelith, exhaling a breath that trembled.

Then she finally spoke. "She’s gone. Lucindra."

Saelira’s expression didn’t change, but her hands stilled.

"She tapped into something beneath the palace," Elysia said. "Something ancient. It twisted her."

"She chose that path," Veylira said from behind them, stepping forward with quiet steel in her voice. "We all felt it. She wasn’t corrupted—she sought the corruption."

"She still tried to kill us," Lara added, flopping dramatically onto one of Saelira’s velvet chairs with soot on her armor and no regard for the upholstery. "And the castle."

"Again," Raveth muttered, standing behind her, arms crossed.

Elysia’s lips twitched. "We should’ve left it with a lock."

"There was a lock," Malvoria muttered. "She shattered it."

Saelira listened without interruption, but when they fell silent, she reached for Kaelith’s foot and tapped it gently. "Then it’s over."

"Yes," Elysia said. "But the castle’s... ruined."

A beat passed.

Then Lara sat up slightly. "So... do we fix it?"

Malvoria hesitated.

The castle had been her home. Her inheritance. Her childhood. It had been broken, corrupted, drenched in ambition and the scent of ancient betrayal—but it had still been hers.

Now, though?

"I don’t want to fix it," she said quietly. "I want to start over."

Everyone looked at her.

Malvoria glanced at Elysia, her expression softer than usual. "The castle—it wasn’t just damaged. It held too much. Lucindra’s magic. Her seal. Her legacy. Every corridor reminds me of her."

Elysia reached out and placed a hand gently on her arm.

"I want Kaelith to grow up in something new," Malvoria said, voice steady now. "Not built on ruins. Not full of old secrets."

"You want to tear it down?" Raveth asked.

"Yes."

Lara whistled. "I’ve been waiting years to hear that."

Saelira’s eyes gleamed, a rare smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. "Then we begin again."

"But it has to be ours this time," Elysia added. "A castle that’s not just strong—but safe. Warm. Something Kaelith can run through without tripping over cursed floorboards."

"I’m offended," Raveth said. "My floorboard traps were very selective."

"She’s two months old," Veylira muttered.

"I’m planning ahead."

They all laughed, too exhausted not to. The kind of laughter that was rough around the edges but true.

Elysia sank into one of the cushioned seats, Kaelith now curled in her lap as Malvoria poured water from a crystal pitcher and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed, and Elysia looked up.

"I’m proud of you," she said softly.

Malvoria blinked. "For what?"

"For surviving her. For not becoming her."

The fire in Malvoria’s eyes flickered, dimmed, then settled into something far more powerful than flame: peace.

"She tried to control everything," Elysia said. "You didn’t."

"I wanted to," Malvoria admitted. "Back then. When I was angry. When I thought control was the same thing as power." ƒreewebɳovel.com

"And now?"

Malvoria looked down at their daughter, sleeping with one hand curled into her tunic.

"Now I want her to be free."

Elysia smiled.

They stayed that way for a long time—talking only when they needed to, sharing plans, quiet moments, and cups of warm spiced wine.

Kaelith stirred once or twice but didn’t cry. She just nuzzled closer into Elysia’s warmth, soothed by the steady presence of her parents and the house that had always welcomed them home.

Later that evening, as the stars blinked awake over the gardens, they stood on Saelira’s balcony and looked out toward the north.

The direction of the palace.

"Where do we even start?" Lara asked, arms crossed over the railing. "Do we knock it all down at once? Or take turns blowing it up piece by piece?"

"I want to be there when the throne room falls," Raveth said.

"You just want to make sure no one finds that hidden liquor stash you built behind the tapestry," Veylira said without looking at her.

Raveth smirked. "Maybe."

"We’ll rebuild it in stages," Saelira said, joining them. "You’ll need proper architects. New stone. New runes. I have contacts."

"Of course you do," Malvoria said, arching a brow.

Saelira gave her a look. "I didn’t get to my age by letting sentimental fools design their own fortresses."

"It’ll take months," Elysia said. "Maybe longer."

Malvoria nodded. "Then we start tomorrow."

Elysia looked at her sideways. "You’re sure?"

"I’m ready," Malvoria said.

She wrapped an arm around Elysia’s waist, drawing her close.

"We end that legacy," she said, voice quiet. "And we begin ours."

Malvoria’s words hung in the quiet like an oath, soft but final. Elysia turned her face slightly, brushing her lips against Malvoria’s temple in silent agreement.

Beneath them, the gardens swayed gently in the evening breeze. The lanterns lining the paths flickered gold, casting soft shadows on the cobbled stone.

Somewhere in the estate, a harp played faintly—a servant or maybe Saelira herself, offering music instead of conversation.

Veylira had already disappeared into the strategy room, no doubt planning the first stages of demolition with military precision.

Raveth and Lara lingered on the balcony, exchanging mockery over who would get to blow up the largest part of the palace first.

But Elysia wasn’t thinking about demolition.

She was thinking about walls that held warmth instead of secrets. About open halls where Kaelith could grow without feeling the pressure of a legacy she didn’t choose. About a throne room with no shadows. A nursery bathed in light.

Malvoria’s hand found hers again, fingers intertwining.

"I don’t want it to look like anything that’s ever existed," Malvoria murmured. "Not the demon strongholds. Not the human keeps. Something new."

Elysia smiled. "Then we’ll build it ourselves. One stone, one choice at a time."