Heart of a Hero: Somehow I've become the Vampire Queen?!

Chapter 47 - Starry Night

Ambra sat on an ornately carved wooden bench in the secluded garden of the Duke's estate. The marble statues around her seemed to watch in eternal silence, their expressions forever frozen in time—a sharp contrast to the ever-changing nature of her own existence. She was surrounded by lush foliage, exotic flowers of all colors, and a small tranquil pond that mirrored the heavens.

Above her, the night sky was a masterpiece. Stars burst forth in colors of orange, yellow, and blue, swirling and twirling in an apathetic grand scheme as if painted by the brushstrokes of gods long forgotten. They seemed so distant yet so close, unreachable but deeply felt—a paradox that matched her own complex emotions that she had yet to fully make sense of.

Her blood-red eyes, as clear as the brightest ruby crystal, absorbed the celestial panorama, and for a moment, the universe was reflected in them. She was a mirror to the cosmos, and yet, the cosmos could not mirror the disquiet that churned within her soul.

Just a night ago, she had spoken with Laura. She had said, "You're not alone, Ambra." Even Camila echoed the sentiment saying she was wanted back, and she had seen the raw sorrow in Deidan's eyes when she was not there.

Wanted, they said. But wanted as what? As who?

She ran her tongue subtly over the new, cruel additions to her anatomy. Fangs, sharp and menacing, had replaced her once human teeth. The very shape of her mouth branded her as something she had vowed to fight against—a predator, a vampire.

Could she go back to them, to her old life? Would they still need her if they knew what she had become? Would Deidan's eyes fill with horror instead of sorrow? Would Camila recoil in fear instead of treating her like a friend?

A tear trickled down her cheek, glistening like a fallen star as it navigated the contours of her face before landing softly on the ground below, joining the earth as if it had never been a part of her. She felt both a part of this world and apart from it—a tragic double-existence that perhaps even the stars, in all their cosmic wisdom, could not resolve.

As Ambra pondered these what-ifs, the heavens seemed to intensify their luminescence, each star blazing a little brighter as if the universe itself was lending an ear to her internal dialogue. It was as though the cosmos whispered to her.

She couldn't help but be haunted by the possibilities. If only she had defeated Lilith sooner. Lucas, Elena, Isabella—they might still be alive, sharing stories around a fire instead of being memorialized in tearful eulogies and a lackluster funeral. They could've returned to Nuberia as heroes, an accolade she now realized mattered far less to her than the simple joy of their presence.

What about Lune? Lune, who had set off with her on their first adventure like two leaves carried by the winds of fate. Dragging her against her wishes, but soon enough becoming as adventurous and prone to danger as her. If they had triumphed swiftly, she might've never left her side. They could have fulfilled her—no, maybe to an extent, their—dream: a simple life in a small cottage, surrounded by untamed meadows and rolling hills, far from the deadly games of gods and demons.

In that alternative reality, there would be no talk of quests, only the soft murmurs of a shared life; no weapons clashing, just the clinking of tea cups; no waking up to face another enemy, but waking up to the tranquil sight of morning light filtering through the curtains.

Her fingers unconsciously grasped the empty air beside her, as if trying to catch the traces and flickers of that dream, pull it from the realm of imagination into her raw reality. For a moment, she felt the ache of solitude more sharply than any physical wound she'd ever endured.

Then she exhaled, letting go.

The images of that distant, peaceful life dispersed like fog under the rolling rays of moonlight, leaving her with the chilling yet liberating truth: it was a dream lost to time, to choices made and roads tarnished by death.