Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen - Chapter 133


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Welcome to my seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.

As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.

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Chapter 133

Dear Reader, When all the lights around you die out, and you are left alone.

When all emotional support is swallowed up by the waves of life like a sand castle on a deserted beach.

What are you left with? Who are you then?

If you are defeated, does it feel like life slowly becomes unreasonable? Or do you have the strength to throw off all chains, get up, and wait for that new morning?

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Do you ever surrender to those who have tried to dominate you?

Will you surrender knowing that you have saved those you love from suffering?

Do you lie on your back, paws in the air, belly exposed as a sign of submission, or is it to give your superior the feeling that you accept his dominance?

How long can you stand by, how long will you tolerate those above you?

(if you prefer to read part 1 first, click here)

Seven months after Nightingale's letter.

Piece by piece, the members of the council trickle into the large meeting room. The space is part of one of the Sikh family's holiday homes, previously unused under the former regime, as the former Sikh dislikes traveling and distancing himself from his authority. But now, with the princess fearing for her life within the city walls, she opts for this remote location, where she can keep an eye on the soldiers some advisors have brought with them.

Carefully these soldiers are kept away from Sion by her security guards.

The room the advisors enter is overly spacious, larger than the meeting room in the palace, with tables arranged along the walls, six on both sides. Banners of the twelve provinces of the empire adorn the walls, reaching from floor to ceiling, their vibrant colors a testament to the empire's grandeur.

The windows of flax paper filter the light, casting a beautiful play of colors throughout the room. A wide red carpet runs through the middle of the room, flanked by a marble floor on either side.

Satisfied, the advisors stride across the carpet to their seats, their smirks show that they have gotten accustomed to power and so do their uniforms that look tight around several waists.

Their full regalia, once reserved for the divine blood, now adorns them as they take their places. Some are dismayed to find the seat of the deposed heir to a throne higher than theirs, but they console themselves with the thought that this will be the last time she looks down on them before disappearing into anonymity forever. This will end the discord that has plagued the realm since the Sikh's death, eroding hope and resistance.

While she looks at these so-called wise men Sion goes over her decision once more.
She thought long and hard about this, this was not how she wanted things to end. She's seen the atrocities increase over these last months as the resistance grew. And with that the powerless feeling inside her expanded, unable to protect those who share her and her mother's ideals.

She decided that she could not let this continue. She could no longer wait, what if she never even reached seventeen summers? How many people would be left for her to lead by then? The council's thirst for power has led to so much bloodshed. This time within the empire's borders, Sion felt she had no option. She had to act now, and possibly pay with her life.

The lords all look very pleased with this offering of a transfer of power in exchange for safe conduct, compensation, and freedom till the princess reaches the rightful age.

Though meant to be temporary, all know the council's power will sideline her for good once the document is signed.

Sion knows this but sees no other way to stop the bloodshed.
She can't cooperate with those who manipulated her father into killing her mother. This decision goes against her beliefs, but for a new, free start, it's necessary.

Sion sits in her grandfather's seat, dressed in black since her mother's death. Emotionally, she can't bow to those who played a part in it. She watches from behind her veil as more of the advisors and their generals enter, their smug looks betraying envy even as she's about to give up everything.

Her back straight, her posture strong and dignified, she looked down once more at the snake pit at her feet.

When all twelve advisors are seated, she looks at all twelve for a moment. Her eyes, despite the veil, were so piercing that most men averted their eyes. Then she stands up. She climbs the steps behind her chair and leans on the back of the seat, looking for a moment at the space high above the heads of those present.

She lowers her gaze again and comes down the steps on the other side of her chair. She continues down the stairs and now takes a seat behind the table where she will soon sign off on the transfer of power. She looks at the text on the parchment in front of her, she nods, lifts her head;

“Sorrow and pain make it impossible to rule as my forefathers did, so since I am unable to do so, I am prepared to hand over power here today.” She pauses.

“The law requires me to hand it over to my mother until it is my time to rule. Since she is no more, I may transfer power to a third party, if the council agrees. We all are mature enough to admit that this council will not agree with anyone I nominate."

There is some coughing and some almost invisible nodding.

"In that scenario, I am left with one option. I must transfer my divine power to the council till I am seventeen summers and it will be handed back to me, the rightful heiress to the title. As I wrote you. I was willing to do this under some conditions. These conditions have been complied with since I see your full presence here.” She nods disdainfully at the men.

“Therefore Gentlemen, today, in my right mind and without coercion, I hand over power to people who I know will manage my country with complete confidence.”

Sion takes up the pen; “Then I hereby,” The silence in the room is almost painful as the last seconds of the old regime tick away and the advisors all are more than ready to celebrate and exploit their legitimate power.


“Give power to my beloved and husband-to-be Numico.” From behind her seat, which was more than big enough to hide him, Numico steps out.

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I do hope that Sion's decision to transfer her powers to her beloved and future husband, Numico, is the right thing to do. I hope it won't come back to bite her.


It will become clear soon, but Numico is a good kid ;)


I hope Sion's husband to be will not take advantage of the power given to him