The Conquerors Path

Chapter 867: Chapter 865-Two Cursed Women.

”Huff...huff... huff.....”

The loud breaths of Valdris filled up the bathroom, her face being a twist of several emotions as she looked at the mirror, a small crazy smile at the end of her lips, while the other side tried to maintain a semblance of normality, her heart beating faster and faster, her mind rumbling against her own self.

ʼI thought I had this under control.ʼ

Valdris thought, her mind reeling, her emotions fluctuating all over the place, and it all began the moment she laid eyes on a certain young man, her mind-bending and twisting under all the pressure, reflected in the gaze not being the same calm woman she had created but the dangerous emotions trying to take over her.

ʼBut it got better around him.ʼ

With such thoughts, Valdris didnʼt hesitate before she ran out of the bathroom to the bedroom, her gaze landing on the peacefully sleeping young man the moment she saw him, her mind calmed down, peace filled her body, and her heart started to beat faster than before, but this time for a different reason.

Austin Lionheart lay there all better, the treatment for him having been finished, he looking to be of perfect health, and with steady steps, Valdris went forth to take a seat on one of the chairs near Austin. The young manʼs sleeping face, his presence, drove out all the bad sides of her bloodline that were affecting her, tormenting her.

ʼJust who are you?ʼ

Valdris asked within. Everything seemed to change the moment she met this young man. The greatest curse of her life that stuck to her and one that affected her mother for a long time seemingly died down the moment she gazed upon this man, her mind reeling from the heat of her body, her drawn talents screaming to gift this boy the greatest creation to propose marriage.

All of these desires only increased by the moment, rumbling and tumbling, and just the small sight of him made her blood boil over with anger as if wanting to rip apart the one that even dared to raise their voice against him. And as these thoughts filled her mind, Valdris shook them off, her gaze deepening as she looked at the boy.

”How is this possible?”

”Thatʼs what I want to know, too.”

The voice that cut through the chamberʼs silence made Valdrisʼs heart stumble in her chest. She knew that voice-had known it since her first breath-yet it still held the power to make her feel like a child again, caught between awe and vulnerability. As she turned, the sight before she confirmed what her racing pulse already knew: Queen Mother Lyssandra Ironhearth had arrived.

To say Lyssandra was beautiful would be like saying the sun was warm-technically true, but missing the essence of its power. She stood in the doorway like a painting come to life.

Her presence filled the room like perfume. The way she held herself spoke of power worn as comfortably as her midnight-black cloak-power earned through years of ruling, of making the kind of decisions that shaped kingdoms. Yet there was a softness to her, too, hidden beneath the royal facade.

”Mother,” Valdris breathed, the word catching in her throat.

Lyssandraʼs beauty was the kind that made poets forget their verses and painters drop their brushes. Her skin glowed with an inner light. Age had left no marks upon her face-instead, it had gifted her with a mature grace that made youthful beauty seem shallow in comparison.

Her hair was a marvel. It shifted between silver and gold like precious metals. The intricate braids were a testament to dwarven artistry, weaving tradition with innovation in a way that spoke of both respect for the past and courage to embrace the new. Tiny mithril ornaments caught the light.

But it was her eyes that truly captured the soul. Emerald wasnʼt quite the right word for their colour-they were deeper, more alive than any gem. They held wisdom that came not just from years of rule but from truly seeing the world in all its beauty and horror. When those eyes fixed upon Austinʼs sleeping form, they sparked with an intensity that made the air itself seem to crackle with energy.

Her gown was a masterwork of dwarven tailoring, the deep burgundy fabric flowing like liquid shadow around her curves. It hugged her figure in a way that spoke of confidence rather than vanity, the neckline suggesting rather than revealing. Golden embroidery danced along the edges-not mere decoration, but ancient runes of protection and power disguised as delicate vines and blooming roses. Each step she took made the patterns seem to shift and move as if responding to her presence.

”Your emotions betray you, daughter,” Lyssandra said, her voice carrying the warmth of mulled wine and the authority of mountain stone. She moved closer to Austinʼs bedside, each step a study in grace. The fur-lined cloak whispered across the floor.

Valdris watched as her motherʼs perfectly shaped lips-painted in a shade that mimicked sunset roses-curved into that familiar smile. It was the same smile that had soothed kingdoms into peace and commanded armies into battle, a smile that held secrets like a vault held treasures.

”The curse within you,” Lyssandra continued, raising one elegantly manicured casting soft patterns of light across her flawless features. The tiny movements of her expressions-the slight furrow of her brow, the thoughtful purse of her lips-spoke volumes to those who knew how to read them.

”Mother, I donʼt understand,” Valdris admitted, finding comfort in the familiar scent of her motherʼs perfume-a blend of mountain flowers and ancient spices that had lingered in the halls of her childhood. ”When Iʼm near him, the curse... itʼs quiet. How is that possible?” Lyssandraʼs laugh was a gentle breeze, beautiful yet containing notes of something deeper, more complex. ”Oh, my dear one,” she said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Valdrisʼs face with maternal tenderness. ”Sometimes the questions we ask are more important than the answers we seek.”

The Queen Mother turned back to Austin, her presence somehow both commanding and nurturing. The mana around her hand pulsed stronger, creating patterns of light that danced across her perfect features.

”Have you noticed, daughter,” Lyssandra spoke softly, her eyes never leaving Austinʼs sleeping form, ”how our emotions have always been our greatest strength... and our deepest curse?” Her fingers traced patterns in the air above him.

Valdris watched her mother carefully, recognising the telltale signs in her that sheʼd been fighting in herself. The slight tremor in her normally steady hands, the quickened breath she tried to disguise, the way her eyes dilated when looking at him - all mirrors of her own

symptoms.

”The curse of our line,” Lyssandra continued, finally turning to face her daughter, ”has tormented the women of our family for generations. The constant swing between murderous rage and crushing despair...” She paused, a bitter smile playing across her perfect features. ”Youʼve felt it too, havenʼt you? The way itʼs different now?”

Valdris nodded, unable to deny the truth of her motherʼs words. For years, theyʼd both suffered from these extreme emotional states. Sheʼd watched her mother swing between periods of almost manic energy - where sheʼd reorganise entire wings of the mountain fortress in a single night - and depths of depression so profound she wouldnʼt emerge from her chambers for weeks.

Her own struggles had manifested similarly, though perhaps even more violently. One moment, sheʼd be consumed by rage so intense sheʼd destroy her workshop, the next, she plunged into emptiness so deep she couldnʼt even lift her hammer. The curse had cost them both dearly relationships, opportunities.

”But when heʼs near...” Valdris whispered, her gaze drawn back to Austinʼs peaceful face. ”Everything stabilises,” Lyssandra finished her daughterʼs thought, her voice carrying a note of wonder and fear. ”Like finding solid ground after years of drowning.”

The mana around her hands pulsed brighter, and Valdris felt a familiar pull in her blood - the same sensation sheʼd been experiencing since Austin arrived. It was as if her essence recognised something in him that called to the curse itself.

”Perhaps itʼs fate,” Lyssandra whispered, her gown whispering against the stone floor as she paced, ”that brings such peace in the most unexpected places.” Her eyes remained fixed on Austinʼs sleeping form, a mixture of confusion and wonder playing across her perfect

features.

Valdrisʼs heart quickened as she watched her mother, recognising the same inexplicable pull

she herself felt. The calming effect of his presence defied all logic, yet neither of them could deny its reality. The chaos that had plagued their minds for so long seemed to quiet in his presence like a storm suddenly finding its eye.

”I donʼt understand it,” Lyssandra continued, her voice soft with uncertainty. ”In all my years, in all the remedies and cures weʼve sought...” Her fingers trembled as she reached toward Austinʼs sleeping form, then pulled back as if afraid the peace she felt might shatter at her touch. ”How can one young man bring such stillness to our minds?”

Valdris understood her motherʼs wonder all too well. The relief his presence brought was undeniable - a taste of normality theyʼd both been denied for so long. Yet it frightened her how quickly it had happened, how naturally their troubled minds seemed to calm in his presence. With each passing moment, the effect only grew stronger, more essential to their

stability.

”Mother,” Valdris spoke carefully, watching as Lyssandraʼs emotions played across her face in subtle waves, ”do you feel it too? This... connection?” Lyssandra turned to her daughter, and for a moment, the queenly facade cracked, revealing the vulnerable woman beneath. ”Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. ”Itʼs as if... as if we were meant to find him. As if every moment of chaos in our lives was leading us here.” She paused, her gaze returning to Austin, ”And I find myself both grateful and terrified of what that might mean.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Neither could

explain why his presence affected them so deeply, why their cursed emotions seemed to bend toward him like flowers toward the sun. Yet both mother and daughter felt themselves being drawn inexorably into his orbit, powerless to resist the peace he brought to their troubled

minds.