The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 389: Zoya’s Return

Chapter 389: Zoya’s Return

The next day was unexpected, because out of nowhere, Zoya appeared before them.

While Draco and Rama were both having breakfast, Zoya walked into the dining hall.

As footsteps echoed behind them, they both veered around to see Zoya approaching them.

Rama’s eyes widened, not because she was only surprised to see her, but for the fact that she now looked different in contrast to how she had left.

Rama rose from her chair, gaping at her with wide eyes. Despite the inky black tendrils of hair framing her face, instead of pristine white strands and the change of outfit, those stormy grey eyes of hers were impossible to forget.

"Zoya." Rama called, her voice coated with bewilderment, meanwhile, Draco was rather neutral.

"Your Highnesses." Zoya greeted with a bow.

As she approached nearer, Rama noticed the palpable change in not only her physical appearance, but also her demeanor. She was usually light hearted and bubbly, but now, she seemed to be a shadow of her past self.

Her bright stormy eyes were now replaced with a shallow look. Normally, Zoya exuded an aura of quiet confidence and strength, her stormy grey eyes filled with a sense of determination and purpose. But today, as Rama watched her draw nearer, she couldn’t help but notice a drastic change in her demeanor.

Zoya’s usually vibrant eyes were now shallow and lifeless, devoid of their usual spark. The lines of pain and sorrow etched on her delicate features were impossible to miss, as if the weight of the world rested heavy on her shoulders. It was clear to Rama that something was amiss, and she felt a pang of concern stir within her undead heart.

As Zoya drew closer, Rama stepped forward to meet her, her senses on high alert as she tried to discern the cause of Zoya’s distress. "Zoya," she greeted softly, her voice tinged with concern, "is everything alright?"

Zoya’s lips curved into a faint smile as she returned the greeting, but there was a sadness lurking in her eyes that Rama couldn’t ignore. "I’m fine, Your Highness," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, "just dealing with some personal matters."

But Rama could see through the facade, could sense the turmoil churning beneath the surface of Zoya’s calm exterior. She reached out to gently grasp her friend’s hand, offering a silent gesture of support and understanding. "You don’t have to face whatever it is alone, Zoya," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy, "I’m here for you."

For a moment, Zoya hesitated, her gaze flickering uncertainly between Rama’s face and the ground below.

But then, as if a dam had burst within her, she finally spoke, her words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "It’s Aldric.." she confessed, her voice thick with pain, "H-He’s gone, Rama. He sacrificed himself to save me, and now he’s gone."

Zoya’s voice choked with pain as the words came rolling out, as well as her tears trickling down her cheeks.

Her body trembled as the words escaped and the hidden emotions behind her thick mask of neutrality, split open.

Meanwhile, Draco who was untouched by her loss, called out with a nonchalant voice as he asked "So did you find whatever you were looking for to cure Malika?"

Immediately he spoke, Rama shot him a fierce look as she snapped at him "This isn’t the right time." She hissed before pulling Zoya along out of the dining hall while she escorted her to her private chambers.

"Aldric is dead and it’s my fault, I should have been the one to die instead..." Zoya murmured with a broken voice, her body trembling with the weight of her loss.

Rama had no idea who this ’Aldric’ might be, but she resorted to listening instead and despite being in the dark about her despair, Rama’s heart clenched at the raw anguish in Zoya’s voice, her own grief echoing the pain of her loss.

She could tell from the raw pain emanating from her voice and demeanor how deeply Zoya cared for Aldric, how much he meant to her. And now, to see Zoya so broken and vulnerable tore at her undead heart in ways she couldn’t begin to describe.

Without a word, Rama pulled Zoya into her arms, holding her close as she allowed her to grieve. They stood there in the middle of the chamber, but for a moment, it was as if they were the only two souls in the world.

As Zoya’s tears flowed freely, Rama felt a sense of kinship and understanding wash over her. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, to feel the pain of their absence like a physical ache in your chest. And in that moment, she vowed to be there for Zoya, to offer her whatever comfort and solace she could in her time of need.

After giving Zoya a shoulder to lean on and cry her shattered heart out, the tears finally stopped coming and they both sat on the chair. She didn’t need to question her on who this mysterious but dead Aldric was.

It was perceptible apparent in her eyes who the man was to her and Rama felt her heart ache deeper, although she was curious on how quickly she had gotten attached to him within two weeks but she kept her lips shut, giving her space and time to reveal it to her, herself.

Rama sat silently opposite Zoya, her gaze fixed intently on the white witch’s now-black hair. It was a stark contrast to the usual shimmering white locks that cascaded down Zoya’s shoulders, and Rama couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the sight.

After making sure that Zoya was now a bit composed, she decided to address the visible change in her.

"Zoya," Rama began softly, her voice tinged with concern, "what happened to your hair? It’s... different."

Zoya met Rama’s gaze with stormy grey eyes that held a mixture of sadness and resignation. "It’s because of the magic," she replied quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I used black magic, and now... this is the consequence. I am no longer a white witch."

Rama’s heart clenched at the revelation, her mind racing with a thousand questions and fears. She had heard stories of the dangers of black magic, of the darkness that lurked within its forbidden depths, but to see the consequences firsthand was a sobering reminder of the true cost of wielding such power.

"But why, Zoya?" Rama asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why would you risk everything for the sake of power?"

Zoya’s gaze flickered with pain as she reached up to touch her blackened locks, her fingers trailing through the strands with a sense of resignation. "It wasn’t just for power, Rama," she admitted softly, her voice filled with regret. "I was desperate, lost in my grief for Aldric, and I thought that maybe... just maybe, revenge for his death could give me the strength to move on, so I used black magic to become stronger but even with that, my torment grew, I can’t move on or forget him, I can’t. Ever." Her voice croaked as she said the last words.

Rama’s heart ached at the mention of Aldric, the memory of his sacrifice was still fresh in her mind. She now understood just how deeply Zoya had loved him, how his loss had left a void in her heart that she feared would never be filled. But to turn to black magic in her desperation was a risk that Rama couldn’t fathom.

"You should have come back to us, Zoya," Rama said gently, reaching out to grasp her friend’s hand in a gesture of solidarity. "We would have helped you through your grief, no matter what it took. But to turn to black magic... it’s dangerous, Zoya. It wasn’t worth the risk."

Zoya’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she met Rama’s gaze, her voice filled with a sense of resignation. "I know, Rama," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "I know that I was wrong, that the price of using black magic was too high. But I have no regrets, I’d sacrifice whatever for him and I must live with the consequences of my actions."

Rama felt a surge of sympathy for her friend, a sense of sorrow at the pain and suffering she had endured. She knew that Zoya would carry the burden of her choices with her for the rest of her days, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked within her soul.

But despite the darkness that now stained Zoya’s hair, Rama could see a glimmer of hope flickering in Zoya’s eyes. She knew that Zoya was strong, that she would find a way to overcome the darkness that threatened to consume her whole.

And as they sat there in the quietness of her chambers, Rama made a silent promise to herself, to stand by Zoya and help her go through her grief, after all, it was her fault that she had to go through what she did.

She could only imagine what she had gone through in the last two weeks, she felt guilty, but she was desperate to help Malika, but she never thought it would be at the cost of condemning Zoya.