Elysium: Desired by the Cold-hearted Princess [GL]
Chapter 78 78: The Nightmare

Electra's Pov

One moment, I had been resting peacefully in bed, and the next, I was standing in the middle of the grand tournament arena, and the sound of roaring cheers pounded in my ears.

At first, I thought they were cheering for me—it was only natural, after all. I was Electra Vale, the heir to the throne, the kingdom's finest archer, and the star of every tournament.

But as my vision cleared, I realized with mounting horror that their cheers weren't for me. No, the crowd's applause and chants were for someone else.

I stood frozen, unable to process what was happening. The stands, packed with people cheering and waving banners, weren't directed at me—their princess, their champion.

I turned my head slowly, my breath hitching in disbelief as I saw her.

Seraphina.

She stood not far from me, taking in the admiration like she had been born for it. A smile spread across her face, wide and confident, as she bowed to the crowd in every direction, soaking in their love and cheers.

I felt a sharp pang in my chest—a mixture of confusion and fury—as I tried to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of me.

What the hell was going on? Why were they cheering for her?

I turned my head to scan the arena, trying to find an explanation. My gaze instinctively went to the royal balcony, where my parents, King Vale and Queen Jella, always sat during tournaments.

I expected to see my mother glaring at me with her signature expression of disappointment, her lips pursed and her eyes hard. She had never tolerated anything less than perfection from me, especially during public events like this.

But when I looked up at the balcony, my stomach churned. My mother wasn't glaring at me. She wasn't even looking in my direction.

Instead, she was applauding. Applauding Seraphina.

Both my mother and father were clapping enthusiastically, their expressions brimming with pride and affection, as if Seraphina were the daughter they had always wanted.

My mother—Queen Jella—wore a genuine smile, one I hadn't seen directed at me since I was a child, while my father was nodding approvingly, his chest puffed out like he had personally trained Seraphina himself.

I felt the ground under me sway, like the world had shifted on its axis, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides as I fought to keep my rage and my disbelief under control.

"Why?" I muttered under my breath, my voice drowned out by the crowd's deafening cheers. "Why are they clapping for her?"

I turned back to Seraphina, my teeth grinding together as I watched her soak in the glory that should have been mine. My jaw tightened further when she turned her head to meet my gaze, her smile softening but not faltering. She looked almost apologetic, as if she pitied me.

"Pity?" The word hissed through my mind like venom.

Seraphina had no right to pity me. None of this made sense. She wasn't supposed to be standing there, basking in the crowd's love. She wasn't supposed to matter at all.

Something flickered at the edge of my vision, pulling my attention away from her. A massive screen hung above the arena, replaying footage from the tournament. My stomach sank as I watched the events unfold on the screen.

There was Seraphina, standing firm, her bow drawn with precision and her expression focused. The crowd gasped in awe as she released an arrow, the enchanted projectile streaking across the arena and striking the target dead center.

The screen zoomed in to show the target splitting apart from the force of the impact, a feat that should have been impossible.

The crowd erupted into applause, and the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, declaring Seraphina the tournament's victor.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. How? Seraphina couldn't even hold a bow properly when I forced her to practice. She had no magical skill, no technique, no talent. How had she done this? Was this some kind of sick joke?

My vision blurred with anger as I turned back to Seraphina, who had stepped closer to me. Her expression was calm, almost serene, as she looked me in the eye.

"Electra," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Her words broke through the chaos in my mind, and my anger only worsened at her audacity to ask such a foolish question.

"Okay?" I spat, my voice shaking with fury. "Okay? Do I look okay to you?"

She blinked, startled by the anger in my tone, but didn't step back. Instead, she tilted her head, her calm expression unwavering.

"This was never about taking anything from you," she said, her voice calm. "I just... I just did my best."

Her best? Her best? Was she trying to mock me? To belittle the years of training, the sacrifices, the expectations I had endured to earn my place as the arena's champion?

"You think this is about you?" I snarled, my voice rising. "You think I care about your best? This was mine, Seraphina. This arena, this tournament, this crowd—it was all mine. And now, somehow, you've stolen it."

Instead of responding, Seraphina burst into a loud laugh that took me by surprise. Her laughter rang in my ears, growing louder with every passing second.

Then the crowd joined in, their fingers pointing in my direction, and their eyes filled with ridicule.

What the hell was happening? I was Electra Vale. No one dared to laugh at me, let alone mock me. Yet here they all were, laughing in my face.

My breath hitched as the walls of the arena seemed to close in. "Shut up!" I screamed, but it only made them laugh harder.

My vision blurred as I screamed again, this time louder and more frantic. The laughter swallowed my cries, twisting my insides until it felt like my chest would explode. I clutched my head, my knees buckling under me as the torment refused to end. I screamed again, louder, harder—

And then my eyes shot open.

I jolted upright, my screams dying in my throat as I found myself back in my bed. My chest heaved, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

My hands trembled as I shoved the covers off me and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I needed water—something, anything, to calm me. Stumbling to the counter at the side of my room, I grabbed the glass and pitcher I kept there, pouring water with unsteady hands.

The cool liquid slid down my throat, and my breathing slowed, but my heart still pounded in my chest. Setting the glass down with a shaky hand, I leaned against the counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror above it.

"What the hell was that?" I muttered to myself, my voice hoarse.