Raised From The Wild-Chapter 440: The Distorted Memories

The chamber shifted once more. The rattling of chains dissolved into silence, and the torchlight flickered out. When Amaya opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ancient cell.

She was standing in the throne room of Asteria Palace. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor in brilliant hues of gold and crimson. But instead of warmth, a chill pressed against her skin.

Her father, the crown prince Ibarra, sat high upon the throne. His crown gleamed, his robes immaculate—but his eyes were hard, cold, merciless. At his side stood her mother, Princess Consort Nelida, her beauty untarnished by time, though her lips curved with disdain.

Before the grand dais, Donello and Danella stood side by side, their frames a mirror of each other. Twin figures with expressions betrayed a world of disdain. Their faces, etched with scorn, twisted in unison as they cast their piercing glares downward, contempt radiating from them like a dark cloud enveloping the air around her.

Amaya’s chest tightened. Something was wrong. She tried to run forward, to call out, but her voice caught in her throat. The chains that once bound her wrists and ankles were gone, yet she felt an invisible weight dragging at her body.

Her father’s voice thundered through the hall. "You are no daughter of mine. I don’t have a daughter who was raised in the wild."

The words cut deeper than any blade. But something her father said triggered a memory that seemed to be cloaked in a thick fog — wild.

She was fighting hard to remember the face of a man, rugged with a beard covering his lower face, long hair, and amber eyes that radiated love and gentleness. Something was terribly wrong.

Amaya shook her head as if trying to clear her head from the fog.

Her mother’s gaze sharpened, her voice colder still. "You bring shame to this family. You are uncultured, uncouth, and have no etiquette. Everything you touch is ruined."

Amaya stumbled back, her heart racing as disbelief coursed through her veins. The world around her seemed to blur, and her mind screamed in protest. No... this can’t be how it ends. They love me. They always have...

Donello’s laughter pierced the air, sharp and mocking, cutting through Amaya’s desperate protest. "We never wanted you, Amaya," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You’ve always been nothing but a burden, a shadow tarnishing the luster of our royal lineage. You bring nothing but shame to the family name. I refuse to acknowledge a sister like you."

Danella stepped forward, her eyes blazing with hatred. "Do you know why we never told you our secrets? Why did we keep you at arm’s length? Because you were weak. Useless. A shadow trailing behind us. You don’t know how to act like a princess, and you are disgusting."

"No—" Amaya’s voice shattered the silence, trembling with desperation, each word laced with emotion like fine glass shards. She pressed her hands against her chest, as if trying to extract the searing pain that coursed through her veins, pulling at her heart like a relentless tide. "That’s not true! You—both of you—you swore we were inseparable!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, each drop encompassing the weight of her shattered trust.

The twin siblings only turned away. Her mother’s hand fell gently on their shoulders, as if they alone were her children. The throne room blurred, their figures dissolving into hazy silhouettes, but the voices kept echoing, louder, sharper, relentless.

"Burden. Shame. Unwanted."

Amaya collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, her palms pressed firmly against her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the cacophony. Yet, the voices infiltrated her mind like insidious tendrils, creeping beneath her skin and burrowing into the depths of her thoughts. She could feel them gnawing relentlessly, eroding her sense of self and unraveling the very fabric of her being. Each whisper clawed at her consciousness, a haunting symphony of chaos that threatened to consume her entirely.

Behind the illusion, in the observation chamber, Ayns and Tayn watched with grim satisfaction.

"See?" Ayns murmured, fingers gliding over the console. "The fractures are forming. Her defenses crumble when love turns to hate. No beast could break her, but the weight of rejection will."

Tayn leaned closer to the monitor, his lips curling into a smile. "Let her drown in her family’s scorn. Soon, she’ll beg us to end it."

"My friends, I do not want to see her beg. At the right time, the knight in a shining armor will come and scoop her in his arms." The man in a red cloak said in a pleasant voice. He studied the young woman, covering her ears as if wanting to block the memories being pumped into her brain. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Just a little more.

In the illusionary embrace of the throne room, Amaya’s tears streamed down her cheeks, trembling like fragile glass in the flickering light. She extended her trembling hands toward the fading silhouettes of her family, desperation etched into her features, but they melted away into the enveloping darkness. Her fingers grasped at emptiness, brushing only the chilling void of cold air, leaving her heart heavy with a profound sense of loss.

For the first time since her capture, her spirit trembled.

Her mind screamed at her: What if it’s true? What if they really despise me?

The echo of her father’s voice thundered again, this time louder than before."You were never meant to be a princess. You were a mistake. Because of you, the woman I truly love perished!."

Amaya’s heart clenched so painfully she thought it might stop beating. She fell forward, her forehead striking the marble. Darkness lapped at the edges of her vision.

And then, faintly, like a whisper cutting through the storm, a memory surfaced.

A night long ago. She and her father were lying under the stars. "That star over there, that is Mommy, watching over us. Don’t you think her star is a little brighter today?"

"Yes, Daddy. She knew that it was my birthday today, so she is shining down on us from heaven." She replied as her gaze fixed on the star in the north.

Amaya was confused by the memory.

But there was one thing she was sure of.

My name is Amaya Rocas, daughter of Prince Ibrahim Rocas and Princess Danaya. They loved me. They always loved me.

Amaya’s nails dug into the marble floor. Her tears still fell, but her voice, though trembling, found strength.

"You can twist my memories... but you can’t erase my truth." Amaya shouted, her voice clear and deliberate.

The throne room flickered, like glass beginning to crack.

In the observation chamber, alarms blared.

"What—?! No!" Ayns shouted, slamming the controls."She’s resisting it," Tayn hissed, his face paling.

Amaya raised her head, eyes blazing through her tears. "My family does not hate me. They are my strength. And I will never—never—believe otherwise."

The illusion shattered like a mirror breaking, shards of light scattering in every direction.