The Regressed Princess - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Receding Time

“You once wished for happiness from me; I grant it now…”

Eleanor.

The figure and voice of her lover drifted further away as a blood-colored sun rose within the great river. Eleanor’s soul first floated upward, then fell heavily after the world shattered, crashing into a pool of splintered light.

A warm current enveloped her hollow body. It felt as if she had returned to a time long, long ago, inside a “mother,” feeling a mysterious, metaphysical quickening of life. Eleanor drifted in the soft, silky river, her “body” solidifying a bit more with every passing interval.

Time here lost its original sense of flow. A second, a minute, an hour, a day, a month, a year all seemed to morph into the same hue within an endless cycle.

“…” The fractured, void-like soul was mended within the crimson current, glowing once again with a magnificent aura, like a gemstone set amidst layers of silk, radiating bright fire as the sun turned.

Where was this?

After an unknown amount of “time,” she opened the eyes at the crown of her skull amidst the aimless drifting, looking at the [World] around her that was constantly restructuring and regenerating.

…Is this the River Styx?

Eleanor’s thoughts shifted from divergence to convergence. Past experiences were woven into a solidified brocade, overflowing across the sky and fields alongside the brilliant stars.

“Hah…” Her soul breathed once more in this multicolored, eerie world. the air in her nasal cavity was quiet and fresh. She gradually recalled scenes of the past and pages of stories, including her reincarnation from Earth and the myths of this world.

Since even a river of death existed, then the myths must be true. Eleanor silently recited the stories she had heard: This world was created by the Great Mother, Gaia. She constructed physical matter from the void using her dreams and spirit, and spilled forth majestic divine blood to turn into a pool of blood and lovely daughters.

She and her daughters lifted the first lives from the blood pool the humans of the Golden Age, also known as the Evergreens and the Noble Bloods…

So, am I to return dust to dust, blood to blood?

Eleanor lay on her back in the blood river, lazily moving her arms to let the warm liquid envelop her better. The form and viscosity of the liquid were very much like blood, but the scent carried a faint fragrance, making one sink into it involuntarily, like an infant falling into its mother’s embrace.

Whish—whish.

A soft wind blew across her cheeks, wrinkling the high-hanging curtain of stars. The moment the “curtain” fluttered, Eleanor’s soul shuddered violently.

That wasn’t the sky that wasn’t the sky! That was—that was.

Mother’s Face

The stars were not eyes but a gaze; the strands were not distorted space-time, but low-hanging, continuous, omnipresent hair. The concept of the Great Mother Gaia Mother transitioned smoothly in the observer’s mind. It was absolutely forbidden knowledge!

But before a mother, a daughter has no taboos.

The madness that should have persisted was drowned out by the first cry of an infant being born. Eleanor wept, opening her arms toward the Mother who bestowed her gaze.

She had finally awakened. And Eleanor, upon returning here, finally remembered her first encounter with Mother.

Before being born into the world, a soul from another world would naturally fall into the blood pool first, entering the Mother Goddess’s sight. It was just that in the previous life, the Great Mother was still asleep. In Her slumber, She had scooped up a star from another world and gently pulled it into Her embrace: the entire world was Mother’s blood and dream.

She would naturally promise this lovely child joy and happiness. However, time for a deity is not a straight line, so…

“Mama!”

Eleanor reached out two small hands, calling out to the Mother who was broader than heaven and earth: “I… I…”

In the next life, I never want to meet Andra again…

No, I am lying. In the spiral where space and time intersected, the reborn soul was no longer influenced by the voice of depression, and certainly could not lie to the Mother who saw through everything.

Thus, a crystalline tear fell down her cheek, melting into the blood river.

“I love her so much… but it’s so painful, so painful.” Dark red impurities appeared within the transparent soul. She curled up, hugging her legs, no longer drifting with the current.

Gaia enveloped the vast world. She quietly listened to her daughter’s intermittent narration and lingering inner voice. The Mother lowered her eyelids and her strong arms, reaching Her hands into the blood river.

The soul in Her palm became pure once more. A golden speck of light shimmered at Eleanor’s chest: it was the marigold pendant she never let leave her side, a gift given by Mother with a casual touch during their first meeting.

Humans require the influence of a god to recover their memories, but the Goddess—never forgets.

Gaia gazed tenderly at the soul in Her palm. In Eleanor’s eyes, She transformed into a loving, elder woman, leaning slightly toward her.

“My lovely star.”

She imprinted a kiss on the girl’s forehead, Her gentle voice echoing through the vast firmament.

“You once wished for happiness from me; I grant it now.”

The marigold pendant vibrated. The original thirty-six multi-layered petals pieced together and gathered, recasting themselves amidst molten gold into six beautiful petals. Each petal bore six curved red marks, like the natural veins of a plant.

The Mother Goddess did not speak, but information surged into Eleanor’s brain like a spring, letting her grasp the weight of this gift.

Through this six-petaled marigold, the Mother Goddess granted her the ability to reincarnate again—before obtaining true happiness, she would have six lives to start over, and within each life, she would have six opportunities to backtrack six days in time.

Eleanor looked up, instinctively wanting to give thanks, but her thoughts scattered as she saw the overwhelming pity and love in the deity’s eyes.

Time flowed once more.

“Go, my lovely daughter.”

Her massive body merged back into the blood-colored heaven and earth. The beautiful silhouette of the woman faded behind the curtain, yet remained everywhere.

Rustle, rustle.

Feet rubbing against gravel, the sea breeze blowing through the treetops, and… the static hiss of a television. Fragmented images flipped through her mind and gradually smoothed out.

Rustle, rustle.

Eleanor slowly began to hear clearly—it was someone using their hand to move a silk veil. She often heard similar movements; the palace attendants gathered the bed curtains in much the same way. However, today’s sound was much more casual than usual, and there were bells tinkling.

…Bells? Why were there bells?

Eleanor frowned in her sleep. From the age of forty, she had become exceptionally sensitive to repetitive sounds. Therefore, the bells in her sleeping quarters were purely decorative, all with their clappers removed. But she didn’t feel the usual irritability; instead, a thick surge of… melancholy?

A warm drop of liquid leaked from the corner of her eye. Eleanor bit her lip, gently hugging her pillow. As she rolled over, she bumped into a warm body.

Andra?

Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly swallowed the sound back into her throat. The girl lying beside her had long, jet-black hair. She naturally wasn’t Andra, but her third sister, Marcella, who had died over forty years ago?!

“Sister!” Eleanor lunged forward, hugging her sister of the same blood tightly, her small head rubbing against Marcella’s back.

“Ow!” Marcella’s head was hit by her sister’s pounce, slamming hard into the bedpost with a crisp thud.

A small princess bed could not carry two rolling children. They tumbled twice and fell onto the soft carpet together.

“Ha, hahaha.”

The attendant tidying the bells let out a pleasant laugh. Her hair was styled in a beautiful bun. She leaned down and playfully poked Eleanor on the ground.

Tap.

The sensation of the finger touching her forehead woke Eleanor up completely. She looked around and realized this was no longer the vast, silent sleeping quarters of the Queen, but the princess room she lived in as a child.

The window was open, and afternoon sunlight spilled through the frames. Through the window, she could see the spears of the guards and hear the whispers of the twin guards, Manju and Thorn.

“Princess, did you just have a nightmare?” The attendant, half-squatting, used respectful terms, but her tone and expression were clearly that of someone speaking to a beloved little darling.

…Coral. Her name was Coral. The first Coral, my original personal attendant.

Eleanor’s memories of several decades receded like a tide, and the childhood buried at the bottom of the river resurfaced. Coral picked up the dazed little princess and lightly kicked the third princess who was acting shamelessly on the floor, saying bluntly, “Stop wailing, you should act a bit more like a princess.”

“Awoo—Tch~” Marcella pulled a face, but at twelve years old, she considered herself a role model for her younger sister and stood up, dusting off her bottom.

Eleanor stared blankly at her living sister. As Coral tidied her dress, she puckered her lips and—”Waaah!”—burst into tears. She grabbed her sister’s clothes and refused to let go, huge tears falling. Marcella, startled, scooped her up and rocked her.

“Alright, alright, big sister is here, big sister is here.” Marcella puffed out her chest, her small arms rocking her sister forcefully.

Eleanor’s crying slowed to whimpers. Her consciousness and body merged faster through the sobbing. She suddenly realized that the memories belonging to the elderly Eleanor were fading rapidly. That golden experience and weariness with the world became light and shallow in the span of a breath—she didn’t know if it was divine mercy or the inevitable price of backtracking time.

No, I must quickly record the “future” memories!

Eleanor wiped her tears, struggling to break free from Marcella’s embrace. However, looking around, she couldn’t find a pen, paper, or her familiar desk. Only then did she realize she was currently only 10 years old. Furthermore, the optimization of white paper and quill pens didn’t begin until she was 16.

“There now, little sister, don’t cry!” Marcella lifted her head proudly, puffing out her chest at Coral’s look of approval. She dragged Eleanor toward the door, saying as she walked, “Didn’t you cry and scream yesterday that you wanted that bad brat from Hetuya to be your guard? Mother actually agreed. Come, come, let’s go outside and see her. I made her kneel in the hallway!”

The bad brat from Hetuya… Andra?!

Eleanor’s eyes widened, and she instantly threw the thought of taking notes to the back of her mind. She grabbed her sister’s arm and shouted, “How—how long have you made her kneel out there?!”

“Huh? Who remembers that? Anyway, she’s quite diligent. She showed up to report before dawn.” Marcella giggled, briskly rubbing her sister’s little head.

This is bad… Eleanor thought. She knew all too well how much Andra held a grudge. Did I also sleep this late in my previous life?

Future memories became blurred, while past memories grew clearer. She remembered as she walked: Yes, that year, Eleanor had indeed slept until the sun was high. But she hadn’t known how long Andra had been waiting outside; she only remembered the moment Andra stood and walked toward her.

Rustle.

The early spring wind hit her face. Eleanor was dragged toward the door by her sister, squinting in the sunlight. The next second, that piercing light was blocked by a tall figure.

She didn’t see anyone kneeling miserably outside. The beautiful hostage had arrived gracefully just as the little princess woke up. Her features were handsome and relaxed, her posture upright; even the angle at which the spring wind blew her hair seemed specially arranged by the Goddess of Love. She had sent an angel to lift the ends of her hair, catching pink petals by chance.

“Princess Eleanor.”

Andra dashingly lifted her hem and knelt on one knee. Then she looked up, staring boldly at Eleanor’s pale face just as she had in their previous life:

“I shall become the sharp sword that protects you.”

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