The two figures, draped in black cloaks, moved silently toward the desert. Tonight, there would be no sentries stationed atop the fortress walls, no fires lit near the periter—ensuring that their departure remained unseen.
Once they had traveled a fair distance, a voice called out from the darkness.
“Just keep walking straight.”
Crossing a low sand dune, they spotted Mara stretched out, half-buried in the sand. Though night had already fallen, the massive black serpent stood out starkly against the pale desert.
Eugene stepped closer, close enough to reach out and touch. Seeing Mara from the fortress had been one thing—standing before him was another. His head was so imnse that it couldn’t be taken in with a single glance.
Then, Mara opened his mouth.
Eugene tilted her head back, staring at the gleaming white fangs. His gaping maw, three to four tis the height of a person, could easily swallow prey far larger than herself.
She had to walk into that mouth. Yet, unexpectedly, she felt calm. The thought of it had been far more terrifying than the reality. Maybe it’s because he’s a lark, not a real snake, she mused.
For the first ti, she roughly gauged her own Ramita—sothing she had only speculated about before. She was certain now: even if Mara tried anything reckless, he wouldn’t be able to overpower her. And Mara must have known that, too. He was taking her into his stomach with the full knowledge that he was risking his life. That realization erased any lingering hesitation.
"Let’s go, Sir Sven."
Sven, who had been staring into the abyss of the serpent’s throat, flinched and snapped out of his daze.
"Yes, Your Highness. It’s dark inside—please hold onto my arm."
Together, they stepped forward. As they advanced, the darkness deepened, and the mont Mara closed his mouth, the world turned pitch-black.
They halted instinctively, but the voice urged them on.
“Keep going. Straight ahead.”
Eugene tightened her grip on Sven’s arm, her steps careful and asured. The ground beneath them was firm yet strangely elastic. No matter how vast Mara’s body was, the passage within him seed endless.
“Mara, what exactly is the structure of your insides? Where are we? The esophagus? The stomach?” Eugene asked, her voice echoing in the oppressive darkness.
Mara’s voice rumbled around them.
“My internal structure? That’s up to .”
Eugene frowned. “So larks can control their internal organs however they want?”
“I can change anything as I please, whether it’s my outward form or my inner structure,” Mara replied smoothly. “So does it really matter what shape it takes?” Thɪs chapter is updated by NovєlFіre
Eugene nodded to herself. That makes sense.
With no light to mark their progress, ti felt stretched. Had they been walking for minutes? Hours?
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the darkness.
“Is that Aldrit?”
Eugene and Sven froze. More voices followed, overlapping in murmured confusion.
“Did I mishear?”
“Are my ears finally failing ?”
“It’s about ti they did.”
“Why is that rascal Aldrit so late? He said he was going out and coming right back.”
Eugene hesitated. “Um…”
A beat of silence. Then, a firm voice called out.
“Who goes there?”
Steadying herself, Eugene answered, “This is our first ti eting, but I’ve heard a lot about you. Thanks to Aldrit, I’ve learned much from the elders’ teachings in sorcery. My na is Eugene.”
A murmur rippled through the unseen figures.
“Ohh…”
“Are you not the Anika, the Queen?”
“Yes,” she confird. “May I co closer?”
“Of course, of course,” one of them replied. “Be careful, though—it’s hard to see in here.”
Following the sounds of shifting movent and brief exchanges of “Where are you?” and “Over here,” Eugene cautiously made her way toward the voices. When she judged she was close enough, she lowered herself to the ground. Pressing her palm against the surface beneath her, she noted its strange texture—thick and rubbery, like taut skin. Her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the darkness.
“I’ve co in Aldrit’s stead,” she explained. “Mara needs the city sorcerer’s help, and I need to assist in that.”
She briefly outlined the situation—how Aldrit had stayed behind at the royal castle, how they were en route to the holy city now, and how they would arrive before dawn.
“Mara seems to hold you elders in great regard,” Eugene observed.
Only low sighs answered her. Their feelings toward Mara were too layered to express in simple words.
Even though they often spoke of him with a certain detachnt, they couldn’t define their relationship with him as purely transactional. None of them even rembered when it had truly begun. At tis, they even forgot that Mara was a lark.
He had been their companion through the years, a comrade who shared their purpose.
And yet, he was also a painful reminder of their ancestors’ original sin—a living testant to the inescapable cycle of their clan’s transgressions.
Mara was a thorn—one they could never remove.
“If you don’t mind,” Eugene continued, “could you tell us how your clan’s connection with Mara began?”
One of the elders let out a small chuckle.
“Of course.”
“There’s more than enough to tell.”
“Talking all day long is the only thing we’re good at,” another added, his voice tinged with amusent.
As the elders settled in, preparing to dive into yet another retelling of their history, Mara, who had been silently burrowing deeper into the ground, let out an inaudible groan.
Ugh, again? Why do old folks talk so much?
He had already endured hours of this sa story on the journey to the kingdom. Just thinking about hearing it all over again made his ears ring.
And yet, Mara had never realized just how much Aldrit had suffered from his own endless chatter when they had crossed the desert together.
Reviews
All reviews (0)