The crimson sun hung low in the sky, bathing the harsh earth in hues of blood and rust.
Amidst the desolation, Drakar crawled feebly, his once-mighty form reduced to a grotesque shadow of its forr self. Blood and gri sared across his mutilated body, staining the ground with each pathetic movent he made.
Pain was his only companion—every inch gained an excruciating tornt, every breath a burning agony. He had lost even the strength to hate; curses died silently on the remnants of his tongue. All he sought now was a swift death, but cruel fate denied him even that rcy.
Yet, as despair clawed deeply into his heart, a shadow lood before him. The elegance and quiet nace of the figure caused his trembling to cease montarily.
Drakar's breath stilled in his chest, his blurry vision barely able to register the silky, dark-red gown draped around the statuesque woman standing before him.
Slowly, painfully, he lifted his weary eyes upward.
His breath hitched sharply as recognition jolted through him like a knife to the heart.
"Eunnghh….Y-You…" his battered mind whispered in horror.
Bathed in the dying sunlight, Lysandra stood with a regal stillness that belied the dark storm within. Her beauty was chilling, ethereal yet hauntingly sinister.
High cheekbones frad her cold, fiery red eyes—eyes that seed to pierce through Drakar's very soul.
Silver-lavender hair cascaded down her shoulders, shimring in shades of twilight, ethereal and ghostly.
Behind her, expansive wings spread nacingly, delicate yet edged with silent threat. Her hand rested protectively over the gentle swell of her belly, an instinctive gesture that underscored the gravity of her vengeance.
Drakar trembled violently, the fear gripping his heart more fiercely than even Asher's wrath had.
Her face was unnervingly frigid and Lysandra's soft lips moved as she finally spoke, her voice deceptively gentle yet laced with icy venom.
"Even if I wished for it every day, I never thought I would live to see you like this," she murmured, eyes blazing with cruel, cold satisfaction and realization, "It finally feels as though all those years in your cage weren't in vain."
Drakar's throat tightened; he tried to speak, to beg for rcy, but no sound ca from his mutilated mouth, only a weak, pitiful whimper.
Lysandra tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp with a predator's cold calculation. "And now, the devils…no, he—has delivered you to ." Her voice dripped with quiet malice, a lethal promise resonating with every word. "I will strip you of your limbs, your flesh, until only your senses remain. You will finally understand what it truly ans to live in a cage, Drakar—until there is nothing left of you."
Drakar's shattered form quivered, his eyes wide with absolute horror. He knew the tornt Lysandra could inflict would make the bloodburner's vengeance seem rciful by comparison.
"NOOOOO!!!" He could only scream in his mind as she raised her hand.
Terror overwheld him as darkness finally consud him, his thoughts silenced, dragging him into the abyss.
—
anwhile, at the Bloodburn survivors' camp, a stark contrast erged.
Where despair had lingered thickly for so long, a flicker of newfound hope sparked brightly among the people.
Drakar's downfall had lifted a weight from their souls, allowing them to breathe freely for the first ti since the devastation had begun.
Word quickly spread, rippling through the tents and makeshift shelters, especially those who were unable to move after injuries they suffered while trying to survive in such a dangerous place.
The legendary dragon Drogor had returned alongside their king. Fear and sorrow swiftly gave way to awe, joy, and relief. Soon, spontaneous celebrations erupted across the camp, laughter and joyful tears replacing bitter grief.
High above, Drogor spread his massive wings, casting a comforting shadow before lifting majestically into the sky. Asher stood watching him, nodding with respect as the old beast departed, promising to return whenever summoned.
As Asher turned back toward his people, silence briefly swept through the crowd before erupting into fervent cheers.
Every man, woman, and child fell to their knees, bowing deeply in reverence and gratitude. His heart tightened painfully at the sight, burdened by guilt yet ward by their forgiveness.
He raised a hand gently, a small, sincere smile gracing his lips, "Rise," he called softly, voice warm yet tinged with lancholy. "This day is yours. Celebrate your freedom, honor the mories of those we've lost, and take pride in surviving."
As they continued their celebration, he spotted three familiar figures approaching, their smiles gentle yet full of hidden pain. His chest tightened again, flooded with emotions he had buried deep during his long absence.
Silvia was the first to move, tears streaming freely down her flushed cheeks as she dashed into his open embrace, clinging desperately. "Silvia missed you more than anything!" she sobbed softly into his chest.
Sabina approached next, her playful yet sincere words breaking the heavy air. "Fufu, don't think our debts will end with just a hug," she teased softly, though her voice trembled slightly as she joined the embrace. "But…this is a good start."
Isola stepped close as well, eyes glistening as she offered him a tender smile. "Welco back, husband. We all missed you dearly," she murmured softly, joining her sisters in his comforting arms.
Asher wrapped his arms tightly around all three, breathing in their familiar warmth. "I'm sorry," he whispered painfully, his voice thick with heartfelt regret. "I'm so sorry I kept you waiting. I tried to return as quickly as I could. Forgive …" Asher apologized with all his heart, especially knowing how all three of them had lost their loved ones as well in the war and not just their hos.
Sabina lightly pressed her cheek against his arm. "Fool. You've returned, and that's all we need," she whispered gently, squeezing him reassuringly as the other two firmly nodded.
Yet, Asher couldn't let go of the guilt gnawing at him. "You've all suffered deeply," he said, eyes shadowed by grief. "I should have protected you, our kingdom…our people."
Isola cupped his face tenderly, forcing him to et her gaze, "Do not burden yourself with guilt. You suffered more than anyone. We know how much you've sacrificed. Your return ans everything. And regretting or wallowing yourself in guilt won't change the past. We should now only focus on what we can do to make things better. That is what those who sacrificed their lives for us would want us to do."
"Isola and Sabina are right. You have returned and you should only care about what happens next. But no matter what happens…we won't let you out of her sight again," Silvia said with a determined look, her lips pursed and her eyes reddened.
Asher's gaze softened, and he nodded slowly, though the shadows still lingered. "We will rebuild together," he vowed, his voice strong again with newfound resolve. "I promise I'll never leave your side again."
His wives smiled warmly, comforted by his presence and determined words. Around them, laughter and music continued to fill the air, spreading warmth and life once more through their shattered kingdom.
He then gently released them as he asked,
"Where is my daughter? I want to see her," Asher said, his eyes heavy yet determined. He was restless, excited yet at the sa ti carried an inexplicable guilt.
"She is now in a deep sleep. Probably because her tiny body expended too much energy. It would be better if you see her when she wakes up. rina will take care of her until then," Isola said in a reassuring voice.
Asher nodded as he realized that would be better. At least he knew she was safe and alright.
He glanced toward Rowena's tent, his heart tightening at the thought of seeing her after all that had transpired. His wives noticed his hesitation, exchanging gentle glances.
"Go," Isola urged softly. "She must have finished her bath now. She never said it but…she was been waiting for you ever since she learned about so truths."
Asher softly nodded, his chest heavy with uncertainty and longing, yet resolved.
He gently released them, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Rowena's tent, each step bringing a surge of anticipation and anxiety.
The sounds of celebration faded slightly behind him as he paused before the tent flap, his heart catching painfully in his chest.
The soft amber glow of lanterns illuminated the inside, gently casting shadows on the delicate silks that draped the walls.
Standing gracefully near the center, Rowena's elegant figure was bathed in dark golden light, her wet raven hair cascading like ebony silk down her bare shoulders.
Droplets of water sparkled softly against her porcelain skin, shimring gently beneath the soft illumination.
He felt his throat tighten, words failing him montarily as his gaze lingered upon her. It felt surreal to stand there again, seeing her so serene yet vulnerable.
Even amidst all the chaos and grief they had suffered, Rowena's bewitching beauty remained untouched, more captivating and poignant than he rembered.
Rowena sensed his presence, her breathing subtly deepening, yet she stood frozen in place, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to break the comforting silence that enveloped them.
She could feel his warmth drawing closer, could sense his hesitance, and yet, she felt a yearning ache bloom in her chest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Asher moved forward, his steps cautious but resolute. His voice was low, trembling slightly, burdened with countless emotions he could barely express, "Rona, I—"
"I missed you…" she interrupted gently, her voice soft, fragile like glass on the verge of breaking.
Slowly turning to face him, her crimson eyes shone brilliantly, softened by a shimr of unshed tears. She gazed upward, her heart laid bare in her tender expression.
The sight stole his breath away, leaving him montarily speechless. All the pain, grief, and regret seed to soften in that instant, replaced by a warmth that spread through every fiber of his being.
His voice ca out strained, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips as he replied softly, "I missed you more…"
Suddenly, he could wait no longer. He closed the distance swiftly, wrapping her gently yet firmly in his embrace. His heartbeat matched hers as they clung to each other, relief washing over them in powerful waves.
Rowena leaned into his warmth, her slender arms gently encircling him, drawing him closer, and resting her cheek tenderly against his chest. Her lips curved into a soft, warm smile as she murmured quietly, "I missed you the most."
No more words were needed; everything they wished to say was conveyed through the quiet intensity of their embrace.
As they stood wrapped in each other's arms, the silence spoke volus, their love finally bridging the chasm of pain and distance that had separated them for far too long.
Reviews
All reviews (0)