"I think it's about time I crush that hope of yours," Zareth muttered, brushing his long fingers through his thick obsidian hair, the strands falling back into place like silk. His gaze was locked on the empty garden path Serenya had vanished down. The soft wind stirred his cloak, but nothing could cool the fire dancing in his eyes—a mixture of irritation and amusement. His lips curled into a cold, crooked smile that held no humor, just quiet menace.
Meanwhile, Serenya had paused at the edge of the church gardens, her breath unsteady as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her hands trembled as she smoothed the fabric of her gown, trying to fix her hair with quick, jittery fingers. She looked around cautiously. The winding garden paths surrounded her, and the scent of wet roses clung to the air. For a moment, it was peaceful—no commanding presence looming over her, no red eyes boring into her soul. It felt strange. Too strange.
Her lips pursed. Why hadn't Zareth caught up to her yet? He was the type to never let go of control. And yet, here she was, still breathing on her own.
She turned slightly, eyes darting behind her. Still no Zareth. She exhaled softly, a part of her relieved, another part... unnerved. ' God was indeed on her side ' she thought bringing her hands tigogether show her appreciation.
Just as she picked up her dress and began to walk again, the soft fluttering of wings caught her attention. A large raven had perched on a nearby tree, its black eyes fixed on her like a silent judge. Its feathers glistened in the sunlight, as if laced with obsidian.
Serenya hesitated. She tried to ignore the unsettling gaze and turned away, but the moment she moved, the bird took flight—darting directly at her.
"Ah! Shoo!" she cried, waving her arms to ward off the creature, panic flashing in her voice. "What is wrong with you?! Get away from me!"
The raven cawed sharply, circling her head, diving lower. Her legs reacted faster than her thoughts, propelling her in the opposite direction as she darted through the garden, breathless and terrified.
She stumbled, turning corners blindly, trying to escape the maddening bird. Her heart pounded, ears ringing as she raced down a moss-covered path, branches grazing her arms.
Then, as if the world paused—he was there.
Zareth.
One moment she was running with no one before her , the next, he stood right before her like a phantom summoned by fury. The sheer force of his presence knocked the air from her lungs.
Serenya screamed, stumbling back in shock. Her foot caught the edge of a root and she landed hard on her bottom, the world spinning for a heartbeat. Her palms hit the earth, dirt clinging to her fingers.
Eyes wide, she turned back—the raven was gone.
"Looking for this?" Zareth's voice cut through the air, low and mocking. His tone held no warmth, only that infuriating calm dominance he always wore like a second skin.
Her eyes followed his raised hand where, perched regally, was the raven. It cawed once more as if laughing at her fear.
Her breath caught. "I never knew you owned a raven!" . Zareth arched a brow, his gaze as sharp as daggers. " How amusing."
Her brows drew together. Then came the terrifying realization, her voice shook as she whispered, "How… how did you appear before me like that?"
The corner of Zareth's lips twitched upward into a slow, crooked smile. This one was different—colder, darker. It wasn't amusement. It was a warning.
"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," he murmured, voice like silk over blades. "But we're not discussing my amazing talents right now. No, we're going to talk about you."
He took a slow step toward her, and the air seemed to thicken."Where did you think you were going, hmm?"
Serenya swallowed, lips parting, then closing again. Her heart hammered in her chest. There was no point in lying.
"I-- Zareth, I want to return back to Vayrana. I miss my family," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.
Zareth sighed, as if she had just told him the most exhausting thing imaginable. He tilted his head, watching her like a lion eyeing a cub that thought it could run from its pride.
"And here I thought we've moved from that ," he drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm.
He crouched down slowly to her level, the fabric of his cloak pooling around him like shadows. His crimson eyes locked onto hers.
"Even if you're unable to move on ," he whispered, his smile spreading unnervingly, "I'll carry you don't worry."
His fingers brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, and she flinched. "Zareth, please," she murmured, panic rising in her chest.
"No," he said simply, almost gently. "I think it's time I show you how serious I am. How thoroughly and completely you belong to me." Serenya's fingers curled into the damp soil beside her.
"I don't want to know," she whispered quickly, fear shining in her eyes. Zareth's gaze darkened, the smile on his lips sharpening.
"You should," he said, leaning closer, his breath brushing against her skin like a wicked promise. "Because I don't like that fact that you're always running away from me when you should be running into my arms ."
The raven on his hand cawed again, its wings ruffling. The sound sent a shiver down her spine.
"You don't know how mad I'm feeling right now," he said, and though his tone was even, it vibrated with barely contained fury. "So prepare yourself for—your punishment."
He paused, then added with a smirk, "But do take comfort in one thing, little dove. I don't intend to break you... only to make you mine."
Serenya frowned, her brows knitting tightly together as she stared at him with wide, eyes. "I didn't do anything to deserve a punishment!"
Zareth's crimson eyes darkened with amusement and danger all at once. He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his touch deceptively gentle, and gave her a look that made her stomach twist.
"And yet," he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you thought running from me was a reasonable decision. Darling, I'm starting to question if your brain is as delicate as the rest of you."
He straightened to his full height, towering over her like a predator with too much patience. Stretching out his hand with regal poise, he waited. Serenya hesitated, her fingers trembling as they met his. The moment she made contact, his grip tightened—not painfully, but enough to remind her she was absolutely, inescapably his.
"There's a place I want us to be," he said, his tone cryptic, almost soft if not for the steel laced within it. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, sending chills down her spine. "Hold on tight."
Before she could ask what he meant, the world around them shifted.
The air changed.
The garden faded into a blur, like paint smeared by the hand of a careless god, and the next thing she knew, they were no longer at the edge of the church. Serenya gasped, her breath catching in her throat as they appeared in the inner sanctum of the imperial gardens, surrounded by high hedges and old marble statues cloaked in ivy. The scent of jasmine and wilted roses lingered in the air, heavy and cloying.
Her knees buckled slightly from the disorientation, and she clutched Zareth's sleeve instinctively.
"You..." she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you just... teleport us?"
Zareth's eyes, deep and infernal, gleamed with delight. "Took you long enough to catch on, little dove. Try to keep up."
Serenya blinked and shook her head, still processing, when her eyes followed his gaze.
A tomb.
Cold, carved from pure obsidian, resting beneath the shade of a blossoming white magnolia tree. The name etched in delicate silver: Elara Ravaryn.
Zareth's mother.
She stood frozen in place. She hadn't even seen the flower he held until he knelt and placed it gently before the tomb. The moment was oddly silent—no sarcasm, no biting remarks. Just Zareth, paying respects with a rare, unspoken reverence.
"She's buried here? In the church garden?" Serenya asked quietly.
"She insisted," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically calm. "Said if God could stand to watch what she did in life, He might as well watch over her in death."
Serenya didn't know what to say to that.
He extended his hand once again and she took it, more out of reflex than trust. He tugged her gently toward him, locking her within the circle of his arm.
"Mother," he said with a tone that was surprisingly intimate, "this is Serenya. My wife-to-be."
Serenya's eyes widened. Her mouth opened, ready to protest, but she caught herself. She couldn't speak against the dead. Not in front of the late empress. Not now.
Zareth took away from the tomb , Serenya lingered a moment longer before following. Her heart twisted with guilt.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said softly, trying to fill the silence. "She must've been a lovely woman."
Zareth chuckled. That deep, unsettling chuckle that made the hairs on her arms rise.
"She was. Especially when twisting hands and drinking blood straight from her attendants."
Serenya stopped in her tracks. "W-what?"
He turned to face her, lips curved in mock amusement. "Oh, don't look so scandalized. My mother believed in love, God, and blood. Not necessarily in that order."
"But... I thought she believed in God," she managed.
"She did," he said, stepping closer, voice dropping to a chilling softness. "She just had her own definition of devotion."
Her eyes widened further. No wonder he was this twisted.
"She would've made us marry the moment I decided I wanted you," he added with a crooked grin.
Serenya's lips parted again, speechless. Who said that with such confidence and no shame? Zareth Ravaryn, apparently.
She didn't need to voice her thoughts—Zareth saw them written plainly across her face.
"I know what you're thinking," he drawled, voice laced with dark pride. "But sometimes kindness doesn't keep you alive. Not in a world like this. And not when ruling an empire like mine."
She narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin slightly. "But isn't drinking from people and twisting hands a bit... extreme? They're people with family"
Zareth blinked, then laughed.
A real, low laugh. " Aren't you such a sweet soul?."
Serenya flushed and looked away, her voice faltering. "Well... I meant, especially if they were innocent."
Zareth tilted his head. "It would've been. But they weren't. Everyone who crossed her tried to harm her. Or me."
His fingers intertwined with hers, catching her by surprise. He continued walking, and she, not wanting to provoke him after her failed escape attempt, followed.
"You don't pardon everything," he said calmly, as if teaching her something. "Forgiveness is a luxury when you're on top. Show weakness, and they'll rip you apart."
Serenya chewed her bottom lip, staring at the contrast between his brutal logic and the tenderness of his grip on her hand. There was something possessive in his touch—not affectionate, but territorial.
He suddenly stopped walking and turned to her.
"I'm telling you all this because one day, you'll be Empress," he said. "And of course, I haven't forgotten..."
Her breath caught.
"The punishment," he finished, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.
Serenya bit her lip. Her fingers tightened around the folds of her dress. Why was he still on that when She hadn't done anything wrong!.