The slit along the fabric revealed his smooth, pale legs. Droplets still slid down strands of his hair—long, wavy, and silvery, shining beneath the moonlight like threads spun from diamonds, brighter than any jewel.
His face was striking, almost unearthly. Pale, delicate—like a sculpture shaped by divine hands. Words could not capture him, only fail against the marvel of his existence.
Then, stare....
He could feel it and he knows who it is..but he did nothing.
The chamber was washed in silver, every breath of moonlight laying itself gently upon Elias's figure.
He had already noticed. She could tell. The faint stillness in his body, the subtle tightening of his breath. He knew she was there—and he chose silence. He would not call her out.
And she accepted it.
From the corner, hidden in half-shadow, she stood as she always had: unseen, unacknowledged, bound to her role. Yet tonight was different. Tonight was the last.
Her gaze lingered on him, and for the first time in years, her heart trembled.
The silk robe slipping from his shoulders, his damp silver hair spilling across the pillow, the serenity of his sleep—it disarmed her more than blood or blades ever had.
She had survived , survived for him.
From a long ago.
A battlefield drowning in chaos, her own life torn and bleeding. She had been pulled into his world then, he was—small, frail, a boy who should never have witnessed such horrors and so was she... And yet they both had.
She had watched him endure, break, and rise again, again, and again, and so did he.
Her life had been battlefields. Blood. Silence. Shadow. But after that day, after getting saved by him—her life became Elias. His survival became her cause, his path her unspoken duty.
She thought herself detached, thought she could remain only a watcher. But somewhere between one battlefield and the next, between one sleepless night and another—her heart had betrayed her.
When did you become my reason to breathe?
She wanted to speak, to call his name, to say that this was not duty anymore. That she had come back not as a spy, not as a shadow, but as a woman who could no longer endure silence.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
Her duty was finished. Her ties cut. He had noticed her presence, and he had chosen to close his eyes. That was all the answer she needed.
Her throat tightened as her gaze roamed over him one last time—the lashes resting against pale skin, the faint curve of his lips, the quiet rhythm of his chest. She carved every detail into her memory, a final engraving she would carry into her loneliness.
And then, soundless as she came, she vanished into the darkness.
The room stilled.
But not for Nia.
---
Even after noticing the presence, he said nothing, did nothing.
He moved slowly, sinking into the bed's embrace.
But when he turned his head to the left, something caught his attention—a faint presence, or perhaps only instinct. He sat up, reached out, and touched it: the shape of a small animal.
Smooth beneath his fingers. A toy.
He could not see its colors, yet he guessed—perhaps it was like him. A faint smile curved his lips. "Nia…" he murmured with a soft laugh. She is the only one who would leave something like this.
A quiet warmth stirred in him. Oh my, my..… I wish I could speak with you longer, but she must be busy with her own duties.
He rememberd something or someone... 'Second Father'..The words fell into the silence, spoken only for himself.
Elias placed the soft toy carefully on the table before lying down once more. He did not sleep immediately—just rested, still and unmoving, as the bed clung to his warmth. I will visit you soon.
Yet as he closed his eyes, a strange sense lingered—something missing, hidden in the toy, or perhaps in the day itself.
The note. The message. Don't be impatient, he reminded himself. Focus.
And then, at last, sleep claimed him.
Unbeknownst to him, the toy's eyes glimmered faintly in the dark—while elsewhere, someone was losing their sleep.
---
On the other hand—Allurania :-
Nia, or rather Allurania ( Elias childhood friend) sat quietly on the chair beside her father's bed. The man before her lay motionless, a figure swallowed by disease.
Illness— Unknown
Cure—incurable, hope uncertain.
His survival chances—slim.
His status—coma.
---
She sighed softly. "You know, Dad… I met Elias today." Her voice wavered between warmth and something sharper. "He's even more beautiful now. You would be happy to see him, wouldn't you?"
Her gaze lingered on her father's face, pale and still. "It's strange. The day Elias left… that was the same day you closed your eyes. You just… never woke up again." Her lips trembled, though her eyes didn't.
"You both left me. Left me alone. Do you know how cruel that is?"
Then, she smiled faintly. "But it's fine. Even if you left me… even if Elias didn't return for two whole years… I still had your memories. The times the three of us shared. Those were enough to keep me alive."
Her tone shifted, soft yet edged, a fragile sweetness wrapping around something darker. "Maybe I've become twisted. Possessive. Obsessive. Maybe I'm not the girl I was. But that's fine, isn't it? As long as Elias is still mine in some way."
The doctors had said he could hear her. That much she believed. And perhaps she was right—his finger twitched faintly when she spoke Elias's name. The son of his old friend. The boy he once looked upon with fondness.
Nia's eyes flickered, but the motion was too small, too fleeting for her to catch. She stood, adjusted her dress, and left the room.
It was her daily routine: care for her father, tend to the endless duties of the duchy, and then—when she was finally alone—return to what mattered most.
In her chamber, she removed a slender bracelet from her wrist. At a touch, a faint blue light bloomed, forming a hovering screen. Her heart quickened.
It was Elias's room.
The sight unraveled every tight knot of worry inside her chest, only to tie them back together in a darker way—stronger, possessive, consuming. Her lips curled into a soft, almost trembling smile.
She leaned closer to the glowing screen, her breath quickening as she whispered:
"…Eli..Eli...My Eli.…"
---
The bracelet's light hummed, projecting Elias's chamber before her. Nia leaned in, her heartbeat quickening, pupils dilating at the sight.
There he was.
Elias had just returned from his bath, the silk robe sliding carelessly from his shoulders, his silver hair still damp, droplets catching the moonlight like scattered diamonds.
His legs, pale and smooth, crossed as he sat on the bed, his slender frame sinking into the sheets. He was too beautiful. Too fragile. Too untouchable.
Nia pressed her hand against the glowing screen, as if the fragile barrier would break if she willed it hard enough. So close. If I could just…
Her breath shivered. "Mine," she whispered, the word slipping like a prayer. "No one else deserves to see you like this."
Then Elias noticed it—the toy resting at his side. He touched it gently, his fingers tracing its soft surface, and a faint smile curved his lips.
"Nia…" he whispered, voice low, almost tender.
On the other side of the hidden eye:-