The room was steeped in the intoxicating scent of sandalwood, blending with the dim glow of candles flickering in the corners. Their small flames swayed gently, casting dancing shadows on the marble walls, as if time refused to move forward, trapped in a moment too heavy to release. Devara stood frozen at the edge of the grand bed that dominated Queen Li's private suite. The black silk sheets shimmered under the light, like the surface of a lake hiding dark secrets. Her heart pounded too loudly for the stillness of the room, each second feeling like a step toward an unseen abyss.
Queen Li approached slowly, her movements no longer confined by the wheelchair that had been her mask. Her steps were a dance, graceful yet commanding, each tap on the marble floor echoing like the ticking of an ancient clock counting down the world's end. Her black gown flowed like liquid shadow, clinging to her slender frame yet radiating an unnatural strength. Her faint smile was more dangerous than a hidden blade, and her eyes—deep, black, like a starless night—locked onto Devara with an intensity that thinned the air.
"You know, Devara," she whispered, her voice soft as silk but laced with a sharpness that made Devara's skin prickle. Her cold fingers brushed Devara's chin, the touch so gentle it felt ghostly. "I've waited for you far too long. The world may crumble, the night may swallow everything, but I've never stopped searching for your shadow."
Devara held her breath, her body rigid as a statue. Each of Queen Li's words felt like a delicate web cast to ensnare her, every syllable designed to creep into her mind. Yet her gaze didn't waver—she knew that a single moment of weakness would let Queen Li consume her, body and soul. Something within her rebelled, but another part—older, deeper—felt drawn, as if their souls were indeed bound by an invisible thread that couldn't be severed.
Queen Li's trembling fingertips traced Devara's face, as if memorizing every curve, every pore. "You're not just a guest here," she said, her voice lowering, teetering on the edge of madness. "You're the key. I saw you even before this world turned into a sea of glass and steel. Your shadow has always lingered in the mirrors I gazed into, in every life, every century." She gave a bitter smile, then lowered her head until her face nearly touched Devara's chest, her breath warm and heavy. "You are mine."
The words came out simply, yet they trembled like an ancient mantra binding souls. Devara felt the air around her thicken, each molecule conspiring with Queen Li's voice to hold her in place. Her heart raced, but her body didn't move, caught between the urge to flee and the magnetic pull of the woman's presence.
She took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. "Who are you, really, Li?" she asked, her voice hoarse, nearly drowned by the sandalwood scent filling the room. "What are you hiding behind all this?"
Queen Li raised her head, her eyes glinting like newly kindled embers. "I am the Night Shadows," she said, her voice now deeper, older, as if it had witnessed the world's birth and death countless times. "I orchestrate their flow, nurture dreams and fears. I weigh the rise and fall of great names. And above all…" She paused, her eyes tracing Devara's face like reading a sacred text. "I am the woman who cannot let you go." Her fingers seized Devara's hand, gripping it firmly, cold yet unyielding, like chains forged from ice.
Devara wanted to pull away, but the grip dragged her deeper into the vortex. Queen Li leaned closer, their faces a mere breath apart, so close Devara could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with the heady sandalwood scent. "Look into my eyes," she commanded softly, almost a whisper, yet brimming with undeniable authority. "In them, you are there. Always."
For a moment, Devara was trapped in that gaze. In Queen Li's dark pupils, she saw her own reflection—not just her current face, but faces from other lives: a scarred warrior, a weary sailor staring at the sea, a merchant smiling in a spice market. Beyond the reflection, a pulsing otherworld emerged, filled with a crowd of familiar yet foreign faces, whispers calling her name, and wounds that felt like her own. She staggered, her legs unsteady, as if pulled into an invisible whirlpool of time.
"I know you feel it too," Queen Li said, her voice trembling between tenderness and madness, like a siren's song promising paradise and ruin. "A bond beyond explanation. We're tied not by time, but by something older than time itself—by karma, by blood, by a vow you made under a banyan tree centuries ago."
Devara clenched her teeth, trying to resist the strange wave assaulting her soul. Memories that weren't hers surfaced: a bloodied sword, an embrace under an ancient tree, tears falling on Java's rain-soaked earth. "You're… insane," she said, her voice shaking, but a rising courage burned within.
Queen Li smiled, wider this time, no less threatening, like a tiger baring its fangs before pouncing. "Perhaps," she replied, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "But my madness exists only for you." She stepped closer, her body now pressed against Devara's, her hand sliding to her shoulder, then her neck, fingers tracing muscle lines with a touch so intimate it made Devara hold her breath. She embraced her, her face pressed against Devara's shoulder, her warm breath mingling with the piercing sandalwood scent. "I want to erase all distance, all refusal," she whispered, her voice almost pleading, yet heavy with power. "The world may call me a queen, but before you, I'm just a woman starving for your presence."
Her touch wasn't merely intimate—it sliced through the soul, demanding devotion while seducing with dark promises. Queen Li's fingers crept to Devara's chest, unbuttoning her shirt one by one with slow, deliberate movements, like unveiling a sacred secret. Devara's exposed skin burned under her cold touch, each motion feeling like an ancient ritual, laden with meaning she couldn't grasp. "You feel it, don't you?" she whispered, her lips now so close to Devara's neck, nearly brushing her skin. "The pulse of your soul calling to me, as it did in lives before."
Devara's body froze, caught between inner resistance and the magnetic pull of Queen Li's obsession. Part of her wanted to surrender, to sink into the warmth and eternal promises the woman offered. But another voice in her head screamed that this wasn't love—it was a shackle to bind her forever. "You want me to be yours," she said, her voice hoarse, "but this isn't about me. It's about your control."
Queen Li raised her face, their eyes meeting so closely that Devara could see every detail of her irises—like a galaxy filled with dead stars. "Don't try to run, Devara," she said, her voice now firmer, yet still laced with seduction. "I've written your name in every shadow I've crossed. I know how this world crumbles, and I know you're the only one who can keep me sane. You are… my home."
That last word made Devara's chest tighten. Home. A word meant to bring comfort, but now it sounded like a shackle woven from silk and steel. She felt Queen Li's fingers slide lower, to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly merged. Her warm breath grazed Devara's neck, her lips teasing her skin with light kisses that felt like electric shocks. "You feel it, don't you?" she whispered again, her voice now thick with unveiled desire. "Your body knows, your soul knows. We are one, Devara. Forever."
Devara bit her lip, trying to quell the heat burning through her. Each touch from Queen Li was a siren's song pulling her into an abyss, and she knew—if she gave in now, she'd never return. With all the strength she had left, she pushed Queen Li away, her hands trembling but resolute. "I'm not yours," she said, her voice breaking yet firm. "I'm not a pawn in your game, Li. Whatever you think we had in the past, that's not me now."
Queen Li paused, her eyes widening, as if unable to believe the rejection. Then she laughed softly—a laugh both sweet and deadly, like poison masked in sweet wine. "You have no choice, Devara," she said, her voice now cold, filled with the authority of a queen who never loses. "This obsession is stronger than your will. Besides… I never lose at any game."
Outside the window, Nusaraya's shadows trembled as if listening to their conversation, neon lights flickering like sleepless eyes. Devara met Queen Li's gaze one last time, and she knew—the game had changed. She was no longer a powerless observer. She had officially become part of the queen's obsession, and for the first time, she felt that fighting might be the only way to free herself from the karmic cycle that had bound her for centuries.