"Don't leave me… not like this. I only have you to rely on."
A small, warm drop fell onto Lucan's face. He stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. The heaviness of his body was all he could feel.
He moved his right hand to touch his cheek while his eyes remained closed. There was no water there. Was it a dream? he wondered.
When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself inside a shelter woven from massive leaves and branches.
Memories rushed back — the battle, the madness that consumed him, and the last thing he remembered: Elira being held by the men.
Lucan pushed himself up, his body trembling with weakness. He felt his left hand being held tightly. He looked down and saw a fair, slim hand gripping his. Through the gaps in the cage, he saw Elira outside, sitting alone. She looked exhausted, fighting against sleep. In her hands rested his sword and a small firelight, its glow flickering against her weary face. She had been guarding him all this time — that much was clear.
A faint mumbling escaped her lips.
"I won't sleep… I… I won't…"
Her head began to droop, sleep overtaking her. Just as she was about to collapse, Lucan reached through the gaps and caught her gently, steadying her before she fell. He winced at the sudden stretch, pain shooting through his body, but he made sure her head didn't touch the ground. He moved with caution, refusing to let her fall.
But the weight of her head pressed against his hand, numbing it. His strength faltered, and with a sharp jolt of pain, his arm gave way. Elira stirred awake at the sudden movement.
Blinking rapidly, she looked around in confusion — then her eyes fell on him. To her surprise, and with sudden joy, she reached through the woven gaps of the leaf-and-branch shelter and hugged him tightly.
Lucan stiffened, caught off guard.
The rough weave pressed between them, but Elira didn't care. Or maybe she acted out of impulse. Her arms slipped through the openings, clinging to him as though she feared he might vanish again.
Lucan froze, his body tense, unprepared for the warmth of her embrace.
He struggled to process what was happening, his mind still clouded by weakness and pain. The warmth was unfamiliar, disarming. For so long, Lucan had lived with nothing but the weight of his curse and the silence of solitude. No one had dared to touch him — not with affection, not with trust. And now, here she was, holding onto him as though he was her only anchor in the world.
Her arms felt both fragile and unyielding, trembling yet determined. He could sense the rapid beat of her heart, the desperation in her grip. This was not the embrace of someone seeking comfort alone — it was the embrace of someone who had fought against despair and chosen to stay despite fear.
Lucan's breath caught. His body, trained to resist weakness, did not know how to respond. The curse inside him stirred uneasily, confused by this sudden warmth. His instincts screamed to push her away, to protect her from the danger that was him. Yet another part of him — buried deep beneath years of rage and isolation — hesitated.
For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to feel it: the strange, alien sensation of being needed. Of being held not as a weapon, not as a monster, but as a man.
It unsettled him more than any battle ever had. The warmth of her embrace was uncomfortable, almost unbearable. It threatened to strip away the armor he had built around himself and leave him exposed.
As he came to his senses, Lucan pushed her back more firmly, about to warn her — but then he saw the tears in her eyes. The despair was undeniable.
"I'm so glad you're awake," Elira said, sniffing between sobs. "God knows how many days I've been praying for you to live."
Her voice was barely audible but he caught it.
Lucan remained in his state. The emotion he saw in her was unfamiliar, like a puzzle he couldn't solve. A question without an answer. No one has ever cried for him since then, any tears shed was surely fuelled by fury at the lives he had claimed.
Unable to bear the feelings pressing against him, Lucan forced himself to stand. His body ached, but he walked past her, staggered, refusing to meet her gaze. His voice was low, steady, almost cold.
"Tears are for the weak."
Elira rose to her feet, wiping her tears away. "You were unconscious for four days straight. I thought you would never wake up… your wounds were too deep, and your fever was unbearable. I don't have the knowledge to tend to someone injured, but I remembered how my father treated my wounds when I was eight years old."
Lucan turned to look at her. She saw a faint smile in her lips. Her smile unsettled him. It was too warm, too unguarded. It made him uncomfortable, even irritated.
His eyes narrowed. "Then, you have the choice to leave. It's your chance after all. Why not grab it instead?" he spoke, tone as sharp and unyeilding. "Or perhaps you think that by doing this, I would never consider ending your life one day... Is that it?"
Elira's faint smile disappeared. Her features betraying disbelief for a moment. Like she wanted to confront him, but she chose not to. With a sharp breath, her face back to its normal.
He sneered, his voice razor-sharp. "Next time, leave. Don't bother helping me."
Elira fell silent at his coldness, but the happiness in her eyes could not be hidden. Even though he was not fully healed, the simple fact that he was awake filled her with relief.
He might never know what she had endured while he was unconscious, and she had no desire to share it. To her, it was simply necessary — something she had to do to keep him alive.
"I won't leave, even if you ask me to," she said firmly, making Lucan stop in his tracks as he approached the stallion. "You told me I was necessary. Then find out why your curse bends to me. I need someone too — not just you. You don't believe me when I say I'm not of this world, but my life here is a mystery even to me, and what lies ahead is darker still. Look for yourself if I am the Saintess; I swear I am not. To survive, I must stay by your side, not because I wanted to but because you were the only person with me right now. That is the deal I offer."
Lucan slowly turned his head toward her, his expression firm and shadowed despite the flicker of Firelight.
"Deal?" he scoffed. "You're making a deal with a tyrant. Are you certain of that? You've seen what I'm capable of. I didn't spare your life because I wanted to — I spared it because the answer I seek is still beyond my grasp. At any moment, I could strike you down if I wished. Don't place your trust so high as to think a deal with me will protect you. I serve no one. I have killed countless lives — that is why they call me the Tyrant King. Making a deal with me may be the greatest mistake of your life."
Elira's breath caught at his words, but before Lucan could take another step, he added, his voice firm and cold:
"I don't accept deals. I only take what serves me. Keeping you alive is for my own good and it is also my choice. You should be grateful you possess that thing inside you — it's the only reason you're safe from my sword."