Elana's face bloomed into a smile as her dream drew her deeper into its brilliant, color-drenched expanse.
The beauty of the sight enthralled her, and her heart surged as her once-grey gaze took in the rich green grass beneath her feet.
The soft blades gradually swept upward into taller stalks ahead, giving way to flowers of vibrant hues scattered across a wide golden field.
Elana lifted her head toward the silvery blue sky, where piercing rays of light streamed down.
It was so bright it stung her eyes, forcing her to lower them and instead admire the light reflecting across the beautiful field around her.
Elana lifted her feet to move, only to realize the ground was strangely soft—so soft that she felt like moments away from sinking into muddy water.
She didn't care.
This was her first dream with sight, and she wasn't going to let fear— something that might only wake her—distract her from it.
She moved forward, wobbling slightly as she carefully placed one foot before the other.
Realization struck her again and she quickly raised her hand, dropping her eyes to inspect it.
Nothing.
There was only the shorter green grass visible beneath her feet.
Elana couldn't bring herself to feel disappointed.
Instead, she felt empowered to enjoy her time here before the dream faded.
She paused, shifting her stance to stand with her legs slightly apart—one forward and the other behind.
A quiet laugh escaped her as she enjoyed the slow, rolling wobble of the earth, testing how long she could remain balanced.
"One day, you might dream of colours," Miss Rona's voice echoed from somewhere deep within her subconscious. "Just remember that plants that graze your feet, whether short or tall, are mostly no other color but green."
Elana's heart felt full.
She abandoned her attempt at balancing and ignored the unstable ground as she began moving faster, eager to reach the taller grass ahead.
As she drew closer, the scattered shades across the field slowly began to take shape.
Were those flowers?
"Stay still, Child."
A calm voice vibrated through the atmosphere and Elana immediately froze.
Fear settled over her.
The ground continued wobbling beneath her feet, now she had more than one reason to be afraid.
"W-Who…?" Elana stuttered.
"Cease speech before me."
The voice cut through her question.
It sounded neither distinctly male nor female, and Elana couldn't tell where it came from.
"Perhaps it was your stubbornness that led you to such a cruel fate amongst humans," the voice continued, its tone remaining unnervingly calm.
Elana took a hesitant step back.
The uncertainty inside her darkened.
Then something fluttered through the air, momentarily distracting her from her fear.
She turned her attention toward a bright, colorful…bird?
No.
She had felt a bird before. It should have been much larger.
"Even in their midst," the voice reclaimed her focus, "your fate remains unchanged. Even with him."
Elana tried to speak, but her voice failed her.
She needed to push deeper into the fields before the dream shattered completely.
"However did you escape the planes of the heavens into reincarnation?" the voice asked.
Elana didn't understand.
But she refused to let the strange voice distract her any longer.
She placed one foot forward—no consequence.
Then another.
Still nothing.
Then she broke into a run across the unstable earth, her hands spreading instinctively for balance as she approached the tall grass.
Her fingers itching to brush against the petals she assumed were flowers.
A powerful gust of wind swept through the realm, instantly leaching the golden light from the sky and turning it into dark grey.
The tall grass became restless, bending violently beneath the force of the wind.
Flowers tore free from their stems and scattered through the air around her.
Elana skidded to an abrupt halt as the ground grew dangerously restless.
No! No! Elana screamed in her mind.
Terror seized her as the lush green foliage wilted, darkening into a horrific shade far gloomier than the grey sky above.
It was a color that mirrored the dark lash of the whip when her mistress struck her bare back for daring to defy her.
It was a color that tasted like pain.
"Do the consequences of your own will never baffle you?"
The voice echoed again.
Cold hands snaked up Elana's torso, making her shiver as she instantly recognized Azael's scent.
Her pulse spiked and desire flared within her; his breath brushed against her neck, weakening her knees while his hands slowly mapped her chest.
"Hopeless child," the voice murmured as Elana fought to suppress the helpless gasps escaping her under the persistent devotion of Azael's touch.
"Freedom is merely the illusion fate baits you with," the voice continued. "A perfect vessel, should the impending meddling of demons become involved too."
Elana found herself swept into a daze of pleasure beneath Azael's kneading palms, instinctively leaning back into his icy embrace.
"It will consume you, yet it will never corrupt your soul," the voice pronounced.
In that same breath, a sharp, twin sting pierced the side of her neck.
Elana gasped as the pain sank deeper—agonizingly familiar.
She tried to scream, but no sound came, and as her gaze washed over the landscape, she saw the world around her had drained completely back into grey.
Knock!Knock!Knock!
Elana's eyes snapped open.
"Can I come in, Flower?" Cara's voice called from the other side.
Elana immediately felt strange.
She must have overslept.
Her heart palpated uncertainly, frightened by something she couldn't quite place.
Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall anything from the dream except the fear it had left behind.
She supported herself with both elbows and slowly sat up.
Tasting the stale remnants of her morning breath, she was at least glad she'd brushed her teeth again the previous night.
"Please come in," she called, not wanting to keep Cara waiting too long.
The door budged open, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps.
"I'm honestly amazed you're still in bed," Cara said as the door closed behind her.
"I'm s-sorry, I…"
"No need to apologize, Flower," Cara replied.
Her footsteps approached until the mattress sank beneath her weight.
Elana felt the back of Cara's warm palm settle against her forehead.
"We'll need to test for something else if the fever persists," Cara said. Then she hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm. Your temperature is quite basal for now."
"I feel fine," Elana replied with a smile as Cara withdrew her hand.
Even if it wasn't entirely true, she was feeling much better.
"I'm glad."
Almost immediately, however, a heaviness settled into the silence that followed.
"Is everything all right, Cara?" she asked.
Cara sighed, the sound nearly inaudible.
"I feel really conflicted saying this, but…" Cara began before hesitating.
Elana's concern grew, overtaking even her need to have her morning bath.
She leaned forward, bringing her other hand over the one Cara still held.
"You can always talk to me, you know," Elana said softly, offering what comfort she could.
Cara's friendship had become one of the few anchors keeping her sanity together in this world where she no longer understood her own life—let alone the man she was beginning to care for.
Her captor.
Her master.
Azael.
"I'm so sorry, Elana," Cara said heavily, her fingers tightening around Elana's.
Elana immediately felt sorrow for her.
Perhaps Cara's life would be so much simpler without her burdened presence.
"You don't need to apologize either," Elana offered, keeping her reassuring smile in the hope of lifting Cara's mood.
"It's out of my hands. If not…"
Cara hesitated again.
"I really would have loved you to come along."
Elana's heart dropped.
Her hand went stiff within Cara's grasp.
"What…what do you mean?"
Cara sniffed.
"A lot of lives have become uncertain, Elana," she replied. "Especially the lives of most humans in Lumere. Therefore, the best of us have come to a conclusion about…about migrating."
"I can come too!"
The words escaped Elana before she could think.
She couldn't lose Cara's friendship too.
"I wish I could bring you along," Cara said softly. "But you already know I can't, especially because…because of him."'
"I don't…"
Elana's voice weakened.
What could she possibly say or do?
She had no power or choice over what had been happening in her life so far.
It wouldn't be any different now.
Elana swallowed.
"Will it be safer where you're going?" she managed to ask, despite the heaviness settling in her chest.
"I…"
Cara began, but a loud knock interrupted her.
"Military permit from the kings of Sirence!"
A male voice came from the other side of the door.
Elana frowned.
"Don't come in!" she snapped, her frustration flaring at anything connected to Azael's infuriating influence over her life.
"It's fine," Cara soothed. "I'll see what he needs."
"What could they possibly want from a lady's quarters this early?" Elana asked, folding her arms across her chest as her irritation rose again.
"Don't worry about it, Flower."
Cara's weight lifted from the mattress, and her footsteps moved toward the door.
The door opened.
"Good morning, lieutenant," Cara said.
"Good morning, General," the man replied, lowering his tone respectfully. "Apologies for the intrusion, but Lumere has received visiting soldiers from Sirence who request your presence immediately."
"Did they give a reason?" Cara asked.
"No," the lieutenant replied. "Orders were strict—no questions allowed."
"Then she's not coming," Elana snapped from the bed.
"I'll just go see what it's about," Cara said. "I promise I'll be back."
"And if you stumble across that brute," Elana said, genuinely damning the consequences, "that Azael—tell him I hate him, and my hate will crumble his empire to pieces!"
"Now, now, Flower," Cara said.
Her footsteps returned to Elana, and she placed a reassuring hand on Elana's shoulder. "It isn't wise to lose your composure like this. It will only complicate things—these walls have ears."
Elana simmered, her arms tightened across her chest.
She wanted to declare that she didn't care, but she knew there would be consequences, and she couldn't predict how far she could push Azael's temper—especially when other lives hung in the balance.
"I'll be back soon, alright?" Cara reassured her once more before turning back to the door and stepping out into the hall.
**
How long are you going to act clueless about the constant attacks?—the voice in Azael's head sneered.
Azael merely blinked, his thoughts racing as he sat motionless on his throne.
Beside him, heavy, dark curtains shielded the stone window from the morning light.
His gaze remained fixed on the massive doors at the castle entrance.
A fisted hand braced his jaw, his knees parted slightly to ease the pressure against his thighs.
It made sense now—Trisha's frantic warning, and just how far she had foreseen before fate itself devoured her.
Azael dropped his hand and sank back into the throne with a heavy sigh.
These were the consequences of the warnings he had brushed aside.
The outcome of his inability to resist Elana's hold over him was far worse than he had anticipated; its reach spreading, bleeding into his very allies.
The sorcerer's disappearance was becoming an intolerable burden.
Azael clenched his jaw.
He could easily level the entire forest—Lumere included—and leave nature to regenerate from ash.
Could the consequences be reduced?
What about Sirence and the mysterious enemy that had made Elana's escape possible?
Perhaps the interrogation would yield useful answers—especially if he had conducted it sooner.
He exhaled slowly. But he hadn't.
Instead, he had been distracted. His eyelids heavy, as he recalled the soaking source of his distraction and the sleek line of Elana's thighs that led there.
He closed his eyes, and the memory of her hardened nipples pressed against his chest flooded his mind.
His lips parted slightly at the phantom taste of her on his tongue.
A slow breath escaped him as his body remembered the desperate, tightening grip of her hands on his shoulders when he had abandoned all restraint inside her.
A sudden draft of cold air brushed the back of Azael's neck.
Instantly, his eyes snapped open.
He recognized the synthetic fragrance of Wisteria a fraction of a second before his gaze dropped to the pale hands settled onto his shoulders, beginning to knead the muscle.
"Eira," he said, his jaw tightening.
Hearing her breath against his neck infuriated him—mostly because he was irritated with himself for failing to sense her approach sooner.
"Let me," she whispered close to his ear. "Let me ease your worries, master."
Azael leaned forward, rolling his shoulders out of her grasp.
She let her hands drop and straightened up behind him with a soft sigh.
"The grace granted by our past is gradually running out," Azael warned coldly.
"At least I hold more value than a certain opportunistic slave," Eira countered, stepping around to stand before him.
Azael's eyes trailed down her cascading brown waves, past her exposed neck, to her figure clad in scant red lace.
The fragile fabric barely covered the swell of her breasts and the delicate V-line below, framed by a dark linen mesh robe lined with shimmering black fur.
Alluring enough to stir any man's pulse.
Azael met her crimson gaze—but not his.
"I've been slipping into your fortress with remarkable ease lately," Eira continued.
"Perhaps you've developed a soft spot for my persistence."
"Why are you here, again?" Azael said, making no effort to conceal his irritation.
She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm the only one who genuinely cares enough to check on you, and you don't even appreciate it."
"Because I never asked you to," he replied flatly.
"And yet, it doesn't seem to bother you enough to punish me for it."
Azael leaned back against the high rest of his throne. "I have far more pressing matters to attend to than your pointless visits."
"The forest beyond your territory is crawling with men," Eira said, swaying her hips as she took deliberate, measured steps toward him. "I had a little clue you were aware when I identified the twin kings' crest among them."
Azael decided to exploit her sly curiosity.
His gaze dipped casually to her chest.
"Perhaps I ought to praise your expertise more than theirs," he mused. "You were always far more reliable at giving me useful information."
Eira's eyes brightened.
She released her lower lip, only to turn her head away as she stopped an inch from him, suddenly self-conscious of how readily she'd revealed her eagerness.
"It's because I ensure you get precisely what you need, master," she murmured, her earlier bravado softening into bashfulness.
"Then remind me why I should assign you," Azael said, tilting his head slightly away from her.
His eyes swept up the elegant curve of her pale neck, even as his mind involuntarily flashed to the puncture marks his fangs had left in Elana's skin.
"What…?" Eira whispered, turning back to him.
Her eyes remained lowered and her hands softened, visibly helpless against his quiet dominance.
"What do you need of me, master?"
"A sorcerer challenged my domain, and I want him found," Azael stated. "He serves as a mage to the charlatan known to be king of Lumere."
"Do I…," Eira looked up, her crimson eyes searching his. "Do I get to name my reward?"
"Gold is all I'm offering," Azael said. "Though wasn't the entire purpose of these persistent visits to remind me how deeply you care?"
Eira's gaze flickered downward. "I understand, master," she murmured.
Azael straightened.
"My need to locate him is urgent," he added. "I might be inclined to offer a more generous reward for your information—best assured if it arrives before whatever those soldiers beyond my borders manage to find."
Eira snapped her gaze back to him, her brows drawing together.
Both of them recognized the subtle manipulation woven into his words, but Azael knew her pride had crumbled long ago, replaced by a desperate thread of hope he could easily turn to his advantage.
"Maybe you should stop pretending you don't recognize my intentions as purely for your safety—and not the gold you toss at me," Eira snapped, before vanishing into thin air.
Azael scoffed into the empty hall.