Rezette stared down at the mountainside, a heavy weight settling in his chest. Just moments ago, a pair of colossal eyes, painted onto the landscape itself, had blinked shut. The rustling bushes and rocks that once veiled their edges now lay still.
The dragon was gone, leaving only a hollow shell.
“Gone so easily?” Rezette muttered, the words of Sameshita echoing in his mind. The dragon’s name, its power, its magic… Sameshita’s bloodline could manipulate magic by invoking the dragon’s name.
A startling realization dawned on him. If Elise called upon the dragon, Sameshita could sense her. And Sameshita had spoken as if Elise had already reached out, hinting at the ancient dragon’s long-standing awareness of the girl.
A jolt of dread lanced through Rezette. Where was the dragon headed now?
As he descended the mountain, a horrifying scene unfolded before him. Half the knights writhed in agony, clutching their ears while others violently retched. Rezette himself battled a surge of violent impulses and a terrifying heat that radiated from within. Whether it stemmed from the entity itself, the illness’s source, or simply contact with it, his emotions were a tempestuous sea. He grabbed the struggling Ruben by the shoulders and hauled him away from the chaos, barely managing to keep his own grip.
The imposing silhouette of Rotiara’s fortress sent a tremor of fear through Rezette. He dispatched Ruben to scout ahead, then retreated to a secluded corner, desperately trying to extinguish the flicker of unease that still burned within him.
Surely, he thought, wrestling with his emotions, Sameshita wouldn’t pursue Elise. A creature of such power must surely be able to differentiate between Gallian and his descendants.
But logic offered little comfort. The gnawing anxiety refused to be quelled. His normally dependable black steed mirrored his agitation, tossing its head and pawing impatiently. With a restless nudge, Rezette urged the horse into a swift gallop towards the castle. Ignoring the greetings of curious servants, he stormed inside and headed straight for the staircase leading to his chambers.
The cryptic warning echoed in his mind, its weight intensifying with each step up the narrowing spiral. “Don’t trust humans. Especially those of Gallian’s lineage.” It had seemed like a paranoid outburst at the time, but now…
“Rezette, your wife often calls for me…”
Just a week prior, Rezette had felt a sense of absolute possession over Elise. Now, he felt incomplete once again.
Tormenting questions swirled in his mind. Why did she call for Sameshita? Did she use magic? If so, why? Yearning for a return to Argan? The relentless queries hammered at his sanity, threatening to consume him whole.
A gnawing insecurity, a constant reminder that Elise remained beyond his complete grasp, had always shadowed Rezette’s happiness. He’d try to silence it, but Elise, it seemed, held the power to resurrect it, exposing his vulnerability and shattering his illusions of control.
Driven by this relentless need for certainty, Rezette stormed up the remaining stairs. A glimpse of a skirt through the slightly open door sent him bursting in.
“Oh!” Elise yelped, startled, almost tumbling back with the force of the door.
The initial shock was quickly followed by a wave of relief so profound it felt like the world was rushing in to meet her. Whether it was the unexpected sound or the sudden comfort, when Rezette’s eyes met hers, she found herself instinctively reaching out for him.
He held her tightly, the embrace lingering long after his initial urgency subsided. When he finally stepped back, a sense of shame washed over him. He realized he’d clung to her for days, searching for answers with a desperation that bordered on obsession.
Something had shifted that day. Unlike her usual resistance, Elise seemed to welcome the closeness. Her arms tightened around his neck, her breath hitching as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Even amidst her obvious discomfort and flustered blush, Rezette remained oblivious. She murmured a plea for gentleness, but made no move to break the contact.
Only later, as he pieced together her tearful reaction at the climax, did Rezette understand that her distress stemmed from his own overwhelming possessiveness, not of her own pleasure.
The warmth of her embrace and the soft sounds of her sleep deepened the fog in Rezette’s mind. It was like being enveloped in a fragrant flower bed, intoxicated by the sweet perfume. If only he could bottle this feeling and live in it forever.
