Over the years, my partnership with Draxen evolved in ways I hadn't anticipated. What began as a seemingly mundane assignment soon turned into something much deeper. The initial discomfort of working closely with him gradually gave way to a bond that I hadn't expected to form. His quiet confidence and unwavering dedication to our Queen impressed me, though I remained focused on our duties and rarely let my guard down.
We spent countless hours training, strategizing, and carrying out missions together. Even though I typically preferred working alone, Draxen's presence became a steadying force. His tolerance for my occasional bluntness and his sincere concern for my well-being, whether it was a lingering injury or a moment of exhaustion, earned my respect. He discovered my strengths and I discovered his weaknesses, and our coordination on the battlefield was impeccable..
Draxen often went out of his way to support me, both in our duties and in my personal struggles. Yet, to me, our relationship remained purely professional. I was focused on my role, my purpose, and my commitment to the Queen. Draxen’s occasional gestures—an unspoken word of encouragement, a gentle touch on the shoulder, or the rare, soft smile—were never anything more than passing moments that I overlooked.
As the years went by, I grew more dependent on his presence. He became a dependable partner in every regard. While I maintained my emotional distance, I deeply valued his unwavering loyalty. We spent countless nights poring over maps and discussing our duties, and during those times, I began to appreciate the extent of his dedication—not only to the Queen but to me as well.
Draxen’s feelings were always just below the surface—unspoken and perhaps even unnoticed by me. His actions communicated his emotions clearly, though I never fully grasped the depth of his affection. It wasn’t until much later, when our duties took us to new places and presented new challenges, that I started to see the complexity of our relationship. Even then, my attention remained on our missions and the greater purpose we served, unaware of the unspoken emotions simmering beneath our professional exterior.
I lounged in the chair where we had our first conversation. I sat patiently as he poured me another glass of wine. The room swirled as I turned to him when he handed me the glass. “Gods, am I drunk?” I muttered under my breath.
He sat across from me and took my hand. “Caidi... I know we’re not supposed to talk about this—” He paused when he saw the confusion in my eyes.
“I ... I love you.”
The words hung in the air, leaving me stunned. I yanked my hand away and stood up quickly. “I will see you around,” I said, nodding stiffly before rushing out. But he grabbed my arm with a firm, desperate grip. “Wait... please don’t go,” he pleaded. I stared at him blankly as tears streamed down his beautiful face.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I struggled to free my arm from his hold, but he clung to me, begging, “Please, just stay.” The sight of his tears stirred something deep within me—an overwhelming rush of memories. I was suddenly haunted by the screams of my mother after I had killed my father, the raw terror and bloodshed that marked my past. The memories came flooding back, igniting a pit of fiery rage inside me.
I shoved him forcefully to the ground and pinned him beneath me. The world around me blurred as I lost all sense of control. The room darkened, the edges of my vision fading into a suffocating blackness.
When my sight returned, the scene before me was horrific. He lay there, his body a grotesque mess of twisted limbs and broken flesh, barely recognizable. His face was a smear of blood and bruises, his once-clear eyes now vacant and lifeless.
The warmth of the blood soaked into my clothes, a sickening, wet heat clinging to my skin. I looked down at my hands, now slick with the gore. The realization of what I had done hit me with a cold dread. What have I done? My body goes numb. The blood and twisted form before me highlighted the outcome, but I remained unaffected. I processed the situation methodically, assessing the damage and considering the next steps.
The thought of cleaning up the lifeless body filled me with a dull sense of obligation. I dragged his heavy frame to the bathroom, the weight of his muscle mass pressing down on me. As I began cutting limb by limb, flashbacks of doing the same to my parents blurred the present. I fought to stay focused.
Hours later, the apartment Draxen once lived in was spotless, though it had been covered in blood just moments ago. I carefully arranged his remains on the wooden table where we once shared drinks. How am I going to explain this to my supervisors? I took a deep breath. It will be okay, I reassured myself, though the fire inside still burned.
I present myself, slightly bloodied, as I greet my supervisors in their office. The room is shrouded in darkness, with only a faint light casting shadows that reveal their silhouettes.
“What is it, Cai?” the man at a distance asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
“Draxen confessed his love for me. I—”
“You what?” he interrupts sharply.
“I killed him on the spot. I know we’re not supposed to display or discuss emotions, so I left his remains on the table in his living room for you.”
“Mmm, what a good thing you are,” he praises me, his tone approving.
“Sir, I would like to propose a plan. I want to venture into the Feywild to protect the balance between life and death. My goal is to bring peace to a new land.” My tone was flat, not expecting a favorable response. Without a word, a scroll floated in front of me—a contract to work in the Feywild. I cut my finger and signed the papers with my blood.
As I left the office and closed the door behind me, I found myself surrounded by nature and trees. How did I end up here? The distant hum of a nearby city reached my ears, and I headed in that direction.