In a time long ago, when shadows danced playfully across the land and whispers of magic filled the air, there lived a valiant warrior named Leonard Eldori. He was a human of remarkable spirit, forging his path in an age when the world lay shackled beneath the weight of dark sorcery and malevolent beings. The very air was thick with dread, and the sun often hid behind clouds of despair, casting a pall over the hearts of its inhabitants.
Yet, amidst this gloom, Leonard's heart burned bright with hope. He gathered a band of misfits—each one a unique gem, possessing talents that sparkled like stars in the night sky. Together, they shared not only skills but also a fervent desire to banish the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow their beloved realm.
Thus, Leonard became the first human hero, revered far and wide for uniting all creatures—be they feathered or furred, scaled or winged—under one noble cause: to reclaim their land from the clutches of evil.
From humble beginnings in Eldori, a quaint village that once served as his sanctuary from tyranny, he rose to greatness. In the wake of his triumph over the fearsome Shadow King, Eldori blossomed into a magnificent empire known as Eldoria—a beacon of light and hope where flowers bloomed in vibrant colors and laughter echoed through the valleys.
But even as victory rang sweet in the air, a prophecy lingered like a gentle breeze—a whisper foreseen by Leonard himself. It spoke of challenges yet to come and adventures waiting just beyond the horizon.
In this enchanted land where dreams mingled with reality, Leonard Eldori's tale became woven into the very fabric of existence—a story of bravery, unity, and the enduring light that shines even in the darkest of times.
“What was the prophecy again?” the third child asked, wide-eyed and curious.
“Geez! Even you don’t know?” another child exclaimed, hands on their hips in mock disbelief.
“Well, do you?” the first child shot back, puffing out their chest.
“W-Well… not entirely,” the boy stammered, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. He fumbled for words, trying to defend himself. “B-but! I remember what the grown-ups usually say!” His voice grew bolder, as if he were ready to take on the world.
“Mama says that once the ground starts shaking, it means the bad monsters are waking up!” he declared dramatically, eyes wide with both fear and excitement.
The other children gasped, their imaginations running wild. They pictured great, shadowy creatures stirring from their slumber, stretching their long limbs and yawning as they prepared to roam the land once more.
“Eek! What if they come for us?” one child squeaked, clutching their friend’s arm tightly.
“So you’re saying they’re below us right now?!” Agatha’s voice quivered as tears threatened to spill from her big, round eyes. The sight of her distress tugged at the heartstrings of the boy beside her, making him feel a flutter of worry in his own chest.
“I-I don’t know!” Edmund stammered, his bravado crumbling like a cookie under pressure.
“B-but… i-is that—does that mean they will start eating us all?!” Agatha wailed, her sobs echoing like tiny thunderclaps in the night.
“That’s scary!” The older boy’s voice cracked as he joined in the chorus of tears, his own fears bubbling to the surface. Soon, both Agatha and Edmund were openly crying, their little faces scrunched up in fright. Meanwhile, Alaric stood off to the side, arms crossed and sighing at their dramatic reactions.
“Stop scaring her, Edmund!” he exclaimed, shaking his head.
“B-But! That’s what Mama said!” Edmund sniffled, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he turned to Alaric for support.
“Don’t listen to him, Agatha,” Alaric said softly, reaching over to comfort the weeping girl. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to be a beacon of calm amidst the storm of emotions.
“Hey! I’m not the bad guy!” Edmund protested, puffing out his cheeks in indignation.
“Don’t worry, Agatha!” Alaric said with a bright grin that sparkled like sunlight breaking through clouds. “We’ll just have to be brave like Leonard Eldori! We can fight them off together!”
His words hung in the air like a magic spell, wrapping around them with warmth and courage. The mention of their hero seemed to sprinkle a bit of hope into the mix. Agatha wiped her tears with the back of her hand and sniffled softly.
“Really?” she asked, her voice still shaky but now laced with curiosity.
“Really!” Alaric affirmed with a nod. “We’ll gather our courage and face those monsters head-on! Just like Leonard would!”
With that promise hanging between them like a shimmering thread of bravery, the three children began to imagine themselves as mighty heroes—their laughter rang out like chimes in the wind, mixing delight with just a sprinkle of fright as they spun tales of magic and beasts.
Azrael remained silent as the children continued their spirited bickering about what kind of heroes they would become. Their innocent chatter echoed in his mind, but the shadows of his thoughts were far from playful. The topic of the prophecy lingered, settling like a heavy fog in his chest.
“Does… Your Grace believe in that too?” Magnus, who had been standing nearby and overheard the entire conversation, ventured to ask, his voice tinged with hesitance and curiosity.
“Hmm?” Azrael snapped out of his trance at the sound of Magnus’s voice, turning his head toward his right-hand man with a puzzled expression that barely concealed the turmoil within.
“The prophecy,” Magnus repeated, his gaze searching for answers in Azrael’s cold eyes.
Time seemed to freeze as Azrael contemplated his response. His gaze dropped to the scattered bits of rubble on the ground, each fragment a reminder of battles fought and lost.
“No.” The word escaped him like a stone cast into a dark abyss, devoid of warmth or conviction. Without another glance, he began to walk away toward the camp, leaving Magnus with little time to ponder the truth behind the duke's dismissive answer.
Deep within him simmered an unshakeable resentment—a festering disdain for the hero known as Leonard Eldori. It gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast, an inexplicable hatred that he could not fully understand. Leonard was celebrated as the savior, the one who united all under a banner of hope. Yet to Azrael, he was nothing more than a shining beacon of everything he despised—a symbol of light that overshadowed his own darkness.
We are nothing alike. The thought spiraled through Azrael's mind, sharp and bitter.
They entered the tent and Azrel immediately sat down upon arriving—no words or expressions were exchanged between the two as the tense atmosphere remained. Magnus proceeded towards his desk with a more deliberate and purposeful step, his entire stance signaling that he intended to relay another report or information.
"Despite the improvements in the living conditions of the people, their fear remains another issue to be addressed."
"Fear?" he echoed, his voice low and dangerous.
“Yes,” Magnus continued, emboldened by Azrael's momentary silence. "Now that the barrier is fixed and their safety is secure, there's been talk among the people about the cause of the earthquake."
Azrael's eyebrow raised slightly while his gaze remained cold and firm, as if he were prompting his right-hand man to go into further detail with his statement.
"Although the prophecy is commonly used to terrify children, some have actually come to believe that it may contain some truths."
The scene of three frightened children discussing ancient tales flashed through Azrael's mind—a vivid reminder of innocence tainted by shadows. He tried to recall the inscriptions he had studied at the Holy Temple, words etched into stone that spoke of calamity and chaos.
“What do they say?” Azrael asked tersely, turning to face Magnus fully now, his cold gaze piercing through the dim light.
“They believe that when the ground shakes, it heralds the awakening of ancient horrors,” Magnus replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
The prophecy is so old and dated that some may even say it has been forgotten and relegated to nothing more than a children's rhyme. Though it has become increasingly watered down over the generations, the origin of the prophecy still dates back several millennia.
If I remember correctly from what I read when I was at the Holy Temple, the prophecy was formally written...
The era of peace will endure even after the hero's demise. But as the ground trembles, arousing the dark beasts lying dormant in the shadows—the chosen sucessor shall emerge along with its master.
The shadows shall seep forth and blanket all.
Darkness shall descend.
—Rather ominous, that's for sure. Perhaps that's why people chose to forget about the prophecy in the first place.
Azrael remained silent and still for some time, attempting to decipher the true message or underlying meaning of the revelation. I'm sure there were more written.
The chilling weight of the message settled heavily in the air, its foreboding nature amplified by a shocking truth: it didn’t arise from some otherworldly creature or malevolent entity, but from the lips of a mere mortal. Leonard was the sole survivor of his party after the catastrophic war with the Shadow King—so his words undoubtedly carried great meaning and weight as he was the one and only individual who could provide a firsthand account of the events that had transpired in that tragic battle.
“Let them cower in fear,” the duke scoffed, masking the turmoil within him. “Fear is a tool; it can be wielded against them.” A sly grin crept across Azrael's face at the thought, a wicked delight sparking in his eyes. At least it would keep the emperor and that insufferable minister off his back for a while.
“I'm deeply concern for your sense of humour, Your Grace." His right hand man sighed, his voice tinged with exasperation as he watched Azrael chuckle softly, the sound almost melodic yet laced with an unsettling edge.
"What if it is not just fear?” Magnus continued to press on, concern etching lines across his brow. “What if there is truth behind those tales? We cannot ignore what lies beneath our feet.”
Azrael’s heart raced at Magnus's words—a mixture of emotions swirling within him. Centuries had indeed passed since the great hero's passing, and yet nothing had occurred that could signal the truth behind the message and give it legitimacy.
This had caused the people to slowly dismiss the prophecy, convinced that it was simply an outdated and archaic item that held no basis in current times.
It seems your sacrifice was all for naught, huh, Leo? Azrael mused, a twisted sense of amusement flickering across his features as he recalled the irony of the great hero’s fate. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a reflection of the turmoil that churned within him. Yet, just as quickly as that amusement surfaced, his composure returned, the mask of indifference settling back into place as he remembered the presence of the commander at his side.
He straightened himself, forcing his thoughts away from the haunting legacy of Leonard Eldori—the lone human warrior who had emerged victorious while leaving shadows in his wake. The solitary champion whose light had blinded many to the darkness that still lingered beneath the surface.
While most had dismissed or forgotten Leonard's warnings as mere folklore, one group clung to them with fervent devotion: the Holy Temple. Despite their modern beliefs and forward-thinking ideals, they remained steadfast in their conviction that the prophecy was not just a relic of the past but a looming reality waiting to unfold.
A surge of conflicting emotions washed over Azrael at the thought of the temple. How could they not see? he thought bitterly. The prophecy was not a promise; it was a curse—a reminder that even heroes could falter and fall. The duke had spent countless nights during his youth in the temple’s shadowy halls, poring over ancient texts inscribed with prophecies that seemed to mock him.
He could almost hear the whispers echoing through those sacred walls, reverberating with faith and certainty—faith he could never muster for himself.
“Your Grace?” Magnus’s voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present moment. Azrael’s gaze hardened as he met his right-hand man’s questioning eyes.
“Perhaps this is why Aurian tasked me with uncovering the origin of the earthquake,” the duke mused, pushing aside his conflicting thoughts as he often did. He brushed off Magnus's earlier statement, unwilling to dwell on the implications.
“It seems His Majesty has placed considerable trust in you by entrusting you with this matter,” Magnus remarked, his words hanging heavily in the air. The gravity of such responsibility loomed over Azrael like a storm cloud. Success in this endeavor could elevate him within the capital, earning him the emperor's favor and solidifying his power. Yet failure would threaten to unravel the fragile stability of his relationship with the ruler of Eldoria.
“That is indeed a concern,” Azrael scoffed, his voice slicing through the tense silence of the tent. The weight of his duties pressed down on him like an iron shroud. “I must first stabilize the situation in Triskellion.”
“As the situation is precarious, remind your men not to stoke public fear by spreading speculative hearsay,” Azrael instructed, his voice steady but laced with urgency. The recent tremors were troubling enough, but the relentless attacks from the Nightteeth posed an even greater threat, complicating any efforts to sway public sentiment.
“Of course, they know better than to gossip,” Magnus replied swiftly, his tone confident.
Azrael remained still, nodding in acknowledgment of Magnus's assurance. Yet a slight twinge of annoyance stirred within him at the thought of his problems compounding despite his efforts to resolve previous issues.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Determined to tackle this matter with meticulous and calculated precision, he steeled himself for the challenges ahead. The irritation simmering beneath the surface would have to be addressed later—once he had managed the current crisis with the utmost care.
"I'll address the situation to the public," Azrael stated, his voice calm but determined as he outlined a plan in motion. "Hopefully, that can ease them for the time being."
“There is little we can do to allay their fears; people’s beliefs are theirs alone,” Magnus added, attempting to reassure the duke. He recognized the limitations of their influence over the public’s convictions.
“I will take a small unit into the Ethereal Forest,” Azrael replied, his nod firm as he outlined the next phase of his strategic plan.
“Pardon? But who will oversee the territory in your absence?” Magnus’s voice was tinged with concern and confusion, clearly taken aback by the duke’s suggestion.
“I am leaving that responsibility to you,” Azrael stated matter-of-factly, as if the answer were self-evident.
“M-me?! But the forest is fraught with danger. The Nightteeth are more active since the earthquake!” Magnus countered immediately, his voice rising in protest as he pushed back against the plan.
“I have complete faith in your ability to safeguard Triskellion while I’m away.” Azrael’s response was calm and straightforward, his composure unshaken despite Magnus's evident discomfort. “I’ll be bringing knights from Eldoria instead.”
Magnus's eyes widened at this revelation. “Are you planning to bring Sage, at least?” he asked, his tone respectful and devoid of dissent. He understood the inherent risks of leaving Azrael without any of his own men, knowing that the loyalty of Eldoria’s knights lay firmly with Aurian.
“She is needed to oversee the injured and their treatment. Her skills are essential in this situation,” Azrael explained, choosing his words carefully to help Magnus see the broader picture. “My abilities will allow me to locate the elders with relative ease,” he added, reinforcing his rationale.
By providing this explanation, Azrael aimed not only to clarify his intentions but also to ease Magnus’s concerns, mirroring the comfort Magnus would offer him in similar circumstances.
After a brief pause, Magnus nodded in agreement, though a hint of uncertainty lingered in his expression. Nevertheless, he accepted Azrael's reasoning and planned course of action.
“Very well. I will instruct the populace to gather in the town square for your address,” Magnus replied with a resolute nod.
The duke's resolve hardened as he faced the reality before him—a precarious balance between ambition and obligation, where every decision could tip the scales toward either triumph or ruin.
----------------------------------------
It's cold.
Her eyes, rich and vivid in their purple hue, drifted downwards, drawn to the dark, mirrored surface beneath her. The darkness stared back at her—a twisted reflection of herself, her purple irises glowing like two lonely beacons in the depths of her glossy, despair-laden gaze.
The illusory grass beneath her feet, woven entirely of light, felt alien compared to the gentle, yielding touch of the real grass she remembered from the forest. The genuine earth had once cushioned her steps, soft and pliant, while the light now in her grasp was cold and rigid, an empty mimicry of nature’s touch. The contrast between them was painfully stark—one alive, the other a lifeless mockery.
She was alone now, truly alone. After the elder spirits had cast her into slumber to determine her fate, Iris had awakened in this hollow place. In those first few hours, a surge of euphoria had overtaken her—a joy so intense that she felt almost weightless, as if finally freed from her curse. Her touch, which once brought ruin, seemed to leave no mark. She moved through the space with an optimism she’d never dared to feel, her hands brushing against leaves, branches, anything she could find, and for the first time, nothing withered beneath her fingers.
For a fleeting moment, she knew what it meant to be normal.
But as the hours passed, that joy began to unravel, thread by thread. The realization struck, slow and heavy: none of it was real. The life surrounding her was nothing but a clever illusion—a hollow, empty echo of the world she longed for. The forest, once bursting with the sounds of birdsong and the rustling of unseen creatures, now stood still and silent, a bleak stage set for a play that had long since ended.
The air hung stagnant, devoid of warmth or life, and the peace she had once felt here had evaporated, replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The sky above held no breeze, no promise, just a flat expanse. Every tree, every blade of grass was a mere imitation, lifeless and unfeeling.
The vibrant world she thought she had touched was nothing but a lie.
None of it is real.
Seeing what she touched did not bring about a grim death, and for a fleeting moment, ease washed over Iris's mind. Yet, that relief was quickly ensnared by an unsettling weight that coiled around her heart like a serpent.
It felt as if a part of her—something essential, something core—was being shunned, blocked, or sealed away within this dreary chamber. An uncomfortable sensation clawed at her insides, a desperate plea urging her to flee.
This is not my place.
This is not right.
This isn’t where I’m meant to be.
“Stop it!” Iris shouted, her voice echoing off the cold, stone walls as she pressed her hands against her face, trying to muffle the cacophony rising within her mind. The voices grew louder, their whispers twisting into a chaotic symphony of despair.
The silence of this fabricated setting only served to amplify their cries, each one a jagged shard piercing through her resolve. She felt herself teetering on the brink of madness, the relentless chorus threatening to consume her whole.
No matter how fiercely she fought to silence them, they remained—persistent phantoms haunting the recesses of her thoughts, clawing at the very fabric of her being. In that moment, Iris realized she was trapped not just in this chamber but within herself—a labyrinth of shadows and echoes from which there seemed no escape.
"Why am I even here? What purpose do I bring to this world?"
The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper, as Iris slowly pushed her hair back from her forehead. Her fingers trembled slightly, the weight of her thoughts pressing down, heavy and relentless. A thousand questions filled her mind, swirling like a storm with no end, and she could feel herself sinking beneath them—pulled under by the gravity of her own doubts.
Desperation clawed at her chest, a frantic need to connect to something—anything. To find even the smallest glimmer of warmth that could cut through the cold void growing inside her. She needed something to hold onto, some anchor to pull her back from the endless chasm of her own thoughts. The voices in her head hissed and muttered, a chorus of her fears that tangled and twisted until she could scarcely breathe.
But what was it she needed? Or maybe, who was it?
Desperate, she closed her eyes and dug deep into her mind, searching for any shred of memory she could cling to, any fragment of her past that might bring a sense of direction, a reason to keep moving. But the memories eluded her, slipping through her fingers like smoke.
It's been days since I awoke, she thought, and still, that person hasn’t come.
Or maybe they did. Maybe they’re searching for me now, lost in this world, just as I am.
The realization struck her like a blow, tightening her chest until it felt as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. The thought of them searching—wandering endlessly, unable to reach her—filled her with a new kind of dread, one that felt like a vice closing around her heart.
I never should have come here. Now I'm all alone. Trapped.
The words echoed through her mind, each one sinking deeper, like stones falling into a dark well. The emptiness around her felt vast and hollow, a cage with no doors, and the more she struggled against it, the tighter it held her.
“Tsk tsk.” The casual, dismissive sound jolted Iris from her thoughts, her gaze snapping up to find Inanis emerging from one of the artificial trees, his presence as imposing as a shadow stretching across her path. He stood there with his usual firm stance and cold gaze, a figure carved from darkness.
“Ah, for someone I believed to be innocent, you carry quite the load of pessimism.” His words dripped with an unsettling amusement, like poison laced with honey.
Iris felt a chill creep down her spine, the unexpected glimmer in his eyes doing nothing to quell the rising tide of unease that churned within her. It was as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath her shifting like sand, ready to swallow her whole.
As he loomed closer, she felt the air thicken around them, pressing in like a heavy fog that wrapped around her throat. Her thoughts spiraled wildly, each one a frantic whisper echoing in the dark corners of her mind—Why is he here?
The questions clawed at her insides like desperate hands reaching for escape. She could sense the weight of his presence, an oppressive force that threatened to crush her spirit beneath its enormity. The laughter in his voice felt like shards of glass, cutting through the fragile veil of her composure.
In this moment, Iris was acutely aware of how alone she truly was. The shadows danced around them, twisting and writhing like phantoms eager to consume her fears. She stood on the brink of something unknown, teetering between curiosity and dread as Inanis closed the distance between them.
Why is he approaching me? What does he want?
“Oh, I’d like quite a lot from you.” Inanis grinned, halting just a few steps away, his smile sharp and predatory, like a wolf eyeing its prey. Iris felt her body tense at the sound of his voice; it slithered through the air, wrapping around her like a constricting vine, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat echoing like a war drum in the oppressive silence. Huh? Could he read my mind?
As if plucking the thought straight from her mind, he chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver racing down her spine. The laughter was like ice water poured over flames, extinguishing any flicker of comfort she might have felt. Suddenly, every instinct screamed at her to flee, as the air thickened with an unsettling tension.
“But first, I would like to earn your trust.” His words dripped with honeyed malice, a snake charming its victim with a casual and dismissive tone that belied the danger lurking beneath.
Iris felt confusion and wariness swirl within her like a storm. The juxtaposition of his playful demeanor against the chill in his eyes twisted her stomach into knots. Trust? The very notion felt like a cruel joke whispered in the dark, where shadows danced and secrets festered.
With each passing second, she could feel the ground shifting beneath her feet, as if she were standing on the edge of an abyss.
Inanis was no mere man; he was an enigma wrapped in shadows, and Iris was acutely aware that she was teetering on the brink of something far more sinister than she could comprehend.
“I don’t have anything to offer you.” Iris glanced away, her voice barely a whisper, as if her words could dissolve into the shadows. The weight of her unease hung heavily around her, a shroud that wrapped tightly around her shoulders, making her feel small and vulnerable.
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. You have something very valuable to me.” Inanis’s grin sliced through the air like a knife, leaving a trail of mixed emotions in its wake. Confusion danced in Iris’s mind like flickering candle flames, each one casting distorted shadows on her thoughts.
Valuable? Me? The idea echoed in her head, reverberating like a haunting melody. The notion that she could possess worth beyond mere destruction sent a flutter through her heart—a fragile bird caught in a storm of wonderment and surprise. Yet, beneath that flicker of hope lay an undercurrent of dread; the sudden kindness from the snake felt like a deceptive mirage shimmering in the distance.
As his gaze bore into her, Iris felt the ground shift beneath her feet. Inanis’s presence loomed larger, an ominous shadow stretching across her reality, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that his intentions were as murky as the depths of a darkened well.
With each passing moment, the air thickened with tension, wrapping around her throat like a noose.
"Did you not... speak up about this to the council?" Iris’s voice trembled, laced with wariness and doubt. Her heart raced like a caged bird flapping wildly against the bars of its prison, each beat echoing her unease. Inanis had never been her advocate; his eyes had always stalked her like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Even though the circumstances may seem unbelievable, I truly did vote for your freedom.” His words slithered through the air, leaving a trail of confusion that wrapped around her mind like creeping ivy.
“Y-you did?” The revelation struck her like a sudden gust of wind, making her drop the barriers she had subconsciously erected.
Inanis nodded, his expression a mask of feigned sincerity. “But alas, Queen Neris prevailed.”
“W-well, it is for the greater good. All of you are just looking out for others.” Iris spoke up, but her voice quivered like a fragile leaf caught in a storm, sounding more like a desperate attempt to convince herself than an assertion of truth.
“Is it though?” Inanis’s question hung in the air like a thick fog, obscuring her thoughts and leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
“Huh?” The question caught Iris off guard, echoing the very thoughts that had been trapped in her mind like whispers in a haunted chamber.
“You’ve proclaimed that it’s for the greater good. Yet, I question ‘for whom,’ truly, is it beneficial?” Inanis’s genuine inquiry pierced through the fog of her confusion, bringing a tear to her eye. The idea that someone might share her perspective felt like a fragile ray of sunlight breaking through the oppressive clouds of despair, igniting a flicker of hope in her heart.
In that moment, she felt understood. The simple act of having her thoughts validated unleashed a torrent of emotions within her—a deluge that threatened to sweep her away.
A fleeting look of discomfort crossed Inanis’s face as he registered the unexpected effect his words had on her. “Goodness, I didn’t even intend to mock you.”
“S-sorry... I’m not sad,” she muttered, casting her gaze downward, shame washing over her like a cold wave. She wiped away the tear that had escaped, trying to regain control as if she could gather the scattered pieces of herself and reassemble them. Her chuckle came out shaky yet tinged with relief, a fragile sound that echoed in the stillness.
“I’m... just relieved.” For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she sensed a glimmer of connection—an anchor in the stormy seas of her mind. It was a small comfort in a world that had often felt cold and unyielding.
The serpent remained silent, his cold eyes fixed on the girl, his gaze lingering on her longer than she could bear. His pupils widened, dark slits expanding as he considered her words, a flicker of something almost like amusement crossing his reptilian face.
He hadn’t expected such innocence, such raw naivety, and it made her all the more intriguing to him.
“You’re rather simple,” he muttered, his voice a low hiss that barely reached her ears.
Iris frowned, tilting her head slightly, trying to catch the meaning behind his words. “What was that?” she asked, her voice fragile, unsure.
The serpent's lips curled into something resembling a smile—cruel and knowing. “You’ve just awoken, am I wrong? Who are we to deny you the freedom you deserve?” He dismissed her question with a flick of his forked tongue, as though her confusion was merely an inconvenience.
Iris felt her chest tighten, her heart a bird caught in a snare. “I am aware of the destruction I can cause,” she said, her voice small as she looked away, her gaze falling to the cold, lifeless ground. It was a futile effort to escape his scrutiny, the weight of his stare a heavy stone pressing into her shoulders.
“And you believe hiding away in this chamber is the answer?” The spirit’s tone shifted, curiosity giving way to disbelief, a hint of disappointment curling around his words like smoke.
Anger surged through Iris then, sudden and fierce, like a firestorm raging through her veins. The irony of it all clawed at her—this prison of false peace, a consequence of their decisions, their judgment. “Then what do you expect me to do?!” she shouted, her voice cracking, each word edged with a sharp, desperate pain.
The serpent watched her, unblinking, his icy blue eyes reflecting nothing of her turmoil. He let the silence stretch, savoring her anguish, before he spoke again, his words soft but cutting, like a whisper of a blade. “What if I told you I have the power to grant your wish?”
"W-what...?" Iris’s breath caught, her eyes widening as she stared at him, a flicker of hope cutting through the storm of her emotions—a cruel, taunting light. The offer hung between them, heavy and dark, the promise of something she longed for but dared not believe.
the spirit snapped, his voice cracking like a whip, sharp and unyielding, “the terms of this arrangement were never equitable from the start.” The sudden edge in his words made Iris flinch, as though he had struck her. The air around them seemed to tighten, pressing against her lungs until every breath felt like a struggle.
“What do you mean by that?” she managed, her voice barely a whisper, the question hanging in the cold, heavy silence between them.
Inanis rolled his eyes, a flash of irritation passing through his reptilian features, the movement as fluid and dismissive as a wave crashing against a jagged shore. “It’s futile to argue with a pair of lovers,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain as he referred to the fairy king and the water spirit, each word laced with bitterness.
Iris opened her mouth to ask more, but the serpent's gaze hardened, his slitted pupils narrowing, and he continued before she could speak. “Petros will come for you, and I assure you—he does not hold benevolent intentions.”
The words hit her like a dagger plunged into her chest. Fear surged through her, icy and consuming, her body tensing as though she could already feel Petros’s grasp closing around her. Her heart pounded, each beat reverberating in her ears, drowning out all other thoughts.
“Our time is limited, so I insist that you make a decision quickly.” The serpent’s voice slithered through the air, wrapping around Iris like a cold fog, his sudden proximity causing her to flinch. She felt as if she had been yanked from the depths of a trance, where thoughts of the terrifying earth creature had ensnared her like vines tightening around a weary traveler.
“Do you accept my offer?”