The corridor stretched before us, steeped in a chill so profound it seemed to slither across the skin and burrow deep into the bones. Elowen halted at my side, her face taut with unease, her restless eyes darting over the quivering shadows that clung to the walls.
— "I think there are people in the hall," she murmured, her voice a faint thread, nearly lost in the enveloping gloom.
I offered no immediate reply. My gaze drifted to the murky shapes ahead, swaying like phantoms beneath a feeble light that spilled from some unknown source. A muted hum—perhaps voices—seeped through the crevices of the heavy wooden door. With a slow, almost idle shrug, I broke the silence.
— "If you say so."
Her head snapped toward me, swift as a lash, her eyes glinting with irritation.
— "Nael, that face of yours like you don't give a damn gets on my nerves."
I stopped mid-step. Turning to face her, I let my expression settle into a blank slate, an unreadable canvas. It was my way—always had been—a fortress wall too steep for anyone to scale.
— "Good for you. Now walk."
Elowen let out a sharp, clipped huff but fell in behind me. Her footsteps rang out, resolute and firm, echoing through the corridor, while mine drifted silent, as though I scarcely grazed the floor. The air hung thick and oppressive, a weight that seemed intent on shoving us back—an unspoken caution neither of us had sought.
We reached the hall's towering doors, carved from dark wood and crowned with iron handles that bit into my fingers with their icy touch. For a fleeting moment, the world stilled. It was as if everything paused, holding its breath alongside me.
I pushed.
The doors groaned open, their screech slicing the air—raw and piercing, like a cry stifled for centuries. Beyond them, the murmur of voices faded, drowned in a silence as dense as lead. Eyes turned to me—dozens of them—pinning me with a mix of astonishment, wariness, and dread.
The hall unfurled before me, vast and bathed in an eerie glow. No candles flickered here; instead, a strange yellowish light poured from lamps suspended overhead. They defied naming—neither electric nor gas, they simply were, pulsing faintly as if alive. The dark wooden walls drank in the radiance, casting long, sinuous shadows that sprawled across the floor.
I took a step forward.
The burden of those stares trailed me, yet I stood unshaken. My face remained an icy mask, sculpted and unyielding, a shield I'd worn since time unremembered. Commanding a room like this—bending it to my will with nothing but presence—was no novelty. Behind me, Elowen lingered at the threshold, her trembling palpable, the air pressing down on her like a vise.
— "Are you going to stay there?" My voice cut through the stillness, dry and unyielding. I didn't glance back.
She moved forward, though each step seemed to chip away at her resolve. Stiff and taut, she resembled a creature cornered, trapped by instinct. I saw it all—every twitch, every falter—as I always did, but I gave nothing away. I pressed on, my eyes sweeping the room: the anxious faces, the hands clenched in quiet tension, the odd light mirrored in their widened gazes.
— "Nael." Her whisper drifted to me, soft and nearly swallowed.
— "No." I severed her words before they could take root and continued walking.
Then, from the far side of the hall, the gates shuddered open. The sound rolled through—a deep, resonant thunder that shook the floor beneath us. The tension in the air coiled tighter, transforming into something alive, something that choked the breath from the room. And he stepped in.
He was a figure of striking presence, tall and commanding, yet shadowed by an indefinable wrongness. His face, smooth and almost boyish, bore delicate lines that might have belonged to a woman. A black blindfold cloaked his eyes, a barrier that devoured any hope of deciphering him. Snow-white hair spilled across his brow, gleaming under the uncanny light, a stark contrast to his dark, flawless skin—skin so perfect it seemed unreal. From head to toe, he was clad in black, the fabric melding to him as though it were an extension of his being.
And behind him, her.
She didn't walk—she glided, a vision in a silver gown that shimmered with audacious, perilous elegance. Her hair moved like a living mist, a blur that defied stillness, and her eyes—Lord above, those eyes—gleamed silver, molten and alive, like mercury caught in motion. They seized the light and hurled it back, mesmerizing, ravenous.
Her form was a marvel, curves carved with an artistry that mocked reason itself—a seamless weave of power and allure, a dual-edged blade promising beauty and whispering death. A veil shrouded her face, yet its presence was unnecessary; her magnetism was undeniable, a force that stole the air from every chest in the room.
My eyes lingered on her, a heartbeat too long.
— "Tang Jun, stop drooling." Mei Xiu's voice slashed through the haze at my side, sharp as a blade, tinged with a sour edge that hinted at jealousy.
I swallowed hard, words tangling in my throat, unable to surface.
They advanced, their steps resounding like the beat of a war drum. The hall seemed to contract in their wake, diminished by their sheer existence. Every gaze was riveted—how could it not be? She was a lodestone, drawing desire and terror in equal measure. He, beside her, blindfolded and silent, was a riddle too daunting to unravel.
Who are they? The question pounded in my skull, relentless and urgent.
I stepped forward, my boots striking the marble with a sound that bounced off the walls. The hall's silence swallowed me whole, but I knew him. The black boy.
— "Long time no see, black boy." My voice emerged light, teasing—a familiar jab I tossed out like a pebble into still water, waiting for the ripples.
He turned his head toward me. Though the blindfold veiled his eyes, I felt the weight of an unseen stare.
— "No need for so much drama. It was just a few weeks."
A half-smile tugged at my lips, one corner lifting.
— "Don't talk like that, or you'll hurt your big brother's heart. I am your older brother, after all."
He offered no response, standing there like a statue carved from secrets. And I? I watched him—the black boy who bore the weight of the entire hall without effort, without intent.
He remained rigid, an effigy of ice, his blindfolded face a void of emotion. The room's scrutiny pressed upon us—countless eyes, eager and probing—but it failed to unsettle me. We were the pulse of this moment, whether we willed it or not.
— "How long have you been awake?" I asked, tilting my head, fishing for more than the scraps he usually spared.
— "A few weeks." His voice sliced the air, crisp and detached, as if reciting the hour.
I folded my arms, an eyebrow arching in quiet defiance.
— "And in all those weeks, it didn't occur to you to look for me?"
— "I was at the Duke's house. Had matters to attend to." His words were doled out sparingly, each one measured, as if he rationed them for me alone.
The hall, once alive with laughter and chatter, had fallen into a hushed abyss. Guests stood frozen, glasses poised midair, enthralled by our exchange. The marble floor gleamed coldly, reflecting the light, while the air thickened, nearly tangible.
— "They're all looking, you know?" I murmured, a wisp of irony threading my tone.
— "It's not our fault if we shine brighter than them." His reply came swift and unflinching, so blunt I nearly laughed.
There we stood, twin flames on an unasked-for stage, burning fiercely though we'd never sought the blaze.
— "And how did you disappear out of nowhere?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes, digging for more.
He tilted his head slightly, his face an unchanging mask.
— "I'm not sure. It's all… jumbled."
I sighed, a theatrical flourish, arms flung wide in mock exasperation.
— "You really don't remember me?" I teased, my voice dripping with playful sweetness.
He paused, then spoke, his words heavy, deliberate, like stones dropped into a well.
— "I remember pieces. Some boys… dragged me. Threw me off a cliff. When I opened my eyes, that old man already had everything ready to tie me down. He knew I wasn't awake, but still threw me into a marriage I never asked for. It's like this: when you think you've hit rock bottom, there's always another step down."
A crooked grin slipped free, though I stifled the laugh. The absurdity of it, delivered with such calm, bordered on the comical.
— "And who's the lucky lady?" I tossed out, a spark dancing in my eyes.
He turned to me—or rather, the blindfold did. The void he carried was sharp, lethal.
— "I don't know. I don't remember. And I don't want to remember. But if I cross paths with her and she opens her mouth about it, I'll drive a stake through her chest and end the conversation."
His words landed like a muffled thunderclap, spoken with the ease of a man requesting water. The hall gasped as one, the silence growing oppressive, stifling.
As he spoke, a faint stir caught my eye in the room's corner. Xia Xiang, among the disciples of the Master of the Pink Clouds Peak, stiffened. Her silver eyes flickered rapidly, a subtle crack in the serene veil she wore. The bride. Her presence loomed like a shadow unseen by others, but I felt it. His words had struck a nerve, though he remained oblivious.
I saw it. Of course I did. But I let it slide, as if the air hadn't shifted. The game wasn't over.
— "No comment. So why did you come here?" I cut in, steering us to the point.
He faced me—or whatever passed for facing beneath that blindfold. His aura was a blade, keen and unyielding.
— "You made me a promise." His voice dipped low, laced with menace. — "And I don't break my word, even if you abused my trust when I wasn't in control. Speak up."
The air in the hall grew dense, as if every soul had forgotten how to breathe. Eyes darted between us, ravenous for the next move, yet no one dared shatter the quiet. The tension stretched taut, a thread on the verge of snapping.
He stood immovable, a granite wall impatient with delay. Escape was not an option—I knew it well.
I stepped forward. My boot struck the marble, the sound reverberating through the hush. Another step. The air resisted, pushing against me, but I pressed on. A promise was a promise, and he—with his unrelenting fidelity—bound me to it, crowd or no.
I halted mere paces from him, the cold floor anchoring my feet, the hall's heavy air bearing down on my shoulders. I drew a deep breath, its sound a blade through the void.
— "I am Kaelan Drakarys."
My voice rang out, steady yet weighted, as though it carried the burden of ages. The name struck the hall and detonated in silence—a thunder without sound. Faces pivoted toward me, eyes wide, jaws slack. Until that instant, I'd been Tang Jun—a faceless figure, unremarkable. Now, the air thrummed, their stares piercing like a thousand needles.