Chapter 119:
"Since the medallion's light faded, hours—or perhaps centuries—had passed. Time held no meaning in this place."
Varek, still cradling Aisha's unconscious form, stepped into a portal that shimmered into existence before him. Shadows danced around his figure, cloaking him in darkness. It was a space between worlds, a refuge he had created long ago—a place where neither demons nor fate could reach them.
Upon crossing the threshold, they arrived in a vast field blanketed by silver mist, bathed in the pale light of a moon that belonged to no known sky. Silence reigned, save for the soft whisper of the wind, as if it spoke directly to Varek.
Varek didn't expect her to love him. Not yet.But if, when she awoke, she looked for him first—even just with her eyes—Then this sanctuary, this abyss, would have all been worth it.
He laid her down with great care on a bed of white flowers, blooming from the soil like a sigh of magic.This field hadn't always been full of blossoms. Before he claimed it, it was a prison. A reflection of the abyss where Velmior once confined his failed vessels. But Varek had made it sacred—not through power, but through love.
There was a time when it had been only black earth and the screams of the damned.Until he claimed it. Until he decided—for once—the refuge would belong to him.
The field, now a fleeting sanctuary, breathed in silence. His gaze, a storm of guilt, tenderness, and fierce resolve, clung to her like a final beacon.
"I always knew fate would endanger you, Aisha," he whispered, caressing her cheek with trembling fingers. "But I swear, no one will take you from me. Not this time."
Each doubt made the ground groan beneath his feet. Each fear, one less flower.
Deep within her mind, Aisha floated in warm light—like a sunrise trapped in time. Familiar voices danced around her: Rasen… Varek… Moira… Sweet echoes, distant, almost unreal.
"In the dance of voices, another joined: a warm, faint spark. Too young to speak, yet strong enough to be heard."
Where am I? she wondered. Am I alive… or just dreaming of what I wish to save?
And amid the silence, one word surfaced, soft as breeze, heavy with forgotten promises:"Home."
The sanctuary's wind stilled. The flowers trembled—not from breeze, but from something unseen. The light dimmed for just an instant, as if something—or someone—had brushed against it.
Varek felt it: a crack in the calm. A shadow drawing near.
Then, a whisper shattered the stillness—deep and thunderous, like a storm trapped in darkness:"You think you can hide her from me, brother?"
The voice belonged to Sariel. His spectral form began to materialize, resembling Rasen's body but wrapped in menace and shadow.
"This place is beyond your reach, Sariel," Varek growled, stepping between Aisha and the phantom. "Here, she's protected."
These white flowers only bloom when someone still believes they can protect what they love, he thought. But even then… even now… can't they die all the same?
Sariel let out a low, mocking laugh that echoed like a sinister ripple.
"Protected? From what? From me?" His crimson eyes glowed. "You can't shield her from her fate, Varek. Not even you can fight what's written. I don't care about your secrets. I care what you'll do… when she wakes—and chooses neither of you."
Varek didn't flinch. But behind him, one white flower withered without reason. Darkness curled around Sariel's path. Because deep down… Varek feared he might be right.
"I'm not welcome here, am I, little brother?"
His gaze drifted briefly to Aisha. She still slept peacefully… unaware of the war raging between them. What if she didn't choose him? What if she saw him only as the monster who helped break this world?
Sariel read his thoughts. He always had. Every second of silence was a confession.
"I won't fight fate," Varek said darkly. "I'll destroy it, if I must."
Sariel stepped closer, though still spectral. His eyes locked on Aisha, whose fingers twitched—beginning to stir.
"She's no longer just Aisha, brother," Sariel murmured, almost melancholic. "She's the bond that ties all of us. Rasen truly loves her. You love her. Even I… can't ignore what she means. And the white wolf, Sanathiel—he fell into his own trap and made her his mate."
Varek cut in, his voice brimming with raw command.
"She is not a prize to fight over. Aisha is free, and I'll make sure she stays that way—even if I must face you or anyone else who dares to chain her."
"Aren't you the one hiding her, like a fearful god? How much of what you call love is truly devotion—and how much… is quiet possession?"
Sariel stared at Varek, his eyes ancient and bright, as if he already knew the end of all things. He said nothing at first. Just a long, searching look. Then, his form began to dissolve—fading into shadows that merged with the night.
His voice, however, remained in the air like a wound left open:
"We'll meet again, brother. No sanctuary lasts forever…And when this one falls—because it will—your heart must choose:To become light…or the flame that consumes what it loves most."
Beneath her closed lids, Aisha walked a field where the sky bore no stars—only memories.
Varek didn't speak. He simply stood, breathing as if the air itself was heavy.
A flower at his feet wilted in silence.
"What if he's right?" he thought. "What if protecting her… is just another kind of prison?"
But he couldn't afford to doubt. Not now.
So he closed his eyes and whispered to himself, a vow still bleeding:
"She will choose.Even if she doesn't choose me."
Each step she took brought her closer to a reflection:One version of herself, wreathed in flame.Another, cloaked in ash.And a third, her eyes glowing like full moons.
"Who will you be when you wake?" they asked in unison.
Aisha didn't reply.She simply lifted her head toward the sanctuary's impossible moon—And smiled.
Because she knew the moment was near.
And then she heard it.Not a voice.A howl—distant. Impossible.
As if the wind itself remembered… what once was eternal.
And still, she did not cry.Because within that impossible echo… there was also a promise:
That love doesn't always die with the body.Sometimes… it changes shape.Sometimes… it becomes strength.
And though it still hurt…
Near the bed of white flowers,a small root pushed its way through the earth…
And with it, the first new leaf.
"And from the crack of that starless world…sprouted the first root of the impossible.Not as a promise.But as a warning.One leaf…and then another.As if the earth knew what had been lost… could still bloom."