Elana's eyes felt heavy as she opened them, the familiar velvet sheets beneath her confirming she was on the bed in the chamber she occupied within the castle.
The memory of the spring surfaced at once—Azael. His touch. His voice. His fingers, unyielding and cold.
She lifted herself slowly, her body still weak, heat blooming in her cheeks at the memory of how thoroughly he had undone her—how he had made her pass out.
Her thoughts rushed to her body. The last she remembered was that she had been naked.
She ran her hands over herself in hurried confirmation.
Still naked.
Only the blanket shielded her.
Cold air drifted in from the balcony, brushing her shoulders and raising a shiver along her spine.
She needed to dress—before anyone came in.
She gathered the blanket tightly to her chest. It felt heavier than it should have.
As she shifted it aside, her fingers met something coarse and unfamiliar.
Fabric.
A dress.
Her breath caught.
Had Azael chosen a dress for her?
A flush spread across her face, a part of her hoping it had been Trisha or Cara instead.
She lifted the garment. Lavender bloomed softly from it.
She had missed it.
Yet it tugged at memories of Naina and Israel, leaving a faint ache beneath the comfort.
She moved into the bathroom, where the scent grew brighter, fresher.
Lavender now dominated the space, overtaking the familiar wisteria.
The realization unsettled her.
Was this his doing too?
The tub was already filled. When she brushed the surface, her fingers met slick warmth—water prepared, lightly soaped with airy lavender.
A smile touched her lips.
It would be nice, she thought, if Azael liked lavender too.
As she lowered herself into the bath, the water rose to her neck, stirring a sharp reminder of the sting there, where he had claimed his monstrosity without apology.
Her fingers traced the wounds.
She should have been afraid. Anyone else would have been.
Instead, her pull toward him had only deepened. She wanted to hold him, to tell him he did not have to become the monster the world insisted he was.
But he would never allow that mercy.
She dressed afterwards with ease. The fabric fit as though it had been made for her. The sleeves slanting delicately off her shoulders—an intentional choice, sparing her still-sensitive neck.
As she approached the door, she paused, suddenly wondering what time of day it was.
The door didn't budge as she tried to open it. Locked.
A soft click followed almost immediately.
She stepped back.
"H-hello," she said, barely above a breath.
"You're awake, Lady Elana." The voice of a minion.
"Yes," she replied, heat returning to her cheeks. Thank the heavens the door had been locked.
"It's night, my lady. Food awaits by your bedside. Shall I arrange it for you?"
Elana's appetite was absent. She wanted to go to the field, but since it was night, she doubted anyone would be there.
"Please, could you take me to the field?" She asked, hoping it wasn't too late.
The minion took her hand, guiding her gently through the halls until they reached the airy expanse of the field, scented with dandelions.
Before the minion could lead her to the stone bench, Elana stopped him.
"I'm okay on my own. You may interfere if my path is unsafe."
It released her.
Elana moved forward, flowers brushing her dress as the untamed night air caught her hair in a slow dance, oddly soothing the sting on her neck.
It was quiet. Safe. Comforting.
Almost like—
"Out here by yourself, little one."
Trisha's voice.
Elana's heart leapt. When had she returned?
"Trisha!" Elana reached out, hoping to grasp her cold, small hands. "I'm so glad you're back."
"Indeed you are, child," Trisha laughed, the sweet sound wrapping Elana in comfort.
Elana turned, still trying to touch her. "Where are you, Trisha? I can't seem to reach you."
"I am here with you, child," Trisha replied, her voice close. "That dress suits you beautifully."
Elana flushed.
So it hadn't been Trisha who chose it—it had been…
"Azael," Elana whispered before she could stop herself.
Trisha chuckled. "He keeps using your disability as a shield."
Elana did not fully grasp the meaning, yet she felt compelled to share the chaos in her heart.
"He confuses me, Trisha." She admitted quietly. "I think I understand him—until I realize I don't."
"He is a complicated man," Trisha agreed. "But all of it stems from one truth: he only wants to protect you."
"He isn't a monster," Elana said, clenching her fists. "Even if he may hurt me someday. Sometimes he infuriates me. Why is it so difficult to want someone who wants you back?"
"You are pure, child," Trisha said gently. "Not merely in body, where it matters. The soul.
And that purity stands in sharp contrast to how Azael sees himself—and what he believes he deserves."
"But I want him," Elana's shoulders sagged as the reality that she might soon leave the castle and not hear his voice again closed in on her.
"I don't mind what he thinks of himself."
"And because of that," Trisha continued. "You judge him not as others do, but as he once was."
"Once was?" Elana asked, a little surprised.
"Life reshapes even the purest souls," Trisha said. "Some never find the one meant to pull them from the void in that lifetime.
Humans experience one lifetime but a vampire experiences multiple, sometimes endless."
"He's a good man," Elana said softly. "Isn't he?"
"My sweet Zel," Trisha's voice grew heavier. "Only misjudged by those he once protected—the world he laid down his humanity for."
Elana fell silent—sympathy simmering between them.
"Elana," Trisha said at last. "In truth, I am tempted to tell you to hold on to him and never let go. To protect that fragile spark…."
The night stilled.
"Trisha?"
"But it is dangerous," Trisha continued. "His pain has carved sins that will not allow an easy path. It will either ruin him—or you.
And believe me, Elana. Azael would choose his own ruin before yours."
"But I don't mind," Elana said. "I won't judge him."
"Not you, child," Trisha replied, her voice as close as the wind. "The world. Those who know him only as a monster."
"But you and I know him," Elana insisted, still feeling frustrated with not being able to hold Trisha.
"I am no longer of this world, child," Trisha said, her voice drifting away.
Elana's heart dropped—what did she mean?
"I don't care if you're a vampire, Trisha. I don't hold it against you."
"You will understand soon enough," Trisha said, her voice now fading to a whisper in the wind.
"But just in case, you stay—through the chaos and turmoil fate brings—until then, take care of him for me, Elana."
"I don't understand," Elana said.
The wind answered her.
"Trisha?"
No response.
She was gone.
Why did it feel like she was saying goodbye?
**
Azael watched the brutal transformation of a desperate human male into a wolf through the eyes of his bats, perched deeply within the wild reaches of Lumere Kingdom.
His jaw tightened. The terror radiating from the creature marked it unmistakably—a newly turned lycan.
"He's moving, lord Azael," Evren said. "We must act."
Azael turned to Evren and Thorne, who stood before him in the throne room. "This conflict is between Fen and me. It shouldn't escalate further."
"You believe that because you possess honor, my lord," Thorne said grimly. "Fen does not. He is reckless—and already proving it."
Azael studied them both. He was trying to prevent a war that would involve anyone around him at the moment—especially Elana.
Fen was exploiting his weakness, and only Azael knew it.
From their last battle, Fen had learned the limits of his power.
Thorne and Evren watched him, the urge to release their grief over Trisha's death burned in their eyes.
He understood it well; the feral part of that same grief that had made him reckless in his fight against Fen.
"I will speak with him," Azael said at last. "I will propose reason before violence."
"He doesn't deserve reason," Thorne said bitterly, fists clenched.
"It was my mindlessness that led to this," Azael replied. "It is only fair that I'm the one to offer reason first."
"Then allow us to accompany you—hidden," Evren said. "To observe just in case, how far his tricks go. That way we gain knowledge alongside strength."
Azael nodded. "If he attempts anything, leave him to me."
He vanished from his throne, reappearing atop the castle.
Evren and Thorne followed as one as they turned toward Fen's domain.