[Silthara Palace — The Emperor's Chamber — Continuation]
The silence after the broken kiss did not settle; it tightened.
Zeramet did not step back; he did not loosen his hold. If anything, his arms tightened further around Levin, as though even the idea of distance had become unbearable.
"Leave… me…" Levin's voice came, strained and uneven, his hands pressing weakly against Zeramet's chest. "I do not—"
"No."
The word was not loud, but it was immovable. Zeramet pulled him closer, closer than breath, until there was no space left for resistance to exist, and then his form shifted.
Silver scales flickered beneath skin—glimmering like moonlight fractured upon water—as he took his half-serpent form, his tail coiled around Levin slowly and firmly. Not to harm but to hold, to keep, and to refuse release.
"Never, my moonflower…" His voice dropped lower and deeper—something ancient stirring beneath it.
