The Lucielle Box - 1: Waking Up In My Favorite Dark Romance Novel !

 

 PROLOUGE

 

THUD.

 

NEIGH.

 

THUMP.

 

Her head banged on wood, insinuating a jolt of pain that drove her out of slumber. The subtle to-and-fro of the carriage that once cradled her body now became an incessant gesture of alarm. The fog in her mind hindered the comprehension of words being passed around yet her ears did not cease to gather.

 

“Leonora’s lass, she is.”

“Caught her straight off the Square, we did.”

“Dun’t know what got her!!”

“Kekekekekeke.”

 

A sharp pain stung through her back as the carriage overcame a stone in its way. Her body fidgeted to find a more comfortable position, when – her eyes shot open! Her perspective was darkened by the lack of light, but that was the least bothersome thing in that moment. For when she rolled her shoulders, she felt two unfamiliar weights bent at a painful angle. When the woman turned her neck to look back, to her absolute surprise, she spotted a pair of hands tied behind her back by their – her – wrists.

‘I have hands…?’

Panic surged through her veins as she realised the compactness of her surroundings. She tried getting up only to realise that her feet were bound together, around the ankles, with yet another rope. Her parched throat threatened to let out a scream but was hindered by a sudden round of laughter.

 

“That skimpy bandit would’ve no choice but to surrender ‘erself now!”

 

“How dare a pesky woman like her threaten the Crown?!”

 

“As soon as we reach the castle, let’s teach this lass a lesson. For the daughter of a Bandit Queen, she sure is quite a looker.”

 

Chills ran down the girl’s spine as her feet gave up and she fell back, onto the cold hardwood of the box. Questions overwhelmed her mind for the last thing she remembered was sitting by the window, staring into the sunset. The year was 2024, the wind was polluted, her body had no hands but at least she was a free individual – who would want to kidnap a disabled orphan? And what did they mean by the Crown and the Bandi--!!

 

Her eyes widened as a hazy memory of a name pierced through her common sense. Leonora. Bandit Queen.

 

Her lips broke into a mirthless grin.

 

Daughter of a Bandit Queen.

 

Her forehead bunched into a frown without hindering the toothy grimace. Her newly found hands grew cold and clammier behind her back as exasperation of the situation dawned on her. Somehow, call it fate’s folly or destiny’s greater ambition at giving the Gods a good laugh – but she, Isadora Bailey, had transmigrated into a fantasy book she had loved ever since she was fifteen.

The Lucielle Box.

 

“Holy fucks.”

 

The plot was simple, yet complex, depending on the age one pursued it.

The story followed a Bandit Queen named Leonora Russet, in the land of Isdaren, who plundered the rich to provide for the poor. She was a brave and kind woman with a sickly daughter and in order to save her only family’s life, she was searching for the Lucielle Box. An object deemed to be hidden somewhere in the Royal Castle with magical properties of rejuvenation. It protected and immortalised the royal family and was Leonora’s only hope to keep her child alive. Though, after time and time again of begging the King to show mercy on her dying daughter and heeding no positive results – Leonora resorted to accumulate power, steal, bring the people on her side and protest against the crown.

The carriage halted and a gust of nauseatingly fresh air entered into her captive box through the small holes on top. The chattering men dragged the box down a slope, mounted it over a trolley and began dragging it towards doom.

Bandit Leonora was wildly successful in her pursuits and even after having the greatest bounty on her head, she remained uncaptured for a decade. That was until the Third Prince’s cavalry were able to capture Leonora’s daughter. They planned to use her as leverage to make the Bandit Queen surrender and puppeteer for the Crown but some low-level soldiers could not resist the temptation of a captive woman at hand and decided to violate her.

The box almost dropped off the trolley while the men were hoisting it up a staircase. A flurry of curses resounded against the cold hard walls of the stone dungeon. A musky damp scent prevailed in the atmosphere, making the trapped girl’s throat itch.

“Could’ve jus bot the lass, but no! Haf’ta bring a goshdarn box all the way ‘cross!”

Leonora’s daughter dies while trying to protect herself. The Third Prince’s plans fail and he shoves the reason of his failure on one of his brothers. Though Leonora was a woman, she was a concerned mother first and avenges she does her daughter’s blood by slaying a Prince…but it does nothing to fill the gaping void of her heart. In five years, Lenora storms the castle, slaughters the royal family, takes over the Lucielle Box and uses it to make a deal with the devil. In return of her child’s life, Leonora unleashes darkness onto the world and plunges it into chaos. She forgets all regard for mankind and wreaks havoc until the Hero slays her at the end of the book.

It was a sad story, yet one brimming with great mystery and adventure. A tale where the sadness was worth the journey undertaken – but that was a fifteen-year-old emo Isadora’s perspective. Twenty-two-year-old Isadora, stuck in a box that was now being pried open, hated the concept of valour stemming from sacrifice.

Especially when she was the sacrifice.

She was Runa Donn Russet.

The daughter who was about to die.

All the paths lead to you — 1: Met a Grandpa and with an agenda!

The wall clock flashed 9:00 P.M. The dim lighting poorly reflected off a nametag reading: Larissa J. 

As the isolated office neared closing time, Larissa stretched out her hands while she stood in front of the air conditioner, in a desperate attempt to absorb as much as air as she could before the flap would shut close. 

A contended smile was wrapped over her thin lips, eyes closed to cue pretenses of standing in the middle of a rainforest rather than the city center, clad in a blue and gray cleaning lady uniform with a mop leaning against her chest. 

She inhaled the cool wind like a woman starved, feasting over the last clean gust until it was too late. The swing flap of the air conditioner swung close and with dejected shoulders, Larissa too stepped away. 

She grabbed the mop again and began sliding it against the marble flooring. Her hands moved fast while her eyes kept glancing at the clocking. 

'In twenty minutes, the office would heat up like a portal to hell,' her brain reminded. Her bushy brows banded in determination as worked her way through the wide expanse of an entire office and the adjoining hallway. 

Her head bopped to a popular song, body swaying to-and-fro with the mop as she lost herself to the beat while mopping. So, it was consider her surprise only human when she opened her eyes and spotted an old man standing on the end of the hallway. Under dim lights. Clad in all black. Awaiting her like an angel of death.

Larissa let out a startled scream and let go of the mop. It fell with a loud thud, eliciting a similar response from the man. With one hand, he seemingly clutched his chest and gasped, with the other, he pointed an accusatory finger at Larissa.

"You— you!!"

"I—I, uh, I am sorry!" Larissa immediately bent into a ninety degree bow. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you!" She called out and walked towards the man. 

"I'm good, you're good," the old man replied with a gruff voice. 

"Let me fetch you some water, come sit," Larissa said as she grabbed the old man by his arm and led him inside the office. "Do you work here?" She asked as she seated him on one of the cubicle chairs and speed-walked towards the pantry.

"I suppose I do," the man replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Put a slice of lemon in my water dear, it elevates the taste," he called out to Larissa shuffling inside the pantry. "Do you work here as well?" He asked, while Larissa replied affirmative to both.

"I just part-time, you know, I'm a college student so this is one of the many jobs I do," Larissa clarified as she jogged out with a glass of water and a singular slice of lemon in hand. "I didn't know how you'd want it...eh, should I just put it in? Wedge it to the brim? Squeeze it?" She asked, side-eying the lemon slice. 

"Just put it in," the man sighed.

Larissa did. He thanked her and took a sip of the refreshing drink. Larissa looked up at the clock and panicked. The heat was already beginning to consume the closed space and in a matter of moments the walls would start emanating all the heat they consumed.

"Do you work for security? The office closed an hour ago, there's no other reason a person like you would be here." Larissa asked as she fetched her mop from the hallway. 

The old man replied something but it was muffled owing to the distance between them. Larissa picked up the mop from the end of the hallway and ran back to the office. 

"Don't you want to go back home? To the familiar warmth of your wife, a table filled with food and everything nice?" Larissa asked as she walked back inside.

"I don't anyone to go back to," the man shrugged. 

"Oh— I, uh, I am sorry! Again!" Larissa bent into another apologetic bow. 

"No, no, I mean, my wife is angry at me...for something, yes," the man confessed. 

Larissa let out a giggle. "Bring her some flowers and apologise. I'm sure she's working her best," Larissa advised with a smile. 

Even under the dim light, the old man exuded an otherworldly glow through his wrinkled skin, beady eyes and crisp black suit. His lips were pushed up in a smile as he followed Larissa's movements with his crinkled eyes. 

"Don't you want to go home? It's quite late for a young girl like you," he pointed out. 

"Oh don't mind me!" Larissa waved a hand in his face, "You know how it is like to earn money, don't you? I have a sick aunt at home. She's a teacher. She leaves me copies to correct each day and sometimes I make the report cards as well. She has a lot of allergies — not a sickness for a poor soul, am I right?" Larissa snorted.

"Mhm, my wife is mad at me because our grandson is in love with a wrong person and I'm not doing anything about it," the old man revealed.

"Oh?" Larissa's dark eyes twinkled and her head perked up, "Is it a man?" 

"No," the old man replied promptly.

"Then what? Is it a child? A convict? A prostitute?" 

"You're making her sound like a saint now," the man sighed.

"I don't understand," Larissa confessed.

"Fancy a drink?" The man asked.

Larissa made a face and took two steps backward, "Grandpa, the best I can do is help you sit in a bus." 

The man let out a laugh and Larissa did not understand what in her words was so amusing. Heat had begun emanating off the walls and boiling the floor up. Larissa could feel it in the clogged air and her sweaty armpits.

"What's your major, in college, that is?" The old man asked.

"I cannot tell you that, for privacy concerns," Larissa replied. "We should get going though, this place is going to boil soon."

"Oh? You can turn on the air conditioning if you want to," the man pointed at the the remote place beside the air conditioner, drilled with a stand on the wall. 

"Oh-ho ho! How can I? A mere cleaning lady? Ha! You're so funny! They're going to have me killed and hang me at the community center to make an example out of how people like me should stay in their lane!" Larissa bellowed in between exasperated dry laughs. 

"You've got a vivid imagination," the old man scoffed, "Do you fancy easy money?" His words immediately stilled Larissa.

"Who doesn't?" She scoffed back.

"How far would you go for it?" 

Larissa crossed her arms over her chest and threw a deepened frown at the old man. "I didn't imagine you to be sleazy, wow, there's no place for kindness in this society anymore," she scoffed, throwing disgusted glances at him.

"What! No! What even— How could you!" The man struggled for words and stood up in his defence. Larissa considered it as him making a move and took three steps back. 

"I'm telling you, I will hit you!" She exclaimed, welding the map as a lance. 

"Oh please," the man rolled his eyes, "I love my wife very much, thank you, but what I was suggesting is— would you fancy a wedding to my grandson?"

"A'ight, too much out time for me today, I'm going home, old man, who even are you?!" Larissa scoffed and walked into the hallway to complete the cleaning and leave as soon as possible. 'Surely, if not senile, he must be a human trafficker,' Larissa concluded, very wisely, in her head and made a mental note to report him first thing tomorrow morning. 

"I understand it sounds ridiculous —" the man started as soon as he stepped out of the office, "But my wife is just so mad at me and I cannot think of any other way to get out of this. Surely, if I get him to fall in love with another person, surely he would leave that girl and marry a decent one. I am willing to pay as much as you desire. I am quite well off, you see—"

"I think you need medication!" Larissa cut him off with a shout from the end of the hallway. 

"Opportunities like these never knock twice! How does 50 million dollars sound to you?" The old man shouted back from the other end of the hallway.

"Like the price of my organs that you're gonna illegally harvest!" Larissa shouted back, clearly alarmed, she threw the mop in the janitor's closet and beelined towards the stairway exit. 

"No— hear me out! He's a very dashing young man! His name is Nikolai and he likes dar—"

"Hello? 110? This is an emergency! At Hurain Corp, yes, there is an old who might be trafficking girls, yes he is coming after me, please help— oh my—"

"— Here me out lady, this is actually a great deal, looking at you, you're absolutely his type—"

"—Can you hear that?! He keeps forcing me to marry his grandson?! Yes please —Help!" 

Suddenly, the stairway exit door burst open and Larissa screamed with all her might. 

A flash of light made Larissa look away. They were in the Police Station, bustling with cops and operators handling finncky civilians and criminals. The man flashed light into Larissa's left eye. Again, she looked away.

"You don' seem blind, you quite al'ight, lass then why can't you recognise the big boss o' your workplace? Hurain Kairos? The founder and maker of Hurain Corp? Whatchu some kinda Patrick Star?" Her assigned cop chided as he looked at Hurain and Larissa, simultaneously, giving an apologetic look to one and a pointed look to another. 

"I am sorry..." Larissa sighed, properly slouched in the chair with her shoulders slumped, head bent and back curved into a shameful C. 

"My husband was treating you with kindness and here you are calling the cops on him," an old woman tsked. She stood behind Hurain's chair with a hand on either of his shoulder. Her persona exuded the same otherworldly glow that her husband possessed. Her curly silver hair, sharp blue eyes and unblemished wrinkled skin qualified her as the richest woman in the entirety of the nation. 

"I am sorry ma'am," Larissa slouched further than humanly possible, "Please do not sue me," she all but begged. 

"They gon' do what they like. You can't jus' offend the Kairos' yaknow," the cop snorted, excitedly exchanging glances between the duo. 

"We won't press charges, of course, as long as you co-operate with us," the old man, Hurain Kairos, said ever so kindly.

His soothing tone instinctively urged Larissa to glare at him through a side-eye. "You should have started with your name, old man," she grumbled, unapologetically. 

"It's all the same, all the same," Hurain let out a hearty laugh and patted Larissa's slouched back. "How about we discuss this in the presence of my beloved — or do you wish to be sued instead?" 

Larissa spotted an evil glint in his eye and groaned internally. What she wished was to go home, not be wedded off on the whims of an old rich couple. Surely — it must trespass some of her fundamental rights. Right?! 

Nonetheless, Larissa willed herself to get up and launch into a flurry of apologetic bows for wasting a government official's time and closely followed the old rich couple out of the prison.

The old woman glanced at Larissa twice before patting a hand on her shoulder. "Go home for now, let Arnold take you. We will continue this in the morning. Know that we are only trying to do the best for everyone, okay?" She smiled at Larissa. A dimple birthed on each cheek and her lips pursed into absence while she smiled.

Her touch was warm against Larissa's cold shoulder.

She wished she had grandparents...or parents... Larissa sighed as she walked inside the small one bedroom apartment and locked the door behind her. Aunt Nora was sleeping on the sofa with her glasses still on. Her nose was puffed and red, clearly indicating that her allergies flared up again. A pile of books was placed by the foot of a sofa and a red pen gently swayed (owing to the tall standing fan placed behind the sofa) on top of them. 

The table in front was laden with covered dishes and more notebooks. To the right, by the window, laid a mattress with a folded sheet on top of it. Larissa smiled gratefully.

She took off her shoes at the small shoe cabinet behind the door and tip-toed her way to the bathroom on the left. She washed her face and took her phone out to google the name of the man for whom her life was being ruined.

Her bangs were standing up and as soon as the face of the man popped in the image results, all of Larissa's body hair sprang up.

What awful fate she had.

What fucking awfully hilarious and random fate she had to have for Nikolai Rudbrek Kairos to be the same man she detested with more passion than her hopes to drop dead. 

Blood Bride — 2

The moon hung low in the sky, big and round, giving an illusion of close proximity to those who dared to reach out for its touch. Dyed crimson, it haloed the head of the fabled man whose name had sealed her fate with death. 

"Hasty to die, aren't we?"

His cold touch against her warm body seared her sense of speech. Dark hair strands fell over his cataclysmic grey eyes peering into hers. Elowen's gaze meandered to avoid contact and instead ended up skimming over his prominent collarbones and chiseled cold chest. As soon as she registered his semi-nudity, her eyes pressed close.

"H-haste makes waste," she stuttered, "I don't want to die w-wastefully." Elowen hated her tongue for not rolling as planned. To think she was more eloquent in front of the King and Queen now felt like a far fetched dream.

"How productive of you," the man couldn't help the snicker that escaped his lips as he helped her back to the ground and sped backwards to put some distance between them.

Elowen's hammering heart and flushed body found much solace as the cold rooftop air embraced the emptiness he left behind. 

"We mustn't delay the ritual. It might not seem so but we have eyes and ears around us," the man informed, his voice oddly deep and calming to Elowen's flustered senses.

"Wouldn't expect otherwise," she said with a firm nod then patted her palms against her thighs, awkwardly, "But...I don't really know how to go about it." 

The man, with his hands on his belt buckle, stilled upon the revelation. "Oh? Oh, Astrid, makes sense. I missed your arrival so she skipped the guiding, understandably so," he whispered to himself.

The stars surrounding the crimson moon had begun to twinkle a red glare onto the pond. The man infront cleared his throat, almost human-like, to gain attention.

"I am Prince Valen Sythar, the heir to Valoria," the man introduced himself with a curt bow and a hand over his heart, "And as per ritual," he said as he walked towards her, "A human princess, also known as the Centennial Blood Bride," he held out a hand and urged, with his eyes, for her to do the same, "That is you, Princess Elowen Calyx, has consented to be sacrificed at the Blood Moon's altar for peace and safety of Eidryn. Am I correct?" 

'Consented was hardly accurate. Destined? Too fancy. Fated? Too flowery. Thrusted upon? Yeah, that sounds about right.' Elowen thought, though these tangents hardly mattered on the topic. So, she held out her right hand as he did and said, "Yes, I consent."

Valen took her hand in his and turned them to face the pond. He rested the back of her hand over two of his fingers and pressed his thumb in the centre of her palm. "It might hurt a little, hold onto me if you're scared," he said as the clean cut nail of his thumb suddenly began growing sharper and longer against the skin of her palm.

Elowen clenched her teeth and shook her head upon his offer. Maybe if he had a shirt on, the thought would have been more in consideration because Elowen would rather bleed in pain than grab his bare arms and embarasses herself just moments before her death. 

The nail pressed deeper into her palm and drew blood. Elowen withdrew a slight gasp as Valen instructed, "Close your fist." She closed her fingers around his thumb and he held her hand as a stream of blood bled into the pond, creating new ripples of fate. 

Valen chanted something under his breath, a language Elowen couldn't decipher, and as soon as he let go of her hand Elowen's wound was healed. He did not have to heal her but the small gesture felt like a gust of kindness in a desert of cruelty.

"Able bodied and a consenting will are necessary for the ritual," Valen clarified just as small whispers of smile threatened the corners of Elowen's lips.

"Oh-" she uttered, dumbly. 

"Now we will have to soak in the pond until the scarlet moon wanes, as you must know, it is to stabilize the yin and yang of Eidryn." 

'Hence the stripping,' Elowen thought as she nodded her head in understanding. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the implication of her own thoughts. 'STRIPPING?!' Her head swatted to Valen and surely, he was unbuckling his pants with no concern whatsoever. Flustered, Elowen flipped her head away. 

"A-ah, do I, of course, right? Have to partake in this?" 

A gust of wind brushed past her and in the blink of a moment, Valen was in the scarlet tinted pond, soaking with his bare chest out for depraved sight. He ran a wet had through his dark locks and shrugged, "It is what is necessary." 

Eidryn was a land of many a species living together in a forced pact of harmony brought out of mutual loss. The Mortal Empire, Imania, consisted of the Fae Continent Sylvaris, the great waterfolk ridge called Aquor's Spine, Lykorra Peninsula of the Shapeshifters and the landlocked human kingdom of Calythia. 

As the weakest of the Mortal Empire's quadrant, it was Calythia who was destined to sacrifice a princess, at the end of every century, in order to be at peace with Dark Realm of Nocverra. Failing to do so would end in upheaval of the Nexus, and quite possibly the end of the world.

"Heh," Elowen scoffed and briefly considered the hygiene issues of bathing in a pond with her blood but the rushing thought of her eventual death subsided the concerns. She looked down at her shirt and flared pants, sighed heavily, then proceeded to unbutton the collar of her shirt. 

For a sacred and centennial ritual, her hosts were pretty lax with the planning. The least they could have offered her were a small sette to keep clothes on and a bathrobe to wear after. Was it too much of a consideration? Then again, her thoughts were with the Valoria Vampires as context.

The glaring scarlet eyes of the second prince invaded her memory. 

Elowen did not bother to undo her pants and entered the water. She rested her back against the pond's edge with only her face out for sight. The water was lukewarm and comforting around her heightened senses; Elowen could have almost enjoyed it if not for Prince Valen, at hand. 

"What's next?" She asked.

He coughed to clear his throat before answering, "We wait for the waning." 

"Ah..." Elowen nodded. The silence gnawed at her soul, "Sounds a bit boring, does it not?" 

"I don't know, it's my first time trying," Valen shrugged, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Elowen's sight was stuck at the darkened skies but from her forced peripheral vision she witnessed Valen resting his elbows on the pond's edge while he threw his head back to stretch. The young princess gulped as water trickled down his prominent adam's apple on a leisurely pace.

"I liked your carriage," Valen commented after a minute or a century, Elowen wasn't sure. 

"Hu-" she almost gulped the bloody water, "Ah, thank you, I engineered it," Elowen strung together a sentence before embarassing herself, "How, I mean, where did you see it though?" 

"While working, through a window," the Prince shrugged, "How did you calibrate human inventions with fae artefacts though? It is quite brilliant." He referred to the elongated pentagonal stone hovering on top of her carriage and powering it.

"Heh, this and that," Elowen smiled, "I liked getting into new stuff ever since I was a kid. It is because I—"

Horror dawned on Elowen as she pursued her lips. She had almost uttered it out and put all of Mortal Empire at stake. Involuntarily, her hands reached the back of her waist, concealed underneath the high waistband of the pants, and her fingers felt for the familiar bump on it. 

"You must have been an important asset to Calythia," Valen whispered under his breath. 

"Heh," Elowen said awkwardly, "No, no, I was just selfish in my pursuits. No body knows, of course," Elowen nodded. Any and all of her intrests were merely a liability to Calythia's treasury.

"The blood ritual takes place over the span of a week. You shall be sacrificed seven days from now...is there something you want to do before that? Anything you regret or expect?"

Elowen flipped her head to look at him. His words were barely above a whisper, his eyes were hooded and his head was titled just enough for his hair to curtain his face from her partial nudity.

"A-are you, no, I mean, why do you ask?" Elowen gulped, for sure, she couldn't get ahead of herself.

"Even though there is a certain comfort in knowing one's destiny, the weight of bearing its knowledge might wear us down someday. Now that you are so close to accomplishing it, I wish to alleviate some of that weight." 

"But...why?" 

Suddenly, he looked up, his grey eyes zoning into hers. Elowen backed up, flattening herself against the pond's stony edges for it felt like Valen was closing in.

"Why because we're married now. I am bathing in your blood, afterall." 

At that moment, Elowen realised that she should have brushed up on vampire lore before sending herself to be eaten. 

An Unexpected Union — 10

— catch, compel, conquer.

Aurelia opens her eyes, which is quite baffling to her own self, and finds herself resting on a cloud— or something of equal comfort. 

Did the Hoarder save her life... because she wasn't dispensable to him...?

Her heart tugs a little and she jolts up with a smile on her face, but the jolt is quick to turn into an ache as she spots a scowling Lili sitting on a chair right in front of her. One of her hands is wrapped around a leg, tugged close to her chest, and her other leg hangs off the chair. Her ivy eyes are narrowed at Aurelia with fury and the latter decides to fall back into the clouds — which she now realises is a bed — and wish death upon herself.

"Sit back up." 

Her voice is cold and commanding. Aurelia obliges in a split second, sitting up straight as her hands feel her neck and wrists for stitches or marks of some sort. There aren't any, to her surprise, they look as plain as they had all her life. Even her neck doesn't ache at all.

What happened?

"You wouldn't die."

"Oh?" 

Aurelia gasps, just as surprised as Lili is abhorred. The castle spirit stands up and floats through the bed, closing the distance between them. Aurelia is quick to curl up to the headrest of the bed, trying to keep the distance between them.

"Oh-?! Oh?! OH-!! IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?! AFTER I RISKED MY EVERYTHING TRYING TO SET YOU UP WITH THE HOARDER?!" 

"Oh—?! You did?" Aurelia raises her brows, quite fascinated by the situation she is in. 

"SHU— SHKUHD, SHUT UP! I HATE THE SOUND OF YOUR VOICE!" Lili seethes. Aurelia is quick to purse her lips and hug her knees to her chest, eyes wandering away to everywhere but Lili.

She realises that she is resting in a room. A room bathed in soft, golden light filtering through stained glass windows. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries of Merfolks, their vibrant colors contrasting with the muted tones of the stone. 

"I TRIED CHOKING, RELEASING POISON IN THE AIR— ALMOST ALERTING THAT DAMNED DRAGON AND EVEN GETTING THAT DAGGER THROUGH YOU! BUT YOUR STUBBORN LITTLE SPIRIT WOULDN'T BUDGE!" 

In the center of the room stood a grand, wooden four-poster bed with richly fragrant flowers for curtains. They make Aurelia scrunch her nose in repulsion. 

"STOP MAKING FACES! WHY WOULDN'T YOU DIE?!"

The bed is adorned with plush cushions and a delicately woven quilt, inviting Aurelia to rest and escape this wailing spirit. 

"My Queen sacrificed her last bouts of magic just so I could leave the castle and convince that useless Emperor to get the Hoarder in a bond. BUT NO! IT ALL BACKFIRES!" 

Nearby, a small wooden nightstand held a flickering candle, casting a small dancing shadow on the wall behind it. Against one wall, a large, ornate wardrobe stands tall, its doors engraved with intricate patterns. 

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!" 

Aurelia flinches due to the intensity of Lili's tone. "Y-yes, I am," she breaths out, feeling her arms over her body to realise that her dagger was gone. 

"WHY WOULDN'T YOU DIE?!"

"I don't know?!" Aurelia cried out, "Trust me, right now, I'd much prefer to be dead than hear you screech your evil schemes in my ears, okay?" 

Lili's delicate hand goes for Aurelia's neck and presses it against the headboard. Aurelia feels the glaring absence of her cap as her hair and gills hit against the dead wood. "You cannot die from my hands but that doesn't mean I cannot inflict pain on you. Do you understand?!" Lili seethes in her ear, eyes holding a menacing contact.

Aurelia deflects her gaze and it falls on a cozy reading nook beckoned from a corner of the room. A plush armchair with a worn but comfortable cushion nestled next to a towering bookshelf. 

"I u-understand, leave me, please? I'll help you. I'll help you. You need to get your Queen back, right? Maybe I can help you with that!" She begs as Lili squishes her cheeks between her thumb and forefinger.

"Look me in the eye and tell me how your pesky little lowlife self will be able to help me?" She jerks Aurelia's head to face herself.

"I-uh," Aurelia's eyes wander again, "I can get close to the Hoarder and get the orbs with the Queen's family in them?" She suggests in a moment of haste.

Lili rolls her eyes with a sigh. Her finger let go of Aurelia and she floats away from the bed to a beautifully carved vanity with a large, ornate mirror stood adorned with dried flowers. "Pathetic," Lili whispers, waving a hand to let the flowers bloom again, "You're so exasperating and pathetic, it pains me." 

Her voice breaks and Aurelia is horrified to find literal tears in Lili's eyes. "Excuse me?! Are you crying?!" She gasps, jumping off the bed and running up to the spirit. Though, her steps are a bit disoriented and her balance a little shaky without her cap.

"When folks die or cease, their soul essence can be saved into orbs. They're all dead. What can you help with?!" Lili cries dramatically, slouching over the vanity. 

"I- um, corpses to match with the soul essence...?" Aurelia offers without much thought.

Lili pokes her head outside the vanity, tears all dried up and brows mushed in horror. "Aurelia Mossbloom," she gasps, "You're a horrible person."

Yeah, tell her about it. Where did that thought even come from? Certainly it wasn't something she could concoct in a split second.

"Yeah- I'm sorry I ju—"

"No," Lili jumps out of the vanity and twirls around Aurelia's head. "I love you for it," she grins a toothy grin in the mushroom's face. "Go ahead, tell me everything!" She urges with bright ivy eyes, backing Aurelia against a window.

The small window is draped with sheer curtains, revealing a view of a lush, enchanted garden looming in darkness. "Oh, did I sleep for a long while? It's night already!" Aurelia exclaims, changing the subject.

"You've been out for two days," Lili deadpans.

"TWO DAYS?! I SLEPT THROUGH TWO DAYS? I FEEL LIKE YOU CHOKED ME FIVE MINUTES AGO!" 

Lili coughs awkwardly, floating away from Aurelia as she mumbles, "Well, for at least one and a half day, I tried killing you multiple ti— OH MY CREATOR! I DID NOT THINK OF DROPPING YOU FROM THE ROOFTOP!" Lili snaps her head in Aurelia's direction with a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

"NO!" Aurelia screeches, "REVENGE ISN'T NICE. I WILL HELP YOU. THE BODIES! I WILL HELP YOU GET THE BODIES. THERE IS THIS THUNDER RITUAL THAT A GUILD IS GOING TO DO TOMORROW. THERE'LL BE LOADS OF CORPSES!" 

"How do you know that?" 

Indeed, an excellent question for Aurelia has no idea why she knows that. She has no idea of what she spoke or the authenticity that it roots from. What thunder ritual? What guild? Why was she suddenly so obsessed with providing corpses?! 

"Tell me, Au-Re-Lia," Lili breaks her name in mockworthy words, "How do you know that?" 

Aurelia's tongue lines over her teeth, once, twice, thrice, "So, um, because— I like seeing the ritual? They do it...every year?" She breaths out, internally stabbing her mind, heart and soul for that lame excuse.

"You like seeing the Wizardkind stand in thunder and shock themselves to death?" Lili frowns, backing away from Aurelia and eyeing her weirdly as the latter nods.

Aurelia doesn't wants to mix with the Wizardkind. They're such taboos in all species. If not killed because of The Hoarder, she'll be eradicated just for mentioning that she knows of their existence, let alone enjoys their anual game of death.

"You have some...eccentric hobbies," Lili coughs. "Excellent, we'll go tomorrow." With that, her spirit disappears through a wall. 

And Aurelia exhales an anxious breath.

"What the actual rot is wrong with me?!" Aurelia gasps in mortification. She paces towards her vanity and presses her face against the mirror, checking if she was just physically another person. She wasn't. Her straight red gills for hair, her gold infused eyes, her skeletal body, it was all a testament of her true existence.

This is, very much, Aurelia Mossbloom, acting like a madwoman. "What in Creator's name is a Thunder Ritual even?! Where does it take place? What did I just spew!!" She tugs at her hair, crying to herself. 

Can she run away from here?

She runs up to the window again and squishes her face against the glass. Butterflies and bioluminescent mushrooms light a winding path — or should she say, guard it? The whole castle is sentient. How can she ever run away?!

Aurelia did not die because she saw through Lili's magic in time. She had read about Spirit magic a lot during her childhood, to help herself in efficiently and non-violently capturing the soul essence of her food. 

There are aggressive plantfolk like Mortiflora which will kill to live and there are those like Lili who hold inherent abilities to defend and survive. Though, everyone uses their magic differently, just like how they walk differently or talk differently — but there is always a pattern. 

Catch, compell, conquer. 

Lili's spirit magic was skittered in three steps. The gold dust sprinkle, building trust and tricking the consciousness of the opponent and breaking their will.

And Lili was so close to success if she hadn't reminded Aurelia of the control she had on the castle. Essentially, as a Castle Spirit, the illusion of her magic remains confined to the walls of the castle. She cannot inflict a permanent will on anyone from the outside, who knows of her powers and existence.

But it doesn't mean that Aurelia cannot be tortured to eternity's end! 

"Ugh, is this considered mortal peril? Should I cross the line and ask the Hoarder? Surely, he'd know...and he wouldn't kill me," Aurelia mumbles to herself, pressed up against the wall in melancholy. "No- what if he decides that I should stay in a cell— no! What if Lili thinks I'm going to complain to the Hoarder?! Surely, she'll know about it before I can even reach him. Ugh!!"

She stamps her feet against the floor and feels annoyed when, in return, it makes her feet throb with pain.

Instantly, she feels conflicted.

Why did she do that? Stomp on the floor for no reason, whatsoever and feel annoyed when it hurt back? She wasn't this person...what was happening?

"Ugh! It's the castle! It is driving me crazy!" She wails to no one in particular, flinging back to the cloud like bed and procrastinating her own doom.

An Unexpected Union — 9

— rots and giggles.

Aurelia watches the Hoarder's retreating back with a burdened mind and a calm heart. She is glad to be left alone, but also, mortified to be left alone. Who does that?! Let a stranger wander around enemy territory with free reins?! 

Aurelia looks away, before her staring could get too creepy, and tip toes to check which way to go now. Surely, she couldn't see past the long hallway but she could pretend that she was trying. 

She heaves a sigh before taking a bold first step. The castle doesn't provide her with a cushion of petals anymore and her wooden sandal clicks against the floor. The sound ricochet's off the walls and hits all of her nerves.

Aurelia feels unworthy to take another step. 

What if the sound is too loud? Loud noises are embarassing! What if she walks and someone stops her— what is she supposed to say? Is she supposed to stay where she is? Is she even allowed to walk further?

She presses her palms together, a thin layer of sweat covering them. She'd rather choose a prison where she knew her place than than an empty castle where she didn't.

At least she wouldn't be overwhelmed by the discomfort of having —

A strange sound makes her breath hitch. Ivy green vines slither across the walls and make their way to her, blooming white flowers in greeting. Aurelia sucks in a grateful breath, "Finally, a folk!" 

She kneels on the floor to touch the vine but it slithers over her boney hands and sucks the faux emperor's blood away. The white flowers mesh together, impersonating a human form before their pollen bursts and in a blink of an eye, Aurelia sees a spirit floating around her.

She has hair like the dawny rays of the sun, cascading down to her ankles, tied with a few tendrils around her waist. Her white dress twirls and flows with her brisk movements as she eyes Aurelia with curious ivy eyes and a bright smile.

"Spirit Lili, guardian of the Fae— well, now Fae ruins."

"Aurelia, Mossbloom?" Aurelia utters, quite surprised by the spirit's sudden existence and confused in her own identity. Lili doesn't seem to mind Aurelia's horrible greeting skills as she waves her delicate pale wrist and drenches Aurelia in gold specks.

"We're so excited to have you!!" Lili claps, circling around Aurelia with excitement. "You cannot believe how long we have waited for someone who isn't downright powerthirsty!" She drags out an unfamiliar tune, taking Aurelia's now clean hands in hers and twirling her around the hallway.

"Woah- Woah!" Goes the mushroom, "I understand your excitement but can you please let go of me?! What if someone sees us?!" Aurelia freezes on her heels and Lili, who hadn't given up, owning to her lightweight and momentum, is thrown away. She zooms through a wall with loud giggles and Aurelia is momentarily worried if she caused some harm.

"I'm sorry! Are you okay?" She runs up the wall, in which Lili crashed and disappeared, and knocks a knuckle against it. 

There's a moment of grim silence.

Someone blows in Aurelia's right ear.

She freaks out into a shout.

"Why I'm terrific!" The voice exclaims in her other ear.

Aurelia jumps and backs away into the wall. It feels hard and cold against her back as silence surrounds her again. "Lili...?" Aurelia questions, right when a wisp of silver zooms past her. 

"You called me?"

Suddenly, vines branch out of the wall and wrap around Aurelia's torso, creeping over her neck and face, sucking the blood off her.

Her heart thunders in its cavity, spores bursting a cloud of deep pink around her head. "S-stop it, let go- please!" 

"But I've been waiting for you~"

Lili's face pops into perspective, upside-down, right in front of Aurelia's face, as if she were hanging off her shoulders. "Well I don't like this and I need you to stop it and leave me!" Aurelia protests against the vines, twisting and rubbing her hands and neck to make them let go.

"Why'd you hurt me~" it sounds like a whine and Aurelia is finally let go of. She falls to the ground, scrambling to the centre, looking left and right for any other surprises. 

"I'm here," Lili breaths as her head pops between Aurelia's ankles, body hidden away from perspective.

Aurelia had heard that the Fae were a mischievous species but experiencing it first hand was something she did not want, like or expect. How did the world survive with a whole kingdom of these folks giving heart attacks for rots and giggles?! 

Suddenly, Aurelia was glad that the Hoarder had destroyed the Fae in war. 

"I'd rather you not be here," Aurelia chokes out, folding her feet and eventually standing up. Lili's head floats on the ground as Aurelia tries to evade it's pestering presence.

"But I thought you were happy to see me!"

"I was happy to see you—" she stomps her foot as Lili tries to pinch her feet, "— when you weren't using me for your entertainment!" 

Lili's pretty face wears a frown as she rises up, her head reaching Aurelia's height with her elongated dress flowing all around them. "So you can use me as a residence but I cannot even entertain myself?" She questions hoarsely. There is an indescribable glint in her eyes as she leans impossibly close to Aurelia. 

"I- uh, I'm sorry. I'm sure we can come to an agreement, surely?" The fungi girl gulps, raising her hands to bring some distance between them. The flowy dress wraps itself around Aurelia's feet and drags her down. Her cap crashes the ground and a sharp pain renders her breathless for a second. Vines and twigs creep towards her, crackling and churning to restrain her hands and feet.

Aurelia resists but in vain. She shouts but a leaf holds her mouth hostage. 

"An agreement —?!" Lili laughs a hollow laugh, "As an enchanted, you held a loyalty towards the Fae. But what did you do? Abandon us in a war!!" she spits, looming over Aurelia's writhing figure with spite in her eyes.

"The ephemerals not turning up was a given, no one gives a goblin's arse about their promises but betrayed by your own race! Do you know how my Queen suffers?!" Her pupils narrow into slits and the pressure around Aurelia's neck tightens. She wheezes for air, spores bursting, twisting her hands to get a grip of the dagger she keeps in her pocket. Or even a lumia. Anything.

"She saw her family defeated before her eyes, sucked into hollow orbs of magic, confined forever. She dessicates in a cellar, MY QUEEN! IN A CELLAR! All because of a wretched, goblinforsaken, Ephemeral!!" 

Aurelia's spores erupt cloud after cloud in pink, dispersing all over the vines and twigs trapping her. She never had much spirit essence ever since she was born so her spores were never really anything but an unwanted medium to express her feelings. Though, in theory, Aurelia knew that spores helped to reproduce, in turn feed on the environment they were left on. And because the vines were a plant, there was a chance that Aurelia's spores could feed on its energy and weaken even a little bit of her restrains so she could reach the dagger.

"And now that he is bonded," Lili's hands cut through the spore clouds to witness the distress on Aurelia's face, "to a dust puffing little sapling like you," she seethes in her face, "I can finally kill him."

Aurelia twists her hand and the vine lets go for a split second. Aurelia is quick to pull out her dagger and slash through the restraint. With one hand free, she charges the dagger to Lili's heart—

—but it passes through her.

Ah yes, of course. Going for a Lumia would have been a better choice considering Lili was a SPIRIT. Unfortunately, Aurelia isn't known for her better choices and it was too late to redeem herself now.

"Ouch," Lili slaps across Aurelia's face, "but cute." The slap stings and Aurelia doesn't understand how she can feel Lili but not stab her in the back. This is nature's treachery at its finest.

Stronger vines zoom in and grip Aurelia's hand to the ground again. The dagger falls on her chest, going through Lili, and in consequence, the vines around her neck feel tighter.

"The Hoarder is so dead now," Lili bursts into laughter, circling around Aurelia's shaking and choking body. "And oh, just so you don't wonder in afterlife, he cannot hear you or feel you right now. I control what folks see and hear in this castle," Lili grins an evil grin.

'Ah,' Aurelia thinks calmly while being choked to death, 'that explains why I couldn't stab her. Which means—'

Her thoughts die out as air refuses to reach her lungs anymore. She cannot transform back into a mushroom because of the restraints so, she understands that this is the end.

Being killed in the Hoarder's castle. Too quick, too soon. Her favour to the World is done now. Maybe her next life would be better.

Darkness fogs her vision as Lili's laughs resonates in her ears. At least she was killed by a pretty girl.

An Unexpected Union — 8

— no fun-guy.

"Congratulations on the wedding, My Lord!" 

From the Hoarder's dark shadows rises Draco, smiling a cheeky smile in the his master's face. "The castle likes her already," he points behind the Hoarder's back, gesturing how the castle's spirit leads Aurelia to her room.

"The castle is racist," the Hoarder scoffs, not sparing a glance and entering his chambers. The Fae Castle would willingly lean in favour of even the faintest magic but never an ephemeral. He beelines to the bathroom.

He flings the crystal mask off his face and Draco flails around to catch it — lest it falls and bring crippling financial deficit — and pockets safely. 

"I'll never get used to this," The Hoarder exhales, stripping out of the bloodied clothes. "The mask, I mean. It chokes me. I should design a better one," he leans slightly back and places his hands on his waist whilst admiring his lean yet muscular build and ripped abs in the mirror.

"A more breathable material, maybe?" Draco suggests from outside.

The Hoarder nods, tracing a finger across his angular collarbones and mouthing 'perfect' in the mirror. "Great suggestion, we'll put Dragonkin on our target next. 'Cuz what's more breathable and sturdy than dragon skin?" 

Draco shifts uncomfortably, tugging at his collar. He hears the water run on the other side of the door. "I'll pick the perfect one for you. While we're at it, we can make a dragon hide armour for the bride as well?" He suggests to earn some good points, just in case, one day, the Hoarder felt that his skin would be more comfortable. 

His suggestion is greeted by a silence. 

"Did you get rid of the body?" 

"Yes, promptly."

"Who was it?"

"A demon from Mavis' book."

He slaps his hand against the walls. "So that's the reason why my interface couldn't detect him at all!" He exclaims, ruby eyes widening with brightness. A smug grin makes its way to his face as he draps himself with a towel, "I knew my software wouldn't betray me like that." He beelines out to snatch the crystal mask from Draco's pockets and gives it a well deserved smooch.

Draco instantly places a hand on his eyes and rolls them.

"The Emperor must consider us a real threat if he's making deals with Wizard Guilds now! This is fresh! If this gets out, it could ruin his rep forever!" The Hoarder wiggles his fingers menacingly, eyes crinkled and narrowed in a villainous stance. As he laughs, his shoulders hunch up and down and the droplets trace along the muscles of his body and gather around his barefeet, making him stand in a puddle of water. 

"That's not our goal," Draco sighs.

"You know no fun," the hoarder tsks. 

The Ephemerals pride themselves for their science and technology, challenging and denouncing magic in everyway. The Emperor runs a clean base, or so everyone thought, in segregating the enchanteds from the ephemerals and the homogeneous Wizardkind. 

The Wizardkind belongs to neither of the two primary races for they're bashed by the ephemerals for using magic and bashed by the enchanteds for not possessing their own natural magic.

The Wizardkind are those who used science to create an illusion of magic, thinking they'd be able to rule the World. Alas, the two primary races did not let the Wizardkind prosper for they had greater numbers. The wizards now lays low, hidden in the recesses of the World, planning Creator knows what. 

But, if there is one thing they're sought after, it is the Book of Mavis. One of the first few wizards, a genius madwoman with marvellous strength in her experiments. For the better half of her life, she busted criminals out of ephemeral jails and ruthlessly experimented on them. Her subjects were nothing short of demons and all her works have been recorded in the recognised, 'Book of Mavis.'

No one knows which Guild holds the rights to the Book of Mavis and The Hoarder needs to stand by his name and get it before anyone else does.

"How many guilds remain?" The Hoarder questions, walking to the centre of the room. The vines rush in, crackling and twisting to form a chair before his butt would land on the ground.

"Twenty three till extinction," Draco points out as a table forms itself in front of his Master. A vine rushes in with his Laptop, holding it by a tendril as if disgusted by its sight and presence.

"Very well, let us locate the next one. We'll put the orb hunt on hold for now," he pulls his laptop from the very judgemental tendril and switches it on. 

"I do not agree! You're supposed to focus on becoming the Celestial Lord!" Draco protests, silver brows pushed together in a heavy frown. 

The Hoarder promptly ignores him.

"Ah, I have my mid sems next to next week and we need to attend the new recruits orientation, ah- I was part of a group project. I wonder what happened to that..." He words drown into the air and Draco knows the conversation is over.

"I'll be making arrangements for the orientation and the attack on Dragonkin," the celestial dragon sighs before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. 

The Hoarder sighs, leaning back in his chair and slouching. His eyes zone out on the barren ceiling and memory reels back to when he held the mushroom's hand and walked towards the fountain. 

The glyphs were laid on the ground and the ritual had begun. He had been focusing on why the software of his mask couldn't identify the person, the wannabe Emperor, before him when suddenly a bright light blinded him. Just then, a vision caught him off guard. 

Everything was white and in the emptiness was him, staring at a purple gem. It glimmered on its own, oozing red and blue sparkles out of its crystalline dimensions.

And in the emptiness, a faded voice had echoed. 

"In the hush of twilight's lingering embrace, 

a figure, cloaked in shadows deep,

shall rise from the abyss where darkness seeps.

His fate entwined with that of realms unknown,

across the world, they lie, waiting to bestow,

a power unmatched, a destiny veiled,

yet whispers of ruin linger, the truth unveiled..."

There were more words, the whispers had continued but in the mask of darkness, Draco had crushed the demon's head and the spell was lifted. Before he could hear more, the light was fading into darkness and his sensations of the world were returning. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself drenched in blood, her hand forcing itself away from his. He was quick to let go and momentarily busied himself by having spotted a hanging cufflink.

PING!

The Hoarder leans back into posture as an email notification pops up on his laptop. It is a group email and the subject reads:

'ASSIGNMENT LINK CLOSING BY 6 PM!'

"Shit, fuck—" he gasps, shuffling around for his clothes and papers into nothing, "I thought you said 11:59! Which psychopath closes an assignment link at 6:00 dammit! Have you no hobby?!"  

An Unexpected Union — 7

— mush peace.

The Centre of the World was a point of peace in respect for the Fountain of Life but now its decorated with the Ephemeral Emperor's blood. A patternless puddle pooling from his neck and blending with the red of his cape. 

He had a kind smile. Now he has no head.

The landquake returns and this time it intensifies. Her heart isn't as fragile as whatever feeling is causing the tremors. Maybe insecurity.

She has a dead person's blood on her. 

Her pale skeletal hands which only had a plant's goo to account for, until this morning, are drenched in a pale red liquid which she knew was a sustainable element for the ephemeral life. 

She had seen blood when she was eight sproutings old. Some handful children of ephemerals were on a, "school trip," as they said, to learn about plants in the Jungle. Aurelia was there too, for she was convincing a stranded plantfolk to be her food. Plantfolk in the Jungle were easier to convince than the ones based in enchanted forests. 

Midway through the talks, the plantfolk escaped because Aurelia was too distracted by curiosity. Not minding her business, Aurelia followed the ephemerals around as they talked and laughed in a strange language, whilst making notes in a strange yet intriguing way.

Everything seemed merry until a person accidentally cut their leg on a pointy log and a red liquid oozed out and stained their fabrics. Everyone called it, "blood," and it alerted the Mortiflora laying dormant. 

Mortiflora are a ravenous branch of plantfolk that survive eating enchanteds as well as ephemerals to cope with their insatiable hunger. They have a deadly allure, unknowingly luring victims to the heart of the Jungle, which was seldom visited by Enchanteds and usually by Ephemerals. It gets incited by soul essence or soul fluids. 

Aurelia then deduced that an Ephemeral's soul fluid must be 'blood' as the Mortiflora's elongated stem rose from the ground, adorned with deep, velvety midnight petals, concealing razor-sharp edges and wickedly barbed tendrils.

The tendrils were thick enough to wrap around people, pushing and pulling like it was playing a game with them screaming for their lives, before bringing the prey in a gaping maw, lined with rows of glistening, serrated teeth. 

Death did not affect Aurelia all that much, but, The Emperor had a kind smile.

"That could have been you." 

Aurelia flips her head in realisation of The Hoarder's presence. Her eyes narrow at him, his hidden behind a crystal mask, a beckoning mystery. "Is this a warning?" She questions, wondering if the Hoarder intended to kill her before the Emperor, but merely missed.

"A revelation, really. He wasn't the Emperor, it was a decoy projection meant to kill us," he gestures his head to ring laden hand which looks translucent under light. "The bonding ritual can only include the people who are to be bonded. Queen Roachie and the Emperor's presence was a red herring in itself. Surely, if you look behind the bushes, you wouldn't find your Queen anymore. At least she made an effort to escort you, the Emperor, on the other hand, an absolute coward. His eyes glinted when he mentioned the wise priest. How did you not notice it?" 

Aurelia shakes her head. She was blinded by her mortality so much so that she looked death in the face and thought that he had a kind smile. Truly, the World remains as untrustworthy as day one. 

"I — uh, so are we bonded?" She questions instead.

"Yes and drenched in some lowlife's blood. What a day!" He exclaims before kneeling in front of the corpse and holding its hand in his. He carefully moves the fingers, inspecting the rings. "Nanotech," he says before tapping a ring. "No biometrics required, how utterly careless," he shakes his head as a screen pops up again.

Aurelia bends to take a look at it, curious as she was, and sees a white flat block with several yellow blocks and symbols that she did not understand. "Is this some secret spell?" She asks curiously, gold eyes peeking bright through her blood laden face.

It bursts a laugh out of the Hoarder. 

Aurelia never thought she'd live to see a day when the Hoarder was laughing whilst kneeling in front of her. Life is strange. 

"No," he laughs, "It's the most basic language of Ephemerals. It's English," he explains. Aurelia nods in understanding. 

"How many languages do you know?" She cannot help but ask out of curiosity.

His gloved hand pats her cap and a cloud of blue spores burst around her head, birthing chills. "Aren't you a little too curious?" He takes his hand away just as Aurelia takes a few steps back. Strangeness reigned the moment as Aurelia realises that the landquake was gone again.

The Hoarder pulls the rings out of the dupe emperor's fingers and stands up, "You'll be living with me," he announces, pocketing the rings and taking out a green orb. 

"I suppose," Aurelia shrugs. 

He holds out a bloodied hand and she takes it. Before another thought, they're zapped away.

The Hoarder's castle is majestic, breathing a life of its own. It doesn't feel like a stretch from home, it feels even more familiar.

They approach the castle through a winding pathway which leads them through a mystical garden. Aurelia gasps at the sight of bioluminescent mushrooms and flowers lining the path, casting a soft, ethereal glow. The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of enchanting blossoms, while colorful butterflies flit around, leaving trails of sparkling dust in their wake.

The Fae ruins.

"Huh, they're being awfully welcoming. I'd recommend you to not touch anything if you want to live," he warns. Aurelia merely nods, jaw unhinged in awe.

At the entrance, a massive arched doorway welcomes them with intricately carved wooden doors. They stop infront of the doors and the Hoarder turns to give Aurelia a nod. She blinks, curious with her expectations, as the door opens by itself. 

Though, only the door infront of her and not the Hoarder.

He scoffs and kicks open the door in front of him, mumbling something along the lines of, "real mature," and, "picking favorites." The door is quick to swish shut again, just as the Hoarder was about to step inside. He growls but Aurelia doesn't wait to find out more as she takes the open door as a sign of consent and steps inside. 

The door leads to a courtyard bathed in warm, golden light. The ground beneath her feet is a mosaic of shimmering stones and crystals, reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors. Just as she is about to take a step, a soft petal blossoms beneath her foot.

"Yes yes, make yourself at home," the Hoarder drawls, stepping beside her. No petals bloom underneath his shoe laden feet, he merely steps on stones, with much exasperation.

Within the courtyard, a bubbling fountain stands as the centerpiece, its water flowing through a series of intricate sculptures resembling fairies and woodland creatures. The gentle sound of water creates a soothing ambiance, something unlike all her expectations of being in the Hoarder's presence. 

"Are we really in the right place?" Aurelia cannot help but ask. All of it feels too good to be true and she feels undeserving to her roots.

"Why yes, what did you expect? The pits of hell? All dark and black with a lava bridge to go over and prison bars and chains with gremlins sucking unicorn blood?" He scoffs, pocketing his hands as he strides forward.

"No, I mean — am I in the right place?" The petals feel like stepping on clouds as they've passed through the courtyard and enter the heart of the castle. 

"Geez, I'm a villain not an arsehole. I wouldn't make you stay in the cellars," he tsks. Somehow, his words tug something, somewhere, within Aurelia.

"Thank you," she whispers. Ornate hallways adorned with tapestries and enchanted paintings lead to passages unknown to Aurelia. The walls are decorated with shelves filled with gleaming artifacts, ancient tomes, and delicate glass orbs containing swirling mists of magic.

They stand in the centre of separation, with one hallway leading to the left and another leading to the right. "We part here," he draws a line with the tip of his shoe. "Everything beyond this line will be yours," he gestures his chin to the right side, "and everything here would be mine," he points a thumb behind his back, indicating the left side. "We never cross, unless it's mortal peril, okay?" He taps his foot, demanding an answer.

"Y-yes, sure, of course!" Aurelia instinctively salutes, and realises how dumb it is, pulls her hand swiftly behind her back.

The Hoarder turns to leave, abandoning her beyond a line like everyone else. Though, this line was more material than internal and maybe not all bad things wait beyond. Right...?

"Right, remember," he turns and with two big strides, he is standing in front of her again with his hands on her shoulders. "You are dispensable to everyone but me, okay? If you do anything that harms us, know that you'll face the repercussions before me. I'm not someone whose bad side you want to be on, okay?" 

Aurelia cannot see his face and it is such a pity. She wanted to see him, know wheather the words were out of selfish concern or just for the heck of it. She gulps.

"I'm dispensable to all but you...?"

"But yourself and me, so don't throw yourself away and live peacefully." 

Aurelia likes living peacefully.

An Unexpected Union — 6

— the mush-groom (two).

Aurelia's stomach churns.

The landquake intensifies but she has no idea why everyone isn't running for their lives.

Ah, because they can fly and possess strong magic forces to teleport away in the face of danger.

Her nails dig into her palms as The Hoarder leans closer, down to her face, and stops with his lips beside her ear. Her breath hitches. 

Aurelia is hyper aware of his minutest movements. She feels him suck a breath into his mask and whisper in the most hoarse voice possible, "I'm the only one who doesn't want you dead."

In the face of her mortality, Aurelia calms down. She pulls her hands away from her own grasp and lays them useless to her sides. She notices, through the subtle touch of her fingers on her thigh, that her leg was shaking involuntarily.

The landquake was her.

Aurelia gulps and grabs a hold of her thigh but it doesn't stop the shaking or even lessens it. A masked man to wed, stories with bad endings all in sight, Aurelia felt trapped within her fate.

It is in the moment when she realises that the cause of her misery was, 'Want.'

Nobody ever had anything to 'want' from Aurelia. She was just an unwanted existence, formed because nature needed to decompose trash. Although, she isn't even good at the one job all of her kingdom does. Truly unwanted in all forms and always left alone.

Being alone did not raise 'Wants,' and without them, Aurelia was comfortable in her isolated existence. The only wants she could have were with herself and the only person she could disappoint was herself. The stakes were never too high.

But for the first time, people Want something from her.

Someone Wants her to not die.

Someone Wants to use her as bait to save the World.

Folks actively show concern in her very existence.

The realisation was overwhelming yet comforting.

If death was already in her fate, why not quicken it when the stakes are still in her favour?

"So, should we start?" Words escape her lips without hesitation now, her hand slips in his without hesitation now. He clasps her fingers without hesitation, as if agreeing to a mutual pact, that 'Yes, death is inevitable, so why not enjoy the thrill of letting it stalk us,' or something equally villainous.

Queen Roachie was true. She was giving Aurelia's life a 'purpose,' though a short-lived one, but still better than being unwanted to the very end.

Right?

Or is she overthinking again?

Too late.

"Good decision, I collected a new suit just for the wedding," he clicks his tongue as if Aurelia is supposed to know the implication of it. She doesn't. The Hoarder was already leading her to the Centre.

The Emperor and Queen Roachie are still engaged in a battle of waving hands and fluttering wings.

With a flick of his hand, Queen Roachie is sent flying into the bushes and the Emperor finally stands straight. Other than her hand in his, Aurelia feels alone and insecure of her position.

Nevertheless, the tremor in her leg subsides. 

As they draw closer, the waters of the fountain respond, shimmering with a vibrant energy. The fountain bursts into iridescent crystal droplets raining its magical essence over them. Sun's rays pierce each droplet and form a circular rainbow haloing above their heads.

The droplets hit Aurelia's cap and birth a cloud of blue spores around her head. Her heart races in awe.

"About time," The Emperor purses his lips in a crisp greeting. She squirms her nose as they stand right infront of the Emperor, contemplating if she should greet him or not. 

Under the halo of the rainbow, the Emperor seems almost translucent. Aurelia greets him nevertheless, bringing her palms to face eachother and drawing them away with fingers twirling in representation of her rooty kingdom.

"Indeed," the Hoarder snaps. 

"You've chosen well, Mossbloom," Ignoring the Hoarder, the Emperor smiles at her. He has a kind smile and it reaches his eyes and crinkles on the sides. Aurelia is compelled to smile back, even when the whole proposition of "choice" was utterly false.

"Your choices were real elaborate, I almost pulled an all-nighter," The Hoarder drawls, much to Aurelia's amusement. Water droplets stick to the fabric of his suit and drench him in a diamond glow under the setting sun.

The Emperor mocks a smile as he taps one of his many silver rings decked on his fingers. A screen pops into existence, making Aurelia's jaw drop in awe. The Emperor uses his thumb and index finger to enlarge the screen and with the flick of his wrist, the screen was now on the ground with Aurelia and The Hoarder standing over a series of intricate magical glyphs. They seem to be inscribed on the floor, forming a pattern like that of a long branch curved inwards.

"A priest was wise enough to not participate but kind enough to help," The Emperor remarks as the glyphs interact with the falling droplets and begin to glow.

Aurelia's stomach grumbles, not just in hunger but with a thought that gets her skin pale. Was all of this an elaborate plan to lure out The Hoarder and kill him before the bonding?

These glyphs act as conduits, channeling the energy of the Aurelia and The Hoarder and aligning their cores with eachother. The pattern of the glyphs along with droplets from the Fountain of Life augment this process by generating focused energy fields and amplifying the participants' spiritual essence.

His grip tightens around her hand and his head tilts slightly back, as if he was caught by shock.

Aurelia feels sick by herself. Her spores multiply all pink around her head. Her breath hastens and through the corner of her eye, she sees the glyphs glow darker by the blink. 

Aurelia tries to unclasp their hands and run away but his grip only tightens. The pink cloud of her spores disappears into the dark smokes emitting out of the glyphs.

Just the nth bad decision of her life.

Aurelia feels panicked as the smokes get thicker. She uses her hand to haphazardly pinch the Hoarder over his sleeve and make him let go. She pulls and twists as her vision blurs by the second —

until a wet splash reaches her cap and face.

She presses her eyes open and her vision clears. He unclasps her hand and she is quick to hide it behind her back. Her heart thunders in its cage as he looms before her.

"Did you see something?" 

"Only the onset of my doom," she gasps. Her voice is breathy due to all the exasperation.

"Unkind. I wouldn't let you go that easy," he raises his hand to fix his cuff that she probably pinched out and that's when Aurelia notices the red. 

His white suit splashed in red.

A sticky substance dripping off her face, tainting the ground red.

All the red mixing with water, meeting its originator. The dead body of the Emperor laying cold, slotted against the basin. His head nowhere in sight, only splashes of red inking colour to the holy water of life.

An Unexpected Union — 5

— the mush-groom.

[ A FEW HOURS PRIOR ]

Perched atop the ruins of a once-majestic fae territory, stands The Hoarder's Castle emerging with a mesmerizing blend of ancient magic and ethereal beauty. The castle's foundation, infused with the residual power of the fallen Fae kingdom, imbues the entire structure with a living essence.

The castle itself rises majestically into curved towers and elegant spires reaching toward the sky, adorned with ivy and flowering vines that seem to dance with the wind. 

Having grown from land itself with its roots entwined with the remnants of the Fae ruins, its structure, constructed from enchanted stones and living vegetation, seems to breathe and groan, echoing the memories of the lost faedom and unappreciative of its current residents.

Nevertheless, under the subjugation of the Celestial Dragon, the vines and stones creep along the mossy surface of the floors and bind together, performing a practiced ritual of churning and crackling to form a chair for their master to rest on. An Ephemeral. A temporary existence.

The said Master cards a hand through his gold locks, ruby eyes concentrated on a small glass bead sitting between his thumb and index finger.

"We will kill him in his sleep. While he rests, you can shove the orb down his throat and he'll be gone for good. How many children does he have? I don't mind their ages, kill them all." 

"No, my Lord, the orb cost us too many lives to waste it on a mere Emperor," the Celestial Dragon disagrees. He's a being of power, with a striking inherent elegance that draws attention of all but his Master. The castle preens with every footstep he takes.

The Celestial Dragon's eyes reflect the depths of the night sky, shimmering with stardust and lending an enigmatic allure to his gaze. His Master catches his bold gaze and challenges it, smoldering ruby eyes a reflection of flames dancing in a sunset. 

"Alternatively, we can kidnap a bunch of witches, brew the Veil Elixir, sneak inside the castle, perform the Shadow Ritual and very gently kill the Emperor's soul and let me control his shell. Sounds brilliant and plausible, right?" 

The Celestial Dragon shakes his head. His lustrous and silky hair, flowing like strands of liquid stardust. "I encourage you to not comit regicide, the heavens will surely punish us for it and you're suffering enough," he curls a long lock behind his ear.

It makes his Master squirm.

"The heavens are a myth," he shrugs.

"I am a creature from the heavens!" The dragon breaths out in exasperation.

"Certainly a myth, probably a delusion of mine, you never know," his master nonchalantly stabs his subordinate with words.

"Master, I am hurt." 

"Better than being bound to a FUNGI for the rest of your life!" He flicks the orb into the air and the celestial dragon jumps to catch it— sighing in relief when it lands in his palms unscathed — for safekeeping.

"Marrying her wouldn't be the end, you know, I reckon the Emperor is a fool for commanding so."

"Draco, if I had to bind my ephemeral core to a magical entity just so my ascension into being a Celestial Lord is less painful, I'd start from choosing the dead fairies in our cellar!" His fist bumps against the hand-rest of the chair and the castle shifts and groans with contempt.

"They wouldn't be of much help, my Lord."

"Precisely! They're dead and she's a parasite! Same difference!" 

"Incorrect. She's someone who will get you off of the Wanted List. Surely it would make matters much easier for our future."

He stands up and the chair is quick to unwind; the vines and roots all slither back to their origin spots, making haste to spare not a moment more in service of their current master. 

He stands tall with a lean build veiled by loose dark trousers and a silken shirt hanging off his shoulders, giving way to prominent collar bones, a veiny neck and a sharp jaw. "You just want to see me bloody wedded and fail graduation, don't you?" He purses his lips together and narrows his slanty eyes in a condescending fashion. 

"Forgive me, my Lord, but you know I detest your ephemeral dedication," Draco mumbles, loud enough for the castle as well his Master to listen. The viney ceiling blooms in agreement and its Master can only roll his eyes.

Draco side-eyes the windows as dawn falls over them, captivating his soul.

"You're all just ganging up on me now," he scoffs as nobody twitches in disagreement. "Fine, no more souls for you, wretched castle! And no more skipping practices to talk to the stars, Draco!" 

The bloom on the ceiling instantly dies out with just as passion as Draco retorts, "But Master! The deceased call on me! I must talk to them, to let them be at peace!" 

"You can fight for dead-people-peace in your free time O' Paragon of Souls, burn some midnight oil while you're at it," The Hoarder seethes with smiling ruby eyes burning a glare through Draco. The silver haired dragon nods with his lips pursed. 

Draco never worked a minute past eleven on the Hoarder's ephemeral clock and not a minute before seven. He had fallen into schedule for the twelve years they had been together and it was hard for him to break out now. The worst case was when he literally escaped a battle with the Fae to sleep according to his schedule.

His Master would never let him live that one down.

The castle vines slither with haste, crackling and churning as they deliver to their master's feet his wardrobe and a full-length mirror. 

"Now, let us get this over with, shall we?" He whispers as the vines open the wardrobe doors for him. He gazes at the monotonous black and white tee-shirts and sweats reigning supremacy in his closet. "Cannot show up to my wedding dressed in athleisure, we've got a fungus to charm." 

"How about you wear one of mine?" Draco suggests.

The Hoarder turns to observe his fit and surely, a dragon has better dressing sense than him. He narrows his ruby eyes in a cold glare, tonguing his cheek whilst pretending to be offended.

Draco was draped in a suit from the skies, like always. Today it was a milky white, stitched with the mysteries of space and bejwelled with starlights. It fitted his built perfectly and The Hoarder takes a moment to scorn at how Draco is taller and wider than him.

Surely, he was a magical dragon afterall.

"No," The Hoarder concludes after quick contemplation. "We've got time, let us raid the Silkweavers for their new stock." 

An Unexpected Union — 4

— memories like spores

The first time she heard about him in fear.

The second time she heard about him in awe.

The third time she heard about him in death.

The Hoarder was famed enough for someone like Aurelia to know exactly who he was. Aurelia never kept up with the world, living in her own little bubble, but his news managed to penetrate even those unknown recesses.

The first time she'd heard about him, she was three sproutings old and some Fungualfolk brought their parents' lumias to garden classes and forgot them under a leaf. 

Their teacher found the money and before returning it to the fungi, she said something what stuck with Aurelia forever: "You must never leave your possessions unattended because The Hoarder is always ready to take them away."

He was infamous as a thief, plundering treasures and rarities bestowed on any species. He always got what he wanted and there was no one who could stop him.

Simply because no one knew who he was.

Other than the prophecy of destruction that followed him.

Aurelia had no extravagant assets to spare so she never really thought about the Great Evil Man being a problem to her measly life.

So, time passed and it was quite a while later when Aurelia heard about him again, through shouts and whispers, "The Fae Kingdom is destroyed! It is in ruins! The Hoarder, he done it! 

The Fae were in a powerful alliance with the ephemerals and The Hoarder, allegedly to prove a point that 'Ephemerals and Enchanteds can never be friends,' had destroyed the powerful magical kingdom.

Just like that, he became the most wanted criminal. A faceless entity recognised by an epithet, constantly stalked by those who wanted to win over him, or be him, or end him.

Though, there were few who could confess of the privilege of having seen him. There were rumours that he had taken over the Fae Castle but that was as far as news about The Hoarder was made public. 

That was until the third time, he was mentioned with close association to her. It was almost as if he was drawing closer every chance he was mentioned. A story once, a reality next, a part of her life now and the reason of her death in future. 

The blue light fades and in the heart of the world, materialising in front of her is the Center of Harmony, an exquisite realm where ephemerals and enchanteds set aside their differences and forge momentary alliances. 

The centre is enveloped by towering trees, ancient and wise, stretching their leafy branches towards the sky, casting dappled sunlight upon the landscape. A gentle babbling brook weaves its way through the lush meadows, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the vibrant hues of blooming flowers.

"We're here," Queen Roachie scrunches her pointy nose, surely unappreciative of anything but dingy sewers which could hide all of her colony for life. 

Aurelia nods. When life wasn't in her perspective, marriage was surely out of proportion. She was never educated about proper fungi weddings and neither had she ever been to one. Surely, kingdom mycelium was unaware to monogamy and stuff.

But a strange part of her was happy that the day was pretty. Happy that the place was pretty. Though she was plain, the world wasn't.

At the heart of this idyllic setting stands the Fountain of Life, a marvel of magnificence. It is responsible for breathing life in the enchanteds and sustaining the ephemerals. It has been there ever since the beginning of the World and marks the land of peace.

"Now, all you need to do is stand underneath the fountain and recite the bounding vows. Simple, isn't it?" Queen Roachie leads the way and Aurelia merely follows. 

She wants to scoff at how Queen Roachie disregarded selling Aurelia's soul as 'simple.' Instead, she bites the inside of her cheeks and focuses on the people waiting on the other side.

The fountain's basin, carved from shimmering marble, is adorned with intricate engravings depicting stories of unity, love, and eternal bonds. Water, as pure as the first raindrop, cascades from the outstretched hands of sculpted figures, glistening with an otherworldly radiance.

Surrounding the fountain, a sacred gathering space beckons Queen Roachie and Aurelia. Delicate petals from enchanted blossoms carpet the ground, their sweet fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil. Soft rays of sunlight filter through the canopy above, casting a warm glow upon the water.

Awaiting there are two men, one tall, dressed in a fitted white suit with silver embroidery and the other's frame overwhelmed by a red cape a furry collar.

Is he The Hoarder?! Is he wearing dead animal skin on him?!

Chills run through Aurelia's spine as Queen Roachie takes unhindered steps forward.

She considers escape but the Centre of the World is nothing but non-sentient trees and lakes for a good few miles. Everything beyond that would be foreign territory to Aurelia. "There's no escape...is there?" Words fall out of her lips in a whisper.

It makes their heads turn. 

The man draped in a red cape raises an arched brow, cold brown eyes staring through Aurelia's soul. He has big eyes, a strong jaw and a slender nose, all features being shadowed by his unblinking gaze.

Aurelia's spores burst into a cloud of pastel pink, making Queen Roachie and the caped man take unintentional steps away from her.

"Calm down now," Queen Roachie scolds, waving her hands to swat any possible spores away from her. "Greet the Emperor," she gestures to the red cape man.

Aurelia's gaze falters in shock, from the emperor to the man dressed in white suit. His face is covered under a crystal mask of shimmering starstones that capture and refract light in a dazzling mosaic of a pattern. 

Was he...The Hoarder?

Unlike the red of the Emperor's cape, the white of his suit brings an odd sense of calmness to Aurelia's roots. She hadn't noticed but he was standing closer to her than Queen Roachie was.

"Ahem," Queen Roachie coughs, "Greet the Emperor, Mossbloom!" 

"Ah!" Aurelia jerks a few steps back and brings her hands to gesture curtsy before The Hoarder slides in front of her and holds out his hand for her to take.

"No bride of mine greets that man," he scorns, holding out a gloved hand for Aurelia to take.

His face is hidden, his body is covered, his stance is relaxed and yet Aurelia could feel the tension morphing into a knife and stabbing through her heart. Having been in her own miserable reverie, Aurelia hadn't noticed how Queen Roachie and the Emperor were standing considerably afar, unmoving and stiff now.

They stare at her with cold and unfamiliar eyes. An unspeaking Queen Roachie was an unfamiliar one. They were people who did not give her a choice. They were people who had brought her to an altar and squirmed away from their object of fear.

The said object which holds out his hand for Aurelia to take, giving her a choice.

Or is she overthinking it all?

She wouldn't know until she dies finding.

"Why did you agree to this? Surely it wouldn't be p-possible if you hadn't said y-yes?" Aurelia questions, voice barely above a whisper. She folds her hands behind her back, fiddling with her fingers to distract her from forthcoming dread. Her eyes find marvelous patterns in the falling droplets, of the fountain, which escape their basin. 

Her heart thumps in her chest and she can feel the beat all the way down to her feet.

"You're strangely eloquent for someone from the Lowlands," his tone is laced with curiosity. His hand remains unmoving from in front of her.

Aurelia flushes, teeth pressing against eachother to overcome the wave of embarrassment currently holding her hostage. 

"I-uh, I—"

"She's the best of the best!" Queen Roachie bites on the dying curb of the conversation, "Mossbloom beats the system, really, smart she is!"

"Ha, the best parasite. How enchanting. No body asked you though," his tone is placid when he snaps his fingers and suddenly, Queen Roachie transforms back into her cockroach-self and flutters around a horrified Emperor in panic. The Emperor tries flapping away from her as Queen Roachie flutters around in desperation of escaping water and finding a hiding place.

"Ignore them," The Hoarder remarks gaining Aurelia's attention as he pushes a gloved finger under her unhinged jaw and closes it. Aurelia's spores burst into a cloud of purple around her and The Hoarder doesn't move an inch.

It further intensifies the purple around her because never had any being stood through her spore bursts without physically avoiding it with their whole body. 

"You're evading my question," Aurelia musters courage enough, stupified yet comfortable at the same time.

"Not my intention. I'm just genuinely curious about your teaching standards. Does one person get to attend more than a class before they're taken out by overpopulation? Surely there's one too many Bobs to count and remember." 

He chuckles at the joke no body understands because the Emperor is trying to maintain his chill in front of his enemy all the while aiming to crush Queen Roachie for good with his sceptre; but Queen Roachie too is wise with age and knows all escaping mechanisms.

"Still not the point," Aurelia supplies in a crisp tone. She is confident and feels better about the whole interaction until she realises that there is a landquake. She feels tremors rising through her feet. The Duskveins must be digging somewhere close...

"Of course it isn't. I'm just curious of the Lowland reproduction system, that's all," The Hoarder jabs.

"Gross," Aurelia replies, almost instinctively. She feels the landquake intensify around them but notices that the water in the fountain's basin was not rippling due to an exterior force.

"Not really gross, just honest. Talking of honesty, yes, I agreed because I fancy raising the stakes. Your life bound with mine, making me vulnerable and you exposed to all the threats aimed at me brings me a thrill that I crave."  

Aurelia's stomach churns.