_________
Lucina
I swallowed hard, the weight of the last few days pressing down on me like a stone. The dark-haired man's intense gaze pinned me in place, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as memories of my drunken confession returned, raw and mortifying: "Y-yes… I was too drunk last time…"
The memory burned, but I had to be honest now, especially after his recent revelation. My fingers fidgeted with the edge of my sleeve, the intricate gold and teal necklace he had given me—still cold against my chest—feeling impossibly heavy.
"So it was a black candle that made you act like that?" His voice was low, measured, searching my eyes for any hint of deceit.
I nodded, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "That's right. I… I fell victim to black magic because of that candle."
Shock flitted across his expression, quick but undeniable. He had believed it had all been me—the erratic behavior, the strange possessiveness, the words I barely remembered saying. My chest tightened at the thought of the hurt I must have caused him.
"I've never heard of a candle that could control someone like that," I admitted, my voice shaking. The memory of my altered state made me feel physically ill even now. "Why are you worrying about this now?"
He reached out and took my hand, his touch grounding me, solid and reassuring. "I've found the person who sent the candle… but not who made it."
A cold dread seeped into me. "…I assume Giaret gave the order to send it," I murmured, recalling the scraps of arcane parchment I had uncovered, scrawled with symbols I didn't fully understand. "But she can't wield black magic herself…" My mind spun, trying to locate the source. Where on earth could she have acquired such a thing?
The enemy wasn't just closer—they were far more cunning, more dangerous, and infinitely more mysterious than I had imagined. The black candle was only a tool. The real threat was still in the shadows, pulling the strings.
---
He drew me closer, his tattooed arm a strong anchor against the storm of my worry. My thoughts raced, dwelling on the danger he faced from the user of the black magic.
"According to the cleric," he said, his hand gently patting my head as if to calm the storm in my chest, "using that black magic would have torn the user's soul apart, and it would have put unimaginable stress on their body. I need to see if anyone has suffered a sudden illness recently."
I nodded, taking in his words, the unease twisting tighter in my stomach. The black candle was merely a vessel—the true cost fell on its creator. My eyes drifted to the turquoise-and-pearl necklace resting against my chest, and a fleeting, unwelcome thought crossed my mind.
Could it have…? No. My brother's heart had always been frail, and yet he had protected me without hesitation all these years. The very idea that he could be involved in such dark magic made my chest ache. I pushed the thought away, trying to convince myself it was impossible.
He must have seen the worry clouding my gaze. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you worry."
Then a sharp, commanding voice cut through the room. "I refuse."
We both turned, and my breath caught. A woman in a red two-piece dress knelt on the floor, trembling violently. Her desperation radiated in every shiver, every strained gesture.
"What?" he asked, his tone cutting, wary.
"I… I won't use black magic anymore." Her voice was frantic, pleading. The threat to me had evidently driven her to the breaking point. "They… they took away your maid this time… and now you're in danger as well."
The pieces clicked into place—the maid, the candle, the woman's surrender. The enemy was closing in, moving faster than I had imagined. Danger was all around, in every shadow and in every heartbeat. My chest tightened, and I clung to his arm, feeling the world tilt just slightly off balance.
---
I felt the warmth of his bare chest pressed against my cheek, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding me amidst the storm of my thoughts. My mind was still reeling from the revelation: the black magic had come from a candle, but the true maker remained unknown.
"According to the cleric," he said, his voice low and calm, gently patting my head, "using that black magic would have torn the user's soul apart and placed immense stress on their body. I need to see if anyone has suffered a sudden illness recently."
A cold dread clenched my heart. Is there any chance…?
My thoughts raced to my brother. His heart had "always been weak from a young age," and he had always been my unseen protector. The idea that he could have used black magic to shield me made my stomach churn. I shook my head violently, refusing to accept it. "There's no way he would do such a thing… to hurt me." The thought was poison, and I refused to drink.
He noticed the tension in my eyes and softened his gaze. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you worry."
Before I could respond, a voice sliced through the fragile calm of the room.
"I refuse."
My gaze snapped toward the source. Giaret, the woman in the red two-piece dress, knelt trembling on the floor. Her eyes glistened with desperation, a plea unspoken in their depths.
"What?" he asked, his tone sharp, suspicion sharpening every syllable.
"I… I won't use black magic anymore," she said, her voice strained but resolute. "They took away your maid this time… and now you're in danger as well."
His eyes narrowed, cold and assessing. "You're not just using me as an excuse because you're worried about that foolish girl, right? Or… is it because you're worried about that wench?" The muscle in his jaw twitched, betraying his tension.
Giaret's gaze dropped, and she let out a heavy sigh. "Well… if you're that against it, there's nothing I can do." She gestured dismissively, her shoulders sagging with resignation.
Is that it? My chest tightened as I watched. Is he just letting her go?
Giaret looked at him one last time, a shadow of pain crossing her features. "You abandoned me first… so don't blame me for letting you go either." Her movements were deliberate, measured, each step a quiet farewell.
He whispered her name—Giaret—but his expression remained inscrutable.
Then a sudden, horrifying realization crashed into me like a storm. My hands flew to my head as I shook it, desperate to banish the thought. No… that can't be!
The truth was unbearable. Gilla… fell ill because he used black magic. My brother, suffering, destroying his own soul just to protect me.
He saw my distress immediately. Without hesitation, he scooped me into his arms, holding me tightly against his broad, muscular frame. "This will heal in no time, so there's no need to worry," he murmured, perhaps thinking of the physical wounds, unaware of the emotional turmoil tearing through me.
Weeks passed. The palace seemed calm, but a subtle tension lingered beneath the surface. I rested in his arms, dressed in a soft mint-green gown, yet my mind replayed the image of Giaret walking away, and the dreadful realization of my brother's sacrifice gnawed at me relentlessly.
My heart felt impossibly heavy. He held me close, his tattooed arm a protective anchor. "According to the cleric, using that black magic would have torn the user's soul apart and caused immense stress," he repeated gently, patting my head. "I need to see if anyone has suffered sudden illness recently."
Is there any chance…?
My thoughts darted to my brother. His heart had always been fragile, yet he had silently guarded me through every danger. I pushed the dark suspicion aside, refusing to believe it: "There's no way he would use black magic to hurt me."
"Get some rest," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you worry."
Before I could even move, Giaret entered, her dark hair brushing her shoulders as she knelt, trembling. "I refuse," she announced, her voice breaking slightly.
"What?" he asked, startled.
"I won't use black magic anymore," she said, her eyes pleading. "They took away your maid this time… and now you're in danger as well."
He looked at her, suspicion flaring. "You're not just using me as an excuse because you're worried about that foolish girl, right? Or… is it because you're worried about that wench?"
Giaret did not answer. He sighed, his tone softening slightly. "Well… if you're that against it, there's nothing I can do."
She stood slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "You abandoned me first… so don't blame me for letting you go either."
His name left his lips as she departed, a mixture of sorrow and longing in his gaze.
A sudden, shocking realization struck me like lightning. I clutched my head, shaking it violently. "No… that can't be!"
The truth was too horrible to bear. Gilla… fell ill because he used black magic.
Seeing my torment, he drew me close, his arms enveloping me protectively. "You're hurt, Hakan," I murmured, noticing a fresh cut on his cheek and brushing my fingers gently over it.
"This will heal in no time, so there's no need to worry," he reassured me.
"Even so…" I began, reaching out to touch him. "Shall I heal it for you?"
He hesitated, then held me closer, the world narrowing to just us.
Weeks later, I rested in the palace in a mint-green gown when a man approached, bowing deeply. "Congratulations, my lady," he said. "You are now carrying a descendant of the Dragons!"
I touched my stomach in disbelief. "No way… I'm carrying Hakan's child…"
The man's voice turned grave. "You won't be able to use your healing power while pregnant. You must be careful; even the slightest stress could affect you and the baby. Your energy will be used to protect you from the fire energy of the child."
The news hit me like a storm. I was carrying a dragon's heir—but I had just lost my power and gained a vulnerability that could threaten both our lives.
Hakan held me securely in his arms, his strength a comforting anchor against the storm of my thoughts. He had just explained the horrifying truth: using black magic would tear apart the user's soul and put immense stress on their body. "I need to check if anyone has been suffering from a sudden illness recently," he added, his hand patting my head gently.
A chill ran down my spine. Is there any chance…? My thoughts darted to my brother, whose heart had always been weak from a young age. He had silently protected me all this time, but the thought of him using black magic—even to shield me—was unbearable. "There's no way he would use black magic to hurt me," I whispered to myself, trying to push the horrifying possibility away.
"Get some rest," Hakan murmured, his gaze soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry I made you worry."
Our fragile calm shattered when Giaret, the woman in the red two-piece dress, knelt trembling before us. "I refuse!" she declared, her voice strained but resolute. "I won't use black magic anymore. They took away your maid this time… and now you're in danger as well."
Hakan's expression hardened, suspicion glinting in his eyes. "You're not just using me as an excuse because you're worried about that foolish girl, right? Or… is it because you're worried about that wench?"
Giaret's gaze fell, and after a tense silence, he exhaled and relented. "Well, if you're that against it, then there's nothing I can do." She rose, pain shadowing her features. "You abandoned me first… so don't blame me for letting you go either."
The horror hit me like a lightning bolt. I clutched my head and shook it violently. No… that can't be! The truth was too terrible to bear: Gilla had fallen ill because he had used black magic—my brother, sacrificing himself, destroying his own soul just to protect me.
Hakan immediately sensed my distress and scooped me into his arms, holding me tight. "You're hurt, Hakan," I said, noticing a mark on his cheek, gently brushing my fingers over it.
"This will heal in no time, so there's no need to worry," he reassured me, his voice steady.
"Even so…" I murmured, reaching for him. "Shall I heal it for you?"
He gave me a long, unreadable look, and we stayed like that for a moment, silence stretching around us.
A Few Weeks Later
I sat in the palace, dressed in a soft mint-green gown, still reeling from recent events, when a man in elaborate ceremonial attire approached, bowing deeply. "Congratulations, my lady," he announced. "You're pregnant. You now carry a descendant of the Dragons in your body!"
I touched my stomach in disbelief. "No way…" My mind struggled to process the shock. I was carrying Hakan's child.
The man's expression grew serious. "However, you won't be able to use your healing power while you are pregnant. You must be especially careful now that you bear a Dragon's child inside your body. Even the slightest stress could have a significant impact. The energy you have may be used up to protect you from the fire energy produced by the baby."
Hakan embraced me, pressing me close, his voice soft against my hair. "You're finally carrying my child."
"Hakan…" I murmured, overwhelmed.
He smiled and asked gently, "Tell me if there's anything you want. Do you want gold? Or jewels?"
I teased lightly, "But if I tell you… you'll just bring me far too much!"
He laughed, a booming, warm sound that made the palace walls seem to shimmer with joy. "This is nowhere near enough to show how much I care about you." Then, picking up a piece of fruit, he offered it to me. "Here. Eat up. You need to stay healthy."
As he doted on me, feeding me tenderly, I suppressed a giggle. My mind drifted to a small, fairy-like creature named Puka, who had appeared earlier. "What's going on? Is it really possible for someone to change this much?" I mused, smiling softly. Hakan has always been a sweetheart.
But reality quickly pressed back. Puka's voice reminded me of the danger still looming. "You won't be able to use your healing power if either you or Hakan is seriously injured."
I realized then that we needed a new solution. If someone could fully heal a black arrow wound, Hakan could receive treatment from another with holy powers. The Sacred Artifact of the Cameru Faith in the Brion Kingdom—it could heal injuries caused by black arrows, I thought urgently.
"THAT'S IT, PUKA!" I exclaimed, determination flashing in my eyes. If the Cameru believers agreed to help, both Hakan and the Tayar Kingdom would be safe. The solution was clear: we had to seek the power of the Cameru Faith.