GILDEONHe had always known Arah could shut out the world when she needed to focus, just as she had a minute ago. She’d remained oblivious even as he parked the car and walked through the door.But her picking the lock on his study had caught him off guard. This was new. A black box lay sprawled on the floor, its contents a jumble of instruments. Where did she get them?Just when he thought he had Arah all figured out, she found new ways to surprise him.But this time, she’d crossed a line, and he wasn’t about to let it slide.“I’m ready,” Arah said, a bold expression etched on her pretty face. Her chest was out, deliberately drawing his attention to the curves of her breasts, their buds poking hard against her nightdress.Lust surged through him, his pulse racing in anticipation. The thought of stripping her and making that tight body squirm under his touch made his cock twitch.He could take her right then and there, but he restrained himself. He had promised not to touch her until
GILDEONPleasure aside, he had to remind Arah of her place. Fixing his stern gaze on her flushed face, he rasped, “Pull that stunt again, and you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”Deep down, he was counting on it. His lust for Arah—everything about Arah—hadn’t waned. Not even a bit. He wouldn’t show it, but he was truly counting on her breaking more rules in the days to come.When she didn’t respond, he tipped his head and said, “Do you understand, Arah?”Her eyes remained locked on his, unblinking. The way she wiped her lips with the back of her hand was pure seduction, and he wanted that heavenly mouth to drive him mad again soon.Arah sprang to her feet, her expression almost unreadable. His body stiffened as she edged closer. He could smell his cum on her breath.“Do you really want me to be just an obedient wife to you?” she whispered in a challenging tone, tilting her head back, a small smile shaping her glistening lips. Fighting the urge to kiss her in this proximity was maddening.“I
Long ago, mindless beasts from distant realms breached this world. They were ravenous, draining the air and water, turning the planet into a wasteland.To resolve the crisis, the Shining Keeper, a being from the celestial planes, descended to the mortal realm. The plan was to craft vessels to house souls pivotal in sealing the cosmic breach. Those vessels would later be known as Lower Mortals, identified as Humans.To make the world habitable, the beasts had to be exterminated first. So the Shining Keeper created the Salamanders—Higher Mortals born of fire—to fulfill this task. They succeeded. Yet, she deemed them too barbaric and unfit to become the guardians of Humans.She fashioned a gentler and more docile successor. The Sylphs—Higher Mortals born of air—were tasked with eradicating the first race and replacing them as guardians.But the Salamanders defended their existence.Now, through ages untold, the Salamanders and Sylphs are engaged in an endless war, trapped in a fragment o
Six Months Ago (Part 1.2)GILDEONHe sprang to his feet, slipping into his trousers before joining Kohina outside. They stood together, looking down at their camp in the ravine below. Captive sylphs lay scattered around like cattle awaiting slaughter. Compared to their state, the cattle would’ve been more fortunate to meet a swifter and more dignified end.They said the Shining Keeper had shackled the sylphs’ emotions to maintain control over them, rendering them docile. But beneath the moonlight, Gildeon could see how those sylphs’ eyes, varying in shades of blue, glimmered with unease. Their lithe bodies shivered. He could smell their suppressed terror from atop the cliff.His gut twisted as he watched the scene below. Male and female sylphs lined up against the ravine wall, clothes torn, backs bared. Lash after lash from spiked whips tore into their skin, nearly flaying them alive.Some might argue this was mere retaliation for what their comrades had suffered. But as the acrid ste
Six Months Ago (Part 2.1)GILDEONHe smashed through the metal gates with a deafening roar, turning the garrison entrance into a chaotic mess of stone and steel. Towers crumbled, columns toppled, and bodies were trampled under his feet as he charged ahead.His dragon was hungry for destruction.His senses sharpened, locking onto the warrior sylphs and spellcaster sylphs in their whites and blues. They stood frozen, trying to maintain stoic faces, but he could see the confusion in their eyes, could practically taste their fear. This was likely their first time to see a dragon up close. Baring his teeth, he snarled, sending another wave of terror through them. Behind him, he felt the salamanders crashing through the wreckage, knocking down enemy sylphs. Some fought with blades, while others had shifted into their beast forms, slashing with claws and whipping their tails around. Before him, the spellcaster sylphs reacted first. Their hands formed reverse triangles in front of their stom
Six Months Ago (Part 2.2)GILDEONThe stench of death faded, replaced by the sharp smell of burning electricity. Ghulik squirmed against Gildeon's back, his tiny voice trembling.“What is Master doing? Master is going to Mad End's Wall. Master is already maaad!”The goblin jumped off, but Gildeon didn’t bother looking back to see where he scampered off. With a firm grip on the reins, he slowed the horse, needing a clear view of the chaos ahead.The trail widened, the trees thinning out until he reached a vast stretch of drylands. The ground was reddish-brown, cracked, and lifeless, stretching to the horizon where a wall of dazzling lights towered. Colors swirled together, creating a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic effect. It was as high as five men stacked on top of each other. He could hear its hum and feel the air sizzle, close enough to tingle his skin.Beyond the wall of lights, an even higher obsidian rock wall loomed, its peak lost in the sky. They said beyond that wall was the end
Six Months Ago (Part 3)GILDEONAraheen. That was her name. He couldn't grasp why her name stirred something deep within him—an inexplicable urge to possess her. From now on, she'd be his wife. At least until he'd taken what he needed from her.They found an abandoned sylph watchtower a few miles from the Mad End’s Wall. It was where he’d taken Araheen. They would be safe here. For now.Using the tip of his shortsword, he drew Kohina’s summon sigil on the rust-colored earth, muttering her name under his steam-charged breath. He needed her help to set his plans in motion, and Kohina was the only salamander he could trust with his secrets.Afterward, he settled onto the windowsill, one leg propped against the frame. While waiting for Kohina, he inspected the sigil needle he’d picked up earlier. Silver, with a finial patterned after an owl, its eyes set with sapphires. The tip was sharp enough to prick his fingertip. Other than that, it looked just like the hair sticks Kohina often used.
PresentGILDEONFor days, he'd been waiting for that powerful witch to make another move. So far, no danger had come Arah’s way, which meant one of two things: either they hadn’t traced the sylph magic back to her yet, or they were already aware and were just smart enough to bide their time.With no class today, it was perfect timing when he received news about another body turning up dead—someone who probably bore Arah’s Clover Wish too. He had to see it for himself. So, without wasting time, he drove straight to the fishing village and met up with the fisherman he had helped before.“You told me to call you if any strange jellyfish attacks came up around here,” Donny said, leading him to the far end of the shore. “Over there, Mr. Ayadi. I didn’t know what to do at first.”They trudged past boulders and fallen trees, remnants of last year’s typhoon. The low tide exposed algae-coated rocks, and even from this distance, Gildeon caught the stench of something rotten.“Master, Ghulik sme
ARAHFear coiled around her ribs like a vice.“I-it’s me,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.Gildeon didn’t flinch. His lips remained curled back, exposing sharp teeth. His expression was predatory, enraged. In his eyes, she was someone else—an enemy.What had Drusden done to him?She tried to choke out his name again, but her throat tightened, the pressure crushing her windpipe. Her pulse pounded—a frantic drumbeat against his grip. The steam curling from his scaled body rolled over her in suffocating, blistering waves.How the hell was she supposed to stop this?Through tear-blurred eyes, Arah caught a flicker of movement—an outline shifting, pulsing like a mirage behind Gildeon. Her eyes widened as she remembered her creature-helper.Gildeon hissed, his body tensing as his free hand shot back, claws poised to seize whatever had latched onto him. The creature clung to his neck, jaws clenched, its form flickering in and out of focus.The grip around Arah’s throat sl
ARAHDays passed. Drusden had recovered, but he remained at Roselia’s farmhouse.Roselia taught him about the old world and the ways of hedge witches. Drusden then hunted the dark witch responsible for the devastation—and eventually killed him.Together, they worked to cleanse the village of its plague and heal the people.Arah witnessed something shift between Roselia and Drusden. It was likely during this time that they began developing feelings for each other.Drusden also bonded with young Alaunus, though their connection was anything but paternal. He spoke to Alaunus about mankind’s corruption and the rewards of embracing a higher power as a witch.Roselia noticed it too, and Arah was sure it bothered her.Then came the day Drusden told Roselia everything—about Zephyr, about the vision of an army—an elite force of witches transformed into higher mortals meant to help Zephyr rule over Earthland.Arah wouldn’t have been surprised if Roselia had kept this knowledge even from Gildeon
ARAHTo say this was a massive shock would be an understatement. The idea of a lower mortal becoming a higher mortal was probably the last thing she had ever expected to hear.How could that even be possible? Flying to Shamibar in Zylas’s dragon form was already mind-blowing. But the idea of altering the very nature of a mortal by merely passing through the Mad End’s Wall? That was a whole different realm of insanity.No matter how she tried to make sense of it, the logic eluded her. Unless Zephyr was lying to Drusden. Maybe the sylph simply said whatever he needed to get what he wanted.“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she whispered.In the next memory, Zephyr was gone. Arah barely had time to take in her surroundings before Drusden crumpled to the ground. Blood seeped from his ear as he fought to stay conscious.The stench hit her—a suffocating, sickly blend of rotting meat, unwashed bodies, and the sharp tang of smoke. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat
ARAHThe next memory swept her onto the battlements, where she had a clear view of the invasion unfolding below. This was a different place, a different time. A different nation. The people spoke in foreign tongues.Men in ragged clothing, their faces twisted with barbaric fury, slaughtered civilians with swords and axes. Limbs were severed, bodies crumpled in pools of blood. Women screamed as they were dragged away—some ruthlessly stripped of their clothes, preyed upon by these animals. Children’s throats were slit without hesitation.Arah grimaced in horror at every atrocity, her stomach churning. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget—to block out the carnage. But every anguished scream, every whispered prayer of the helpless, cut through her like a blade, carving into her heart and twisting her gut.Zephyr’s voice interrupted her thoughts.“Look at them,” he said to Drusden as he stood on the parapet ledge, gazing down at the massacre below. “Look at how your kind d
ARAHZephyr brought Drusden to Yonah’s temple. And as she had with Marianne, Arah watched Drusden enter the Dark Plane with Zephyr’s help. It took longer this time, and at one point, she thought Drusden would die right there on his knees.When Drusden snapped back to consciousness, his palms slapped against the stone floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat beading on his forehead. His skin was ghostly pale, his wide eyes unfocused—like a man who had stared into the abyss and seen something stare back.“What have you sacrificed, human?” Zephyr asked, crouching before him.Drusden slowly lifted his head, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. “My spirit will live on even after death,” he said softly. “I will never be able to reunite with my family.”Arah couldn’t begin to imagine the misery Drusden would endure for the price he paid.A small smile appeared on Zephyr’s lips. “For that sacrifice, the power you obtained must be great. Show me.”Without a word, Drusden exhaled, and a bi
ARAHAnother death was reported—a woman who sold milk and eggs, saving every coin to buy medicine for her bedridden father.Arah watched as Drusden slammed his fists onto the desk, sending a quill and inkpot rattling, scrolls tumbling to the floor. His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring as he ducked his head, a muscle ticking in his temple. Even his men, though silent, shared his frustration.She still didn’t know how the deaths were connected to the ministers, but she believed in Drusden’s suspicions. This whole thing reeked of injustice. And more than anything, she wanted to see what he would do about it.The next day, Drusden and his men arrived at one of the ministers’ workshops. The place reeked of ink and damp parchment—likely the very goods being produced here.“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Inspector,” one of the workshop guards stammered, his face pale. “The ministers won’t take kindly to this.”Drusden barely spared him a glance. “I’m not here for their kindness, boy,” he said sharp
ARAHDrusden looked almost the same as he did in the present—just younger. His brown hair was longer, and his face was more open, easier to read. There was no trace of his usual smugness. Instead, he was serious. Dutiful. His tone lacked the usual edge of playfulness she had grown so used to.How could he be the same Drusden, yet different at the same time? Maybe witch power really could change people after all.She followed Drusden through the streets until he stopped in front of a small house. Sympathy softened his features as he spoke to the victim’s wife. Inside, four children sat around a table—faces thin, clothes worn—with nothing but bowls of plain porridge in front of them.Arah felt a tug in her chest. It was obvious they weren’t eating enough. And now, with their provider gone, how would they survive?“I am deeply sorry,” Drusden said.The woman broke down, shoulders trembling as she wept.Drusden’s gaze flickered to the children, their wide eyes full of questions they were
ARAHIt was up to her to pull him out of it.The weight of that realization pressed down on Arah like a boulder. She was determined—of course, she was—but how was she supposed to do it? The thought of failing, of not being enough to help Gildeon, curled around her ribs like a vice.She shook her head, shoving the doubt aside. This wasn’t the time for uncertainty. Gildeon needed her, and that was all that mattered.She sprinted down the prison hallway, dodging jagged chunks of fallen stone and splintered beams. Behind her, the sounds of battle raged—Roselia and Lokius locked in a deadly clash.Then, a sharp cry of pain.Roselia.Arah faltered, her body twisting instinctively toward the sound. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn back, to help. But she knew Roselia wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t forgive Arah for wasting time—not when Gildeon’s life hung in the balance.Gritting her teeth, Arah forced her feet forward.Outside, the fog wall loomed before her—a towering, imp
GILDEONIn a blink, he was back in Drusden’s throne room. He dropped to his knees, palms flat on the cold floor, breath ragged. He hadn’t even realized he’d shifted back to his mortal form. His chest tightened, a storm of emotions threatening to tear free.His mysterious birth mother. His father’s death…He slammed his palms against the floor, frustration boiling over. Haemos and Kohina knew who he really was. Why the fuck had they kept it from him?Footsteps. Brown boots halted in front of him—Drusden’s. The Headwitch crouched, head tilted.“If you need a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available, salamander,” Drusden mocked.Gildeon’s glare burned as he met the bastard’s smug face.“Not gonna lie. Your father’s memory might be my favorite one I’ve delved into.” Drusden paced, dragging from his cigarette. “Learned a lot about your kind. Shame we never got the real answer about your mother.”He stopped, gaze lifting to Dragon Zylas as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “I really thought I’