GILDEONHer words hit him square in the chest. Part of him wanted to tell her he had never meant to hurt her—that he still cared, even if he’d failed to show it.But the confession lodged in his throat, choked by all the things left unsaid.Another tear rolled down her cheek, and something inside him stirred. Without thinking, he bridged the gap between them, his hand reaching out to brush the tear away with his thumb. His gaze bore into her blue eyes, still simmering with resentment yet tinged with hope. They reminded him of that sylph girl from long ago, the same fire in their eyes.And he had made them both cry.Gildeon parted his lips, ready to let Arah in—not completely, but just enough to lift the weight pressing down on him.But then his rational side yanked him back hard. ‘Remember what's at stake,’ the voice in his head snapped. ‘You're not here to fucking play the role of a real husband.’“You’re tired. Get some sleep,” he said, his tone distant as his hand dropped from her
GILDEONOne hand grabbed her hip, while the other shoved her dress up, baring the smooth expanse of her thighs.“What are you…” Arah stammered, her eyes widening in shock. A deep red spread across her face.With a rough pull, he yanked her underwear down, the fabric ripping in his hands before it fell to the floor, making her gasp. The scent of her arousal hit him like a potent drug.His breath hovered over the soft blue curls above her pussy—so fucking perfect—and his fingers traced her center, finding the slick wetness already there, waiting for him.He glanced up to gauge Arah’s reaction once more, but she quickly averted her eyes, as if ashamed of just how much he had turned her on despite her protests.His mouth followed where his fingers led, his tongue swiping forcefully along the center of her folds, tasting her, savoring the slick heat. She trembled, bracing her elbows on the bar top. A loud moan escaped her as his tongue circled her clit, the pressure intensifying with each
ARAHShe woke up soaked in sweat and tears, her skull pounding as if it might split open. Was this just a hangover? What about the deep, lingering ache in her chest?The dream she’d just had was too intense—her sobbing, shaking, screaming at Gildeon in fury. Maybe it was just her subconscious replaying her grievance from last night. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her dreamed rage stemmed from something else, something she couldn’t quite remember.The last thing she could recall from that dream was her saying, “I will end you, one day!”She let out a dry laugh. Her subconscious must’ve gone too far with that, even considering how she currently felt.Her head throbbed again, and she winced as she rolled off the bed and walked out of her room. The house was quiet, except for Barky, who stirred at her footsteps and padded over to her. Heading to the kitchen, the memory of last night froze her: her daring to challenge Gildeon, him reminding her of her place in his life—a wife,
ARAHShe had no clients booked for the morning, so she took the opportunity to tidy up her studio. With earphones in, she let an audiobook play on her phone—a story about a human girl falling for an alien amidst a war between their species. The premise had sounded silly to her at first, but it quickly became a welcome escape from the unhappy thoughts and memories she was desperate to avoid.The tale drew her in, sparking her curiosity about how beings from two entirely different species could find a way to fall for each other. To mate, even.‘That would be interesting,’ she thought.As she organized her desk drawers, her gaze landed on her logbook, and the morning’s incident flashed in her mind. Instinctively, she pulled it out and flipped to the page where she’d recorded the names of all the clients she’d given the Clover Wish to.The narrator’s voice became muffled in the background as she read over Plumber Paul’s and Jessie’s information. They both had the same tattoo. They both di
ARAHShe watched as he sat up and pulled out his notebook.“I’ve spoken to Miss Jessie Greene’s friends. They mentioned she stopped by here a few weeks ago for a…” He flipped through his notes, scratching his temple. “Clover Wish tattoo. Is that correct, Mrs. Ayadi?”“Yes,” she replied.“And that’s the same tattoo Paul Hernandez had, correct?”She nodded, hesitating. As if sensing the question forming in her mind, he added, “The coroner’s office showed me the photos right before his body was stolen.”Her mouth fell open. Given the long delay for Plumber Paul’s supposed public funeral, she'd already suspected the rumor was true. But hearing it confirmed by a law enforcer made it all the more real. The image of that beastly hand in the video flickered in her mind, raising her suspicions once again. But her focus snapped back to Agent Durante as the rustling of papers grew loud from his direction.“So did Elise McKinney,
ARAHThe next morning, she wasted no time. After ensuring Gildeon was at school, she drove straight to La Calma. With each mile closer to the cabin, her heartbeat quickened, drumming louder in her chest. Agent Durante’s suspicions might just be grasping at straws, but a gnawing thought lingered: what if he truly knew more about her husband than she did?That thought terrified her. What if she uncovered something... worse? Could she face that?She had once abandoned her search for the truths and secrets surrounding her husband. But this time was different. It wasn’t just her marriage or their hidden past on the line—innocent lives were at stake. Her clients’ lives. She couldn’t turn a blind eye now.When she arrived, she circled the cabin, listening intently for any sound inside, making sure even Roselia wasn’t there. Her next move was swift and calculated. With steady hands, she picked the lock on the cabin door, finding it easier than breaking into Gildeon’s study.Inside, she search
ARAHShe stepped back quickly. “Please… don’t come any closer,” she muttered, her breath quick and anxious.Gildeon paused mid-step, but his serious expression didn’t waver.This moment took her back to the day she’d woken up after the accident, her mind a blank slate. Gildeon had been the first face she saw. She’d been terrified of him—those reptilian eyes, that stern expression, that imposing posture that made her feel so small and powerless.It felt just like that now, as if she were back in that day, knowing nothing—not a single thing—about the man who claimed to be her husband.Her hand trembled in the air. “These people…” Her voice faltered, barely holding together. “Are you the one doing this to them?”She didn’t know why she still clung to the hope that he might be innocent. Or that if he tried to talk his way out of it—just like he usually did—some part of her might choose to believe him.But Gildeon said nothing, and her heart sank. There was no denial, not even a flicker of
GILDEONHe perched on the back of the chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the view outside. Branches swayed, and leaves rustled in the breeze. A few dead ones drifted down, landing on the stone table. The wind had toppled the fruit picker, leaving it sprawled on the ground—a small but telling echo of the stumble in his plans.Arah’s discovery of the supernatural wasn’t something Gildeon had anticipated happening so soon.Now, there was no avoiding it.He glanced at her, still asleep on the couch. Barky lay beneath her, casting cautious looks his way as if he were a threat. He and the dog had never been fond of each other, but when it came to protecting Arah, that was one thing they could agree on.The morning light softened Arah's face. Her disheveled blue hair spilled over the cushion, a few curls stubbornly clinging to her rosy cheeks. He wanted to brush them away but couldn’t risk startling her—not when she could wake up at any second.‘You must've been in shock,’ he thought, noticin
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’