227: The Twin Spirits of Light and Darkness · Part 2

"Why do you obey me so completely, Lúthfa? Do you love me?"

"Love?" Lúthfa's long ears twitched as she pondered the question. "I don't know what love is. But according to the epic poems sung by bards, I imagine it's a pure emotion, untainted by any other motives. I don't think I'm that pure of a spirit…"

"So, it's not love," Nolan stated flatly, though he didn't seem particularly disappointed.

Lúthfa and Shafa were both brought to him—no, taken by him. To expect them to hold a pure love for him would be naive.

But Nolan was not starved for love. He had Eve and Cho's affections, and even Felicia's in her own twisted way. These were vast, unwavering loves, more than enough to sustain his pride as a male.

"I am grateful to you, Your Highness," Lúthfa whispered, tightening her embrace around his waist. "You saved the Elven Forest. You rescued my people. You accomplished what even the purest of elves could not. That is why I give myself to you."

"That was a transaction, Lúthfa—one that I proposed."

"Beyond gratitude, there is also dependence… No longer a priestess, only a gardener, I have no one to rely on but you in the long years ahead," she murmured. "Gratitude and dependence—that is the feeling the gardener Lúthfa has for Your Highness. I am not a pure spirit…"

"Lúthfa." Nolan tilted her chin up, admiring the confusion in her otherwise serene face. "Love isn't something one is simply born with. If you wish to be a pure spirit, then start cultivating it now—like tending to the plants of Randall Gorge. Nurture it with care, and I will wait for the day your pure love grows into a towering tree."

"Your Highness…"

Lúthfa's usually solemn, priestly voice softened, turning light and silky, like a feather brushing against Nolan's ears. The skin beneath his fingertips felt different, supple and warm, as if every pore was releasing a sweet, intoxicating nectar.

It was an elven courtship signal.

Nolan slowly pushed the once-dignified priestess onto the bed.

Under the cold moonlight, the night in Randall Gorge deepened.

…

Afterward, Lúthfa clung to Nolan carefully, as if afraid she might break a piece of fragile porcelain. Amused, Nolan finally said, "Perhaps you've forgotten, Lúthfa. I am a Von Draugr. My body is far more resilient than yours."

"I know, but…" Lúthfa blinked, a dazed expression on her face, as if she were still lost in a dream. "But, Your Highness… you are now my mate. I have never had a mate before. I never knew that having one would make me feel so… strange."

"And what kind of feeling is that?"

"It's like… watching a carefully nurtured plant finally bloom," Lúthfa murmured. "The joy is overwhelming, so much that I want to dance and sing. But at the same time, I am afraid. Afraid that if I move too much, I might damage this delicate blossom. So all the happiness and excitement are trapped inside me, and even my teeth are trembling from it."

She fell silent. Then—chatter, chatter—Nolan could hear the sound of her teeth clicking together.

Cho once told him there was a phrase in her country: huàn dé huàn shī—the fear of both gaining and losing something.

Looking at Lúthfa now, Nolan thought she might be feeling exactly that.

"If simply having a mate makes you this happy," he teased, "I wonder how ecstatic you would be if you had a child."

At his words, Lúthfa's expression shifted. She stood up, her eyes shining with a new, unreadable light.

Lúthfa was a remarkable woman. Unlike the still-maturing Eve, or the human women bred for the Von Draugr family, she was more akin to Libera—mature, alluring, and composed. For the young vampire, women like them were like a potent drug, enticing and dangerously addictive.

Nolan stayed in Lúthfa's cabin for five hours before she reluctantly sent him on his way. As he left, she pulled up his sleeve, tying a delicate vine bracelet around his wrist, just beside the sleeping white snake, Sheila. Then, blushing deeply, she quickly retreated back into her wooden home.

"What is this?"

Raising his wrist to the moonlight, Nolan examined the faintly glowing vine. It wasn't an ordinary plant—tiny, flickering lights moved along its surface, a telltale sign of an enchanted elven artifact.

"It is an elven betrothal token," Shafa suddenly spoke beside him. The dark elven ranger had become as silent as a shadow, appearing and disappearing without a trace. Her golden-flecked eyes narrowed slightly beneath her deep blue hood. "When a female elf chooses her mate, she bestows this upon him. It is imbued with enchantments that make it nearly unbreakable and grants the wearer the blessings of the forest."

"A rather charming tradition," Nolan mused.

"Some elves choose their mates freely," Shafa continued. "But others remain unpaired. Every few years, unbonded elves from different villages gather in the Vinewood Glade for a mating festival. During this time, the female elves hide their bracelets in the forest, and the males must search for them. The one who finds a bracelet claims its owner as his mate. For the past two centuries, Lúthfa was the one who presided over these ceremonies… I never thought she would one day offer her own bracelet."

It was somewhat like human matchmaking, Nolan thought.

Though, given the dwindling population of elves and their low birth rate, the urgency of these pairing ceremonies must be much greater. If too many elves remained single, their race would continue to decline.

"I'm glad Lúthfa has changed," Shafa finally said. "She was raised as a priestess from birth, and for five hundred years, her life never deviated from its course."

"And what about you, Shafa?" Nolan asked.

"I am not like Lúthfa. I am cold, dull, and insignificant," Shafa replied bluntly. Then she lifted her gaze to his. "Your Highness, tonight is a full moon."

Nolan immediately understood what she meant.

Just like two years ago, when he had turned Yulisa Heckler, the full moon was the most auspicious time to create a new blood kin. Shafa had already pledged herself to become his third kin, and tonight was the perfect moment.

Half an hour later, on the western cliffs of Randall Gorge.

This was the very edge of the territory. Beyond these cliffs lay a vast mountain range. Crossing those peaks would lead one out of the Eternal Night and into the bright world of Muggles.

Standing in the darkness, gazing at the distant horizon where the sky still burned with the last embers of twilight, Nolan found the sight oddly captivating.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the pale blue full moon, then reached out to stroke the silky, ash-blonde hair of the dark elf beside him.

"Kneel, Shafa," he commanded softly.

"Yes… Your Highness."

Shafa obeyed without hesitation, sinking to her knees.

Nolan parted his lips, revealing two sharp fangs. He lowered his head to the ranger's slender, dark-hued neck—and bit down.

"From this day forward, you are my third blood kin… May you find eternal joy, Ranger Shafa."

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