Forbidden Ground
Kaelvhar hesitantly repeated the alchemist's words, a tremor in his voice. "My father… his garden?"
The alchemist nodded, her expression grave.
"It's forbidden to enter the Demon King's garden, Your Majesty. But… the Moonpetal might grow there. Your father cultivates rare plants…"
Kaelvhar's mind wrestled with conflicting emotions.
His desperation to see his destined lover warred with the fear of his father's wrath.
But the image of the elven girl, a fragile beacon in the darkness of his grief, solidified his decision.
His destined partner was more important than his father's anger.
"I'll go," he said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands.
"Are you sure, Your Majesty?" the alchemist asked, her concern evident.
"There's no other way," Kaelvhar replied, his gaze unwavering.
The alchemist wished him luck, a silent prayer for his safety clinging to her words.
He stood before the entrance to the garden, a place he associated with both beauty and unspeakable horror.
His mind raced, unsure of what awaited him. He knew his father's volatile nature; the consequences of trespassing were unthinkable.
But the thought of seeing his elven lover again, of finally bridging the chasm that separated them, pushed aside his doubts.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the garden.
He moved cautiously, his steps light and silent.
When he remembered that he hadn't thought to ask the alchemist what the Moonpetal looked like, a careless oversight that now gnawed at him.
He was about to turn back to ask to the alchemist, his mission seemingly doomed from the start, when he saw his father entering the garden.
Kaelvhar quickly hid behind a thick, flowering bush, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
He peeked through the leaves, his gaze fixed on Andreas.
His father walked slowly, his movements heavy with a weariness that seemed to weigh him down, his shoulders slumped as if burdened by an invisible weight.
His gaze was unfocused, lost in the vibrant blooms, yet his expression held a profound sadness, a deep well of sorrow that seemed to emanate from him like a chilling mist.
Kaelvhar followed him silently, his steps careful and measured.
He stopped when Andreas stopped, his heart pounding a suffocating rhythm in his chest. Had he been discovered?
Then, Andreas sank to his knees, his body collapsing as if the very earth beneath him had given way.
A low groan escaped his lips, a sound of profound anguish, of a soul torn apart by grief.
He remained kneeling for a long moment, his head bowed low, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs that wracked his entire frame.
His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles bone-white, as if he were trying to grasp at something intangible, something lost forever.
Finally, he spoke, his voice a low, pained whisper barely audible above the rustle of leaves.
"Fenrathion…" he murmured, the name a caress on his lips, tinged with both love and a profound, agonizing sorrow.
"My beloved… my only…" The words were thick with unshed tears, a testament to the depth of his loss.
He remained kneeling for a long moment, his head bowed low, his body wracked with silent sobs that seemed to tear at the very fabric of his being.
His breath hitched in ragged gasps, each inhale a testament to the pain that consumed him.
Then, he spoke again, his voice laced with a profound and agonizing regret, each word dripping with self-recrimination.
"It was all my fault… my insatiable hunger… my foolish pride… If only I hadn't been so blinded by my desire… so consumed by my need to be the only one…"
His voice was thick with unshed tears, his words a testament to the depth of his remorse.
He paused, his voice cracking with emotion, his body trembling with the force of his grief.
"If only… if only Kaelvhar hadn't been born…" he whispered, the words a confession of a burden he carried, a weight that pressed down on his soul with crushing force.
"Perhaps then… perhaps then the Demons wouldn't have had the power… perhaps you Fenrathion my love would still be alive…" His voice was choked with emotion, the words a desperate plea for a reality that could never be.
He spoke of the war, the loss, the devastating consequences of his actions, his voice filled with a self-loathing so profound it was almost palpable.
Each word was a fresh wound, a searing reminder of his mistakes.
"My obsession… my selfish ambition… it cost everything… it cost…your life..." He choked back a sob, his words laced with a pain that transcended mere regret, a pain that seemed to burrow deep into his very soul.
"And now… now even the thought of you is a torment…" His voice was barely a whisper, his words lost in the rustling leaves, yet the depth of his sorrow resonated with a chilling intensity.
He remained silent for a long while, lost in his grief, his body still bowed low, his shoulders slumped as if he were bearing the weight of the world.
His breath hitched in ragged gasps, each inhale a testament to the pain that consumed him.
Then, he looked up, his gaze fixed on something unseen, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes, a fragile spark against the vast darkness of his despair.
"But I will find you… I will find you again… even if you're reborn… I will find you, my Fenrathion…" His voice was firm now, laced with a steely resolve, a determination that seemed to draw strength from the very depths of his sorrow.
He stood slowly, his movements stiff and deliberate, the weight of his grief still clinging to him like a shroud.
He straightened his shoulders, his expression hardening into a mask of grim determination, a facade that barely concealed the profound sorrow that still lingered within.
He turned and walked away, his steps slow and measured, leaving Kaelvhar alone in the silent garden, amidst the vibrant blooms and the lingering echoes of his father's confession.
Kaelvhar waited, making sure his father was gone. Then, he began his search for the Moonpetal.
He plucked different flowers, unsure of which one was the right one.
He had no idea what the flower looked like.
He approached the spot where his father had mourned, a small clearing bathed in moonlight.
There, amidst a cluster of flowers, he saw a single bloom, its petals shimmering like moonlight on water.
He carefully plucked it and quietly exited the garden.
He found the alchemist, holding a collection of flowers he'd gathered, just in case.
He explained that she'd forgotten to describe the Moonpetal. She apologized profusely.
They returned to the castle, their movements swift and silent.
As they approached the entrance, Andreas emerged from the shadows. Kaelvhar quickly motioned for the alchemist to hide.
Andreas's gaze landed on Kaelvhar, his face impassive, his eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts.
"Where have you been these past few days?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth.
Kaelvhar met his father's gaze, his expression calm and confident.
"I was… dealing with my mother's death," he replied, his voice steady. He avoided mentioning his trip outside the castle.
Andreas continued to stare at his son, his eyes unreadable. Then, without another word, he vanished into the castle.
Kaelvhar, relieved, motioned for the alchemist to return.
"Quickly," he whispered, "begin your work. And don't let anyone know what you're doing, not even your fellow alchemists."
The alchemist nodded, her eyes filled with determination.
She hurried to her chambers, ready to begin the task Kaelvhar had entrusted her with, the weight of their desperate gamble resting heavily on her shoulders.
Kaelvhar watched her go, a flicker of hope rekindled in his heart, a fragile flame against the vast darkness of his grief.