|11×𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑫|
WARNING : Undergoing MACRO EDITING!!
BOOK 1 of A QUEST OF DEATH SERIES
Embarking on a journey where love collides with darkness, and the thin veil of sanity is torn asunder, Ada finds herself captivated by Gan, unaware of the...
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Deveraux cast a wary gaze upon the girl before him, her trembling form swathed in one of his long, ebony coats. She rested on the luxurious expanse of his plush couch, ensconced in the comforting embrace of his dark attire. For what felt like an eternity, he had remained in silence, perched begrudgingly on a beanbag, while offering the far more comfortable seat to his unanticipated guest.
The dark lord couldn't help but feel a sliver of sympathy for her. Her quivering soul had borne witness to the loss of her brother to a demon. It was far from his nature to consort with humans, yet this particular one had, through an unusual twist of fate, become his responsibility. Thus, he sat in unwavering patience, allowing the tempest of her adrenaline-fueled emotions to subside.
His spectral maids glided through the room, their ebony uniforms seamlessly blending with the dimly lit, luxurious atmosphere of his abode, carefully attending to the girl's injuries. Emotionless, their existence as cold and lifeless as the tomb from which they had risen, they moved with an eerie, unnatural grace. Their pallid skin, the hue of death, seemed to absorb the feeble light cast by the flickering candles.
One maid gently brushed away the remnants of the explosion that stained the girl's clothing, an act as emotionless as it was meticulous while another, her touches as delicate as death itself, tended to a scratch on the girl's hand, the pallor of her skin in stark contrast to the livid red of the wound. She tucked the girl's hand back under the comforting shroud of Deveraux's coat.
Another dared to attempt removing the coat hoping to replace it with a soft plush comforter as she had been instructed before. A soft but inaudible protest escaped the girl's lips. She clung to the coat with surprising strength, unwilling to relinquish the anchor it had become. Frustration flickered across the maid's lifeless face as she tried, without success, to take the coat from the girl's grasp.
"I've made a terrible mistake. I've messed up so badly," he heard the girl murmur, her words no louder than a breath, while a cascade of tears streamed down her face. Seeking solace, she nestled deeper into the protective folds of Deveraux's coat - her action elicited nothing more than a rueful eye roll from the dark lord - his patience waning.
Turning her gaze to Deveraux, the maid silently conveyed her plight. With a sigh, the dark lord acknowledged her request. In an instant, all the maids were dismissed, their presence fading into the shadows like wraiths.
With a deep sigh, he rose from the beanbag and staggered toward the couch. Crouching beside her he peeped into her destressed face. "It's all right, Ada. You'll be fine. Gather yourself now. You must remain strong," he consoled her, his voice a soothing and unwavering presence amidst the emotional maelstrom that engulfed her.
He moved in closer, gently sweeping aside a strand of her soft blonde hair. Her face was pale and marred by two distinct scratches, one on her forehead and the other on her left cheek, where dried blood marked the aftermath of a terrible ordeal she had endured the previous night. Even before he knew it his finger was tracing the scars. Even in her semi-conscious state he could feel her relax.
