I MARRIED A CUPID

22: CUPID'S ANOTHER VERSION

CHAPTER 22

AILA

“Psyche!”

I sensed him before I saw him.

Emyr stilled next to me while I sprung forwards, staring around the field, “Caelon?”

A few moment has passed and I heard distant mutterings. Emyr is still frowning next to me – his purple eyes trained in the dark, the fireflies glowing as they drifted around.

“Psyche!”

Caelon’s voice sound like it is coming from under the earth, muffled and hoarse. It is so full of raw emotions, full of guilt and misery.

I frowned, wondering about the name he is calling out.

I dove down at the bushes, searching frantically, “Caelon?”

I turned my head and glared at Emyr as he stands there, watching me, his eyes not leaving the space in front of him. I have this sudden urge to slap him off his trance but figured that it won’t earn me a cooperative Emyr, instead, I tugged at his cloak,

“Emyr,” He shook his head to the side as though he was beginning to wake from a dream, “Emyr!” I shouted, having no more of the patience I once had. Emyr remains still and uncooperative, useless for being so powerful.

“Emyr, please. Find him! He’s here, I just know, you can hear him.”

I strained my ears and listened for Caelon’s voice but the slight rustle of leaves and flowers is the only thing I can hear. Emyr chanted as he swept his hands over the field. Without any warning, he marched at the east and barreled down the bushes of violets, his blond hair the only indication of his presence.

“Oh!”

I exclaimed as Emyr emerged out of the bushes with Caelon leaning on his arm, unmoving and pale. Emyr dragged him out of the bushes and laid him down on the wide space just in front of the table where Caelon usually arrange his flowers.

I leaned down on Caelon’s face and noticed some differences – his sharp features were gone, now replaced by ancient yet enthralling beauty that I have not seen before. His hair that used to appear as though it was blown by the wind now lay in his forehead, pretty curls framing his face making him resemble an angel.

A fallen angel.

But his wings – I gasped; they were wide and big, gold in color. It is glowing under the moonlight, resembling Emyr’s blond hair.

“He is exhausted,” I agreed with Emyr’s words as he sat across me, staring down at Caelon like it was his first time seeing  him.