Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter twenty-three

I hated how much I had changed, how the clear lines of my objectives had blurred since she became part of my journey. There was a part of me that despised this weakness, this unfamiliar sentimentality that Lucia seemed to evoke in me. I was not built for vulnerabilities, not when every moment could be a matter of life and death. Yet, here I was, pondering over emotions I had no business feeling.

Her influence was undeniable. She had a way of piercing through my defenses, making me consider things I'd never bothered to before; compassion, loyalty beyond strategic alliances, even... dare I think it, affection? These were dangerous thoughts, paths that could lead to my undoing, yet in the silence of the night, with only the stars as witnesses, I allowed myself to acknowledge them.

I wasn't sure what this was, this softening towards her. Was it the way she looked at the world, her ability to still see beauty where I saw only strategic points? Or the way she fought, not just with magic, but with an indomitable spirit that even the darkest magic couldn't quench?

Exhaling a cloud of smoke into the cool air, I watched as it disappeared into the night, much like the man I used to be. Each moment with her was reshaping me, challenging every belief I'd held about strength and power. And as much as I resisted, I couldn't deny the compelling nature of this transformation.

I was pretty sure It wasn't what People called 'love', not in any way I understood, nor did I believe in such sentiments. To me, love was a figment, a weakness spun into a romantic notion by those too frail to face the world's harsh realities. Yet here I was, grappling with an unsettling force that was insidiously dismantling the defenses I had meticulously constructed. Each moment with Lucia challenged my convictions, stirring a turmoil I couldn't quite name.

Could it be some form of enchantment? Had she, knowingly or not, cast some spell to bind me to her will? The thought was ludicrous, yet it nagged at me, a more palatable explanation than the possibility that I was genuinely changing. The idea that I, Mattheo Riddle, could be swayed by mere emotions was a concept I resisted fiercely, almost as much as I resisted the dark that constantly threatened to engulf me.

No, this wasn't love, because love didn't exist, not in my world. It was something else, something powerful and deeply disconcerting, eroding the foundations of who I thought I was.

Finishing the last of the whiskey, I gazed up at the stars. They were unchanged, constant in their patterns, indifferent to the turmoil of the world below. I wondered, not for the first time, whether I could ever return to the simplicity of life before Lucia, before the war. But deep down, I knew some changes were irrevocable.

Silently, I went back inside, the echo of my thoughts lingering in the crisp night air. I needed to be ready, for whatever came next. Whatever this feeling was, it had to be strong enough to endure the darkness that was still so eager to claim me.

As I stepped back into the rustic confines of our temporary shelter, the sight that greeted me was one of peaceful simplicity. Lucia was still asleep, her breathing even and deep, undisturbed by the world outside or the turmoil that often clouded our days. The moonlight spilled through the small window, casting a gentle glow that illuminated her face, softening her features into an expression of tranquility.

Leaning against the doorframe, I allowed myself a moment just to watch her. There was something profoundly calming about seeing her so serene. Her hair was spread out across the pillow like a dark halo, and her face held the softness of sleep that seemed to erase the harsh lines that worry and fatigue had etched during our waking hours. She looked so different in repose; less the fierce warrior I had come to know in the daylight hours, and more a quiet, mysterious figure who could hold secrets as deep as the night sky above us.

This unexpected vulnerability in her, laid bare and unguarded, stirred something in me, a deep-seated admiration that went beyond the physical allure. Her usual fiery spirit, now quieted in sleep, drew me in, softening a corner of my hardened heart. Her delicate features, the way her eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as if in mid-whisper; she was undeniably beautiful.

Compelled by an urge I hadn't anticipated, I felt a strong desire to be closer to her, to share in the silent solace of the night. But first, I found myself irrationally needing to rid the scent of smoke and whiskey that clung to my clothes from earlier indulgences. It was strange, this sudden concern for how I might disturb her peace.

Quietly, I slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. Why did it even matter? Since when did I care about such trivialities as whether I smelled of cigarettes or alcohol? Yet as I brushed my teeth, I couldn't dismiss the thought of her possibly waking to the less savory remnants of my earlier solitude.

Returning to the bedroom, freshly scrubbed and oddly self-conscious, I slid under the thin covers of the narrow bed we shared. The proximity was inevitable in the small space, and as I settled beside her, I was acutely aware of every inch of space that her presence filled. Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, my mind a whirl of thoughts I struggled to suppress.

Then, almost without thinking, my hand reached out, brushing lightly against her side. The contact was tentative, a whisper of touch that felt shockingly intimate in the quiet of the room. Encouraged by her undisturbed slumber, I gently pulled her closer. Her back pressed softly against my chest, and I draped my arm around her in a loose embrace. It was a protective gesture, natural and instinctively right.

Her hair retained the fragrance of the shampoo she had used just hours before, her body radiated warmth, and her proximity offered a comforting sensation. I couldn't resist closing my eyes, surrendering to the tranquil moment.

Feeling her breathe so close, her body rising and falling against mine in a rhythm that beckoned calm, I felt an unexpected peace settle over me. It was a dangerous comfort, this softening of my edges, a vulnerability I had long shunned. But tonight, with the quiet of the hut enveloping us and the stars as our silent guardians, it felt necessary, even vital.

Holding Lucia, feeling the warmth of her even in sleep, was a revelation. It was something else, something deeper and more complex, a connection forged not just in shared battles but in moments of quiet like this. Was this what it felt like to truly connect with another soul? I wasn't sure, and part of me was reluctant to explore these newfound feelings. But as sleep finally began to claim me, I allowed myself to simply feel, to exist in this moment with her, and let the night take us where it would.