✔𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈

Chapter 171: Achroous (EP. 02)

A/N: You can play the piano instrumental I placed below ⬇ whenever you reach an italicized flashback part, it'll help increase audio visualization and imaginary sceneries for this chapter.

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𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨 - 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐖𝐞...

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He liked it here.

Truly, he does.

Aiden smiled in satisfaction as he observed his surroundings. Well grown palm trees, among fences of camphor ones and bushes of yellows, pinks, and reds. He could feel the gentle intruding texture of the grass beneath his bare feet, and the sun stayed there amidst the azure sky.

The swirling breeze whisked his hair back, and his ears listened to the swishing melody the grass made as the wind played with it as if it was strings to a golden harp.

Beyond a few shady areas of bounty trees was a calm lake, accompanied by falling yellow flowers that immensely intrigued him. Not only did the scenery caught his eye, but the butterflies with multiple colored wings is fetching as well.

He laughed silently in childish mirth and dashed forward and leapt for the water, the coolness of each forming ripple leaving droplets on his skin. Placing his hand to rest on his chest, he surveyed over the different world that existed above him, and the sunlight seemed kind enough to not blind him.

This world is beautiful, cursed with the eternal season of Spring.

The roaming scent of petrichor tickled Aiden's nostrils as rain began to heavily pour from the dulling clouds scattered across dust-hued skies, and the fire king didn't even muster up the strength to brace himself from the incoming afternoon storm. A single cold driblet landed hastily on his soggy clothed shoulder, and he shook upon the odd sensation in surprise.

The fire king slowly rose from his watery bed in slight frustration and walked past dampened petals and eyed a forlorn willow tree, freely pushing aside its cascading thin branches of forest green leaves to shield himself from the cloudburst.

Propping himself up to lie against the stark trunk, he sighed softly how the rain could wither his good mood. He brought a finger to brush away the sloppy tendrils of the dark fringes of his hair, closing his eyes tightly to endure the unmeasurable duration of the downpour.

"I like the rain."

"How so?" He asked curiously, snapping out from his dazed stupor at her sudden share of words. His leg itched because of the incredibly visible presence of mud, but he didn't want to coat his nails with flecks of dirt.

She was equally soaked and drenched, her bodice made of ice has grown boggy and the skirt of her dress was only left with occasional dry patches. Her platinum blonde tresses which used to be pinned up in a French braid had loosened to hanging strands, but to him, she looked so beautiful.