After an entire week of surviving on only a handful of restless hours of sleep, Fhiore finally set the last shimmering bead onto the silk. Her fingers hovered over the gown for a moment, trembling not from exhaustion as they had for days, but from a tidal wave of satisfaction that nearly warmed her eyes with tears.
"The gown was exquisite."
Moonlit silk cascaded down her worktable like liquid silver, each fold catching the morning light. The lace she had embroidered by hand glowed faintly, its patterns shaped like delicate blooming flowers and hidden constellations. Clear gemstones caught the light like droplets of dew clinging to petals.
It was a gown tailored not only for Denova's body, but her presence, soft yet commanding, quiet but unforgettable.
Fhiore fell back into her chair, exhaling shakily as her heart thudded in her chest.
"It's finally done," she whispered, her voice equal parts pride and disbelief.Her lips curled into a sleepy, triumphant smile.
Knowing time was precious, she hurried to the window. The messenger bird perched there, regal and attentive. Gently, she tied the letter to its leg.
"The gown is complete. It will arrive this afternoon."
With a flap of brilliant wings, the bird soared into the morning sky, leaving Fhiore watching with a hopeful smile.
At Ashenveil Manor, the letter arrived faster than anyone expected. Duke Elarion broke the seal with a controlled motion, but the restraint ended the moment his eyes skimmed the contents. The kind he hadn't felt since boyhood.
His heart which always so disciplined suddenly stumbled.
The thought of Denova wearing that gown, wrapped in silver and light, made something inside him coil with longing. He imagined how the silk would cling to her figure, how the lace would soften her every movement, how the gems would mirror the gentle glow in her eyes.
It would be a sight he knew he should not hunger for.
"A sight to die for," he murmured to himself, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
His fingertips grazed the edge of the letter as if trying to anchor himself, but his composure, his ever present armor had already begun to crack.
Meanwhile, Denova sat in the garden, her posture relaxed yet elegant, sunlight warming her skin. The breeze brushed through her dark hair, lifting it gently as though nature itself admired her.
A thick book covered with her handkerchief lay open across her lap, its pages worn and filled with arcane symbols and old accounts. Her brows knitted in concentration as she skimmed each paragraph, searching, yearning, digging for any hint about the duke's secrets. Anything that would tell her what he had done, or what he had lost, or what she herself had been, in a life that no longer belonged to her.
But the pages were frustratingly vague."The duke was discreet.""Kael even more so."
Denova exhaled a soft sigh, closing the book just as a small burst of laughter caught her attention.
Nearby, little Lowen tumbled around with the manor cats, trying to mimic their stealth and failing adorably. His laughter rang soft and unsteady, like a child relearning what joy felt like. Denova's expression softened. Each time the boy looked at her the brightness in his eyes soothed wounds inside her she hadn't known how to tend.
Her nightmares had grown rarer. The eerie woman who used to haunt her dreams felt farther away, less suffocating. And yet…
Her hand drifted unconsciously to her chest.
Still, the truth she carried the truth of a soul inhabiting a body not originally hers tightened something beneath her ribs.
"This is not my original body.""This soul wasn't meant for this skin."
It was subtle but constant, like a knot she couldn't loosen.
From his study window, the duke watched her.
He watched the way her fingers danced across pages, how her expression changed shape with every thought. He watched her tilt her head when she read something puzzling, watched the gentle way she smiled when Lowen laughed.
He memorized all of it.
Her hair swayed like silk ribbons caught in the wind. Her eyes shifted from thoughtful to soft to distant, as though her mind held worlds he longed to understand. Even the way she exhaled seemed to unravel knots inside him he had carried for too long.
A thousand emotions flickered within him, reverence, longing, fear, hope, devotion, all swirling beneath the calm mask he wore.
He then suddenly remember the letter this morning. The fever of anticipation, quiet but fierce spread through him instantly. He didn't even allow himself a moment to think. His feet were already moving.
When he arrived at the garden, Denova turned, and hurriedly closed the book then pretend to smile like sunlight dancing in her eyes, and her whole face brightened. She greeted him with a rush of gratitude, her words warm, clumsy, honest, thanking him for every kindness he'd shown her and the child.
" I deeply appreciate everything you've done for us." While she's slowly hiding the book under the table.
The duke couldn't help the quiet smile that tugged at his lips.
"You never need to hesitate," he told her gently. "If you want something… anything… I will do everything in my power to make it yours."
They lingered there, slipping into a soft, unhurried conversation about her stay in the manor, about Lowen's progress, about the ridiculous things the child did that made her laugh until she leaned forward, breathless and pink-cheeked.
Her laughter shimmered through the garden warm, unguarded, alive.
The happiness in her eyes struck the duke harder than any blade ever could. Something deep inside him trembled, pulled taut by the fragility of the moment.
Then, unbidden, memory crashed over him.
He was fifteen again.
Winter.
A winter so brutal it gnawed straight through bone, leaving even the manor breathless and pale.
His body burned. A fever like molten iron coursed through him, his skin hot enough to blister under a touch. His vision swam. The walls rippled. The doctor's frantic hands pressed him down as if trying to keep him anchored to this world.
Each breath scraped like broken glass.
Then came the heaviness.
A darkness dragging him downward, slow, thick, silent as though he were sinking beneath a frozen lake. He couldn't fight it, he was tired, too tired. His limbs numb, his heartbeat fading, his consciousness spilling out like ink in water.
This is it, he thought distantly.
I'm dying.
Not afraid.
Just… resigned.
Like watching the last flame of a candle surrender to the dark.
And then he remembered.
Not this life.
The one before.
The one that clung to him like frost on bone.
Her
The woman he loved.The woman he worshipped.The woman who smiled as if she could warm kingdoms.The woman whose loss still carved pain into his ribs.
The one he had vowed, and sworn to spend eternity with.
Memory returned violently.
Her fingers lacing with his.Her laughter brushing against his ear.The way she said his name like it mattered.
And then the moment.....she died.
Collapsing weightlessly into his arms.Her blood warm on his hands.Her eyes dimming with an apology she never voiced but he felt in every heartbeat.
He remembered begging.He remembered breaking.He remembered losing her.
And in the middle of that grief, he made a vow not spoken aloud, but etched into his soul so deeply it would never fade.
I will find you.Across lifetimes.Across worlds.I will find you.I will love you.I will choose you.....always.
Her image gleamed in the darkness.
Ash-brown hair, glowing gold in the sun. Deep brown eyes shimmering like molten glass. A smile small enough to miss, but never forgotten.
Her name was Pillyse Queen.His beginning.His end.His everything.
He woke from that fever with a sharp inhale, as though dragged out of death itself. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks, the doctor assuming they were from pain.
But he knew.
He remembered everything.
And one desperate, blazing thought consumed him.
"I must find her."
No matter the cost.
"Your Grace?"
Denova's voice threaded through his memories, pulling him gently but firmly back into the present. He blinked hard, breath catching. She stood in front of him, so close he could feel her warmth, her gaze soft, and worried.
Her hand cupped his cheek.
Warm.Soft.Dangerously familiar.
"Are you… well?" she whispered, thumb brushing across his cheekbone without thinking.
"I—" His throat tightened. "Yes."
A lie.Or a half-truth.He wasn't unwell.He simply felt too much.
She didn't pull away. "You seem pale."
"I'm always pale," he tried to joke. His voice cracked.
Denova huffed gently. "That's not what I meant."
He straightened, drawing a careful breath. His composure slid back into place thin, fragile, trembling around the edges. He gave her a smile a shade too bright.
"I'm fine," he murmured. "Truly. Should we… go? I believe the dress may have arrived by now."
"Already?" she blinked. "It's early."
He cleared his throat. "I may have… instructed them to deliver it with urgency."
"Urgency?" She raised a brow, amused. "You sound more excited than I am."
He looked away a fraction too quickly."I simply want everything to be perfect."
"For the ball? Well it'll be my first ball to attend, and with the duke being my partner!"
The air stilled.
He met her gaze, eyes warm and honest in a way that made her heart stumble.
"I never attended with a partner before, you're the first." he said softly.
Her breath caught. Her hand slipped from his cheek, and suddenly the loss of warmth felt too cold.
Before she could speak again, footsteps approached.
Kael arrived with a brisk bow. "Your Grace. Lady Denova. The delivery has just arrived."
Denova blinked. "Already?"
Kael nodded. "They're moving everything to the west hall for inspection."
The duke exhaled, quiet relieved. " Then you have to watch Lowen for the meantime. Make sure his safe"
Denova hurriedly kiss Lowen's cheek before excusing herself. Denova the approach the duke.
Denova smiled at him. "You really are excited."
His expression remained carefully calm, but it's still not enough to hide the fact that he's indeed excited.
"Perhaps."
He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
She hesitated only a heartbeat before placing her hand on his sleeve, her touch light but enough to send a tremor through him.
As they walked toward the manor, the duke felt his chest tighten with a realization both beautiful and terrifying.
Every step brought him closer, dangerously, achingly closer to the woman he had searched for across lifetimes.