Day Dream

​The carriage swayed gently, but Killian wouldn’t let Elenor sit across from him. He pulled her onto his lap, caging her in a tight embrace as if trying to merge their two bodies into one.

​"You’re trembling," Killian whispered. His fingers, once cold, felt warmer now after consuming her holy blood. He tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, revealing a neck that was smooth and unblemished once more.

​"A little bit cold here," Elenor lied, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "And maybe ... a little bit afraid."

​"Afraid of me?"

​Elenor lifted her gaze, meeting the crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. "Afraid that this is only a dream. Afraid that tomorrow I’ll wake up in that dungeon, waiting to be lashed until I pass out."

​Killian’s gaze darkened. He hated hearing that fear. With a gentle motion, the black-haired man took Elenor’s hand. "As long as you are with me, not a single human will lay a finger on you. I will break the hands of anyone who tries."

​"Killian ...."

​"Don’t say my name with such sadness, Lily."

​"Can you stop calling me that?"

​"What? It is your name."

​"Just Elenor."

​Killian seemed to drown in the Saintess’s eyes. "May I kiss you, Elenor?"

​"Just stop asking and do as you wish."

​He didn't hesitate. He claimed her lips, but this time it wasn't the feral madness of the altar. The kiss was slow, heavy with a longing that had fermented for hundreds of years. Elenor kissed him back, looping her arms around his neck.

​"Your body always did like me."

"It's because this is the first time I'm doing this with a man.”

“Are you sure if it wasn't me, you would enjoy this?" 

​His hands began to undo the buttons of her half-ruined gown. Even though her back was healed, he began to kiss the skin fervently, as if trying to lick away the memory of the pain with the heat of his tongue.

​Elenor closed her eyes, her head tilting back as Killian gave a small, teasing bite to her shoulder. "You said ... I’m the only reason you live?"

​"The one and only," Killian answered without a second thought. "The world could burn, the gods could die, but as long as your soul exists, I will keep chasing you."

​Elenor smiled. She pulled at Killian’s collar, drawing him back to her. "Then don't let me think. Make me forget everything."

“Sure, my love. Only me knows how to make you thrilled." 

​Killian didn't need a second command. In the cramped space lit only by the faint morning light—which slipped shyly through the cracks of the velvet curtains—the Saintess and the monster drowned in their forbidden intimacy. But just as his large hand was about to lift the hem of her white gown, the coachman’s voice rang out from outside.

​"Master, we have almost arrived," coachman said.

​"Elenor, I’ve prepared a small house for us. Be patient until we can forge a new identity for you and leave this Empire for good."

​"Alright."

​"I’ll go down and check the surroundings. Stay here. I’ll be right back."

That woman could only nod, straightening her disheveled dress. She peeked through the velvet curtains. Her view was met by the panorama of a village that seemed isolated from the grand civilization of the Hera Empire.

​This was Solstheim, an ancient settlement hidden behind the eternal mist of the Black Forest. There was no grandeur of gold or marble here. 

As far as the eye could see, there were only wooden cottages with thatched roofs, their walls overgrown with lush green moss.

​The air here felt different—cold, damp, and carrying the scent of burning pine. It was so silent, as if time itself was reluctant to move. The villagers were rarely seen on the muddy paths, save for a few elders in coarse clothing busy drying herbs or mending fishing nets.

​"Come down, Elenor. We’ll walk from here," Killian said a few moments later, bringing the chill of the forest air on his cloak.

​"Is it far?"

​"Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?"

​"No need."

​They walked side by side. At the edge of the village stood a small house, distanced from the other settlements. It leaned against a rocky cliff, surrounded by trees with branches that twisted like giant fingers protecting the building beneath.

​"Doesn't this place border a monster’s nest, Killian?"

​"Yes, that’s why they call it the Cursed Nest. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be the one guarding you."

​"I was just asking. I'm not afraid at all."

​"Good, Girl. Then, let's go inside. Welcome home, my Saintess," the vampire said as he pushed the door open.

​Elenor stepped across the threshold, and instantly, the scent of old dust and dry wood greeted her. The house was simple—worlds away from the magnificence of the Great Temple. Yet, here, she felt true privacy. There were no priests’ eyes watching her, no congregants begging for miracles every morning.

​"It’s nothing compared to your luxurious room at the temple," Killian said flatly, closing the door behind them. He walked toward the hearth and lit the fire with a single snap of his fingers, sparking a flicker of crimson energy.

​"This is more than enough."

​"Are you sure, Lily?"

​"Elenor," she reminded him.

​"Sorry. I'm still not used to it, Elenor."

​"Why did you choose this place? Because it's far from the Great Temple?"

​"Because monsters don't disturb their own kin. They know who the strongest in this territory is. And the Holy Knights of the Empire are too cowardly to penetrate the mists of the Black Forest just to find a Saintess they assume is dead or missing."

​Killian drew closer, his footsteps silent on the wooden floor. He stopped right in front of Elenor, closing the gap until she could feel the heat radiating from his body once more.

​"Rest," Killian commanded gently. "I’ll be on guard out front. If you have a nightmare again, call my name."

​Elenor watched Killian’s back as he headed toward the door, realizing that her flight had only just begun. Solstheim might be isolated, but for a woman who had been imprisoned her entire life, this small house was the most comfortable place on earth.