Memories of Time

​The morning sun crept through the gaps in the curtains, gently stroking the Saintess’s skin. But the first thing she felt was a lingering chill against her back. 

Killian had remained at her side instead of vanishing with the dawn. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling her back into a tight embrace.

"You’re awake so early," he murmured, inhaling the scent of the woman beside him.

​"I usually wake before the sun. But there are some times left before morning prayer."

​"Then let’s continue what we started last night."

​The vampire moved over her, pinning Elenor down before she was even fully conscious. He began to kiss her with a ravenous hunger. His fingers wandered beneath the thin silk of her nightgown without hesitation.

​"Saintess? It's time to prepare," a nun’s voice called from the other side of the door. "The door is locked. We were worried something had happened to you."

​"Cancel all of today’s activities," Elenor commanded. "I shall remain in my chambers in prayer all day."

​"But the Pope—"

​"Tell him to come tomorrow."

​For the first time in twenty years, Elenor gave an order of her own free will. And as the owner of the Great Temple, no one dared oppose her.

​"Good. You’re finally learning how to shoo away the vermin," Killian praised, his hand still lingering between her thighs.

“Just take my blood and go." 

​"I thought you had finally accepted me." The man’s expression darkened instantly.

​"I simply don't want them breaking down this door to find you feasting upon my body," she shot back, her voice raspy as she felt the pressure of his bold fingers.

​Killian fell silent, the feral hunger in his gaze softening into something somber. He pulled her petite frame against him, tracing the marks on her back where she had been lashed the day before.

​"Why do you always want me to go, Lily? Are you truly that afraid of the world knowing you love a vampire?"

​"I do not love you," Elenor lied, though her heart betrayed her, racing wildly under the vampire’s gaze. "You are merely an escape."

​Killian chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers until their noses touched.

​"Use me however you wish. But I am not leaving today, nor tomorrow. You’ve chased them away, which means this room belongs entirely to me."

​Elenor sighed, her fingers instinctively tangling in Killian’s messy black hair. "Then what is your plan? The priests will recognize your mana instantly."

​"Then we shall be gone before that happens." He paused, tasting the salt of the sweat on her neck before whispering into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"Come, let us leave this wretched place, Lily."

​Elenor didn't answer. She only closed her eyes and pulled him closer, inviting him to drink deeper. The vampire’s fangs pierced the vein in her neck, and as if that weren't enough, he took his fill from her chest as well.

​"Are you serious about leaving right now?" .

​"Every second I spend here, I feel my soul dying."

"Is there any place you want to go?”

"I've been locked in this temple since 13. I don't even remember what the outside world looks like.”

​"Then hold on tight, Saintess."

​Without warning, he leaped.

​The freezing morning air bit at Elenor’s face. They sped across the rooftops of the temple complex with a velocity impossible for human eyes to track. Killian moved like a shadow, keeping his beloved tucked securely in his arms.

​However, just as they reached the rear gate, two Holy Knights blocked their path.

​"Halt! Who goes there?!" one of the knights barked, drawing his blade.

​"Noisy vermin," Killian muttered flatly.

​With a flick of his wrist, a shockwave of deep crimson pressure slammed into the gate, shattering it into splinters. The knights were thrown back before they could even swing their swords.

​"Don't kill them," Elenor whispered, her fingers clutching Killian’s shirt tightly.

​"No worries. I only broke a few bones so they can't chase you."

​They continued to blur through the air, entering the dense forest that bordered the Neutral Territories—a place where various races lived in harmony. There, hidden behind the thicket of ancient trees, a black carriage without a crest awaited them.

​"Let’s go home, Lily," Killian said, opening the carriage door for her.

​Elenor stared at the dark forest ahead, then glanced back at the temple towers receding on the horizon. She no longer feared the dark. Her step was light as she entered the carriage, followed by Killian. 

He shut the door firmly, as if severing the Saintess’s last tie to her agonizing holy life. ​The carriage began to move, its wheels crushing the fallen willow leaves. 

But in the distance, perched upon a high branch, a figure stood motionless. His silver-white cloak fluttered gently in the dawn wind, and his gloved hand gripped the hilt of his sword with white-knuckled intensity.

​Latvan, the Sword of the Great Temple, did not strike. He knew all too well that the monster’s mana was overflowing after consuming the holy blood. A chilling smile touched his lips as he spoke to the wind.

​"Enjoy yourself while you can, Elenor. You mustn't be too 'dirty' when you return to us as our Holy Saintess."