The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 300 - 365 days

Chapter 300: 365 days

Rama was dazed at Dalen’s abrupt move, she barely had a second to process the situation before he came right at her, slamming his lips on hers. His action was indeed a shocking one to her.

She was well aware of the fact that he harboured feelings for her, according to her observations which she was not entirely certain of, but there they were with her theories and baseless assumptions all proven valid by his single action.

Stiffened in the balcony, neither of them said a word and awkward silence enveloped them. She wanted nothing more than to flee away from his presence but her legs felt heavy under her skirt and she was still reeling from the aftermath of the very uncomfortable and bizarre encounter with him.

She bit her lower lip as she looked out into the darkness from the balcony while muting out his presence as she avoided his gaze like a plague.

As the growing silence continued eating through the area, she felt a pang of guilt for not being able to reciprocate back his feelings. He was genuine and kind to her, but sadly, no matter how hard she tried, there was no spark or butterflies in her stomach.

Her heart was as distant as the sky from the ground, it was no longer with her but in the firm possession of someone else.

Craning her head slowly to the side, she finally mustered the courage to face him. The moment her eyes locked into his crystal ones, her chest tightened with guilt eating through it. She could feel the despairing weight of rejection infused in his eyes.

Terrible was an understatement of how she felt, but if she had lied to him about her true feelings, that would have been more cynical of her to do, it was best to clear it all out with him rather than giving him false hopes.

"Dalen, I..."

He suddenly interrupted with a feigned smile brushing his lips "You don’t have to explain Rama, neither do you have to reciprocate my feelings back, I’ll respect your choice."

Rama could see the vein pop in his head and neck, even within the shadowy darkness shrouding them in the balcony, she could see his eyes flare with an inner rage he tried to suppress beneath his neutral facade, but it betrayed him as it slipped out of the mask.

"Dalen, it’s just that...I have no idea who I am, I need to find myself first and piece the puzzles back together, I no longer want to feel lost or like I’m living in oblivion. I want to be clear headed and finally retrieve my memories before committing into something...like this." Rama pointed out.

"You don’t have to explain Rama, I understand and respect your decision." Dalen said, his voice rang deeply low as he stifled the pain coating it.

"I’ll be taking my leave, have a nice rest." Dalen said stiffly and without waiting for her response, he walked out, leaving her alone in the balcony.

Rama fluttered her lashes in disarray, her heart ached knowing their relationship had forever been altered. She couldn’t blame him for his feelings he harboured for her, but certainly, if he didn’t confess then this circumstance would have never existed.

In a downbeat state, she left to her room, calling it a night.

Living in the superfluous fortress of a castle, days rolled by slowly into months and the months accumulated into a year. It had been just a year, but the shallow hole within her seemed to prolong it into an eternity, as if her subconscious sense inwardly yearned for something she couldn’t comprehend.

It was 365 days of inner unsettlement and a sense of loss lingering at the periphery of her mind.

She had been convinced that she would easily adapt to the tranquil space of the castle, shielded from harm and surrounded by optimistic souls, but how wrong had she turned out to be?

It had been safe and peaceful, but adaptation was out of the question for her, she was never and could never adapt to the change. It felt like a new home but it wasn’t her home, it was impossible to accept it and tolerate the foreign sensation within her.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave so she had to suck it up, while wondering what the future held in store for her.

Some days she would be hopeless, feeling distressed about the fact that she would be stuck in the castle for the rest of her days, and on other days, she would feel a rising tension in her chest, a swelling suspense that kept her on her toes.

Meanwhile, she and Dalen’s relationship was brutally severed since the occurrence of the stolen kiss franchise on that fateful night.

Their platonic friendship already past beyond saving and unfortunately, she barely caught a glimpse of his shadows anymore, he seemed to have completely severed all ties with her, perhaps it was the only way for him to survive the heartbreak she caused him.

No more strolls in the forest, fighting lessons, dining together and sadly, no more visits to the secret garden. It was heart wrenching to deal with the fact that they could never be the same again, their friendship was completely ruined and she felt partly guilty for it.

She had put in effort to rebuild their friendship again, shoving aside the immensely awkward and uncomfortable confession, thinking perhaps they could forget about it and sweep his confession under the rug, but everytime she paid a visit to his chamber, he was never around, almost as if he had changed rooms.

Quite disappointed with him ghosting her and ignoring her as if she was the plague, she finally gave up, after all she had tried to save whatever was remaining of their broken friendship.

Meanwhile, she had constantly questioned Aurora about the ritual she claimed to have done for the retrieval of her memories, but unfortunately she gave her the same answer everytime she asked. The ritual still hadn’t worked and having been told for the umpteenth time after asking, she finally accepted their failure.

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{One Year Later...}

For a year, Draco had waned in this unconscious state, the passage of time an abstract concept, a distant echo within the realms of his unconscious mind. His essence felt suspended between worlds, trapped within the confines of his own dormant consciousness. Yet, as the seconds stretched into minutes, and the minutes into months, a subtle transformation brewed within him.

His form was an epitome of unearthly grace, even in his dormant state. Trapped in his void of subconsciousness, yet his countenance bore an otherworldly allure. His midnight black hair cascaded writhed like floating obsidian snakes in the air, framing a face that exuded an aura of unfathomable power and ancient wisdom. His features, chiseled like sculptures of forgotten gods, seemed serene yet eternally haunted by the depths of the darkness he was born into.

Draco hovered motionless within the confines of his prison as fiery chains seared through his skin, his form seemingly untouched by the passage of time. His breathing was imperceptible, his chest barely rising and falling. His slumber was not a mere extinction of consciousness but a binding enchantment, a deep entrapment that defied the very essence of freedom.

The chamber itself seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating a change in the air. Suddenly, as though the fabric of reality had been disturbed by an unseen force, the atmosphere crackled with an indescribable energy. The flaming chains pulsated with a newfound vigor, casting an ominous glow that intensified the darkness surrounding Draco’s resting place.

The tendrils entwining around his body were suddenly cocooned with a blazing intensity that seared through the tendrils, withering them to dust as they loosened around him.

Next, the fiery chains that were scalding his skin, slowly dissipated into slivers of molten lava as he finally broke out of their hold, to reveal his naked body burning with a fiendish vigor.

As if in response to some cosmic symphony, Draco’s eyes snapped open with a startling intensity. A surge of energy erupted from his core, suffusing the chamber with a fiery radiance. The once serene countenance in his subconscious state was now ablaze with a searing brilliance.

His eyes, the color of smoldering embers, blazed with a reddish-golden hue that mirrored the flames of the deepest infernos. They bore witness to ages past and held the wisdom of eons, yet within their depths churned an unbridled power waiting to be unleashed.

With an almost imperceptible movement, Draco lifted his hand, and the ancient walls of the abysssak crypt began to resonate in harmony with his awakening. The crystalline surface of the crypt fractured, shards of obsidian cascading to the ground as if bowing to the awakening force held within.

As Draco emerged from his confinement, his presence filled the chamber with an aura of unparalleled might. His every movement crackled with suppressed energy, and the air itself seemed to vibrate in deference to his awakening.

At the that moment, the devil’s son, Draco, stood reborn from the depths of his slumber, his fiery gaze surveying the desolate realm that had served as his imprisonment. With a resolve as unyielding as the darkest abyss, he emerged out of the crypt, to reclaim his possession and wield the untamed power that surged within him.