章節 28: Respect Her Secrets
It was raining hard, and the sky seemed very angry when Zephyir stirred from his slumber, feeling the absence of the person beside him.
When he reached out to touch the empty space, there was not an ounce of warmth on it. His eyes blinked open, and he scanned the room, wondering where Seraphyne had gone.
The room's temperature was very low. The only movement noticeable was the curtains swaying with the strong wind. Zephyir's tall form stretched out languidly, his muscles protesting the sudden awakening.
With a sigh, he slipped out of the bed and made his way toward the open terrace door. As he reached for the handle, his sharp eyes caught something unusual.
Dried, crimson stains adorned the sliding door, resembling the ghostly imprint of a hand. Zephyir's brow furrowed in concern as he gingerly touched the stain, his keen senses unable to detect any familiar scent associated with it.
"That's odd," he mumbled to himself, a faint unease prickling at his consciousness. "Did she injure herself last night?"
His gaze traveled down to the carpet-covered hardwood floor, where his sharp eyes discerned a trail of droplets. With a feeling of worry and curiosity, Zephyir followed the trail, his footsteps quickening as he realized it led to the bathroom.
His voice, usually calm and composed, carried an edge of anxiety as he knocked on the bathroom door. "Luna, are you inside?" He knocked again and again, his heart beginning to race with each unanswered call.
When the door refused to yield to his entreaties, Zephyir's determination surged. "I'll break this door on the count of one, two, three!"
With a swift, decisive motion, he gathered his strength and lunged at the door. The wood splintered and cracked under the force of his power, and he pushed it open, revealing a scene of horror.
His voice, laced with fear and desperation, cried out her name, "Seraphyne!"
Zephyir's heart pounded loudly in his chest as he gently laid
Seraphyne's limp form on the bed, her lifeless body against the pristine sheets. Panic welled up within him, threatening to consume his usually composed demeanor. His fingers brushed against her cold skin, a sensation that sent doubts down his spine.
He leaned in closer, pressing his ear to her chest, desperately seeking the reassuring sound of her heartbeat. But all he encountered was a deafening silence.
His mind raced as he struggled with the impossible reality before him.
"Why are you freezing?" Zephyir whispered in disbelief, his voice quivering with confusion and hopelessness. He reached for Seraphyne's wrist, searching for a pulse that should have been there, but found none.
"No, you can't be dead," he muttered, his words carrying both disbelief and a flicker of hope. He pressed his fingers to her neck, attempting to feel for any sign of life. His keen senses, honed over decades, told him that Seraphyne still held the speck of life within her, but her heart remained ominously still.
Then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkest of nights, realization struck him. He inhaled sharply, his sharp senses picking up a crucial detail that had eluded him until now.
The scent that had always clung to Seraphyne, the unmistakable essence of wolves that should have been an integral part of her, was absent. Instead, he detected something entirely different, something that sent a taste of bitterness on his lips.
"How could this happen?" Zephyir's voice was like a strained murmur.
He cupped Seraphyne's pale face in his hands, his gaze searching hers for answers that remained frustratingly out of reach.
'I smelled the strong scent of wolves on you the first time we met.'
Hesitation and uncertainty warred within him as he tried to piece together the puzzle before him.
The woman lying before him bore no traces of the werewolf bloodline that should have coursed through her veins. It was as if she had become something else entirely.
As Zephyir sat beside Seraphyne's lifeless form, memories from their past together began to flood his mind. He recalled the night when his life had almost ended.
When he had been lured into a trap on his way to a crucial business deal, the treacherous attack had left him drugged and surrounded. It was a moment when he believed he would meet his end in the treacherous waters of the Black Sea, where monstrous creatures were said to dwell.
But just as hope seemed to flicker out, Seraphyne had arrived to rescue him.
She had appeared out of nowhere.
"Why are you helping me? Who are you?" Zephyir had asked, his voice filled with gratitude, as she fought off their assailants with a grace and skill that defied explanation.
"A passerby..." she had responded cryptically, her eyes holding secrets she wasn't yet ready to reveal.
At that moment, as he gazed upon the woman who had once saved his life, Zephyir couldn't help but wonder if her true identity held the key to understanding her profound transformation.
As he continued to watch over her, a change began to take place. Seraphyne's eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, and her breathing, which had been almost imperceptible, grew steadier. Zephyir leaned in closer.
"Seraphyne?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "Can you hear me?"
Slowly, as if emerging from the depths of a long, dreamless sleep, Seraphyne's consciousness stirred. Her eyelids lifted, revealing eyes that seemed to hold a universe of memories. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
"Zephyir?" Her voice was faint, as if coming from a great distance.
"Yes, it's me," Zephyir replied. "You're safe now."
Seraphyne's gaze focused on him, and recognition slowly dawned in her eyes. She attempted to sit up, but her strength seemed to have deserted her.
"Easy," Zephyir said, helping her into a more comfortable position. "You've been through something... something I can't quite understand."
Seraphyne closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to gather her thoughts. Memories began to resurface, like pieces of a fractured puzzle slowly coming together.
"I remember... I remember a confrontation," she began, her voice still weak. "A group of... creatures. They were after me, Zephyir. They wanted something from me, something I couldn't give them."
Zephyir listened intently, his concern deepening. "What did they want, Seraphyne?"
She hesitated as if the memories were painful to recall. "They wanted my... my blood. They said it was different, special."
Zephyir's brows furrowed in thought. "Your blood? What's so special about it?"
"I... I don't know," she admitted. "But I couldn't let them have it. I fought back, but they were too strong. And then..."
Her voice trailed off, and Zephyir could see the fear in her eyes. He gently squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.
"And then, I felt a searing pain, like something was being ripped from me," Seraphyne whispered. "I think... I think they took something from me, something that's a part of who I am."
Zephyir's mind thought of countless things as he tried to make sense of Seraphyne's situation. It was clear that something extraordinary had happened to her.
"We'll figure this out together," he assured her. "Whatever they took from you, we'll find a way to get it back."
Seraphyne managed a weak smile, her trust in him evident. "Thank you, Zephyir."
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