It had been days since Duke Elarion Ashenveil had buried himself under the towering piles of books, scrolls, and ancient tomes he had gathered from every corner of the empire. Every surface in his study was covered, every inch, papers spilling onto the floor, stacks threatening to topple over at the slightest misstep.
Candlelight flickered, casting shadows that seemed to mock him, dancing across the spines of books that refused to give him what he needed.
And yet, no matter how many hours he spent, no matter how many tomes he tore through, the answer eluded him.
The Devil.
The contract.
The price.
Every detail, every clause, every arcane signature and mark he examined left him empty-handed. The weight of it pressed down on him like stone, a heavy, relentless gravity.
And all the while… she haunted him.
Not in some vague, distant memory, but in every heartbeat, in every ache of longing he tried to ignore. Pillyse, now living as Denova is the one who had captured his soul across lifetimes. He remembered her smile, her laugh, the way she always seemed to light up a room even when she didn't want to. He remembered the gentle tilt of her head, the quiet strength in her words, the kindness she gave without expecting anything in return. He remembered the softness in her hands when she touched his cheek, the way she always seemed… untouchable, yet somehow belonging to him in the deepest part of his heart.
He leaned back in his chair, glass of wine in hand, and for a moment, allowed himself to sink into a memory.
The night under the willow.
He remembered it as vividly as if it were yesterday, the way the moonlight filtered through the delicate branches, scattering silver across her hair that rose and fell in perfect rhythm, the faint scent of cedarwood and lavender surrounding her. Her eyes, those deep, mysterious eyes, had held questions he didn't have answers to, and yet he had felt her trust, her fragile, trembling trust, as if she were placing a piece of her soul in his hands. He remembered the fear that she might misunderstand him, the hesitation in her breath, the way she had let him hold her close without ever really being his.
The memory stabbed him with cruel clarity, sharper than any blade. he wanted to tell her everything.
" How I loved her, how I had always loved her, even when I told myself I was too busy, but the truth is I'm just too afraid to risk it. How every breath I drew carried a thought of her, how every plan I made, every decision I took, somehow circled back to her. I would have given up the world itself just to see her smile, just to hear her laugh without fear, just to know she was safe and happy, and yet, I hadn't said a word. It haunts me now, the silence I carried, the restraint I imposed. I thought I was protecting her by keeping my distance, keeping my feelings locked away, but all I did was hurt myself and, perhaps, deny her the truth that she deserved to know. How cruel it is, to hold so much love and find no place to give it. How merciless, to realize too late that all the courage I ever needed was simply to speak. I want…. to freely love her. "
but he had held back.
Because of the contract.
Because of the curse.
Because he loved her enough to let her go.
He shook his head, frustration tightening his chest,
His hand tightened around the glass, knuckles whitening, wine sloshing against the rim. He had been trained his whole life to be calm, precise, unshakable, but love was unrelenting. Love didn't care for training, didn't respect discipline.
It clawed at his chest, his thoughts, left him restless and sleepless.
He took another swallow of wine, letting the bitterness burn down his throat.
"Is it greed… or selfishness… to want her just once? Just once?" he whispered to himself, voice rough, breaking against the walls of the empty study. "I don't ask for eternity… just a moment. Just a life where she chooses me freely, where nothing and no one stands between us."
He rose from the chair, pacing, letting the memories push him forward.
He saw her again, in flashes, across the years, across lives.
The Pillyse who laughed softly as she tended the gardens of her family's estate, unaware that he was watching from the shadows.
The Pillyse who had leaned against him under the tree.
The smile she had given him when she didn't know he was watching, the one that had made everything else in the world fall away, leaving only her.
"I… " he began, and stopped, gripping the edge of the desk. "I've done everything I could to protect her… to keep her safe… to let her live." His voice cracked despite his best efforts. "But my heart… my heart refuses to let her go. How can one feel so utterly lost when she's still in front of me, breathing, and living…"
He sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands, overwhelmed.
She doesn't know… she doesn't know the depth of it. She doesn't know what I'm willing to give, what I've already given. She doesn't know… she will never know. And yet… I can't stop loving her.
The wine bottle sat empty beside him, three full bottles gone, the alcohol doing nothing to numb the ache. It only highlighted it, sharpened it, made it taste even more bitter. He didn't want to feel this way, yet he could not help it.
For his past lives which he can still remember, It's always her he's longing for. He always remember his past life whenever he turns 15 years old.
Elarion lay in his bed, feverish and trembling, the room dimly lit by the flickering candlelight. At first, everyone thought it was just a flu, nothing more than a passing illness, but those who knew him even a little could tell something far worse was happening. It wasn't his body that was failing... it was his mind. His memories, every life he had lived, every choice he had made, every moment he had spent searching were flooding back in cruel, relentless waves.
He clutched the sheets, his breath shallow, his eyes wild as visions of the past tore through him. He saw himself, again and again, finding her in countless forms, countless worlds, and every single time, he's failing to find her. Every laugh, every touch, every whispered promise came crashing back. He saw the lives he had refused to live, the marriages he had avoided, the paths he had taken because they led him closer to her, or further from her, depending on the fate of the moment.
He groaned, half from fever, half from the unbearable weight of remembrance. For fifteen years, every time he had crossed that threshold into adolescence, the memories would always come the clarity, the ache, the longing, and the pain was always the same.
Always.
He could never escape it.
He could never forget.
And now, seeing her again the woman who had once been his world, filled him with a joy that burned in with sorrow. His heart ached as much as it soared. He could watch her, he could protect her, he could even love her from afar, but the way he wanted… the way he dreamed… the way he'd spent countless lifetimes hoping for… it was still impossible. He could never fully hold her, never fully claim her, never make her feel the depth of what he carried silently for her, always for her.
He closed his eyes, wishing, for perhaps the hundredth time, that love could be simpler, that life could be less cruel.
But he knew better.
Love had never been simple for him.
" It's always been her.
Always.
In every life.
In every breath.
And even now… even now that I've found her… it still might never be enough. "
Elarion's hand tightened against the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as his mind swirled. Past lives, past regrets, past loves they all merged into a single, piercing truth, he would never stop longing for her.
Elarion know that love could be as cruel as any curse. That sometimes, the one you desired most in the world, the one you would fight for, the one you would die for… could never, ever be yours in the way you wanted. And the irony, the sweet, burning irony, is that he could protect her, he could watch her, he could even love her from afar… and yet, he could never fully hold her, never fully claim her, never truly let her feel the depth of what he felt.
But he would try.
he could survive anything, face any danger, endure any pain… except a world without her in it.
And so he poured himself another glass of wine, whispering her name again, almost like a prayer, almost like a promise.
"Denova… Pillyse… I will find a way. No matter what it takes… I will find a way to be with you."