Chapter 242: With The White Rose...
He hummed in delight before lifting his scaly, clawed hands to observe their new form. His eyes drifted to a broken mirror leaning against a dark wall not far away, and he took in the reflection of what he had become. Nothing remained to remind anyone that he was once Drake Viremont, the same man whose most-wanted posters had been plastered across the Kingdom of Versailles.
Soon, a crooked crackle escaped his lips. "It feels like I can take over the world now..." he rasped, almost intoxicated by the ecstasy of his newly acquired power.
One of the Darkrots, who had once seen him weak and pitifully crawling on the ground when Drake had tried to enter their master’s chamber, scoffed at his newfound arrogance.
Drake’s head snapped towards the sound, anger surging through him as the memory of how that Darkrot had once dared to brutalise him rose to the surface, leaving him half dead. He would have perished then, had their master not stepped out of the chamber in time to stop them.
In a warped voice, he asked, "Is there something funny?"
The Darkrot scoffed again and replied, "Funny, seeing yesterday’s rat jump in excitement at the taste of newfound power." His words drew snickers from the others.
Before anyone could react, Drake raised his hand and unleashed a beam of red energy at the snickering Darkrot, blowing him to smithereens.
The rest fell silent at once.
It was then that their master, who had been watching him in silence, finally stepped forward after witnessing the display of power from his latest experiment.
"Not bad..." the master murmured, "but let us not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?"
Drake remained standing there with his grotesque expression as the master continued, "If you wish to explore your new powers, I suggest you begin by focusing on your serpentine skin and see whether you can alter your appearance into something less jarring, something that does not immediately mark you as one of us."
"But, Master, why do I need to hide my appearance?" Drake asked in his warped voice.
"Because the most effective attacks," the master replied calmly, "are the ones our enemies never see coming. Go on, try it."
So Drake, without asking another question, closed his light grey eyes and focused inward, forcing the dark power to coil beneath his skin. Almost instantly, his scaled flesh began to tremble beneath the strain, rippling unnaturally as though something were trying to break free. A low, guttural groan escaped him as fine cracks spread across the black, serpentine scales, splitting them apart little by little.
With a sickening sound, the skin began to peel away, tearing from his body in long, ragged strips. The scales fell to the stone floor just like a shedded slimy black lump of flesh. Beneath them emerged smooth, unblemished pale skin, as though the monstrosity had never existed at all. His claws retracted, reshaping into elegant fingers, while the serpentine tail dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind strong, well-formed legs.
His body straightened, reshaped, refined, every trace of the creature erased by the power now obeying his will. When the last remnants of the black skin crumbled away, Drake opened his eyes once more, which were no longer monstrous. He now stood tall and striking, his features sharp and impossibly handsome, his long grey hair falling neatly around his shoulders like spun silver.
Where a beast had stood moments ago, a beautiful man now remained, lips curling slowly into a satisfied smile as he stared into his reflection once more.
The master, who had watched the transformation in silence, gave a slow nod of approval and murmured, "This should do."
A beautiful, maniacal smile curved Drake’s lips as he rasped once more, "Just wait for me... my Evelyn."
...
In the quiet, drifting realm of dreams, far beyond the awareness of the two sleeping lovers, a forgotten memory clawed its way back to the surface.
A small boy, no more than five, stood bathed in soft light, his molten red eyes fixed upon a girl barely three years old. To him, she did not seem real, but like a fairy torn straight from the bedtime stories his mother used to whisper to him at night, stories he had never truly believed in until this very moment.
Her bright, endless blue eyes held his without fear. Drawn by something he did not yet have words for, Ivan reached into the rose garden of the Palace of Light and plucked a single white rose, pristine and glowing faintly in his small hand. Without hesitation, he stepped towards her, his voice steady despite his racing heart.
"Will you come to live with me?"
"Live?" the little girl echoed softly, startled by the sudden question. Her gaze slipped to the rose, then back to the boy whose eyes burned like living fire, leaving her caught in wonder she could not explain.
He nodded, in all seriousness, before replying, "En. If you live with me, I will make you my bride. Mother says my bride would be the luckiest girl in the world. Do you want to be lucky?"
Little Eve tilted her head, golden sunlight catching in her hair, "What is lucky?" she asked, her voice pure and curious.
Ivan faltered, for a moment as he thought about the answer and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to wait with him. Then he answered carefully, "It means being God’s favourite. If you are His favourite, you get everything you want."
Little Eve’s eyes widened and sparkled with delight. Though she understood only fragments of his words, the promise of joy was enough, so she nodded eagerly and laughed, "Alright!"
Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in Ivan’s chest at her answer and a small smile curved his lips. He then stepped closer and extended the white rose towards her once more.
"Then take this rose," he said softly, "to seal the promise....that you will be my bride."
"Bride?" she asked innocently again.
"It means you will be lucky," he replied.
At his words, smiling brightly, Eve reached out, her tiny fingers closing around the stem of the white rose. In that fragile moment, a promise older than time itself was sealed.
As the world blazed with the brilliance of their innocent yet everlasting promise, the light around them swelled, as though the heavens themselves bore witness. Then, without mercy, the light was devoured. Darkness surged in from every direction, and the sky blackened in an instant. Violent clouds churned and roared around the two god-born children, tearing the warmth from the air and ripping the memory apart. The garden fractured like fragile glass, before splintering into nothingness, until only an endless, crushing darkness remained.
The scene changed into a dark chamber where a small boy lay rigid on his bed, heart pounding, as a hooded woman stepped from the shadows. Her presence was almost unnoticeable if Ivan weren’t sharp, her face hidden, her voice slipping into his mind like poison.
"Forget," she whispered.
"Forget about her....Your Highness. Forget about ever meeting Princess Evelyn." He then saw the purple light being flashed from her palms over his head before his head began to erase what was most treasured in his heart.
Ivan’s molten red eyes snapped open as he gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling violently, the echo of a promise he could no longer remember burning deep within his soul.
As his molten red eyes stared at the ceiling, his brows drew together as he recalled the dream, vivid once again in a way that left him unsettled. He lifted a hand to run it through his hair, only for the familiar weight pressing against him to register.
His crimson gaze shifted to the side, and there she was, her beautiful form curled around him, sleeping so peacefully, like a kitten. Her head rested on his arm, her long hair sprawled messily behind her. Her eyes were closed, and her soft, rosy lips were slightly parted as she breathed in a slow, steady rhythm, as though silently assuring him that she remained lost in deep sleep.
As he gazed at her, he lifted the arm wrapped around her waist and traced her soft cheek with gentle fingers, whispering, "Just like a little fairy who walked into my land."
He continued gazing at her before murmuring, almost to himself, "I hope....you remembered your promise... my bride." This time, a warm feeling surged through Ivan’s heart with full force, and unlike in his dream, where his younger self could not quite understand it, he recognised it for what it was, a deep, profound sense of gratification. It felt absolute and right in all its glory, as though this, above all else, was exactly how it was meant to be.
At his words, Eve stirred from her slumber. "Mm..." she murmured softly. The fingers of the hand resting on his chest twitched slightly before beginning to wander, exploring the hard, sculpted surface of the warm body she was currently hugging like a body pillow.
