Chapter 1
In the month of September, the Realm of Aeloria lay barren along its border lands. The early morning air was thick with heat, the ground steaming under the relentless sun, casting a haze that blurred the horizon. Edward Windermere spotted her instantly. Amid the cracked edges of the fields, dust was whipped by the wind, revealing her strikingly clear blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear sky at dawn. Behind her, a house hosted a family that was feeding a small child named Gregor a bowl of porridge. A girl, slightly older than her, eyed the broken bowl on the edge of the table, eager for the leftover gruel and stale bread corners. "Is this girl for sale?" As he stepped down from his carriage, Edward Windermere produced a gold ingot, gleaming in the sunlight. “No sale. I cannot offend the spirits,” replied Madame Verity, the innkeeper, her voice faltering as the shiny gold stole her focus. Before she could finish, he snatched it from her and bit into it, a tooth cracking under the pressure, blood mingling with the official seal on his sleeve. Wincing, he smiled broadly and said, "I’ll buy her—two gold bars for her." With his ornate brocade cloak, Edward Windermere exuded wealth, an air of indulgence palpable in his being. Without further ado, he took another gold ingot from his carriage and shoved the girl roughly into the back seat as he commanded the driver to hurry away from Madame’s watchful gaze. "Two gold bars for a child bride? You really drive a hard bargain." Edward leaned in closer, examining her as she backed away until her back hit something cold. It was a long sword, its scabbard stained with blood that had not yet dried. “I encountered bandits on my travels and needed to clear the road,” Edward Windermere stated calmly. As his eyes met hers, she held his gaze defiantly. “You’ve been tricked.” “Oh? What do you mean by that?” Edward asked, reclining in front of her, resting his chin on his fist, feigning indifference. Yet his gaze bore into her with unnerving intensity, causing her to sit up straighter. "I’m not from that family. A few moons ago, I was kidnapped and sold to them for two pieces of stale bread." "Kidnapped?" Edward Windermere responded with apparent disinterest. "What’s that to me?" “I...” She seethed at his cavalier attitude, his noble appearance utterly incongruous with his demeanor. “Two gold bars versus two pieces of stale bread—you clearly don't understand the value of things.” “She is my child bride; I have no need to lie. The truth is, I’m a member of the Order of Eternal Life. Wealth and food are meaningless to me,” Edward Windermere said, taking her trembling hands into his and softly tracing the injuries, old and new, that adorned her skin. "Tell the driver your name." She wanted to pull away but felt weak, too exhausted to resist. “Ridiculous. There are no immortals left in this world. Since the Order of the Ascended has stayed hidden for ages, when has anyone seen an immortal?” she shot back, “and I’m not a child bride; I’m already eighteen and ready to marry.” “Your disbelief is amusing,” Edward Windermere replied as he delicately held her left hand, his fingers grazing her skin like a gentle breeze. Suddenly, he both gripped her hands tightly, leaning near and whispering, “Celeste Evernight, why are your hands so cold?” His words, as soothing as a tender lullaby, sent shivers racing through her. Celeste blinked, startled back to reality. As she recoiled under his touch, she shook her head, “At eighteen, why do you treat me like a mere child? I’m no more than a scrawny teenager.” Celeste sensed him lingering where he shouldn't, her cheeks flushing crimson. With tender care, he pulled out a damp cloth and gently wiped her face. Revealing a beautifully innocent countenance, Edward Windermere studied her closely, finding no fault. When the cloth became cool, he used his inner strength to warm it again, carefully wiping her hands. Celeste tried to retreat again, but Edward soon opened a package on the simple table beside them. A flavorful meat pie wafted its savory scent, glistening with oil as if it had just emerged from a royal kitchen. Memories of salty, mouthwatering flavors danced in her mind, her eyes instinctively following Edward Windermere's movements. "Are you hungry?"
Chapter 2
Edward Windermere snapped the pastry in half, the crisp sound making Celeste Evernight’s heart race. He offered her one half. When Celeste hesitated, she replied, “You, who possess the essence of a true sage, know that what you're doing is akin to defying fate, committing an act of theft and murder.” In the Realm of Aeloria, the drought had persisted for years, with only the rarest rain summoned through sacrifices. Celeste was supposed to consume the greasy old biscuit that would condemn her to an early demise. As the carriage jolted, she looked up and asked, “Why are you traveling in a royal carriage, and what are those gold bars doing with you?” “Highway robbers turned out to be soldiers of the crown. I disposed of them thoroughly,” he replied nonchalantly. “Then you just stole!” Celeste exclaimed, her voice rising in horror. “In less than half an hour, the pursuers will track down the family you robbed!” That’s four lives at stake. The wind howled outside, cloaking the world in shadow. “And what of it? You believe in fate,” Edward said, lifting her hand, the remains of the pastry brushing against her lips. “Eat. You’ve lingered too long with that farming family; their survival is of no concern to you. It’s better to think of their swift demise.” The rain hammered down audaciously, like a tempest crashing against the coast. A single life couldn’t buy this downpour. The curtain of rain blurred everything around them. Celeste didn’t respond to his probing question; she simply swallowed the morsel of pastry, crumbs lingering at the edge of her lips while Edward brushed them away with his fingertips. His hands, well-acquainted with the sword, bore no scars thanks to ancient magic, merely a soft layer of callus. He pried her lips apart, two fingers tangled with her delicate tongue, soft and fluttering, coaxing her until her mouth overflowed with moisture. Celeste’s eyes sparkled like the depths of a tranquil lake as he pulled back, savoring the moment. “Look how wet you’ve made them,” Edward teased, showing her his damp fingers, then tightening his grip on her chin with audacious confidence. “Feeling full? Call the driver over.” “You’re out of your mind,” Celeste replied, her voice parched and lacking power. Edward suddenly shifted to a serious tone, the atmosphere turning icy as he pulled Celeste closer. Before she could react, arrows pierced through the carriage wall, one narrowly missing her neck. Blood splattered against the carriage window as she saw the driver’s head jerk back, hit with deadly force, the horses spooked and bolting into a frantic gallop. As her world spun, she felt Edward's arms wrap around her securely, setting her on her feet. The sound of hooves splashing through mud only emphasized the impending danger. A troop of armored riders surged in front of them. Celeste glanced behind her. There was no respite; an abyss loomed beyond the cliff. “You’re as good as dead,” a voice sneered. The riders parted, creating a pathway revealing a glimmer of shining armor, their aura unwavering. Celeste looked up, momentarily struck dumb, unsure of what to call him. “Little sister, looking frightened as ever! Can’t even recognize your own brother, Prince Alaric? You’ve really turned into a dullard, just as Princess Isolde said.” “Princess Isolde. Sir Whitecliff.” The only woman of the royal family beside her – Celeste replied, “Princess Isolde sent you to kill me.” “Wrong. She sent that man beside you to do it,” he pointed out. Dozens of silver lances aimed at them, and with confidence radiating from him, he added, “This charlatan actually found you. Now, tell me, where’s the elixir you stole? Either way, you’ll die; give it to Alaric, and I’ll leave your remains intact.” Seeing Celeste hesitate, he barked, “What are you clutching his robe for? He only tricked you into returning here for gold. I’ve seen him commit murder before. Or do you want to witness the lengths Princess Isolde would go to?” It was then that Celeste realized she’d been gripping Edward Windermere's sleeve the whole time.
Chapter 3
Celeste Evernight trembled as she stepped back, shaking her head furiously. "I can't give you the elixir. I've already consumed it." The person before her, Edward Windermere, had suspected from the start that Celeste would rather die than part with her secrets. He smirked coldly. "Then I'll throw you into the furnace and brew a new elixir from your essence—just the kind that can extend life." An arrow shot through the air, and Celeste knew she couldn’t evade it. She forced herself to meet Edward’s piercing gaze, remembering how Jasper had dared to ask her if she believed in fate. "You manipulative liar." It was no wonder he knew her name and her age; she had already realized that there were no such things as divine beings in this world. The arrow was snatched mid-flight by Celeste. “Little Simpleton, do you really wish to oppose me?” Edward leaned closer, his tone mocking. “You can cooperate with me, and I can offer you wealth to escape this realm. Otherwise, you will perish right here.” He grinned wickedly, “You’ve uncovered the secret of the elixir, and do you think that woman will let you walk away alive?” "I never intended to go back. What do I need the elixir for? Though, I must say, Simple Fairchild is much more delightful. But if that woman dares to deceive me, I might just have to take her life back." Edward returned to his soft tone, whispering near her ear, “Do you want me to save you? Just say Thelonius' name for me to hear.” Celeste Evernight did not consider herself a fool, but she wasn't foolish enough to seek her own death. “Thelonius,” she said, her tightly pressed lips finally allowing a whisper, timidly murmuring, “Thelonius.” The rain poured heavily, turning the ground into a muddy mess, yet her voice emerged, clear and soft, like petals drifting gently upon a heart. Edward Windermere felt an unexpected shiver run through him upon hearing it. For a moment, he brushed aside her previous accusations. "I want to see how this false priest can handle Thelonius's command..." His boastful attempt was abruptly silenced. A bright gleam of a sword erupted from its sheath, slicing through the downpour. The rain stopped instantly, like a curtain torn away to reveal shimmering light. The clouds receded, sunlight pouring through, leaving only the cool breeze brushing against their faces. And a ground littered with fallen bodies. With a swift motion, Edward returned the sword to its sheath and took a deep breath. The sunlight after the storm warmed his cheek; astonishingly, Celeste Evernight saw not a speck of dirt upon him. He truly resembled a celestial being. "Go check how much food and supplies they brought. We might find it useful.” Edward commanded Celeste as he approached the only horse that had survived the onslaught, tugging at its reins. “Head to the carriage,” he said. But as he turned back, he found Celeste Evernight dangerously teetering at the edge of a cliff. The wind swirled, threatening to carry her away. “Come here, Thelonius,” Edward beckoned, “Celeste Evernight, step back.” Celeste arched an eyebrow, standing at the precipice. Her confidence was evident as she called out, “You charlatan! Didn’t you claim to be a divine being? If you want the elixir, come and seize me yourself!” Edward was momentarily taken aback. Her proud expression reminded him of the mountain cub he had once raised. How... strangely endearing. Celeste leapt backward, and Edward barely grasped a strand of her hair. “Simple fool.” Standing near the cliff's edge, his thoughts cleared. A smile broke through as he whispered softly, “I need to catch her again and take good care of her.”
Chapter 4
Celeste Evernight awoke amidst a swirling miasma. Her fingers tingled as the gray pelted Little Leo licked at her wounds. Seeing that Celeste was still alive, Little Leo’s fur bristled, and it let out an urgent yowl. "Kitty," Celeste attempted to reach for it, but Little Leo bolted into the fog and quickly vanished. Celeste followed the direction it had taken, stepping over a few shattered bones. She wasn’t particularly frightened; the Realm of Aeloria lay beneath the mighty Mountains of Valor, and her journey had already jogged her memory of the obstacles she'd faced on her path to transcendence. This deep rift was known as the Path of the Ancients. Legends spoke of those who could traverse its entirety, leading them beyond the mountains straight to the Gate of Eternity, where they could achieve immortality. But the path was littered with countless souls who had searched for enlightenment and failed to return. The miasma was toxic, transforming the living into bones. “That charlatan should have known better than to jump,” Celeste muttered as she gazed up at the sheer cliffs looming above her. It was a daunting sight, but she was confident in her abilities—having consumed the elixir of the immortals, she had an extensive knowledge of the treacherous vine-covered rock face and had dared the leap. Her tattered attire had only a few threads left; she wrapped her arms around herself and pressed forward. After wading through muck, ash, and desolation, she felt an all-too-familiar dizziness creeping in. She pressed on, guided by the instinct for survival, yet did not see a scrap of food. Would she be forced to sleep here for years without sustenance? The twilight deepened. Celeste’s teeth chattered as she tried to discern her path in the thickening fog above her. Then, from afar, a faint glow caught her eye—an ethereal light flickering in the distance. At the end of a crumbled stone road stood a silent Ruined Citadel, an Ancient Abbey still aglow. The crimson paint had chipped away from a wooden altar that housed a solitary golden statue of the Master Sylvan, a figure of light. It held a sword in one hand with incense burning at its feet, the light around it flickering weakly with the remnants of fragrant offerings. A pile of offerings lay hardened and blackened. Celeste reached out, but hesitated and withdrew her hand, faltering once again. Crouching on a mat in the Great Hall, the cold grew harsher, narrowing the perimeter of her vision. She barely managed to keep her eyes open when sounds of approaching footsteps echoed from beyond the door. The elixir could heal her myriad ailments, but it wouldn’t save her from becoming prey to a beast. Celeste glimpsed Gideon Wolfhart’s emerald eyes as they glinted in the dim light. Just as his claws came down upon her, an oilskin wrapper floated down, accompanied by half a buttered biscuit. The miasma dissipated under the glow of a sword. The comforting fragrance wafted toward her, and Celeste’s mouth fell open as she recognized Gregor of Linford. The sword’s hilt clanged against its scabbard, producing a musical chime, and the blade exuded a warm, pure light—much like its master. "What do you want to know?” Edward Windermere asked as he retrieved the meat pie he had left there as bait and stuffed it into Celeste's hands. “I remembered you liked these from our coach ride, so I thought you might want to save half for later. Has your taste changed that much?" Ignoring his jibe, Celeste Wolfhart wolfed down the biscuit, her hands coated in grease. With no cloth to wipe her hands, she licked her fingers clean, before letting out a soft cry and stumbling backward, hugging her chest in hesitation. "Quite the sight," Edward Windermere observed, regarding her with amused interest. "Adorable, really." “You’re disgusting. How did you even get down here?” He stood in his delicate garments, untouched by the grime that surrounded them, as if he were the embodiment of the sword’s radiance. For a brief moment, Celeste wondered if a celestial being had descended. "I’m a practitioner of the arcane arts, adept at calculating fate and navigating the world. It’s really not that difficult." "You're talking nonsense..." Celeste's cheeks flushed with anger. Blood trickled from her lips as she coughed from her strained breaths. "Stay back. I’ve already consumed the elixir. Even if you drag me back to Princess Isolde, it won’t matter." Edward Windermere sighed. “I came down the mountain searching for the key to the Gate of Eternity. What use is the elixir? A certain woman said she knew something about the key and asked me to capture you in exchange for information. That’s why I’m here.”
Chapter 5
He smirked lightly, “Only you commoners would wage wars and ruin your nations over a single potion. How utterly dull.” “You speak so lightly of it,” she replied. “And what of it?” Edward Windermere stepped closer to Celeste Evernight, gripping her shoulders, locking eyes with her dazed gaze. “Do you think this elixir can still save your life?” Celeste Evernight barely opened her eyes, her gaze shimmering with mist, her voice frail, “How would I know… Lord… can it…” “Wrong. The only one who can save you is me.” Edward Windermere caressed her gaunt cheek. “The elixir of the Order of Eternal Life is crafted for the living; exposure to the realm of the dead has left your meridians silent. Only a restless heart remains.” His hands covered her chest, and she felt as though she was melting into a puddle beneath his touch, her skin cold to the touch. “I’m a disciple of the Order, and I know how to save you.” The one sent to kill her claimed he could save her. Celeste Evernight shook her head, feeling limp in his embrace, her voice a mere whisper, “You… you’ve been following me all this way…” He chose now to reveal this information. Celeste tried to bite him but lacked the strength, her soft, powerless teeth barely grazing him. The moisture from her mouth slid across his calloused hands, making Edward Windermere feel an unwelcome thrill. “Beg me to save you.” “A disciple of the Order of Eternal Life must have some wicked scheme.” After a few half-hearted bites, Celeste Evernight twisted and tried to escape, her panic quickening as she sensed a sticky warmth. A flow from between her legs soaked through his fine clothes, revealing the shape of his manhood beneath. “You’re freezing cold; I have no interest in saving you.” Edward Windermere casually tore a red banner from the altar, ripping it into two pieces. He seized Celeste Evernight’s wrists and bound them. As her remaining rags fell away in the dim candlelight, her delicate body resembled a sacrificial offering. He was careful, afraid he might break her. Once her hands were restrained, Celeste Evernight collapsed on the mat, her hair in disarray over her back and face. She saw Edward Windermere approaching from behind, his hands gripping her waist, and she almost cried out, “Let me go.” “You are my betrothed; this day was inevitable. Look, you’re not shy at all.” Edward Windermere said softly, guiding his long fingers down her tightly sealed folds, water running gently. Perhaps the elixir was responsible; she perceived his frame to be painfully thin, while her own form felt soft and delicate. He eased her tighter flesh apart, finding her entrance warm and narrow, and he pressed his finger in, triggering a shiver through Celeste Evernight. “Don’t be afraid. This tightness is merely a sign of my presence.” Feeling the pulsing clench of her entrance, Edward Windermere slipped in half a finger and yet felt as if he might split her apart. Inside her was an inferno, layers of soft flesh clinging firmly, and moisture continuously flowed over his finger. Edward Windermere began to move, deliberately creating sinful sounds that echoed around them. Her soft lips resembled blood pearls, and when Edward Windermere pinched them lightly, Celeste Evernight couldn’t suppress a moan. He held his glistening fingers before her eyes, “Am I mistaken? Isn’t there a tug of desire from deep within you? Don’t you want something deeper inside?” Color flushed back into Celeste Evernight’s pale face, and she gasped while nodding, breathy and overwhelmed. “You want me to fill you,” Edward Windermere teased, his fingers dancing within her crimson depths. “Fill you up completely.” “Mm.” Celeste Evernight licked his fingers in desperation, tasting the mix of her essence and the faint bitterness of his rigorous training, while a hint of forbidden sweetness lingered, alluring and just out of reach. The urgency consumed her. “Please… I need you now…” Celeste whispered, releasing his fingers to kneel on the mat, facing Gregor of Linford, who had discarded his trousers and revealed his heavy arousal pressing against her face. A briny musk wafted from the tip, and Celeste licked it away in haste, barely tasting it when it slid against her lips. She longed for more but couldn’t contain him entirely. Edward Windermere gently tugged her hair, his tone shifting to an almost commanding seriousness, “Why aren’t you calling for me?” “Um, give me…” “Call me The Driver.” Edward Windermere insisted, refusing her request; as her tongue continued to chase, frustration turned her eyes misty with unsatisfied longing. He felt his heart softening under her gaze, a sigh escaping his lips, “Can’t you ask for me?” “I… I don’t even know your name…” Celeste Evernight briefly suckled the tip, indignantly murmuring, “You never told me.” “Edward Windermere.” He could no longer contain his pleasure, seizing her head and thrusting his heated desire deep into her mouth.
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