Ashtoria’s footsteps echoed softly as she walked down the long, silent corridor. The stone walls, which once felt familiar, now reflected her steps with a cold resonance, as if they were mirroring her emotions.

Her face showed no emotion. Calm. Expressionless. But her eyes, a pair of blood-red irises, cold and piercing, reflected something far more dangerous than anger. It was the gaze of a queen who had run out of patience.

And what made her angry was everything she had to face right now.

There was a reason why she had locked Riven in that room, why she had dominated him, bound his heart through intimacy and confession. She hadn’t done it merely out of love or fleeting passion. No. It had been a calculated decision.

She would be leaving soon. Leaving this place and stepping into the outside world, a world full of schemes, bloodshed, and death. A world that never stopped trying to pull her back into a never-ending cycle of destruction.

But before that could happen, she had to ensure one thing.

That the man she loved, the man who had touched the most fragile part of her heart, would not go anywhere.

She needed to be certain that Riven would wait for her. That his heart would remain loyal. That no other woman, no temptation, and no outside influence could shake the bond they had just created.

And if Riven hadn’t spoken those words earlier, if he hadn’t made that confession, Ashtoria had already made up her mind to take a different path. A harsher one. One that she believed was necessary.

She had sworn to herself that she would imprison him. Keep him locked in that room. Assign Lord Rathsture to guard him, and never release him, at least not until all the chaos had passed. Then, she would bring Riven to her palace and make him hers, completely and eternally.

Ashtoria took a deep breath and clenched her fingers tightly. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, filled with unwavering determination.

After such a sacred confession.

After a moment that had nearly united them completely.

After she had finally allowed herself to let go and fall into the embrace of the man she loved…

The world had once again stolen her precious time with Riven.

Her hands were still clenched. Her nails dug into her palms. She showed no emotion, but her body was tense, like a bow drawn to its limit, ready to release a deadly arrow.

She was furious.

Not at Riven. But at everyone and everything that dared to stand between them.

The greedy nobles who had begun to move their armies.

The traitors within her own kingdom.

The Mordune forces marching forward with destruction.

And anyone who dared to touch Glimfell, the place where Riven resided.

She made a vow in silence.

She would burn their cities.

She would take their lives.

She would destroy everything that stood between her and that man.

One by one, she would make them regret interfering with her time beside Riven. She would show no mercy. She would leave no one alive. She would not stop until the world was silent again, and she could return to his side without a single interruption.

And when that day came, she would make sure of one thing.

Nothing would ever separate them again.

No one.

Not ever.

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.

.

Riven gently closed the door. The creak of wood echoed faintly through the quiet room. He stood still for a moment, then took a deep breath and pulled off the blanket he had hastily wrapped around himself. The marks of her kisses were still visible on his chest and neck, burning reminders left by Ashtoria, as if she had tried to claim him completely.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. The mattress was still warm, still holding traces of the intimacy they had just shared. Warmth that had been taken away far too quickly by the outside world.

Riven lowered his head, his eyes falling to the cold floor beneath his feet.

“Damn it…” he muttered quietly, almost like a sigh of frustration.

He raised his hand and looked at his right palm. Slowly, he opened and closed his fingers, as if trying to recall the feeling of her skin, the curves of her chest, the tremble in her breath. His fingers clenched the air, and his expression shifted. He grabbed his hair with both hands, face contorted, body bent forward like someone about to explode under the weight of repressed emotion.

“Damn it…” he hissed again, glancing down at his own body, which was still responding instinctively. “Damn it…”

Everything had happened so fast. He had just confessed his feelings, opened himself up completely. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be serious. He wanted to truly get to know her, day by day. Not just as a queen with a dark past, but as the woman he loved.

And now she was gone.

He clenched his fists again. “Damn it,” he said louder this time, as if trying to fight off the helplessness pressing down on his chest.

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. His eyes were a little red, not from tears, but from anger, longing, and passion that had not yet found release.

Then, in a low, hoarse voice, he whispered, “Ashtoria… you’re really driving me insane.”

After forcing himself to calm down, Riven exhaled heavily and rose from the bed. He tossed the blanket aside and walked toward the wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. His hand gripped the cold metal handle, opening it slowly. Inside were several formal clothes and cloaks. His eyes landed on a simple ivory-white linen shirt. Clean and modest.

He pulled it out and began to put it on with slow but steady movements.

He fastened each button one by one, as if each step was a small act of discipline to counter the chaos that had momentarily taken over his body. Once he was dressed, he stepped out of the room.

The hallway outside was quiet, though not completely silent. His footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor. The air around him felt colder now.

Ashtoria had left before him. He had no idea where she had gone, and perhaps no time to search for her.

What weighed most on his mind now was something else—his sister.

After everything that had happened, after killing that vile noble, after letting his darkest side take over, how was she doing?

His pace slowed for a moment. His head bowed slightly as thoughts flooded his mind. He could still see her face clearly, those wide eyes staring at him, her body frozen in fear.

“Is she really not afraid of me…?” he wondered silently, almost unable to believe it.

He hadn’t had the chance to ask her. Hadn’t explained anything.

Riven looked around. He realized he didn’t even know which part of this estate he was in. The stone walls towered high around him, their smooth surfaces marked faintly with the crest of House Rathsture carved into the corners. Sunlight filtered through tall stained glass windows, casting colorful shapes across the floor.

He kept walking, letting his feet carry him wherever the corridor led.

Eventually, at the bend of a gently sloping hallway, he saw someone.

A woman walking quickly in his direction. Her blond hair flowing behind her, her expression sharp and clearly irritated. Her steps were light but forceful, like a gust of cold wind heralding a storm.

Lyanna.

Riven paused, watching her. There was no doubt something had happened to upset her. Her face said it all. She was in no mood for pleasantries.

But that didn’t matter to him. He stepped toward her and asked the one thing that weighed most on his heart.

His sister. How was she?

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.

.

Elsewhere.

In a dim room at a quiet inn in the city of Glimfell, the only sound was the soft whisper of wind slipping through the cracks of a window. The old curtains fluttered gently, swaying in time with the slow rhythm of passing seconds.

On top of a worn wooden bed, a lump of cloth had formed a strange bulge. A faded gray blanket covered something round and unusual.

A single egg.

But this was no ordinary egg.

It was large—about the size of an adult human head, perhaps even slightly bigger. Its shell was a deep crimson, like petrified embers that still held heat within. The surface was not smooth. Shimmering scale patterns ran along it, forming natural ridges and curves, almost like the sleeping skin of a dragon. When sunlight pierced through the cracked window and touched the shell, it reflected a faint red glow onto the wall.

Then, suddenly, the egg moved.

Barely. A soft, nearly imperceptible tremble.

The blanket covering it shifted slightly. Then all was still again.

A few seconds passed. Silence.

Then it moved again.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep