A Gorgeous White

"What an interesting sight..." The elf entered the room. His hair, dark as night and undeniably lovely. When he moved, his attire seemed to sway intriguingly.

Moulin had lifted his eyes, catching the elf's slender figure. For some reason, he was reminded of himself. However, he was different. Everything about him was unlike Moulin as well. When their eyes met, gazes intertwined, they both knew they were like. There was wonder in Moulin's eyes. Truly, he didn't think he would meet someone like him... an aphrodite.

"Ah, Arcefi..." Na'El smiled. However, there wasn't quite much joy in his eyes when he spoke and faced him. "I want you to meet someone.

"Wonderful Morning, Oracle. My servants have told me most of the events today." The black-haired elf smiled. Unhurriedly, he approached Moulin and Eilhara, who were still within each other's embrace. He kept his smile, and Moulin wondered if it was all fake. However, he wasn't offended at all, if it were.

"Fellow aphrodite, My name is Arcefi." Arcefi cerulean eyes gleamed. In Moulin's eyes, they looked like the glistening sea under the bright sun. His voice was gentle and soothing, reminding Moulin of his dear mother.

"Moulin Fraunces. It is a pleasure to meet you." Moulin smiled at him as Eilhara finally loosened her arms around him. The lower side of his chest was damp from the princess's tears. Eilhara glanced at it and lowered her head in embarrassment.

"Better?" Moulin whispered to her.

"Mmm...." Eilhara shook her head and sniffed. Her lovely silver eyes are very red and puffy, and her hair swayed. Indeed, it wasn't enough. Too many feelings were bursting out of her, and she wasn't afraid to expose it in front of Moulin if it meant garnering the silver-eyed aphrodite's attention.contemporary romance

"It's the first time I've seen her highness cry so hard." Arcefi turned to Eilhara. There was softness in her heart as he gazed at her dear friend. His eyes slowly drifted to Moulin, "She's told me about you. How you mean so much to her..."

"Y-You don't need to tell him that!" Eilhara whipped her head to him. There was an embarrassment in her eyes; however, she silently hinted him to keep going, curious about Moulin's response.

A chuckle sounded, and they turned to Moulin. His beautifully handsome countenance, amused and glad, seemed to brighten the room. His laugh sounded like wind chimes, immeasurably pleasant to one's ears. Moulin gazed at Eilhara, "I see. I missed you as well..."

A blush erupted on Eilhara's cheeks. She looked away, trying to calm her, beating her heart. Meanwhile, Arcefi looked at Moulin with wide eyes. A curious wonder fluttered through those blue irises. This Aphrodite maeruthan was beyond stunning. Everything about him looked magical. Even without the glorious brightness of the sun, he was a beam of light—a fiery soul. Something inside Arcefi faltered.

"Well, I apologize for disturbing you." Na'El interrupted. "However, Moulin and I have much to discuss. He has a lot to learn."

Reluctantly, Eilhara couldn't derive Moulin from his responsibility. His stay here had a reason, and knowing Moulin, he would do his hardest to accomplish it. Arcefi led Eilhara to the doors where their attendants were waiting for them. The elven princess glanced at Moulin one last time, and Moulin, with a soft smile, met her unwillingness. The silver-eyed maeruthan sent her off with a wave.

Internally, Eilhara was glad Moulin still remembered her. Eight years was a long time. However, this man didn't forget her. The thought of it warmed her delicate heart. The feeling was indescribably pleasant.

"Was it that surprising to meet another aphrodite?" Na'El asked.

Moulin raised an eyebrow at him. "You... are an oracle?"

Hearing his words, the elf stared at him in amusement. "And what if I am? Do you not like it?"

A crease appeared between the young man's pale brows. And before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth, "Where... is Laphora?"

The smile on Na'El's face froze. He wasn't expecting these words. A heavy silence abruptly surrounded them. It was tense and somewhat melancholic. In his chest, Moulin sensed that something was wrong. Laphora was the great oracle of Thundralln. It was said that he was irreplaceable. No one could rival his abilities and wisdom. He was the one who accurately predicted Moulin's three deaths.

Why isn't he saying anything?

After a few seconds, a deep sigh left Na'El's mouth. His smile completely vanished, and a miserable aura swallowed him. There was a part of him that didn't want to answer. However, this man knew the Oracle and even called him by his name.

Na'El closed his eyes, and Moulin waited. No matter how long, he was willing to wait. What were they hiding?

Finally, Na'El opened his eyes. He turned to Moulin and spoke.

"The Imperial Oracle has perished."

Moulin stood frozen. The words wheeled throughout his brain, drilling shockingly into the very depths. The youth stared, and it took him a few seconds to reply.

"How? Why?" Moulin couldn't grasp his words correctly. He was at a loss.

Na'El observed him. "The oracle is graced with the divinity of his soul. He was powerful, yes. But he was also quite vulnerable to malignancy. He was corrupted." He added with a sigh. "If he was exposed to the darkness, even in a split second, it will linger within him. His Holiness was powerful. However, one single event caused the beginning of his deterioration. He spoke of an entity that took hold of his body briefly several years ago. From that moment, his body began to fail him."

"Entity?..." Moulin wracked his brain. It was familiar. He held his temple, feeling an ache pierce through his brain. When was it? When was it?

"Young master?" Na'El looked at him expressionlessly. He, himself, had questions; however, from the youth's reaction alone, he found the answer.

Oracle Laphora spoke of a young maeruthan, an aphrodite. One with eyes as dazzling as the moon and hair as white as a bed of sparkling snow. This young man was the person whom the previous oracle honored even in the last moments of his death. However, this maeruthan died three years before the Oracle had become bedridden. Before he died, he told Na'El to wait. Wait for that young man. His death was just the beginning.

"When he returns for his last death, you must aid him. Follow him. Make sure he carries on. When he succeeds, the land will be saved."

Na'El had been confused before. There was no such thing as a maeruthan resurrecting three times. However, as years passed, the Kron grew. Little by little, their hopes diminished. Na'El had always remembered his predecessor's words. Perhaps, this man was real. Perhaps, he was hope itself...

Na'El slightly lowered his eyes. His gaze grew deep.

Suddenly, the deafening sounds of the Kingdom's bells blared throughout the islands. It was strikingly louder from where Moulin and Na'El stood.

Alarmed by the noise, Moulin unthinkingly looked at Na'El.

"The bell towers..." Na'El's gaze grew dim. "Something is coming..."

The bell towers continued to ring, alarming every being within the island. The sound spoke of an incoming threat bringing fear with it.

"My Lords!" Elven knights entered the room. "Please hurry, come with us."

"Let's go," Na'El told Moulin as the guards waited.

His movements urged the young maeruthan to follow him to safety. Moulin stood rooted for a few moments, and then his feet moved, and he followed Na'El and the knights out of the quarters. Kier and Snow, playing within the terrace, hurried towards Moulin as the bells grew louder.

The servants were panicking as they frantically dropped what they were doing and ran. Every single one of them had fear cross their faces. It looked as if death was coming after them. Moulin wondered what it was that caused them to be so terrified. Clearly, it wasn't something good.

"We must escort to the safe rooms." The knights said, and Moulin suddenly stopped when he heard his words.

"Young Master?" Na'El looked at him in confusion.

"I will join the others. My comrades will be willing to help."

"That is... certain. But why should you be with them? You cannot fight. Please, come with us." The knights urged.

'You cannot fight.'

These words echoed within Moulin's mind, and a fierce rage boiled inside him. He didn't respond. Instead, he turned his heels and began to walk in another direction. He didn't spare the knights another glance no matter how much they shouted at him. Snow and Kier felt their master's mood and left with Moulin.

Na'El stared at the youth's back until he disappeared. Then his legs moved towards the direction Moulin took.

"Your Excellency! Where are you going?" The knight said?

"I'll be fine. Go and make sure our people are safe within these walls."

"But you-"

"That is an order," Na'El spoke without turning to them and left.

The elves were scrambling out of the exposed locations within the fortress, Moulin noticed. Unfortunately, the place was like a maze, and he got lost within the confusing hallways. Finally, he stopped on a balcony. The skies were dull as usual, however, in the distance. A giant grey cloud slowly approached the island. It was gigantic, like a massive sea wave threatening crash on the shore. It looked big enough to swallow Gala'En. Moulin's heartbeat quickened. It looked as if he was facing an approaching wall.

Hiss!

Moulin flinched, and he looked up. A black creature coiled around the tree branches around the balcony. Its reptilian golden eyes drilled into him.

"Harow!" Moulin exclaimed. The snake climbed down the branches and coiled around the youth's arm.

"Where are the others?" Moulin asked in concern.

Harrow hissed, and he slithered down to the floor. He was quick to move. Moulin followed the snake along with Keir, who carried Snow on his back.

Moulin's heart pounded within the cage of his chest. He felt a dreadful premonition, recalling the scene in the balcony.

done.co