A Gorgeous White

Chapter 392: || || Farewell, My Friends

A dark mark that looked insignificant and trivial to the eye. However, it brought a distinct caution to Moulin. It was like meeting the hostile gaze of a prowling beast and bracing for its agonizing bite as it opened its jaws before his eyes. 

"What is wrong?" Hadrian perceived his faltered movements. Brows wrinkling together. 

Moulin didn't answer. He stared at the man's neck as though he could burn through his skin. Unease sank inside his gut. Heart, beating fast. It's black. Enshrouded by darkness.

Soon enough, he was unaware of his fluctuating mana. In the next second, he found himself seeing a vision. The whole world is layered in red as if he was blindfolded tight by a long strip of crimson satin. Tightness clenched his chest. He could not breathe, trembling in desperation. Anger, vicious and murderous, surged in his veins. Blood-boiling fury burned his soul. He screamed in his mind. It was too much to bear.

The urge to drench his hands in red filled his mind. It was addicting. Made him so desperate it was akin to needing air to live. The thought shocked Moulin. How could he ever think of such things?

Then what he saw became vaguely clear. Moulin could recognize it in an instant. The torn walls, the strong scent of spiteful energy in the air blending into righteous mana, and the fragmented earth, mutilated life. 

It is Gala'En's core chamber.

Moulin found that his body, too large to be his, kneeled on the earth. His skin was stained with mud. The callouses on his hands were too thick to be his. Then the largeness of his limbs was too familiar for him not to recognize. These were the hands that held Moulin's hands tight, reluctant to let go.

Hadrian.

And in front of him, an obscured figure stood looking down at him. 

But Hadrian could never kneel before anyone. 

The banquet halls abruptly noised as the King stood to offer a toast to his guests. The elves and maeruthans joined. Warm smiles graced their expressions. However, Moulin was deaf to the world. A pair of silvery eyes glowed, flickering as if the life inside them disappeared in the next second. 

"Moulin." A deep voice called, reaching out to the youth from the darkness. 

"Moulin."

"Moulin..." Hands held his shoulders.

"..."

"My love..."

Snap!

Moulin abruptly blinked and unconsciously distanced himself away from Hadrian's reach. His silver eyes were wide, and his expression, distorted confusion. 

Hadrian's eyes dimmed at the loss of warmth within his arms. He reached out once more, and this time, Moulin did not retreat.

"What..." Moulin faced him. His gaze is full of intensity. "What happened to you?..."

For a moment, he witnessed the lord's eyes darken before he withdrew his gaze. The murmurs became loud. Several people had turned to them, curious, confused... and shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. Sharper than the nightly breeze. The King had raised his glass but was interrupted by the sudden chill within the halls. It felt as though a blizzard had swept past them. However, none had noticed any wind movement within the area. 

There was a slight commotion near one of the balconies, and it caught more people's attention. 

The maeruthans paused, and Emlen was already making his way towards his little brother in concern. 

Moulin turned his gaze to the doorway, but before he could speak, light flashed before his eyes, and he found himself standing on the balcony of his chambers. Hadrian held his shoulders with a light grip, meeting Moulin's gaze. 

"..." It took a few seconds before Moulin repeated his question to the man before him. "What happened to you in Gala'En's chambers?"

"Nothing happened." Hadrian firmly answered. His expressionless face was difficult to discern. 

Moulin shook his head, "Something happened... I saw it."

Moulin couldn't be ignorant of sudden visions anymore. It happened more than twice today. He knew the visions were the subjects' previous experiencessmall conceptions of the past. 

Hadrian did not answer, and irritation began filling Moulin's nerves. 

"What about this?"

Suddenly, he reached out to pull down the edges of Hadrian's collar. A dark mark exposed itself before Moulin's eyes. The youth stopped. It is like a black-red cloud, spreading downwards beneath the fabric. Although it looked small, Moulin could not be sure if it was unharmful. Moulin's fingertips trembled slightly.

"What is this?" He asked. "I recalled you didn't have this mark a few days ago."

Hadrian sighed, "You do not have to worry about it. It is insignificant."

"How can you say so?" Moulin pressed. From the visions, he saw. Perhaps, it was related to the strange event during the battle within the core chambers. 

Hadrian gently stroked Moulin's arms. His gaze softened. "I have consulted with Thundralln's oracle. Even he does not think the marks are threatening."

Moulin furrowed his brows. He was still uncertain and uneasy. Before he could find the words to refute, Hadrian pulled him in his arms and whispered against his hair. 

"The malevolent energy within the core chamber was too dense. It would latch unto the remaining source of divine power within the chamber. It wouldn't be a surprise that a faint wisp of it would enter our bodies."

Our?

"When you were unconscious, your body needed to undergo purification since your core barriers collapsed. Your core was vulnerable to the demon's energy and the corrupted mana within the chamber." Hadrian said. "Both of us were in a similar state."

"Then..." Moulin raised his gaze, "you will recover?"

"Yes."

...

Moulin nodded. His heart eased, and he could not help but release a sigh. However, the visions haunted his mind, and he questioned Hadrian once more. 

"During the battle with... Alha, that demon." Moulin began, "Were you hurt? Did he do something to you?"

Hadrian lowered his head and softly smiled, "Nothing happened."

"Truly?" 

"Truly."

"..." Moulin raised his hand to caress the side of Hadrian's face. The faint light of his chambers was reflected within those magnetic golden pupils. Hadrian covered Moulin's hand with his own, and the youth spoke. "You are not hiding some from me, right?"

"..." Hadrian paused. His eyes widened slightly. 

There was a few seconds of silence before the lord replied. 

"No..."

Moulin convinced himself that those words were enough. He didn't need to delve further. Perhaps, the truth will come to him in the future, and he will accept whatever consequence and regret. However, right now, when his chest is wrung dry from warmth, tight and uncomfortable, he chooses to console his heart with a single word. 

He sighed, drawing his thoughts towards the countless eyes that gazed at them back in the banquet and how abrupt their leave was. His brother should be bursting out of the halls searching for him. The maeruthans would be confused and curious for a while before returning to their jovial state, as were the rest of the people within the banquet halls. 

Moulin leaned into Hadrian's arms, inhaling the faint scent of lavender. He breathes out, recalling how they bathed together and dressed each other before Hadrian left to take care of things. They left, sharing a sweet kiss. It was brief, but it made Moulin's insides flutter. Finally, a slight smile spreads out on his face, and his eyes close. Hadrian gently stroked Moulin's back. His deep gaze slowly faced the night. 

The pair of silver and gold, white and black, stood in each other's embrace like a priceless painting. 

Soon, they returned to the banquet, hand in hand. A picture of grace and strength. All eyes turned to them. However, Moulin and Hadrian's gazes never strayed from the other. 

...

The morning breeze greeted every living thing within the islands the following day. A massive stone ring was transported to the landing platform of the mystic eagles. Elves gathered to say their farewells to their departing friends, and the oracles and mages blessed them. 

"We'll not miss you..." Lady Adeina, the fae with the youth of a child, raised her firm gaze and raised an eyebrow at the man standing before her. Lord Ordan, the previous Guild Lord of a prominent guild, who was stuck in their lands for several years, formed a bond with its people. 

Lord Ordan chuckled and nodded, "Perhaps, not now. Worry not; I shall visit."

His gaze turned to his elven friends, and he opened his arms with an expectant grin. Not long after, countless limbs wrestled him to the ground. The elves hug and whisper well wishes to their maeruthan friend. 

"How charming." 

Na'EL commented with an amused gaze before withdrawing his gaze. His eyes finally settled on a particular white-haired maeruthan embracing Arcefi tightly and releasing him before Thundralln's precious princess launched herself on the maeruthan aphrodite. Laughter sounded, and it was as sweet as wind chimes. 

Ah, my garden will certainly miss him as well. 

Na'El stands observing the crowd before noticing Moulin approaching him with a soft smile. 

"Great oracle..." Moulin addressed, "Thank you for everything you have done for my people and me."

"It is I who should thank you for saving mine." Na'El smiled, "We are indebted to you all and His Excellency, Lord Hercullio. I wish you a safe return, young master. And please... take care of my sister. She tends to become too unrestrained at times."

"We will try our best." Moulin chuckled, glancing at the female elf conversing with Colahn from afar. 

"Moulin... " Emlen arrived beside his little brother. "Come, it's time."

Nodding, the youth gave one last smile at the Thundralln's oracle. They gather before the massive stone ring. Mages chanted beside Lady Adeina, fueling boundless mana into the structure, creating a glowing vortex of pure energy. the portal thrives with life and all are in awe. 

The maeruthan warriors still could not believe they could return home without pursuing another life-threatening journey. Perhaps, they would lose more men and they are unable to near such loss if it happened. Fortunately, this time, they are blessed and lucky to be able to return safely.

Moulin found his place beside Lord Hercullio. Both took in each other's presence as they faced the portal together. King Nordehl and the rest of his people lowered heads. Hands, pressed to their chest before they are gestured to their departing friends. One last farewell.

The maeruthans could not be grateful enough. 

"Ao!" A small ball of white suddenly scurried past the maeruthan's legs and whooshed into the portal. Before anyone could react, Kier was already rushing after Snow and both are swallowed into the portal.

"..."

Chuckles resounded throughout the vast area, elevating the slight wistful atmosphere.

Not long after, they are walking. The first of the maeruthans entered. Each taking a step into the portal, flashing as they disappeared. One after the other. 

Moulin turned back, gazing at the touching sight of the elves. His heartbeat quickened for them.

"Moulin." Hadrian spoke and the youth turned to him, staring with glistening silver eyes. The lord whispered, "Let's go home..."

Home. Moulin's heart tightened. He pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. A large hand took his and he is pulled towards the wall of light. He closed his eyes as the energy engulfed his body inch by inch. Moulin breathes slowly as his steps briefly left the Elven grounds. 

Until we meet again...

Whoosh!

Warm air caressed his cheeks and the world is louder. When his eyes opened slowly, he hears loud cheers.

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