A Gorgeous White

Once, there was a time when Moulin had felt such excruciating pain. A pain that was not inflicted on part of his body. There were no wounds. There were no bruises nor broken bones. Before that pain was happiness. Pure, untainted, and filled with light. Like a massive tornado of blazing fire. Sparks flying in the air. Crackling in the silence. It was beautiful as it opened the sky. This was his happiness.

If only he knew how short it would be. How it would instantly disappear without knowing.

Back in his previous life, the man who he had spent his childhood within the orphanage with, the man who he only loved in his life when that man turned and left to find another. It was like a nail drilling into his bones. Leaving him numb from all the pain.

Now when he experienced such a blissful life, filled with the people he would cherish and them who would cherish him. It was a euphoric joy. Bathing him with endless happiness. Simultaneously, it also brought fear. Fear for its briefness. For its disappearance. He had learned how cruel his fate can be and how delightful it can be.

When you have obtained something you wanted more than your life, you become selfish. When it vanishes before your eyes, you search for it. When you realize it is gone forever, you grieve, mourn, deplore...

Then I killed myself...

Moulin sighed sorrowfully. He was never ready to let go of everything he has now. 

Especially...

Moulin opened his eyes and pressed his forehead on Hadrian's chest, feeling the firmness of the man's body. 

Warm.

Then from the corner of his eyes, he saw the thin sheet of ice on the table surface where he once laid his clenched hands. The youth then realized the coldness of the air around him. Prickly frigidness caressing around their embrace. Without a second thought, Moulin allowed the cold to thaw, warmth instantly replacing it. The frost on the table was no more and Moulin returned to savor Hadrian's embrace.

"Better?" The deep voice could be heard above Moulin's ear. It tickled the youth's lobes making Moulin bit back a smile.

"Not quite..." Without warning, he then lifted his head and pressed his lips on Hadrian's lips. 

With narrowed eyes, Lord Hadrian circled his arms around the young man's chest and pried Moulin's lips open. With a throaty chuckle from his throat, he slipped his tongue within the wet cavern of his lover's mouth. Earning him a sweet moan from the youth locked in his arms. 

Moulin closed his eyes as he tilted his head, keeping up with the rhythm of Hadrian's ministrations. Alluring sounds of their kissing resounded within the small room. Not long after, Moulin smiled as he withdraws from their connection. Slowly opening his lids, revealing those beautiful silver pupils, Moulin smiled faintly as he felt a soft kiss planted at his right temple. 

"Thank you..." Moulin whispered as he gazed into those golden rings within the lord's eyes.

With a smile tugging his lips, Hadrian bent his head, "Comforting you has become my chore..."

Snorting, Moulin slowly pushed the man away and tucked the relic in his pouch. Remembering his brother's words Moulin let out a depressing sigh. Emlen was right. If the city was in confinement, they would have erected a barrier to stop even sentinels from entering. Teleportation would be useless...

He glanced at Hadrian who was crossing his arms while staring at the door. 

"I forgot to tell you..." Hadrian spoke without turning to Moulin. His eyes were carefully scrutinizing the door as if to see through it.

"Tell me what?"

"The elf man from the little girl's house..." Hadrian continued. "... Had silver eyes..."

Moulin stopped. His brows furrowed as he stared at the man. Straightening his back, Moulin stood as he subconsciously reached for to touch his eyes. Then the feeling came. The ominous feeling he had felt last night that had deprived him of sleep. "Why..." He whispered to himself. Lowering his gaze, he breathed softly. "Silver eyes..."

He then remembered the bird-carved stone Phuna had given him before he left Yan'Gofrae. He had not pulled it out from his pocket ever since. With knitted brows, he palmed the bulge on his pocket.

"Let's go..." Hadrian suddenly said. Moulin looked at him curiously. His gaze then shifted to the door that Hadrian had been staring at for so long.

"What is it?"

"..." Hadrian tilted his head towards the door while looking at the slender youth standing before the desk. Withdrawing the barrier around the room, Hadrian waited for Moulin.

There were rapid footfalls sounding across the hallways. Like frantic running.

Moulin didn't waste a second as he walked to the door with large strides. He pulled the door open and was greeted by sentinels rushing to their rooms, recklessly putting on their gears and buckling their sword belts. 

Moulin stopped a man and quickly asked about the situation.

"The squad left in Yan'Gofrae had been infected with the disease plaguing the town not long after it was raided!" With a hasty shrug the man then quickly left to prepare the horses in the stables.

"Infected?" Moulin's eyes widened. The town was attacked?! How come the news arrived so late?

...

Jagra!

Moulin's eyes constricted. They must depart immediately!

Moulin hurriedly entered his room to fetch his sword and Snow who was sleeping soundly. Torahn waited outside the door nonchalantly waiting for Moulin.

Not far from them, hiding behind the corner of the wall, Callun narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Not less than a minute, Moulin along with Torabn marched out from the building. The horses were already readied and not far from the courtyard Rowan, with a heavy expression, along with some elven warriors strode towards Moulin and Torahn. His sword belt clunked as he walked, steps pounding on the ground. Rowan had not expected the abrupt news brought by one of his men left in Yan'Gofrae. The messenger had collapsed before him and the presence of the prince. Rowan had wondered why none of his men had sent for reinforcements and aid yesterday during the incursion.

"Our men are in grave danger. Their lives are threatened and so are townspeople living in Yan'Gofrae." Rowan spoke to Hadrian heavily. He did not care about exposing the lord anymore. He had failed Lord Hadrian.

Hadrian only nodded at him. His cruel gaze weighing down on his subordinate. With a sigh, he only told Rowan to carry on. Relena suggested to stay with the prince and investigate. They could not risk having more of their men sacrificed. Rowan decided to travel back to Yan'Gofrae with the healers and seers. Of course, Moulin joined with his leader. 

As the barrier's city unfolded for the departure of its dear guests. Moulin silently prayed for his friend's safety as the wind sharply brushed his face like a blade taunting him. Their mounts galloping towards the activated teleportation pearls a couple of miles away from Thundralln. From afar it glowed brightly, a large blazing circular ring hovered behind it. Through the ring, one could see the landscape completely different from the terrain beyond the fiery ring.

Moulin narrowed his eyes once they pass through. The temperature of the wind instantly changed. The bright sky turned shaded. The sweet smell of wood in Thundralln turned into the fresh scent of forest rain. Everything transformed in an instant. With the thunder over the forests top, it was grim as they rode their mounts. 

Tuning with the thundering clouds, Moulin could feel the pounding of his heart.

•••••

"Captain!"

A Leonile sentinel staggered towards the arriving group. The man was anxiously waiting alone by the gates of the town. He limped as he stepped away to allow the horses to enter. With harsh breaths, he struggled to run to Rowan, watching as his captain dismount from his horse. 

"Luwan, what's the situation?" Rowan asked while ordering the men to scatter. His expression fell as he noticed the bandages with blood seeping through them. 

The man then hurriedly narrated the events that happened yesterday. His words were forced out in a stutter as he struggled to keep his legs straight and keep his balance. The day before, the people in Yan'Gofrae warmly welcomed the sentinels who had stayed to protect the town. The mayor hosted a banquet for them to express the town's gratitude. The sickness that plagued the town was lifted and a full recovery was already expected by the following week. All this happened during a couple of hours. By night when every soul was asleep and the sentinels took turns to watch for the night. People wearing robes of red came after midnight, invading the town, murdering those who would resist. Although outnumbered, the sentinels fought and defended. The assassins retreated to the woods not long after the confrontation with the sentinels. They left carrying nothing. They had stolen nothing from the town except the lives of people who others hold dear. The healers and seers among the sentinels were killed brutally. The red-robed people ensured to kill anyone who would be able to trace them. What resulted from their slaughter was the mournful cries of their subordinates as well as the people they were protecting.

The dawn was grieveful and painful. What came after was no better. Shortly after dawn, Sentinels collapse one after the other. Their limbs had become stiff and motionless. Their internal soul was paralyzed, spiritual power sealed. With a grave heart, the people moved the sentinels to their homes. Only Luwan, the person Rowan was currently conversing with did not catch the sickness.

Moulin listened attentively with Hadrian by his side. When he heard, how only one was spared from the plague. He quickly grabbed one of the passing people and questioned about his friend. After getting an answer from the next few people, he instantly rushed towards the house where Jagra was being taken care of.

He slammed the doors open, briefly greeting the owners of the small house, and rushed to the bedroom where Jagra laid, unmoving.

"Jagra..." Moulin called as he sat on the vacant stool next to the wooden bed. The sheets look washed and neat. The daylight beamed through the open windows, bathing Jagra's pale countenance with a warm glow. Eyes closed, muscles stiff. Around his forehead were bandages. Blood staining through them. He looked deathly.

"How did it come to this?..." Moulin furrowed his brows sullenly. With the seers and healers murdered, no one could inspect and rehabilitate the sentinels. 

Hadrian stood behind Moulin, his red eyes transforming into glowing orbs of gold as he assessed the body of Moulin's friend. Carefully inspecting the body's internal soul.

Moulin sighed as covered the blankets up to Jagra's shoulders. 

People in robes of red...

Moulin's eyes narrowed.