Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Augustine didn’t return home until late at night. She had said goodbye to Bruno early, but something made her avoid being alone with Alderian. Aware that he wouldn’t say anything about it in public, she stayed in the library for hours until her stomach growled with hunger.
“Augustine, it’s time to go home. You’ve barely eaten today,” Alderian said upon hearing her empty stomach.
She obeyed in silence without looking at him, and he added nothing more.
The arrival home was routine. Augustine expected Alderian to bring up the subject of Bruno’s declaration, but he omitted it and instead seemed ready to begin his return to A’aru.
“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” she asked before he left.
“About what?” Alderian was calm, imperturbable.
“About Bruno… and me.”
Alderian didn’t move a single muscle in his face, making it difficult to guess what he might be thinking. “What about it?”
Augustine felt her face flush. “I don’t know… don’t you have anything to say?”
“I told you a few days ago, but perhaps you forgot… I am used to seeing you live your human life, having boyfriends, and getting married,” Alderian responded.
“I’ve seen you have children and I’ve accompanied you on your deathbed.
Hundreds of times, that cycle has repeated…
why do you expect it to be different now?
Bruno is a good guy, and I remember you felt something for him a few years ago, you didn’t stop looking at him back then.
Like you told him before, just think about it.
Don’t expect me to give you advice. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. ”
His indifference felt like a cold bucket of reality, and she didn’t respond, noting that Alderian had already gone.
* * *
That night Augustine slept deeply, oblivious to the presence keeping watch by her side.
Alderian looked like a sturdy statue, unshakeable.
Occasionally his eyes would soften, but at other times they filled with affliction, as if a battle were being waged inside him he had no way of winning.
A spark of primitive desire flickered in his eyes—a sacred being who had never experienced that emotion with such intensity.
He didn’t realize it, but his black wings were spread, and golden threads seemed to run through his plumage.
Seen from afar, they looked like wings of fire and ash, molten lava, like the wings of a phoenix that had just risen.
His senses were strangely sharpened, in a way that was not at all habitual for a spirit in the human world.
His eyes traveled over Augustine’s body; lying on the bed, she wore only a thin, short dress, leaving much of her skin exposed.
What was this feeling? It wasn’t a protective instinct, but the desire to possess her completely. He didn’t want to hand her over to anyone—not to Milán, not to Bruno, not to anyone. Good man or bad, he wanted none of them near her.
One step… two steps… He leaned over Augustine, even knowing that his own immateriality prevented him from reaching her.
He gazed closely at the mole that had been driving him crazy for days, wanting to bury his face in that skin, tear off her clothes, and fill himself with her nakedness.
Augustine, oblivious to it all, stirred restlessly in her sleep.
Was she going to wake up? Even faced with that possibility, he leaned over the bed and, in a nearly non-existent brush, brought his face to the curve of her neck.
The intoxicating scent of the young woman hit him like a sledgehammer, and for a moment he thought he would lose control of himself entirely.
He brought his lips close to hers, caressing the impossible, barely containing himself.
He could simply wake her or enter her dreams; the only thing he could think about was that he wanted to possess her, however he could.
Augustine shifted between the sheets, and that slight movement brought him back to reality.
He retreated slowly, shocked by himself and by what he had thought of doing.
Motionless and incredulous, he vanished into the darkness without a trace.
Back in A’aru, Alderian was panting heavily, his breath ragged as if he were gripped by a fever burning him from within.
What is happening to me? Confused, he had the sensation that a thick fire was running through his veins and pushing him back toward Augustine.
He opened the large window of his chamber, from which the eternal liquid sky of A’aru could be seen pearly gray, bright, and pristine, in absolute contrast to the chaos Alderian carried inside.
He spread his wings and threw himself into the void, heading for the River Lethe with the desperate conviction that only there could he quench the fire burning his vitals.
As soon as he spotted the body of water, he dived and submerged himself to the very depths.
Lethe did its work. Little by little, Alderian felt calm returning, the temperature of his heart dropping while the silver threads of the river coiled gently around his body. He reached the shore with heavy steps and collapsed onto the grass, staring into nothingness.
What exactly had happened to him? He had experienced nothing like it.
Was it an effect of Augustine’s anomaly, or were his own feelings finally betraying him after being repressed for so long?
Had Bruno’s untimely declaration of love toward Augustine affected him more than he wanted to admit, proving he was that jealous after all?
He sat up slowly and looked back at the river—a silver river in front of silver meadows, surrounded by silver trees.
Unlike the human world, in A’aru, nothing had color.
Everything was beautiful, but colorless.
Thinking about it, he realized that, for the first time, his chest and his body felt as if they had… colors.
He began the journey back to his immense castle, an empty shell that reminded him too much of human mausoleums. He didn’t go inside, choosing instead to walk through the gardens, which were full of rosebushes in bloom, white and pure like the wings of angels.
Wings he did not possess. He was not “pure.”
He understood now that the ravenous desire that had invaded him was proof that something was wrong with him.
The worst part was that he didn’t want to fight his feelings; quite the contrary, he wanted to surrender to them completely.
But how was Augustine to blame for his stormy feelings?
He couldn’t tell her about them, as the last thing he wanted was to confuse her.
He knew Augustine had a sensitive soul, that she would look at him with compassion and want to understand him, but Alderian did not wish to be understood. Nor forgiven.
He felt his Silver Thread being pulled three times. Was Augustine awake? For the first time in centuries, he did not run to his human’s side when he felt she needed him.