A Gorgeous White

The pungent smell permeated the air. It is strong and hot, burning into one's nose. The scorched end of Gala'En's branch cracks and snaps from the burns, charred black. Its leaves fluttered around as it fell. The delicate veins within their green bodies burn, devoured by black.

The smokes cleared, and Moulin was on the ground. His eyes are wide in disbelief, staring dazedly at the open path, wide and burning, towards the horizon. The swarm stopped, Moulin sensed, although his gaze did not move. Confusion filled every single being fighting against the horrid creatures. The malibreeds ceased their attacks and only retreated a distance from the Great Tree. The sudden ceasefire brought about a burst of confusion and caution.

The shadow of the man standing before Moulin like a shield, a towering wall, enshrouds him, not in comfort... but intimidation. Moulin could not stop it, the rapid beating of his heart.

'Fools...' The voice spoke again in Moulin's ears. They are desperately scratching against the thick walls in his mind. Moulin's eyes shifted.

The dark creature marred with deep scorched wounds and a split body twitches on the ground. Like water, they changed state. Flesh melting, turning fluid, and flowing in the air to connect the severed parts together. Bones snapped together, and blood drew back to the wounds where they bled. It was a horrifying sight. In less than ten seconds, the creature is whole once more.

Moulin swallowed, and his stomach tightened drastically. How could it survive such a menacing attack?

The weapon within the lord's grasp flashed bright gold before fading, and a long black sword appeared in its place. Its sharpened edge gleamed murderously, eager for the touch of flesh and blood bathing its indestructible body. Witnessing the scene, Moulin could not speak. A weapon that could change its form...

Golden eyes flashed with wrath swimming within its golden pools. A ruthless air swallowed the area. It is like a drop of poison in a clear open pond, contaminating everything it touches. Wisps of black whipped the air surrounding his dominant body, full of force, yearning to quench the thirst of its owner's mad fire.

'Sweet souls...' Udlher speaks into Moulin's mind. It is now heavier. Moulin shut his eyes, enduring the ache within his head.

"Shut up," Hadrian seethes. Eyes darkening and raising his sword to cut the babbling worm into pieces.

'Ah, you can hear me too...' The creature's beak parted slightly as if it was talking. Deadly blood-red eyes glowed frightfully as they looked at the couple before him. Any being who would gaze upon those eyes would feel as if their consciousness was torn out from its protective covering. Immense fear would swallow them whole.

'Fated-souls... Irksome but... tasteful. My Lord will be... delighted... to receive your corpses...' The creature's eyes released an enticed glint. And for a brief moment, they settled on Moulin, intently gleaming with excitement. 'He... will welcome you wholly.'

A chill climbed up Moulin's spine. He could not help but shudder, fearing whatever thoughts entered that creature's mind. Slender fingers curled tightly.

The blade within Lord Hercullio's grasp lifted. Its dark, ruthless body screamed to drink the blood of the aggravating creature, to let it bleed to death.

However, before the blade could descend, a back cloud of red and black swirled around the massive beast. An iron scent of death and despair drowned the air, aiming to suffocate whoever breathed it. The cloud enveloped the monster, creeping beneath its talons, climbing over the bare scar on its belly, before it finally engulfed its threatening face.

One last time, it spoke.

'Three days, we shall return and destroy everything you cherish... I will deliver your beautiful corpses myself....'

Within Moulin's mind, he felt a familiarly gruesome grin forming in his mind.

'Until we meet again...'

The dark cloud engulfed the giant beast and instantly dissipated in the air, leaving no trace of its existence. A heavy silence filled the vast area.

...

The next instant, a series of gruesome cries filled the entire sky. It grew louder and louder until one couldn't bear it without covering their ears. The malibreeds in the sky recovered their original mindless frenzy and began to fill the air with their unbearable noise.

It wasn't long until they started descending, swooping down to collect their meal between their teeth. Their wings cut through the air like a blade slicing through flesh. Their jaws widened, eager to chew and crush their prey's brittle bones. They lack eyes. However, the smell of fear and the delectable mana within their little bodies was enough for them to go wild.

The elves and maeruthans snapped out from their confused state and resumed their advances, drawing their weapons. Their battle cries echoed loudly to lift the morale of not just their men but for themselves. They must protect the Tree until the shield can fully enclose the island!

The most vulnerable ones would be a certain High Lord and a silver-eyed Aphrodite maeruthan perching on one of the broken branches of the Great Tree.

Golden eyes eyed the descending malibreeds cautiously. Lord Hercullio turned and reached for the youth. "Moulin, come."

Without sparing any time, the youth hurriedly took the lord's arm. He winced slightly as the pain all over his body began to take over his mind. Hadrian held him close. His movements were a bit forceful. However, Moulin could sense the anxiety beneath the skin touching his body.

Their bodies disappeared in a flash. The moment Moulin opened his eyes, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings shook his brain. He was not on the vast platform where his brothers and the rest of the warriors were. The sound of battle pierced through the walls, but it was faint. There weren't any windows either.

They arrived within a small room with a narrow white situated bed beside the wall. The pungent smell of herbs and medicine filled his nostrils, and Moulin instantly knew where he was.

"Hadrian?-"

"Stay here," Hadrian spoke, gently lowering his hands to help the youth unto the bed. His eyes carefully examined the youth's arm, and his frown deepened. In his eyes, a storm brewed.

"I will be fine." Moulin shook his head. "I can't still help-"

"You've done enough. You're injured. Stay and recuperate."

"But-"

The door opened with a brief creak, and an older elf widened her eyes as she spotted the two people within the room. Her eyes particularly gazed at the battered young man on the bed. The odd angle of his arm and the bruises and cuts marring the skin would make one's blood freeze. It was simply frightening. However, the youth's expression didn't show the supposed extreme pain from his injuries.

"Take care of him."

The elf flinched. Realizing the identity of the person before her, she hastily nodded. "Right away, my Lord!"

Before Moulin could stop Hadrian, the man bent down and gently caressed the soft cheek of his young lover. His fingers brushed carefully, and he spoke. "Stay..."

Moulin furrowed his brows as he looked at Lord Hercullio. The man gave him one last look before turning and leaving the room. The sounds of his footsteps faded away from the youth's ears. And the older she-elf healer began to examine his wounds as the battle grew savage far beyond the walls of the room.

............

When the barrier was fully activated, it was already dawn. Almost a whole day had passed as the warriors stood to defend and risk their lives for Gala'En. The swarm lingered beyond its enclosed field, banging their bodies against its indestructible walls. It wasn't long before they withdrew, receding into the dark clouds, still famished and promising their virulent return.

Although the barrier had finally enclosed the island, blood had spilled, and lives were lost. Despair razed the island, enshrouding Gala'En with hopeless darkness. The remnants of the battle from the dissipating lives of its majestic flora, the bloodstained earth, and the discovery of the Kron creeping its way within the island haunted the hopeless people residing within. Withered plants began spreading from the land's corners. Perhaps, their end was near.

"Moulin!..." A hasty sweat-soaked Emlen barged into the room. His abrupt and noisy entry startled the occupants within.

Moulin, who was resting, slowly sat up at the sight of his elder brother. His heart ached when he saw his bloodied figure. However, he was relieved as well to realize that he looked well and lively... and loud.

The elf tending to Moulin's injuries rose and bowed in front of the esteemed guest before Emlen let her continue his little brother's treatment. But she didn't expect the maeruthan to suddenly rush inside and claim the silver-eyed man within a tight hug.

Moulin's sharp gasp abruptly shook Emlen's heart, and he yanked himself away with a pale face. "I'm sorry! Does it still hurt? Where does it hurt?" He turned and began questioning the elf behind him.

"The young master's body is healing well. But it is best that we avoid any close contact with him during the next four hours." She explained, facing the older maeruthan's extremely concerned look. "Just until the pain disappears."

"I see..." Emlen nodded, sighing in relief.

And just like that, Moulin was transferred to his quarters and was strictly prohibited from leaving the room until four hours had passed. No matter how often he repeated saying that he was fine, Emlen firmly refused and stayed by his side. It wasn't long before Moulin chided Emlen to tend to his wounds and dress himself. Unable to refute his little brother's words, Emlen helplessly stepped out of the room in a flash. He promised to return as soon as he could. Stuck in the bed with nothing else to do, the aphrodite could only lay down, sleep, eat, and read.

However, a thought hovered within his mind. Hadrian had not visited him since.

Anxiously closing the book within his hands, Moulin raised his gaze and looked over at the door, shut tightly.

"..."

Where is he?

At that exact moment, the door creaked open. Moulin's heart jumped, anticipation riddling his chest.

"Were you waiting for me?" Emlen's wide grin appeared within Moulin's vision. There weren't severe injuries on his body, only a few minor ones. The blood on his clothes wasn't even his. Thus, he'd been treated, and he dressed quickly.

The anticipation within the youth's heart died down. Moulin revealed a faint smile, feeling both relief and disappointment. "I was waiting..."

At those words, the man's steel-grey eyes brightened. He took his seat beside his brother and flipped open one of the books on Moulin's bedside. He wasn't fond of reading, unlike his little brother, but as years passed, he'd missed Moulin's silent figure, nestled on the couch or the bed, reading until sleep came to him. The memory fluttered within his heart, and he could not help but be curious about his younger brother's interest, even if it was... books.

A soft, gentle breeze entered the room. The wavy strands on the youth's cheek fluttered. Moulin raised his head, gazing at the open windows.

He spoke, "Brother, how is Hadrian?"