176: Sleep well.
~Third pov~
The group settled in the temple as darkness fell outside. No one spoke much. The fire Caleb had built crackled in the center of the ruined space, casting building imaginary shadows on the moss-covered walls.
They were eating real food for the first time in what felt like ages. Caleb had managed to kill an antelope during his search for the temple. Gemma had cleaned it and put it on a spit over the fire, adding spices from her storage space that made the meat smell like home.
Now they sat around the flames, tearing into the cooked meat with their hands. The taste was better than anything they'd had in weeks.
"It's good you have a storage space for food, you know," Caleb murmured, taking a huge bite from the meat and then stuffing a loaf of bread in his mouth. He washed it down with honey milk that Gemma had also brought from her storage space.
Gemma managed a small smile at her husband's words, but it didn't reach her eyes. She'd been quiet since watching Raphael press blood into Drogon's ruined face.
The sight had shaken her deeply. Looking at him reminded her of someone didn't want to name.
Caleb noticed his wife's silence. He kept glancing at her between bites, worry creasing his forehead. Something was wrong with Gemma, but he decided to keep quiet about it until they got home. There was already enough to worry about.
Isla ate slowly, her already healed palm wrapped in cloth. She kept looking at Drogon's still form, wondering if her blood was still working or if the curses were winning.
The dragon's breathing seemed steady, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough. She is worried at the things Raphael will do to her. Isla decides within herself to escape once they get to a town.
As for Raphael, he barely touched his food. He sat on the hardstone floor beside Drogon, his arms resting on his knees, watching the dragon breathe. Each rise and fall of his chest reassured him that Drogon was still alive.
But for how long?
The fire shines between them. Somewhere outside, the wind howled gently through the broken temple walls. The wind picked up heavily, for a moment they all feared the rain would destroyed the temple.
Raphael's thoughts drifted to Ava. Was she safe? Were Anastasia and Gwen managing to protect her? Or was Alasia already hunting her down?
The not knowing was eating at him.
"She trusted you to return," he said quietly, mostly to himself.
The words made him more determined. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Drogon or to himself. Maybe both.
Drogon's good eye opened at the sound of Raphael's voice. He could hear the promise in Raphael's words, the fear behind them.
The dragon wanted to say something comforting, but comfort had never been his strength. Instead, he just listened.
"Don't make me tell her I failed," Raphael continued, his voice barely above a whisper.
The fire popped, sending sparks up toward the broken ceiling. The others pretended not to hear, but they all felt the pain in Raphael's words.
Caleb thought about his own failures as a son and husband. Gemma remembered all the people she hadn't been able to heal and protect over the years.
Isla wondered if her blood would be enough if something bad happens to the scary Dragon or if she'd let everyone down again and if she would be able to escape.
Drogon's thoughts however, were different. He was thinking about master too, wondering if she would be blaming herself.
He knows about the time change. That the three weeks and nine days, he had spent with Alasia were three years and nine months outside the cursed land. He has overheard Alasia when she had first captured him.
He tried his best. Heaven knew he did but he couldn't stop Gwen's face popping into his mind. He miss her so much. He could feel her yearning and her hurt as she could as well.
To Drogon, Gwen was one of the reasons why he couldn't give up when Alasia was torturing him to use his powers for herself.
He knows he has children, yet his mate was still suffering from the mate bond due to his stupidity of sending her out that day.
He was wished he could turn back time. He sighed, allowing Raphael's voice to lure him to sleep. At least, he knows in his dreams, he would see her healthy and not the sick lady that was barely holding onto love.
The group finished eating in silence. One by one, they found places to sleep on the temple floor. Caleb wrapped his arms around Gemma, pulling her close. She let him, but her body stayed tense.
Isla curled up near the fire, her wrapped hand tucked against her chest. She closed her eyes but didn't sleep. Her mind kept going over everything that had happened, looking for signs she might have missed.
Raphael didn't move from beside Drogon. He sat there in the flickering light, keeping watch. Someone had to make sure the dragon kept breathing. Someone had to be ready if something went wrong. Yet, he still won't admit, he worries over him.
The fire burned lower. The temple grew colder. Outside, night sounds began - things moving in the forest, hunting or being hunted.
Raphael's eyelids grew heavy, but he fought against sleep. Not yet. Not while Drogon was so fragile. But exhaustion was stronger than determination. His head began to nod forward.
That's when he heard it.
A voice, soft as a whisper, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"The dragon bleeds, but he does not die. How... inconvenient. I need his powers. Track the spells on his body."
Raphael's eyes snapped wide open, his heart hammering against his ribs. The voice was female, and filled with cold amusement.
He looked around the temple frantically. The others were still sleeping. The fire still burned softly although almost out. Everything looked normal.
But the voice came again, closer this time.
"Tell me, little king, do you think woman's blood will save him forever? Do you think I cannot reach him wherever he runs?"
Alasia.
Raphael's blood turned to ice in his veins. She'd found them. Somehow, across all the distance and through all the magic barriers, she'd found them.
"I can taste his pain from here," the voice continued, and Raphael could hear the smile in her voice. Every drop of blood he spills, every breath he struggles to take , it all leads back to me."
Raphael tried to wake the others, but his body wouldn't move. Some kind of spell held him frozen in place.
"Sleep well, Raphael," Alasia whispered. "Enjoy this small victory. It will be your last."
The voice faded, but Raphael's eyes stayed wide open in the dark, filled with shock and terror.
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