TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 38 (RAW)

Chapter 38 - Human Relationships I can stand him not loving me; I can’t stand him loving her.” - Lang Leav.  The world snapped back together

Chapter 38 - Human Relationships

I can stand him not loving me; I can’t stand him loving her.”

- Lang Leav. 

The world snapped back together like a shattered mirror, making itself whole—fractals shimmering, flattening, and at last resolving into ordinary space. Glass that a heartbeat ago had exploded into lethal shards flowed in reverse, reseating itself in flawless panes with a crystalline sigh. When the last motes of brilliance faded, Seraphina found herself back in the library, a lingering echo of The Realm of the Four Gods fading from existence.

You have completed a Divine Ordeal.

You have completed The Realm of the Four Gods.

You have received 2000 experience points.

You have received Gift: Legacy of the Dragon Turtle

You have gained 1 Luck.

You have gained 1 Wisdom.

You have reached level 19.

3 unassigned attribute points.

1 unassigned skill point.

You have received Artifact: Serpent’s Coilband.

The message burned across her vision and faded, leaving her blinking at the hush that followed. Her legs wobbled—neither fatigue nor fear, but from sheer excitement and incredulity. They had accomplished the impossible, and the world itself had rewarded her.

A plain gold bracelet, narrow as a kiss of sunlight, lay in her palm—too simple by half. Yet beneath that innocent sheen coiled a secret power as ancient as the Serpent God who first dreamed of deceit. Her pulse hammered when she felt the artifact stir, a phantom scale sliding beneath the metal. Mine. She clasped it shut around her wrist; the band shrank to fit, cool and possessive. It was something that she desperately needed.

Eyes danced across the notifications and changes to her Status, finding the Legacy of the Dragon Turtle. It was a boon that increased her Luck and Constitution and granted her some resistance against both Water Magic and Physical Damage. Favoring symmetry for its elegance, she allocated two of her free attribute points into Constitution, and one into Strength. As for the free skill point, she, as was her wont of late, assigned it to Mana Regeneration.

Seraphina straightened, masking the thrill racing along her nerves with a veil of cold, noble composure. To anyone watching, it must seem this triumph was merely the ordained result of her command… and for most of her companions, that illusion held. Awe gleamed in the eyes of those new to the Trials.

But one pair of eyes shone not with awe or surprise, but with hungry, liquid fire.

Desdemona.

The de Savant girl’s cheeks were flushed a dangerous rose, her lips parted as though she breathed sweeter air than the rest of them. No blood marked her, no tear marred her crimson dress—yet something violent and primal coiled just beneath that silk skin. The storm of stimuli—the disgust, the terror, the rapture—had wound her nerves too tight. Now the cord snapped.

With a savage, predatory grace, she closed the distance to Gravens. One heartbeat, he was merely blinking, his hand opening and closing as if in disbelief at the order of events; the next, he was engulfed, Desdemona’s arms flung about his neck, her soft curves slamming against hard steel. His shock and protest dissolved beneath a kiss that was no maiden’s offering but a devouring claim—wet, urgent, molten with the heat of rut and battlefield hysteria.

Gravens’ hands trembled mid-air, torn between propriety and primal instinct. The clash rang through his frame like struck iron. His eyes fluttered half-open; then, perhaps for Eloise’s sake, they squeezed shut altogether. Or, perhaps in denial. A part of him could not deny the feelings that stirred within him at such an open declaration.

A delicate gasp cut the charged silence. Eloise, doll-perfect lady-in-waiting, delicate fingers to innocent lips. Her dark eyes brimmed with stunned betrayal and something far more fragile. Tiny and immaculate beside the tableau’s raw carnality, she looked like a porcelain figurine set before a bonfire.

Even Seraphina’s own cheeks burned scarlet at such ardent a display. She flicked her gaze aside, heart drumming louder than any war-beat. Control the stage, Sera. Regal indifference slid back into place like a mask of polished ivory, but the scene seared her peripheral vision—the clench of Desdemona’s fingers in Gravens’ hair, the quiver of his shoulders, Eloise’s silent tremor.

At last, Desdemona drew back, eyes half-lidded, lips gleaming—a predator partially sated for the moment. Gravens staggered as though struck, breath ragged, while Eloise’s eyes clouded, a single tear tracking its way down her cheek.

Seraphina cleared her throat, voice velvet-smooth yet edged with command. “Enough.” One word—cool water on fevered skin. Desdemona’s gaze snapped to her captain; after a defiant heartbeat more, she released Gravens and stepped back, chest rising and falling like a bellows as she sashayed away.

The hush that followed felt as brittle as spun glass. In Seraphina’s chest, exhilaration still roared—but now it tangled with a rising sense of foreboding.

Desdemona’s defiant posture, her complete lack of remorse, was the final straw for Eloise. With a trembling hand covering her eyes, she fled the library, tears trailing in her wake.

Irritated, Seraphina touched her new bracelet, a self-comforting gesture. Its plain gold surface was warm—almost alive. The magical artifact was power dressed in plain gold..

“We will talk about this later,” she said coldly, her voice flat. She passed her massive sword and gauntlets to her maid, who accepted them with a small squeak.

Desdemona's lips curled in a mocking smile. The blonde noblewoman felt a sudden, fierce temptation to strike her.

“Sir Frest, escort Lady de Savant to her rooms. Miriam, check out The Realm of the Four Gods and get the kitchens to make us a warm meal. The rest of you—wait in the common room of my dormitory,” Seraphina ordered, already turning on her heel to pursue Eloise.

As she passed Sir Gravens, she paused only long enough to shake her head. Her disappointment was plain. In her eyes, his stock had greatly fallen. To make matters worse, the Trial had also chosen to reward Gravens with an artifact—a heater shield fashioned from what appeared to be a metallic turtle shell, its rim adorned with the sinuous form of a serpentine dragon.

It did not take long for Seraphina to find her lady-in-waiting after asking one of the gardeners. The small girl was seated alone, staff across her lap, looking heartbreakingly small in a secluded corner of the rose garden just outside the Academy library.

A small plaque gleamed on the bench beneath her—a cruel twist of irony. It read: Donated to the Academy by the de Savant Family.

Seraphina plastered a warm smile on her face. “Eloise…” she began, placing one hand lightly on the girl’s shoulder while offering a handkerchief with the other.

She would explain Desdemona’s erratic behavior later; for now, the doll-like girl needed comfort, not excuses or explanations. Seraphina gave her a few minutes to collect herself.

“Oh, Lady Seraphina, I’m just so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” Eloise muttered, her eyes a painful shade of red. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Now, now, darling. Don’t say that,” Seraphina soothed, running a hand through Eloise’s hair. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Just… Sir Gravens said so many sweet things, and I thought he meant them. Then seeing him with… her… with that—”

Seraphina shook her head, meeting her friend’s gaze. “Don’t say something you’ll regret—no, especially here, where she can neither hear nor see you. You are not such a petty soul. Desdemona is your friend, and even you can see she isn’t quite herself.”

“Then what was… that?” Eloise hissed.

“Will you truly let a boy come between you two?”

“No, but… Gravens. I’m not a greedy girl, yet Desdemona can get any boy she wants—”

Seraphina laid a finger on Eloise’s lips. “Desdemona wasn’t herself. I know it, but I cannot tell you her secret—that is simply not my place—but let us just say that she was not fully in control of her faculties. Perhaps one day she will explain it to you herself if you can manage to forgive her.”

The blonde girl gave her a weak smile. “And Eloise, we’re all slaves to our desires, whatever they may be, but we cannot let them master us all the time. Desdemona was at her limit; it was a miracle she controlled herself as well as she did.”

Eloise snorted. “Gravens is handsome, but he’s not that handsome… Still, if what you say is true, then Desdemona really likes him. Deep inside that is.”

“Eloise, my dear—half the first-year girls, and quite a few seniors, like Gravens,” Seraphina said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m attracted to him, too. But would it help to know that in that moment literally anyone else would have done, and Sir Gravens just happened to be closest?”

“Really… then it’s not entirely Sir Gravens’s fault?”

This conversation wasn’t going quite as Seraphina intended; she didn’t want to defend Gravens, only to prevent future friction between Desdemona and Eloise—Desdemona’s family was powerful.

“Well… you could say that, but it definitely wasn’t Desdemona’s fault.”

“But all I can see is Desdemona kissing him!”

“Then file that image deep in the back of your mind. Forgive her. Extreme, life-and-death moments affect people strangely. Frest loses himself in his cups, and Milly goes off somewhere to sulk for a long time. Now, Desdemona’s expression is simply more carnal than most, that’s all.”

“But… do I have to forgive Sir Gravens, too?” Eloise asked weakly, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief.

“That’s entirely up to you, my dear. Still, it’s rather telling that he didn’t chase after you…” Seraphina added, prompting another burst of tears.

Of course, she omitted the fact that she had ordered everyone to wait in her dormitory’s common room. That’s right—join yourself to me, the de Sariens girl thought darkly. When the time is right, I’ll choose your future partner to suit my needs. You are wasted on a mere household Knight.

Seraphina hugged Eloise and patted her shoulder, holding her until the sniffles subsided.

“Now then, it’s been a long day for all of us. I think a cup of tea is in order!” she said brightly.

“As long as it isn’t Desdemona’s,” Eloise retorted.

The heir to the Duchy of Sariens gave her lady-in-waiting a mischievous smile. “Oh, don’t worry about her—I’ve sent her to her room for her bad behavior.”

The girls laughed together, sharing a private moment.

“I do hope you’ve made sure she isn’t missing dinner, too,” Eloise said cheekily.

Seraphina’s smile softened. “I’m sure, darling, that can be arranged.”

***

Time had indeed flowed much slower inside the Trial of the Goddess, Seraphina decided as she finally collapsed onto her canopied bed. The silk coverlet rustled as she slipped in beneath the covers. There was still a tension about her shoulders, and her brain hummed with leftover adrenaline. Across the room, Eloise was already fast asleep, but in her dreams, the poor girl tossed and turned, her dark hair fanning over the pillows like a splash of ink. 

Seraphina sighed; debriefing her followers after the Trial had been a quite the chore. Each of them had insisted that the Goddess herself had “blessed” them—NPC speak for basically saying that they had gotten stronger.

A hiss announced Cornelia’s arrival. The massive white serpent slid from beneath the bedframe, scales glimmering opalescent in the crystal light. She lifted her wedge-shaped head and rested it on Seraphina’s stomach with a possessive weight. Seraphina stroked the broad skull, fingertips bumping over bone ridges.

“You are getting far too big,” she muttered, voice rough with fatigue. “And lazy.”

Not lazy, Cornelia replied, the words slithering straight into Seraphina’s mind like cool water. Just hungry.

“And greedy to boot.” Despite herself, Seraphina smiled. “But I wouldn’t trade you for all the crowns in Aranthia. Eat, grow—give me more serpent to love.”

The forked tongue flicked, tasting the air, brushing her cheek with ticklish affection. Only then did Seraphina notice a knobby white bump down Cornelia’s neck—the telltale sign of an approaching growth stage. Wonderful; everything and everyone around her was really growing up. 

Womanhood had come late to this body, but it had come in full force nonetheless. Seraphina replayed Desdemona’s passionate kiss in her mind, imagining guiltily what it would have felt like if it had been her. She would have probably slapped Gravens for his temerity, she decided.

With a groan, she slid the Serpent’s Coilband from her wrist. She rather liked the magical object, not for its inherent power, but its rather plain and understated elegance. Still, she had to do this. Gripping the band with her fingers, she forced it wider—magical metal protesting, then yielding—until it was just large enough to slip over the serpent’s neck. It settled snugly against the scales.

Sir Gravens, at least, had been well compensated for his small part—his new shield was a powerful magical defence. Seraphina could not help wondering, a stab of envy twisting in her gut, what prize Desdemona herself had received for slaying Lord Ma. Probably something ridiculous—something Seraphina herself could have used. But that had been the plan: let Desdemona top the loot table so Seraphina could bank on second place to get the Serpent’s Coilband. In hindsight, she could have simply negotiated a trade or demanded it from her afterward. Oh well, too late now.

What’s this? Cornelia asked, coiling around to touch the band.

It is something that will let me take you everywhere, Seraphina answered through the link, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

How do I eat it?

You don’t, you ridiculous creature. Don’t even think about it!

The serpent tried to retreat, feigning innocence, but Seraphina caught her behind the jaw. “Oh no, you don’t.” She exhaled sharply, pinning stray hair behind her ear. “All right, let’s at least test the thing. Try to be—oh, I don’t know—be smaller.”

Cornelia coiled tighter, looping herself into a spiraling knot. Seraphina opened her mouth to clarify—then froze. The Coilband glimmered, arcs of faint golden light sinking into glossy scales. Inch by inch, Cornelia’s massive body compacted, shrinking like cloth in scalding water.

Everything’s bigger! the serpent announced, astonished.

“That’s not it, you silly snake.” Seraphina scooped the newly miniaturized reptile to her chest, the weight now scarcely no longer than a half a pace. “You’ve gotten smaller, that’s all.”

Yet in that moment, as she cradled the pulsing coil of scales to her chest, some of the day’s exhaustion finally melted—a brief, quiet victory.