Inner Force

Inside the dark room, the soft light of the well-designed steam aesthetic lantern cast intricate designs on the red blanket that enveloped the scene.

The room was filled with a sense of equilibrium as the muscular man immersed in slumber, his strong figure somewhat exposed beneath the thick fabric.

The hesitant footsteps that approached the bed belonged to Amarta, who had been struggling with her emotions. She stood there for what felt like a hereafter, her heart pounding in her chest. After summoning her courage, she lowered herself onto the bed.

Artonius, the man had an aura of strength even when he in his defenseless, stirred from his rest. His eyes fluttered open when he was taken aback to find Amarta deliberately embracing him from behind, her somber eyes hidden against the warm expanse of his muscular back.

As he sensed her trembling form and heard the muffled sobs, Artonius grew concerned. He shifted his position, turning onto his side to face Amarta, his expression a mix of consideration and tenderness.

He gently brushed a strand of her disheveled hair away from her face and asked, "What's wrong, love? Why are you crying?" His voice was filled with uneasiness, and his emerald irises searched hers for answers.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, sweetheart." In that warm room with a cozy atmosphere, the couple enveloped in an intimate cocoon. Amarta's cries seemed to reverberate through the air and borrowed the weight of her insecurities.

As they connected, the room felt like a shelter, where only their presence mattered. Her tears flowed freely, their saltiness mingling with the comforting scent of Atronius's skin as she buried her face against his broad, muscled chest.

Between sobs, Amarta's voice trembled with raw emotion. "I still haven't... I still haven't given you my best."

Atronius, his heartfelt with the wound as he looked at her condition, whispered, "Amarta, what has happened?" His deep voice resonated with suspicion, and his calloused fingers traced soothing circles along her shaking back.

Nestled against her husband's powerful frame, Amarta's words emerged as fragile wisps amidst her tears. "I'm not good enough for you."

With a loving stare in his eyes, Atronius continued to console her and his fingers crawled on her skin to me her feel better. "My love, it's alright," he reassured her. "You don't need to let down yourself before me. You are more than enough."

Amarta fell silent and her tears started to subside. Out of all the women who could have been better and not as "despicable" as herself, Artonius had chosen her. A woman who might not be decent enough to stand by his side, who didn't match his manners and social status, yet the man disregarded Amarta's background. He even refused to have a concubine, which was extremely common for a king in other kingdoms.

Indeed, Artonius was not an ordinary man.

Suddenly, Amarta rose from his embrace, leaving him lying there on his back. The scent of jasmine wafted from her, adding a delicate fragrance to the solemn atmosphere. Amarta's blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, a stark contrast to the opulent silk robes she wore. She sat beside him on a velvet cushion, wiping away the tears that seemed endless and her face revealed a sad expression.

In a soft voice, she asked, "Why? Why did you choose me and not those who are worth to you? Why did you choose someone like me who is a mere slave?"

Artonius now raised his form to match his wife, an authentic smile etched on his face. The soft lantern accentuated the warmth in his gazes as he continued, "I only love you, not anyone else," the man said, causing Amarta's eyes to widen in astonishment. The room seemed to come alive with an almost magical ambiance as if the universe itself conspired to create this moment of closeness.

"That's the reason why I chose you," Artonius continued, his fingers gently reaching for Amarta's hand. "And you've changed so much since then. Your strength, your kindness, and your determined heart for our child have made me even more certain that I didn't make a mistake in believing you as my life." Their hands entwined, they shared a heartfelt moment amid the beautiful night.

"Oh, sweetheart," she can't hold the tears that flowed once more down to her cheeks when she tried to hide it behind her embrace toward her husband. Her delicate fingers traced every inch of Artonius's muscular back, savoring in his fragrance as her head sank to his wide chest. "I love you so much! I don't want to lose you even for a second!"

"Thank you... for all you have done to me!" she added between her cries and her body still trembled. Artonius couldn't bear to see his wife in such a state, the depth of her sorrow almost felt like grave trouble. His strong, muscular arms enveloped Amarta, providing her with a sense of protection and comfort.

His embrace was so firm that it made Amarta arch her back, a reflexive response to the strength of his love and support. He tenderly kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment as he reassured her that everything would get better. At that moment, they were two souls bound together, finding solace in each other's arms, and the darkness of her sadness began to recede in the presence of his relentless love.

"Would you tell me now, love?" Artonius continued to whisper.

Amarta fell silent for a moment, her tears momentarily held at bay. Then, she released their embrace, her gaze locking onto Artonius' flawless angular features, piercing through the emerald irises of the man she loved. "Alorian... honey, how is our child out there?"

With eyes that mirrored his father's, it turned out that their child was still awake in the middle of the night. In a room steeped in tradition, with a bamboo mat and richly adorned decorations, Alorian couldn't sleep. The soft rustling of leaves outside and the distant chirping of crickets were the only sounds that accompanied the flickering candlelight.

It wasn't because of Brendant's snoring beside him, but his mind was now filled with a jumble of information, too much to summarize, and not yet interconnected. The intricate carvings on the wood walls seemed to mock him with their complexity, much like the riddle of his thoughts.

He sat cross-legged on the mat, a sense of unease causing him to shift from lying on his right side. His stare fixated on the flickering candlelight beside him, the flames dancing even though there was no draft in the sealed room.

Alorian glanced at Brendant, who was in his slumber, his mouth wide open, facing the dreams. This sight brought a slight comfort to Alorian, a reminder of the simplicity of life within their household. With newfound determination, he decided to slip away from the room, carefully sliding the wooden door to make his escape.

Alorian treaded quietly through the corridors, mindful not to create any unnecessary noise as he ventured deeper into the unknown. Eventually, he emerged into a spacious courtyard adorned with an attractive display of lush grass and vibrant flowers meticulously arranged to surround a grand pavilion at its heart. The moonlight cast a delicate glow over the scene, adding an ethereal touch to the tranquil atmosphere.

Squinting through the dim light, Alorian's keen eyes discerned a figure seated in there. The silhouette sat so still that it appeared almost supernatural, causing a shiver of uncertainty to ripple through Alorian.

Driven by his insatiable curiosity, Alorian summoned his courage and followed a meandering path that led through fragrant gardens, the scent of blooming flowers intensifying with each step.

As he drew nearer, the figure became more distinct, and to his astonishment, he recognized the person as one of the instructors from the school. This very instructor had bombarded him with incomprehensible knowledge earlier in the day, leaving Alorian bewildered.

The old man spoke in a calm, hoarse tone that held a pearl of profound wisdom as if sharing secrets of the heavens. "An inquisitive child like yourself undoubtedly harbors a multitude of questions," he said, his words laced with a mysterious air. "Almost as if a mature man has chosen to take residence within someone as young as you."

Alorian was taken aback, his mind racing with concern that the instructor might somehow know his true self, that he had been reborn into this world, into Alorian's body. Yet, the instructor's next words were equally perplexing, "It's a rare gift, one not bestowed upon every child. Come closer."

Alorian approached with measured steps, careful not to divert his watch from the elderly master who sat in a serene cross-legged posture, his eyes closed in profound meditation.

As he settled down beside the instructor, his uncertainty lingered in his posture, causing him to cast occasional glimpses toward the wise figure beside him. It was a moment steeped in interest and trepidation. "Master Vedana, may I know what is it that you're truly doing?" he inquired.

The old man took a deliberate breath, releasing it slowly, his peaceful smile deepening the creases on his face. He remained with his eyes closed, as if untouched by the world around him. "I am gathering Prana to strengthen my Inner Force."

"Inner Force?"

He nodded and responded, "Yes, you see, Prana is a flexible energy that can be manifested in other forms, such as magic." He halted for a moment, turning to Alorian with both of his eyes now open. "However, the raw structure of Prana itself can be cultivated to become stronger within ourselves. A pure force from the universe."