Chapter 43

He ignored her, his gaze shifting to Rodrika. "Ah, I forgot to introduce her to you, Rodrika. This is my wife... Nyra."

Rodrika's eyes widened, her surprise clear. She hadn't expected this revelation, but she quickly masked her shock with a forced smile. "W-wife? Oh... I... didn't realize." Her voice trailed off awkwardly as she tried to process the situation.

He studied Rodrika's reaction for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle. "Yes, my wife. I suppose I should have mentioned that earlier," he said, his tone light but commanding. "Nyra and I share this castle, and now… it seems you'll be sharing it with us."

Nyra's expression softened slightly under her veil, but she said nothing, simply stepping closer to him. Her presence alone seemed to ground him.

Turning to the Misbegottens stationed near the grand entrance, he gestured with a sweeping hand.

"You lot—spread out across all of Limgrave. Explore every catacomb, ruin, and hidden passage. Bring back anything of value you find—artifacts, treasures, weapons. It all belongs to this castle now."

The Misbegottens, a strange blend of loyalty and ferocity, bowed low and scattered, their grotesque forms disappearing into the misty horizon outside.

Their grotesque grunts echoed in eerie unison as they moved to carry out his orders.

Nyra, watching the scene unfold, couldn't hide the faint curve of a smile behind her veil.

His decisive leadership, the way he made the castle feel alive again with his presence, stirred something warm within her.

With the Misbegotten dispersing into the Lands Between, he turned back to Nyra and Rodrika, his expression softening.

"Nyra," he began, his tone more tender than before, "why don't you spend some time with Rodrika while I oversee the castle's operations? It's been a long journey for her, and I think it might do both of you some good."

Nyra blinked, caught off guard. "Spend time with her?" she echoed, her voice laced with hesitation.

"Yes," he affirmed, glancing at Rodrika, who looked equally surprised. "You've both been through more than I can imagine. Perhaps finding common ground will help you feel more at ease here."

Rodrika shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her cloak. "I wouldn't want to impose…"

"Nonsense," he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "This castle is as much yours as it is ours now. Nyra, show her around—help her settle in. Perhaps you can even share some of your own insights." His eyes softened as he added, "You're both remarkable in your own ways, and I trust you'll find a connection."

Nyra hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and Rodrika. The initial flicker of annoyance she'd felt earlier had dulled, replaced by a quieter, more contemplative expression. Finally, she nodded. "Very well."

"Good," he said with a nod, clearly pleased. He rested a hand briefly on Nyra's shoulder, his touch firm and reassuring. "I'll be in the great hall if you need me. Take your time."

The night had fallen quiet, the only sound being the distant howl of the wind sweeping through the jagged landscape.

He stood at the grand entrance of Stormveil Castle, his back to the looming gates, the cold air biting at his skin. His eyes were sharp, focused on the misty horizon.

With a deep breath, he spoke, his voice a command that cut through the silence.

"Come out. How long are you going to watch?"

There was no immediate response, only the rustle of the wind and the sound of distant creatures moving in the fog. He didn't move, his gaze steady, as if he already knew who was there, waiting.

Moments passed in silence, and then, as though summoned by the very breath of the castle itself, a figure appeared from the mist.

A woman, cloaked in shadow, her silhouette outlined by the faintest hint of a golden light that seemed to emanate from her.

Her presence was as ethereal as it was commanding, her steps quiet but resolute.

Melina.

Her cloak billowed slightly in the wind as she approached him, her expression hidden beneath the folds of her hood.

"I apologize for intruding," she said softly, her voice calm, carrying an air of quiet resolve. "I am Melina."

"Hmm... Ok," he muttered, his gaze sharpening as he studied her. Despite the hood obscuring her features, he could discern the faint outline of a beautiful, almost ethereal face beneath the dark fabric. Something about her presence piqued his interest, though he couldn't quite place what.

"But why are you spying on me? Do you like me or something?" he asked, his tone teetering between jest and suspicion.

Melina tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady yet distant. "Like you?" she repeated, her voice as soft as the wind. "I am unfamiliar with such notions. I observed you... because you are intriguing. The power you wield—it is not unfamiliar to me."

Her golden aura flickered faintly as she took a step closer, the shadows of her hood concealing her expression. "There is something in you that resonates with me, though I cannot say why. It stirs... memories that lie just beyond my grasp." She paused, her words carrying the weight of quiet frustration. "Fragments of a purpose once held. Pieces of a life now lost."

He frowned slightly, his curiosity deepening. "So, you've felt this before? But you don't remember when or where?"

Melina inclined her head, her hands clasped loosely before her. "No. What remains are but shards of recollection—like rays of grace scattered in the dark. I search for answers, though they elude me still. Yet... I sense that your path and mine are intertwined. How, I cannot say."

Her words hung in the air like the mist around them—ethereal, intangible, yet heavy with meaning.

He exhaled, his tone softening. "You don't remember your past, yet you're here talking to me, as if I might hold the answers you're looking for. Why?"