a/n – NEW UPDATE WHOOP WHOOOPPPPPP

Before you dive in, I wrote this chapter to two songs, but one I IMPLORE you to listen to while reading, if you can: the orchestral reprise of ‘You Belong with Me’ by Duomo.

It’s up above but also in the OMEGA playlist on Spotify! Just look up Tippy446 to find me there!

And for anyone wanting more than one, the second song is ‘The Night We Met’ by Joni Fueller

Okay, that’s it! And I hope you enjoy!! This is my favourite chapter yet!!!!

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Luciel’s POV

Stars glitter in the skies above where early evening has already set in and made its mark. The auroras are out as well, glorious as ever, but I do not make the mistake of allowing my gaze to linger too long should the Gods decide to send another message.

I focus on the sea instead. On the surface, it is deceptively calm, acting as nothing more than a lulling tide that reflects the full moon’s light, and the aurora’s too, but closest to me, I hear the truth of it.

The waves crash against the unyielding ice I sit upon with a roaring sound that calms as much as it stokes. I listen to its rampage with a keen ear, as I once so often did, waiting for the moment its thunderous chorus will overwhelm my senses.

It tries. Foaming beneath with the scent of salt everywhere, it tries and fails to dislodge the restlessness that has overtaken my mind. The very restlessness that had sprouted from the moment I watched him dash across the surface.

It rattles through me as though I am still watching from the tunnels, still staring in awe as the wolf who had cried so very much at the beginning morphed into the one who braved the tides to see his first Trial through.

How was he one and the same, and Gods, help me, but what was I to do with him now?

Maeve had tried to warn me that he would find a way to best these Trials, but I had not listened— had not seen what she’d forewarned before the rest of us, and now, he had another week at the very least, and at the most…

I sigh, all but throwing myself to the tides in spirit.

The problem was no longer simply contending with his presence. It was his eyes on mine at the end of the Trials, and my inability to look away until I was forced to. It was the clan’s continuous celebrations and growing respect. And it was the glaring fact that I had felt everything but disappointment at his success.

That, above all else, troubled.

I had searched for it afterwards, looked for it even now, but of all the things I felt, disappointment was the very last of it. And now, he was here for a time longer, rightfully so, and the only way to avoid him was by journeying to the one place he could not.

Ironic that after all these years, he was what drove me to the surface of my own volition. But I could not live up here, and Maeve would soon disturb my peace. It was a surprise she had not already.

I release another weighted sigh, and the ocean is quick to swallow it up as it bellows below. I watch its rhythmic motion until the night’s shadows deepen and the ocean’s shadows with it. I consider actually going for a dip, but just as I am leaning forward, the winds bring to me a scent that should be buried between mounds of ice and magic.

Twisting from my edge, I peer across the dark and open ice, though not with intention, for it is obviously a mistake— some trick of the mind after overdwelling. He is not on the surface, obviously, only… he is.

My lips fall apart and refuse to close as I watch wisps of blond hair sail through the wind.

Peter. Surfaced. Again.

Besides him, a taller, familiar figure walks, and while it is not in my direction or anywhere close to it, it is close enough. What in all the realms…

I stare after them, only thinking to blink and rub at my eyes after a minute of doing such, but even then, when I look once more, they trudge onwards. Maeve nowhere to be found.

She, of course, was enjoying a much-needed break, and likely visiting places I’d rather leave to memories, but her time was her own, and she spent it how she wished.

How she would rage if she knew what Peter had already gotten up to without her watchful eye.

Shifting, I consider the possibility of hiding. It was a promised success, since it did not seem as though they had glimpsed me already, and if they were to, I would be faster, but… what was he doing out here?

I am upon them within his next breath, and while Peter screeches for the world to hear, I hold my ground. He scrambles away, already set to run, but recognition clicks before he can, and he is quick to recover, if not labouriously.

“S-Sorry,” he is already saying, blowing ruffled strands from his face whilst simultaneously pawing them away. “S-Scared m-me.”

I stare at him, at the wildness in his blown eyes that match his lurching heart, and while the flush in his skin spreads, I divert my attention to the mage at his side.

Zawnté stands tall, but is sure to bow the moment he has my focus. His expression is serious, if surprised. “Forgive me, Pylen. I did not know you had surfaced. I would have used another exit if I had.”

I nod slowly, letting my gaze shift between them and the strange tension binding them tight before asking, “Why have you surfaced? And how did you end up in charge of our guest’s care?”

“I do not know of Maeve’s location,” he clarifies with haste, “but, Gho— Peter, was with Atieno, and there was talk of messages to family. I offered to escort him to the nearest tower to send it himself.”

I frown. “Magic could not see to that?”

Zawnté frowns, lips parting. He hesitates, taking time to choose his next words. “…No?”

My frown deepens, and so does his.

Zawnté was a strange fellow, for it was as though he had two personalities. There was Zawnté when he was serious and focused on a duty, and that version was unshakable as Atieno’s second, but then there was Zawnté when he was off the metaphorical clock. That Zawnté was an entirely different being.

I am not sure which I face now, and am still trying to decipher it when his eyes light up, and he takes a noted step backwards. “I will amend my error and make sure it sends myself.”

“No. Do not—” It is too late. He disappears.

I fist my hands, a curse pressing against clenched teeth while I mentally swat the mage who has left me stranded on the surface with none other than the creature that had driven me to it.

Withholding my sigh, I allow myself a moment of calm before finally looking upon him again.

He is already looking at me, eyes as wide and hopeful as they’d been the last time we glimpsed one another. The fear is gone now, replaced by an invigorated determination as he gazes up at me, or rather my chin, from his bundle of clothing.

He wears more than usual, and it leaves him standing as an inflated penguin might, leaving him pillowed at every inch but his still-flushed face.

For too long, we stand in silent limbo until I stop watching the auroras dance in his eyes and gesture to the path behind him. “I will lead you back.”

He twists as much as his layers allow him to look, but makes no more effort to move when he turns back to me. He hovers in his place, fists clenched, and I wonder if I am about to be surprised by yet another side of him as he takes a deep breath.

But Peter does not attack, disappointingly. He gnaws at his lip as he looks about before finally risking a glance at me. “C-Can I-I stay?”

My brows lift, and he is quick to return his gaze to the ground.

“T-To watch the s-sky,” he blurts. “I-I never g-got t-to sit a-and watch.”

He must mean when he was with the humans, but I do not ask for clarification when that is not what is important right now.

He wanted to stay above the surface. It was not an onerous request, to do as I was before he appeared, but it was a difficult one. By clan rules, he could not stay here alone, and if Maeve was still missing, and Atieno had pawned him off once already, then there was no one else to assign the task. Not that I could or would make any of my people do so, other than Maeve.

It left me as the only option, which was likely his intention. It was the library all over again, only now we were well and truly alone, and such a thing felt wildly dangerous.

“P-Please?” Peter whispers in the face of my quiet. “J-Ju-Just for a-a little while.”

I gaze at him while I caress the word ‘no’ on my tongue, but between the ocean’s call and the desperation in his eyes, “For a little while” is what slips free.

What blossoms across his face is nothing short of elation as his lips split apart and his eyes shine.

I turn first, marching onwards, and he follows in his swaddle.

I do not take him to where I was— that would be too much— and I do not leave us in the wind’s domain. Even with layers and magic, the wind’s touch would be sure to trouble him, and Peter had already proved himself the sort to suffer silently in favour of having what he wanted.

I walk him instead to the nearest viewpoint of any note. The one with a ridge low enough not to strain him in his bundle as he climbs. The one with a frozen lake that sits wide enough to best reflect the bustling sky, and one sheltered from the winds as we sit.

There is a wide berth left between us, and I am grateful for it. It is strange enough, sitting with another who is not Maeve— stranger still that it is with the one who claims to harbour the other side of my soul.

I do not add to it, sitting with some… normalcy, while I stare out at the scene before us. I watch this frozen world move in all the ways it can, and to my surprise, Peter does the same.

He peeks at me, as subtly as a person is able to as close as we are, but he watches the skies mostly. And when he does speak, it is only to pay the scenery the admiration it deserves.

“I-It’s beautiful,” he whispers, awed. Too awed.

“They said you were a researcher before finding us. A marine biologist,” I recall, and he immediately looks at me to nod. “Did you not all spend parts of the night out together?”

“W-We did,” he answers quickly, and there is a fondness that blankets him with memories that make his lips lift. “B-But it w-w-was a-a-always short.”

“What of when you went for your night runs?”

“Oh, y-yes, I guess, b-but—” He stops himself short, brows twitching inwards as he peers at me. “H-How do you know about t-that?”

I stare at him, noting the sincere shock on his face before I admit that, “The scouts saw you long before you found us. There were sightings of a white wolf running all over the surface, but as there are no native wolves here, we thought it fiction. And then you appeared in the tunnels.”

Peter’s hands rise to cover his open mouth while his wide eyes shine above.

I frown. That could not be that shocking, surely, though… I suppose if he was under the impression that he’d been alone, then perhaps it was, and perhaps that stoked some kind of embarrassment in him.

“That’s why h-he called me G-Ghost Wolf…”

Two stammers. Interesting.

It takes a moment before I register his words. “Who?”

“Zawnté,” he answers, still strangely dazed.

“Well, yes. You were the ‘Ghost Wolf’ for a while.”

Peter gawks silently at the space before him, lost in his shock, and I watch the skies while I leave him to overcome it. “Wow,” he eventually breathes, finally letting his hand fall. “I-I didn’t know.”

“You would not have. Our clan is not seen until we wish to be.”

He nods mutely, sitting with that for a moment before he peeks at me again from his tight bundle. I barely manage my sigh. “I’d rather you just ask your questions.”

Flushing all over, Peter hurriedly looks down at his boots. “S-Sorry.”

“For what?”

He stills a moment before his heart rate kicks up. “W-What?”

“You said sorry. What is it that you sorry for?” I ask with persistence.

Peter visibly stalls, brain churning for the answer he finds himself as lost for as I am.

“You should only apologise when there is a reason for it.”

That snaps him out of his stupor. “I-I d-d-didn’t want t-to upset you,” he mumbles, curling further into himself.

“Do I look upset?”

Peter has to look at me to answer that, and right now, that seems like the very last thing he will do.

“Peter,” I say, and he startles, but lifts his head with an aching slowness. It takes even longer for his eyes to find mine. “Do I look upset?”

Crystalline blue eyes shift recklessly between mine before he shakes his head.

“So then, no cause for an apology, was there?” I check.

“Y-You sighed,” he protests rather than agreeing, adding, “inside,” when I am about to argue.

I pause, startled enough by the confrontation to lose my way. “A bit of reined irritation is hardly anger— hardly worth an apology. You did not owe me one, and would not owe another in the same situation,” I push, and with some hesitation, he nods. “Now then, ask your question.”

Peter blinks at me for a long while before he flushes again. “I-I don’t re- remember.”

A laugh falls from me, and while it startles him enough to leave him temporarily stunned, it is not long before he too risks a smile as he shepherds his gaze away, his pattering heart leading his movements.

“You did well,” I eventually say, and he is fast in returning his attention to me. “In the Trail, I mean. You did well.”

He is holding his breath when I look to him again, and the centre of his eyes are almost entirely black.

I frown, wondering if he’s been out here for too long, before I watch the teasing current of blood filling their vessels before the colouring spreads all across his face.

If he were flushed before, then he plums now.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and though it is uttered shakily, and after two swallows, there is no stammer.

“Foolish near the end,” I add, and surprisingly, he huffs, lips flapping about in silent protest that amuses more than it should.

“You a-a-always say f-foolish,” he grumbles, managing something close to a glare, if a creature like Peter was capable of such a thing.

“You do foolish things,” I contend, and the ‘glaring’ worsens.

It soon fades as though he is incapable of maintaining strife, and is replaced by his earlier glee. “I-It was sc-scary,” he admits in a careful whisper. “E-Especially when n-no-no one w-was moving.”

“Ah,” I breathe, propping my arms behind me. “That was not how it was intended to unfold. The Trial had two parts and you completed the second first. If you had not, you would have found your path to Busara obstructed by a plethora of moving vampires.”

“Oh,” Peter whispers before suffering another state of listless shock. I leave him to find his way out of it while I return my gaze to the skies.

The Auroras have grown more fearsome in their dance, though I know not if that was because of the Gods and their meddling, or a natural occurrence. It was hard to tell with the company at my side.

“A-And that was… g-good?” I look back to him and his gaze falls to my chin. “D-Doing the second pa-part first. I-It was, okay?”

I study him, trying to tell whether or not it is a compliment he searches for or more praise, but his gaze remains true, if not unbelieving.

“Very good,” I admit, and there is no pretense in the way he smiles only to hide it within his bent knees.

I stare after him, yet again trying to decipher the threads that formed such a peculiar creature. Shy and yet brave, well-abled with the knowledge to be bold, but little to no loyalty to fearlessness. Peculiar.

It is only when he looks at me again, and his heart quickens, that I realise how long I have been staring, and then, how long we have been here.

“Let us return,” I say, already on my feet and moving. “That is enough of this night’s skies, is it not?”

“O-Oh, y-yes,” Peter stammers, and he is swift in standing, and even faster to follow.

He does not argue or complain, or try to dissuade me with pleads, and I thank the Gods for that because I would have disappointed, and I would rather continue the trend of no tearfall.

I lead him back beneath the surface and into the tunnels, and while he is not so sure-footed on two legs and in boots, he manages just enough that he never once needs the hand that rises whenever he slips.

We breach the Northern Wing soon enough and while the rest of the Clan enjoys the breath of the night, I heed the call of his yawns and guide him to his rooms. He walks a step behind me throughout, only springing forth when we reach his door and there is no other choice.

He fills the open doorway, but does not step past it. I frown, but then he is turning to face me with that determined look on his face renewed. I hold fast.

“Th-Th-Thank you, f-for letting me sit a-and watch, and f-for talking t-to me.” He takes in a deep breath to pull his gaze from my chin and set them onto my eyes. They glow, almost turning white. “Thank you, L-Luciel.”

And then, he is slipping into his room and closing the door behind him so quickly that my nose almost suffers for it.

It is as clear a dismissal as any, and yet, at least two minutes pass before I move. Not that I make it far, slipping into the space beside his door while I wait.

I could call another, Maeve or Zawnté, but I don’t. I stand guard until my friend eventually returns, and I do not entertain the utter surprise in her gaze as I take my leave.

I end back on the surface, at my seat on the ice above the ocean, but its song no longer soothes. It is static in my ears and then nothing at all as I watch her move and wonder if that is the first time that he has said my name.

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… I’m obsessed. I’m like clinically obsessed

Thoughts??????????

Thoughts on Luciel’s POV??? On Zawnté doing the Lord’s work???? On their first proper and real interaction?????

Icl, with the song, I was literally swooning and losing my mind!!!!! That moment when Luciel was like do I look upset, rahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Peter I get exactly why you’re fighting for this, cause that was soooo fucking hot Jesus

I also love seeing Luciel analyse him subconsciously, like that man is obsessed, and him tracking the stutters???

Also, Peter… I see what you’re doing. Walking this man like a fucking dog, I gotta respect it lool

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please like and comment if you did! And if you want sneak peeks before the chapters drop, those on my website and Patreon get them early! Links in my bio!

That’s all for now! Next up is the Virion gets jealous extra and then an Aiasthlyn update!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee Humanssssssss