...

The deep fury seemed to pierce through his sun-like pupils. Smoldering fury, scorching ruthlessness radiated gravely as it sighted his silver-eyed lover who was wincing and grimacing at the pain. Dragged by the hair like a shamed slave. A mix of pain and desperation distorted Moulin's astounded expression. Lord Hadrian clenched his jaw. Raw anger shot through him, pulsing through his veins, vibrating through his being.

The gloved fingers clenched around the hilt of his longsword. The caliginous blade gleamed with the want of blood. Blood-red light from the crimson flames glinted at from the sharpness of its edge. Taking a step forwards, irradiating with sparking ferocity, he walked with a merciless purpose. His handsome countenance appeared more fierce and violent as his gaze fixed on the grey hand that coiled Moulin's hair around his gruesome fingers.

Moulin shudders as he felt a dark premonition while he watched the looming figure of the Leonile Lord. When he struggled once again, he released a sharp gasped as the rousing cloud around his arm drove a piercing pain to his head. The hand that coiled his hair tightened as if to yank Moulin's scalp off his skull.

Suddenly, Moulin felt a strong burst of wind. He subconsciously shut his eyes tight. A prickling sensation caressed his face and his scalp. He felt the lightness of his body and the loosened grasp of his hair. The sharp pain around his left arm abruptly vanished. All happened in less than a second.

When he opened his eyes, what welcomed his hesitant gaze was the anxiousness deep within cold golden irises. He rested in Hadrian's arms. The gentleness of the man's touch made Moulin release a relieved sigh. "I'm sorry..." He softly muttered.

"..." Hadrian only narrowed his eyes silently. He turned his gaze away, looking over his shoulder, dangerously eyeing the horned man's figure.

The horned man expressionlessly raised the arm that had held the youth's white hair. Although his expression seemed unfeeling, the angry cords of his neck were visible. He was silently seething and he did well to hide it. However, what was left of the limb he had raised was a bleeding stump. Black fluid streamed down his elbow. The black blood pooled before his feet where the severe hand laid unmoving. Slashed an inch below the wrist, blood spurting from the detached veins. Around its thick fingers were short strands of white.

The horned man grunted. His red eyes were filled with wrath but his expression remained calm. The black-red cloud that had blanketed Moulin's left arm returned for its master's bidding. It coiled around the detached hand and the stump on the creature's forearm. Slowly, tendrils began to weave and interlock to reattach the severed hand back to it's owner's limb.

Moulin reached a hand to his hair which had shortened. His eyes watch the horrendous healing of the horned man's arm. What kind of ghastly magic was that creature using?

"Pests..." The horned man spat. His eyes glowered at the golden-haired man who had stolen his target. His fingers rolled the strands of white back and forth between his fingers. Anger welled inside and he reluctantly turned his gaze away. His deep terrifying voice boomed and echoed within the hall, "I will return... and when I do, I will not leave empty-handed..."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "You will return as a dismembered corpse if you even dare to take what's mine..."

Boom!

Menacing thunderclaps roared from the open skies, echoing within the dark halls. Followed by a curtain of continuous strong rain which fell from the large hole in the ceiling.

The horned man slightly paused. His crimson eyes turning towards the golden-eyed man with evident shock. At the same time, Lightning cleaved through the clouds, striking downwards into the vulnerable opening of the dark hall. Blinding flashes of light were reflected by the shattered floor, once again shattering it. electrifying vicious bolts curved to strike its master's target, the horned man who was frozen still.

At an alarming speed, the horned man enveloped himself with the black-red cloud yet he was barely able to avoid it. Teleporting with burnt limbs and mind-shattering pain. He vanished.

The supposed silence after the event was overwhelmed by the raging thunders in the sky and the strong rain. The torch flames returned to their original blue color.

The continuous rain was intent to flood the entire halls. Its fat drops crashing on the shattered floor had already created a large pond. Within the suffocating silence between the two lovers, Moulin gradually calmed his breathing. His trembling left arm had gone numb. A grimace shaped his face as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet the smoldering eyes of the Hercullian Lord. Moulin felt the tightening grip of the arms locked around him. A large hand was raised, a thumb caresses the smear of dried blood from the corner of Moulin's lips. Moulin flinched, brows curved upwards.

"You're hurt..." Hadrian softly said, shattering the silence between them.

"It's a scratch..." Moulin sighed. "I was reckless..."

Golden eyes narrowed, "And your recklessness led you to bleed internally..."

There were anger and concern in his tone as he spoke.

"..." Moulin's voice broke. "I-I'm sorry... I promised to be c-careful but I-"

He choked. Feeling extremely ashamed and helpless.

Seeing his state, Hadrian furrowed his brows. Moulin was too overwhelmed by his emotions. The Lord worriedly tightened his embrace and shook his head with a sigh. He leaned forward and his lips softly pressed on Moulin's head making the youth stopped. "No... I should have found you sooner... You have to rest..."

The gentleness in the man's voice only made Moulin even more guilty. His brows lowered as he turned his gaze away. He looked at his distorted reflection on the shattered mirror floor.

He was still so weak...

He felt ashamed by the thought that he could not even defend himself without the use of his abilities. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed his shame...

His eyes then opened. "The princess..." His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Snow... H-He's hurt... a-and Phuna's father-"

"My Lord!"

Rowan's voice echoed as he jumped down the opening his master had created. He landed skillfully. His boots heavily crushed the wet crystal shards blanketing the shattered floor. Shock shaped his expression as he looked around the destruction of his surroundings. Cracks decorated each pillar, even the enormous serpent statue was covered by cracks. The floors were wrecked, gravely shattered. It was as if a single touch would collapse the entire hall. His eyes found his master cradling his lover. The lord's back faced him.

Rowan turned away and flashed beside the princess' side. Her fragile form was clutching an elven man. "Your highness..." he called, carefully grasping her shoulder. She flinched at her touch.

Her shut eyes then opened as she slowly turned her head. "P-please save Moulin... A-And this man..."

Rowan felt a bit of pity for the fragile princess. With soft coaxing words which he doesn't normally say, he worked to calm the lady and examine the state of the elven man leaning on her thighs.

Hadrian brought Moulin to the collapse mystic beast that was layin on a pool of blood. Moulin kneeled and stretched out his arms and stroked Snow's head. He felt the fox's rapid breathing making Moulin let out a relieved sigh. He was frightened that he would lose his dear little friend. Fingers running through the soft silvery fur, he whispered for Snow to return to his small form. Large ears twitched and then light flashed before Moulin's eyes. A whimpering Snow laid in his arms. Curled in pain, trembling and heaving.

"You'll be alright..." Moulin whispered. He was uncertain if whether he was comforting Snow or himself. He only lowered his head as he carefully stroked the little fox's fur.

"Come... We need to leave..." Hadrian spoke as he eyed the state of the hall.

"Moulin!"

Before Moulin could respond to Hadrian, Rowan shouted for his name. Moulin's brows curved upwards. Although startled and confused, he let Hadrian bring him to Rowan's side. He strengthened his control on his weak knees and forced himself to walk towards Eilhara and Phuna's father. With labored breaths, he glanced at the princess before looking at Phuna's father with a thundering heart. Moulin kneeled on the bloody floor. Handing Snow to Eilhara's arms, he let his other hand examine the wound on the man's stomach.

He was bleeding to death.

Moulin clenched his jaw. He could not help but blame himself.

Cough!

Abruptly lifting his gaze, his heart tightened when he saw silver eyes peeking between sluggish eyelids. He was awake!

"F-Forgive me..." the elven man gravely whispered to Moulin. His trembling hand struggled to reach for Moulin's hand. Moulin brought his hand in his hand and he squeezes it.

"Your daughter is waiting for you... " Moulin said as though to convince the man to stay awake. However, he already knew about the horrible truth.

Tears welled in the man's eyes as blood began to leak from his mouth, "P-Please... Tell her I'll be watching her from the s-stars... She-"

"She loves the stars..." Moulin finished for him with a pained smile. "She looks at them before she sleeps..."

A miserable tear trailed down the man's cheek, remembering the bright child and the happy smile of his lover. He drowned himself in his beautiful memories as breathed in difficulty. "... They love... the stars..."

Moulin could not withstand the guilt in his heart. With an aching chest, he turned to Hadrian who had already began summon a healer from his conveyer. Moulin returned his attention to the elven man. "You will be alright. You will see her again so please you need to stay awake..."

Shaking his head, determination appeared within the man's moist eyes, "M-My death... will give you time... The candles... a-at the altar... take them all... they will help... " His hand squeezed Moulin's hand. "You must... hide... He will come for you..."

"Your death?" Moulin furrowed his brows. "No, you need to stay with us... a bit more and-"

However, the man's grip had slackened. The spirit fading away from his gradually closing eyes. His last breath was released and a life was taken in Moulin's hands. Moulin's fingers trembled. His silver pupils shook and the temperature plummeted. His hair danced with the cold breeze as he silently lowered his head, achingly.

A dreadful silence swallowed him. The corpse within his fingers became even colder as the frigid wind surrounded them.

He heard Eilhara mutter an elven prayer as to the soul. Rowan lowered his head and turned away as the healers arrived. A warm hand grasped Moulin's cool shoulder. The youth turned his mournful gaze slightly.

"Come... We will take him back with us..." Hadrian's soft voice entered his ears.

...

Moulin slowly nodded. His hand clenching around the cooling hand he was holding.

...