a gorgeous white by Heather_anare

283: The dark lands

Leaving the gates of the walls once protecting them made them felt vulnerable and exposed to the once wondrous world now filled with darkness. Moulin remembered how he was quite reluctant to leave the place where he had first revived into the world of Corhan. How he feared of being influenced by the beauty it hides and the terrible things it shows. He didn't want to leave the frozen lake and just stay protected and hidden.

However, perhaps, it was fate that his eldest brother took him away. He was given a family, something he had wished all his life to have, interesting firm friends, and of course, the man who stole his heart. Yes, it was fate. And he is more than grateful. But through the troubling and most grievous times during this life, there was either hope or despair to look forward to.

As Moulin turned to gaze at the sight of the three towers hidden behind white treetops, growing smaller and smaller as they left, he could not feel but feel uneasy. Nervousness dripped continuously like droplets of endless rain. His hands clutched the reigns tightly. He wondered what strange events would occur in the future. The world is dangerous, after all.

"Moulin..."

Yanked from his thoughts, Moulin shifted his attention. His silver eyes met his second brother's steel grey. Emlen steered his mount to be closer to Moulin's side. He has a cautious look for the people around him and Moulin. And especially one particular Lord and leader of the group. Emlen's narrowed his eyes on the Hercullian Lord's prominent back, oblivious to the curious glances on him.

A sigh escaped Moulin's lips. He gave a soft smile to his brother before focusing his attention on the path before him. The pure white crystal ground gleamed exquisitely like sunrays beaming through a delicate frosty wine glass. The ice cracked underneath the weight of both mount and rider in the group. It was shattering like delicate flakes of glass. The sound was so clear to one's ears.

They were currently making their way through Moulin's own creation. The dazzling white around them, icicles hanging underneath dark naked branches, little mounds of snow beneath every tree, and the ever freezing temperature surrounding the area.

Although he was enduring the weight of all those gazes directed at him, Moulin felt the need to unleash a powerful blizzard. He felt strangely bothered.

"Fascinating..." Jagra muttered as he reached out his fingertips to touch one of the crystal icicles of a nearby branch. The aura it exuded was soothing, much like how mana would emanate its different ambiance. This was definitely worth studying.

"Hey, don't stray from the group," Ghana warned as she veered her horse towards her friend. Worry filled her eyes.

Jagra raised his brows. "I was just curious."

"Of course, you are." Ghana frowned. 'Typical Jagra.'

She added, "Still, I don't want you to get lost. We've barely started the journey."

"Ghana's right." A voice interrupted them.

The two friend's gazes turned to the owner of the voice. They were welcomed by Moulin's concerned eyes and gentle smile.

The young man slightly tilted his head to the snowy trees. A graceful air seemed to envelop him as though he belonged to the wondrous wintery scene. Moulin looked undoubtedly beautiful and captivating. Only, the young man himself wasn't too interested in knowing about his beauty.

Jagra nodded once he finished admiring the youth. And just as he expected, Moulin's elder brother came to take Moulin away from them. Lord Emlen looked as if he'd drown in bitterness if his brother were five feet away from him.

Jagra frowned, yet he could only reveal a brief smile. Moulin is no longer a child, but it was understandable why his brothers would never let him out of their sight. They feared losing Moulin all over again.