Sanctum of Valor Academy

Chapter 7- Enggor

Arawn's embrace engulfs me, holding me so tightly that I feel completely powerless to break free. The intensity of his hold floods my senses, drowning me in a sea of emotions. My heart leaps and somersaults, as if trying to break free from the confines of my chest. Should I surrender to the overwhelming surge of tears threatening to escape? Should I reciprocate his embrace, clinging onto him for dear life? Or perhaps I should push him away?

This confusion tugs at my every nerve. But there's something inexplicable, almost surreal, about this moment.

The corners of my lips curl upward, and against all logic, I start to laugh. Laughter, that strange and unpredictable release valve, escapes me in haphazard bursts, defying my attempts to restrain it. Each peal of laughter carries with it an air of bewilderment, leaving me to question the origins of this peculiar reaction.
Anger and laughter mix within me, creating a confusing concoction of emotions that I can't seem to control. And then, amidst my laughter, tears begin to stream down my face. And then, with painstaking slowness, Arawn disentangles himself from the grip of his own embrace.

Confusion dances across his features, a flicker of bewilderment in his eyes. It's as if he can't comprehend why I'm caught in the strange duality of laughter and tears. Truth be told, I'm just as mystified by my own reaction, lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

"Maxima," he utters my name once again. Ah, how those poor syllables resonate, breathing life into my very soul.

Reality slams into me like a thunderclap, affirming that he is here, breathing, alive—Arawn, the man I cherished, the man I mourned, the man I believed was lost forever.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his words heavy with sorrow. I finally allow my gaze to meet his, immersing myself in the depths of his eyes.

The laughter that had bubbled forth moments ago has morphed into an inferno of anger, and my tears have transformed into torrents of fury. Without even realizing it, my clenched fist instinctively lashes out, connecting solidly with his jaw with a force I didn't know I had. The impact is so strong that it almost knocks him off his feet. I don't know where that strength came from. Maybe it's the overwhelming rage that's consuming every fiber of my being right now.

"I deserve that," he admits, his hand instinctively cradling his injured jaw, an acknowledgement of the pain he endures.

"I'm just making sure you're not a ghost," I say, trying to mask the emotions swirling within me. My heart thuds loudly in my chest, and my hands tremble slightly. It's been so long since I've seen him, and now he stands before me, unexpected and jarring.

"I know you're mad at me, and I understand if you want to kill me right now," he replies, his voice tinged with remorse.

He looks down, unable to meet my eyes, and guilt is written all over his face. My anger flares up at his acknowledgment of my feelings, but beneath it, there's a flicker of relief that he understands the weight of his actions.

"Kill you? So, what you're saying is if I were to kill you now, you'd be double dead?" I manage a bitter laugh, my anger mixing with a hint of sarcasm. How can I even consider forgiving him after everything he put me through? In truth, I'm not mad at him. I'm hurt—deeply hurt. It's like a dull ache in my chest that never goes away, a constant reminder of the pain he caused. But admitting this vulnerability feels like giving him power over me, and I can't let that happen.

"I mourned you, lit candles, and prayed by your grave almost every day," I say. The memories of all those nights spent grieving, longing for him to come back, flood my mind. How could he have abandoned me like that?

"Then all this time you've been fucking alive?!" I burst out, unable to contain my frustration any longer. The anger courses through me, and for a moment, I'm blinded by it. How dare he show up now as if nothing happened?