The Absolute Surrender

Chapter 23: Haunting Mark

The wind lashed sharply against Obene's face as he rode his horse, aimlessly seeking to clear his troubled mind. His hair whipped around, partially obscuring his vision, but he was so intent on distancing himself from the palace that he hadn't bothered to secure it. It had been a long time since he had ridden like this, and his stallion seemed to share his restless urgency, galloping swiftly despite the rough, uneven terrain. He pushed aside the clamor in his thoughts and focused on the present moment. He knew that venturing into the forbidden forest alone was unwise, but the creatures within seemed less terrifying than the harsh truths he was grappling with.

As his hair tie snapped, his dark strands flew freely in the wind. The hair covered half his face, prompting him to pull up sharply. He recalled the portrait of the late queen—her expertly crafted eyes, her smile, and her dark, flowing hair that had been a key reason Marlin had coveted him. Had his mother known of Marlin's sins? Had she died trying to protect him from being taken away?

The memory of seeing the portrait evoked a deep, unexplainable sadness and longing within him, feelings he had initially brushed off as an inexplicable attachment to a stranger. But recent revelations have clarified their significance.

As he scanned the dense, towering trees that seemed to stretch endlessly, he inhaled the damp, earthy scent of the grass, familiar and grounding.

Obene relished the rare moment of solitude, savoring the peace of his surroundings, when his gaze was drawn to a figure near a large tree not far from where he stood. The woman moved with an ethereal grace, each step deliberate and fluid. She wore a silk robe that flowed to her ankles, its delicate fabric shimmering subtly in the dappled sunlight. The robe was cinched at the waist, highlighting her slender form, and as she walked, the silk shifted with a whispering rustle.

Her hair, a cascade of soft waves, tumbled down her back, catching the light and creating a halo effect around her. She held the robe with a gentle hand, which allowed the soft curve of her bare feet to be glimpsed with every step. Her presence was mesmerizing—every detail, from the elegant way she moved to the serene expression on her face, was vividly etched into Obene's memory.

His eyes followed her with a mix of awe and disbelief, the familiar contours of her face sparking a profound sense of recognition. As she drew closer, his heart raced, and he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The name escaped his lips in a hushed whisper, filled with wonder and incredulity.

"Lilian?"

The woman did not immediately respond as she drew closer. Obene's brow furrowed with confusion, wondering how Lilian had found him. He felt something was amiss.

When she was just inches away, she stood on tiptoe and placed a light, feathery kiss on his lips, causing him to freeze. Suddenly, a sharp blade aimed at her neck, threatening to pierce her flesh.

"Who are you?" Obene demanded, his voice tense.

"I am your desire," she replied with an unsettling calmness, her demeanor unflinching despite the sword aimed at her. With a delicate motion, she pushed the tip of the blade away with her hand, as if it were nothing more than a feather.

Turning her back on him, she began to walk away, her movements graceful and deliberate. As she turned to face him once more, Obene's breath caught in his throat. Before him stood the living image of his mother, the late queen. Her features were rendered with such precision and clarity that it was almost unbearable to look at. Every detail—from the regal curve of her lips to the soft glow of her skin—was so vividly captured that it seemed to reach into the very core of his grief.

"You are a shapeshifter..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with astonishment and betrayal.

The figure's smile was both tender and haunting. "My son, you have grown into a fine young man. You don't know how proud I am to see you..." She gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, revealing a cascade of dark locks that mirrored his own. "You have my hair..." she added with a wistful tone.

Her words struck him like an invisible blow to the gut, a wave of anguish and anger crashing over him. "Do not toy with my emotions, you monster!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fury.

The figure's smile remained unchanged as she took a step back, her gaze lingering with an enigmatic sadness. "I am your desire," she repeated, her voice echoing through the stillness. Without another word, she turned and vanished into the depths of the forest, leaving Obene standing alone, grappling with the painful illusion of his lost mother.

Obene stood there, stunned and conflicted, watching as the apparition vanished. Despite the unsettling encounter, he felt no ill will from the figure. He wondered if it had come to offer some form of twisted charity, drawn by his internal struggles. He needed to resolve his feelings quickly—whether to accept his current reality or to forge a new path, he had to make a decision soon.

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Victoria fled through the suffocating darkness, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to escape her unknown pursuer. Each step was a desperate attempt to outrun the terror that gripped her heart. She stumbled on the uneven dirt road, pain shooting through her as she hit the ground. Determined, she scrambled to her feet, her eyes darting wildly as she searched for a place to hide. Fear was a tangible force, wrapping around her like a vise, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. She wanted to scream, but her voice was trapped inside her, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

The silence itself was menacing, broken only by the sinister, shifting shadows that danced around her, their shapes morphing and swirling as if taunting her. The stifling air grew heavy with the acrid smell of burning flesh, sending a fresh wave of panic through her. She clutched at her chest, where a searing pain radiated, and looked down to see the flesh beneath her collar scorched and raw.

A silent scream tore at her insides, but no sound escaped her lips. The terror she felt was paralyzing, and just when she thought she might go mad from fear, chilling, familiar laughter echoed through the darkness. It was a sound that had haunted her dreams for too long, a sound that belonged to Marlin.

"I always find you, Victoria. Always."

The haunting voice jolted her awake. Victoria sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, her heart pounding. She clutched herself tightly, trying to convince her trembling body and racing mind that she was safe, that it had all been a nightmare. Marlin was far away, and he couldn't harm her here.

But as she caught her breath, a crushing sense of dread settled over her. Marlin's presence was an unshakable shadow in her life. Even if she remained hidden, her very existence was a beacon for him. Her scar was a constant reminder of her connection to him, a link that could never be severed.

If she stayed in the kingdom, she would put Lilian at risk once again. Her very survival was a threat to her daughter's safety. How could she live with that knowledge? She reached up and traced the scar on her collar, a mark of her torment and a symbol of the danger she posed to those she loved. The desire to tear it away was overwhelming.

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled with the harsh reality of her situation. "If I am alive, I will only be a burden to my child. As long as I live, Lilian will always be in danger," she repeated to herself, the grim reality echoing in her mind.

Desperation clawed at her, and she wondered if there could be a way out of this nightmare. As a sudden, vivid thought crossed her mind, a sad, almost resigned smile appeared on her lips. Would she be forgiven if she committed the ultimate sin?

The determination in her gaze hardened as she weighed her options, her mind wrestling with the weight of her grim resolution.