Of Silver Rays and Raven Fur | ONC24

12. Petrichor.

The palace stood as a beacon of grandeur amidst the tranquil landscape, its façade adorned with intricate carvings that caught the gentle sunlight. Each ray of the sun seemed to dance through the foliage of the surrounding trees, painting the vast gardens with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Petals unfurled in vibrant hues to greet the warmth of the day. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, lending a whimsical charm to the serene setting. Birds' chirps melded seamlessly with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

In this timeless moment, nature's melody enveloped everything it touched, casting a spell of tranquility over the scene.

Alarick hadn't anticipated the presence of sunlight in this place. He had grown accustomed to the dim, shadowy confines of his surroundings, where the moon's gentle glow often held sway.

Before he could articulate his thoughts, Accalia preempted his question. "Where do you suppose the moon derives its light?"

Arching a brow, he pivoted to face her, relishing the plushness of the grass beneath him. "The sun?"

"The sun," she echoed in confirmation. 

"Is that why you can wield fire?" Alarick inquired, resting his head atop his palms. His eyes glinted with a contagious openness to learning.

Accalia, who had lived for centuries and grown accustomed to the passage of time, felt a spark of something unfamiliar stir within her. Life had settled into a predictable rhythm, devoid of the consuming excitement of discovery and the sweet thrill of curiosity. 

With Alarick's arrival, however, a breath of fresh air had blown through her world, awakening dormant sensations and stirring forgotten desires.

A wistful smile touched her lips as she gazed at him. "Yes," she mused, her voice carrying a hint of unexplained longing. "I have not wielded my flames in so long. But you, Alarick, have reignited something within me that I thought had long faded."

Alarick mulled over the recent events until he recalled one magical moment when he'd almost departed from his silver beauty. "That night on the cliff?"

She nodded, memories of desperation and fear flashing in her head. At first, Accalia hadn't expected her flames to have the power to pull him back from the brink of death. Yet, in that moment of uncertainty, she clung to the fragile thread of hope, convinced that their story was far from over.

And now, there they were, resting beneath the sheltering embrace of a colossal tree just outside her castle, a testament to the unexpected twists and turns that fate had woven into their lives.

Accalia sighed softly, adjusting herself until her head rested below his. Alarick gazed down at her, a youthful smile playing on his lips. Her aquamarines held him captive, drawing him in with an irresistible allure until he nearly melted in everything that was her.

He drank her in, committing every detail of her features to memory and engraving her image into the deepest recesses of his mind. He wanted to capture every curve of her smile, every spark of emotion in her eyes, ensuring that she would forever reside within him, a cherished portrait of numinous beauty and dreamy reality.

Faint rouge colored her cheeks as she stared back. His moonstones scrutinized every corner of her being, holding her heart ensnared and baring her soul to his.

"Am I able to talk because you saved me?"

Dazed, as it seemed to be the case ever since him, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his silky, raven locks.

His chest rumbled with satisfaction, and his eyes fluttered shut. Accalia nestled closer to him, seeking the soothing vibrations and cherishing the moment of quiet connection.