Eternal Saṃsāra: The Wanderer of Worlds, Book 2

[230] The Last Page of Pangeal

Chapter 230: The Last Page of Pangeal

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The water lapped softly against the edges of the tub, its warmth doing little to soothe the tension in her heart. Elara stood up slowly, water droplets sliding down her skin as she reached for the towel. Her movements were almost mechanical, she would have rather remained in the tub if given the chance.

The dim light of the bathroom cast shadows under her eyes, exposing the fatigue that weighed her mind these days. Her usually sharp eyes were dulled with exhaustion.

As a deity, Elara didn't have physical fatigue. The thing that weighed her wasn't physical.

She wrapped the towel around her hair, feeling the cool air prickling her skin as she stepped out of the tub. A deep sigh escaped her lips. The migraine pulsed behind her temples, a relentless drumbeat that matched the throbbing of her heart.

It was a familiar pain, it was from a hangover. But she hadn't felt it when she stopped drinking a month ago, because her mind had him to distract her with. But now he wasn't here.

"Aqua..." The name lingered in her mind, a reminder of the man who had once been Seriphoth, her everything—and now, was someone else.

Elara rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pressure building in her head. The pain had been manageable before, nonexistent even, when she was beside him. But now, when everything had gone wrong—despite saving the world—it had returned with interest.

"Damn it..." she muttered under her breath, her voice filled with annoyance.

She began to dress up, her movements slow, the towel in her head falling away as she put on soft fabric that clung to her damp skin. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the hangover and the emotional turmoil. After he died, the alcohol had been a crutch, a way to numb the pain, but she had sworn it off a month ago. She wanted to go back to it, but the people around her wouldn't let her.

According to them, it was another layer of agony added to her already tortured soul.

Her heightened senses, after reaching Level 100, only made things worse. Every sound, every flicker of light, and every whisper of movement seemed to grate against her nerves. It amplified the pain in her head. Elara could hear the faintest rustle of leaves outside, the soft murmur of voices in the distance, the steady beat of her own heart.

It was overwhelming, suffocating even. It drove her to the brink of madness.

As she stepped into the hallway, feeling the cold stone beneath her feet, she shook her head off the sounds. The dim light cast shadows along the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that mirrored the turmoil within her. Her footsteps echoed softly in the silence, a lonely sound just like her.

She was heading toward her bedroom, but she stopped before she could reach it. Her enhanced senses caught her attention—a familiar presence, a pulse of mana that sent a jolt through her mind.

Elara paused, her heart skipping a beat as she turned her head slowly toward the open window to her left.

Through the window, she saw him.

Seriphoth... No, Aquamarine stood outside, surrounded by a small crowd of people. Her eyes grew glossy. The sight of him was enough to make her heart clench painfully in her chest. His figure was tall and muscular, but he looked far different than his Hero image. He had blonde hair that reflected in the sunlight, and blue eyes far brighter than his purple ones.

And yet, he held Sieran in his arms, her closest friend held the man who had once been theirs. Elara's eyes twitched.

Elara felt a pang of jealousy, sharp and bitter, as she watched Sieran hug him. Jealousy not at the fact that he hugged her, but that Sieran had a flexible enough mind to accept him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't that she couldn't accept it, but Sieran could. It wasn't fair that he could still be so close, so warm, so familiar, and yet be completely out of her reach.