Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 192: BONUS! Sleeping in Peace.

First bonus chapter. It doesn't really affect the story at all, but these parts are the ones I enjoy writing the most, so I wrote a whole mini-chapter dedicated to one of my favorite interactions. You can skip this part if you don't like filler; it doesn't affect the story at all. We'll continue with the normal story next chapter.

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Parallel to Ramael's adventure, the sun was slowly rising over the horizon in the cult, tinting the sky with soft shades of orange, lavender, and gold. The first rays of morning filtered through the curtains of the leader's house, casting faint shapes on the walls and the soft carpet covering the floor. Outside, the cult was waking up peacefully: the murmur of the wind through the trees, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional creaking of wood were the only sounds accompanying the scene.

Inside the main room, all was peaceful. Goliath lay in the center of the large bed, lying face up, his arms spread freely, the strands of his grayish hair falling haphazardly onto the pillows. His chest rose and fell with a slow, powerful rhythm, and from time to time he let out a deep snore that made the mattress vibrate slightly. However, far from breaking the harmony, the sound was familiar... even comforting.

Narinder slept on top of him, lying face down with his head resting on the goat's firm chest. His arms lightly wrapped around Goliath's torso, as if even asleep he didn't want to let go. His body rested with unusual ease, as if he had left behind all tension, all divine duty, all weight... Only his serene breathing and relaxed face betrayed the deep rest he was in.

Above him, like a warm cloak, Lambert rested peacefully, his figure nestled against Narinder's back, his fluffy wool caressing him with every gentle movement.

Despite the thunder of Goliath's snoring, neither Narinder nor Lambert seemed to be disturbed. Their bodies slept aligned like perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, protected by each other's warmth, fused in a single stillness, a single shared sigh. Neither dreamed of war, death, or impossible trials... there was only that moment, that of a dawn shared in intimacy.

Narinder, still dreaming, gave a slight smile. Unbeknownst to him, his mind, body, and soul were in balance. He felt no remorse, no guilt, no vigilance. Only calm. Peace. Love.

The entire room seemed to breathe in time with their bodies, enveloped in a serene warmth that seeped into every corner, as if the entire world had decided to pause for them.

Lambert murmured something in his sleep, his snout pressed against the back of Narinder's neck, while Narinder barely moved, lazily nestling his face against Goliath's chest, seeking more warmth. Goliath, for his part, continued snoring, unperturbed, one hand unconsciously sliding to rest on Narinder's hip, as if even in his sleep he knew how to protect what he loved.

Goliath breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly, as if marking the rhythm of a world that didn't yet want to wake up. His body was large, strong, and his grayish fur was coarse to the touch, with a scratchy texture like the bark of an old tree. Even so, Narinder rested on his chest, wrapped in that earthy warmth, his face barely pressed against it, unconsciously absorbing that scent of damp earth and ancient sweat that so well defined the goat warrior. His fingers, relaxed, gently brushed Goliath's side, like someone thoughtlessly caressing a familiar, safe place.

Narinder, on the other hand, was the complete opposite in texture. His dark fur was as soft as velvet, polished by constant care and the divine nature that still enveloped him. His scent was faint but firm, like freshly cut oak, a fragrance that evoked strength, wisdom, and something deeply ancestral. Every time he moved, Lambert's weight on his back forced him to stay stiller, as if his lamb were unwittingly clutching him. Sometimes, unconsciously, Narinder would slide a hand back, stroking Lambert's fluffy back with slow movements, more out of habit than awareness.

Lambert was curled up like a warm cloud on Narinder's back. He smelled like a freshly bathed lamb with a delicate camellia perfume, floral and sweet, a gentle note amid the thicker scents of his companions. One of his hands hung harmlessly to the side, barely brushing Narinder's shoulder, while his snout rested at the base of his neck. In an instinctive gesture, he murmured something unintelligible and twitched his ears before settling more comfortably on top of his lover without disturbing him.

The entire scene seemed suspended in time, like a painting no one dared touch. Outside, the birds were timidly beginning to sing, but their sounds felt distant, muffled by the warmth of the bed and the union of three bodies at rest. There was no weight of the past or expectation of the future. There was only a shared breath, the touch of wool and different skins, and a silence that spoke of trust, of love, and a calm that the three knew, however fleeting, was real.

Goliath barely moved, with a low, sleepy growl that was lost among his own snores. His stocky body shifted position slowly, like a mountain slowly settling in, and as it did, his arm wound up more firmly around Narinder, holding him naturally against his chest. Narinder didn't even frown at the movement; his head simply adjusted to the new tilt, letting himself drift, still fast asleep. The firmer contact with Goliath's rough fur didn't bother him—on the contrary, it seemed to comfort him, as if his body recognized his husband's warmth as something deeply necessary.

Narinder murmured something formless, a soft sound that barely escaped his half-open muzzle. His hand, resting on Goliath's torso, moved lazily and he began to trace small circles with his fingertips on the skin beneath the fur. The gesture was unconscious, a dormant caress not intended to wake anyone, but which spoke of the affection buried deep within the soul. On his back, Lambert stirred slightly at the slight change in position, his hands gently squeezing Narinder's back, as if he didn't want to lose his favorite pillow.

Lambert's wool expanded and contracted with each breath, soft and fluffy, covering Narinder like a coat that smelled of tenderness and flowers.

No one dreamed of anything in particular, and yet the three shared the same universe—without words, without images, only the absolute calm of knowing they were together, protected.

The sun was already filtering its first rays through the room's heavy curtains, tinting the edges of the bed where they slept a warm gold. A light breeze, barely a whisper from the outside world, caressed the loose strands of Lambert's wool and then slipped between their bodies. No one awoke. The entire room seemed to cradle them, recognizing that this moment of union deserved to be kept intact. That dawn brought no urgency, no noise, no shadow: only peace, stillness, and the gentle touch of three souls who had learned to sleep in harmony.

There, in that shared bed, there was no bloody past, no mistakes, no divine trials. There was just them, wrapped in the cozy silence of a morning without obligations. No words, no thoughts, could break that moment. Only each other's company, the shared warmth, and the certainty that, at least for a few more hours, they could simply exist... together.