Chapter 215: Where the Storm Could Not Follow

[Levin’s Dream — Somewhere Between Sleep and Memory]

The storm did not exist there: no thunder, no blood, and no empire hunting through darkness, only warmth and only silence.

Golden lanterns glowed softly across the imperial chamber. The scent of lotus incense lingered lazily through the air, and at the private courtyard, Levin sat quietly upon the lower diwan.

One hand resting against his swollen stomach and the other holding an opened parchment carefully. The soft desert winds moved the silk curtains gently around him, peaceful and tender, like the world itself had forgotten cruelty for a while.

Then suddenly warm hands slipped slowly around his waist from behind. A familiar warmth pressed against his back afterward.

And then that voice, deep, soft, and beloved.

"What is my moonflower doing all alone?"

Immediately Levin’s fingers tightened faintly against the parchment from comfort. Slowly he glanced behind himself, and there he was.

Zeramet, golden eyes calmer than the moonlight itself. Dark robes loosened carelessly after returning from court. Hair slightly messy from the desert winds and looking at Levin as though nothing else in the world had ever mattered more.

Levin smiled faintly afterward, softly and beautifully. "You are early today."

Zeramet hummed quietly before lowering his face toward Levin’s neck. Then gently he kissed the side of it, slow, lingering, and warm.

Levin immediately shivered faintly afterward, and a blush spread softly across his cheeks.

Zeramet’s hands moved lower carefully, resting protectively against Levin’s stomach as his voice sounded quieter and more intimate now.

"I could not stay away longer, this husband of yours..." A faint chuckle escaped him against Levin’s skin. "...is hopelessly tied to you."

The lantern flames flickered softly around them.

Levin’s cheeks slowly warmed afterward again. That familiar blush is returning so naturally and so easily. Zeramet rested his forehead lightly against Levin’s shoulder before murmuring softly; his arms tightened slightly around Levin’s waist.

"No matter where I go...my thoughts always return to you."

Silence settled quietly afterward, not awkward, not heavy, only peaceful like two souls who had already become home to each other long ago.

And slowly Levin leaned back further into Zeramet’s embrace, eyes softening beautifully, and then a faint teasing smile appeared on his lips afterward, small, sleepy, and loving.

"...is that so? Then what about the day we become separated?"

The atmosphere changed instantly, subtly and quietly. Zeramet gently turned Levin toward him afterward.

One hand slipping against his belly carefully and the other lifting softly toward his face. Then firmly and almost painfully he said, "Never use that word, moonflower."

Levin blinked softly, and Zeramet pulled him closer afterward, close enough to hear his heartbeat, strong, steady, and alive, his golden eyes locked deeply with Levin’s blue ones.

"We...will never be separated." The lantern flames flickered softly around them. "I will never allow that to happen."

There was no throne inside those words, only a serpent terrified of losing the person he loved most. Levin stared quietly into Zeramet’s eyes afterward, as though trying to memorize every part of him, every warmth, every breath, and every heartbeat.

Then slowly he lowered his head against Zeramet’s chest, arms wrapping softly around him and holding him tightly like someone afraid the dream itself might disappear.

And quietly almost like a promise whispered into his heartbeat Levin answered:

"...yes. We shall never be separated."

And somewhere far away from dreams, a fallen Malika continued sleeping beneath unfamiliar skies... still unconsciously searching for the warmth of the husband he refused to believe was gone.

***

[Unknown Village — Afternoon]

Warm sunlight slipped softly through the small wooden window for the first time in many days. There was no storm, no thunder, no screams, only silence.

And upon a small creaking wooden bed, Levin slowly opened his eyes. Everything looked blurry at first; the ceiling above him swayed faintly, sunlight burned softly against his exhausted vision, and before he could even fully understand where he was, a single tear silently slipped from the corner of his eye.

Because for one brief moment he truly thought he would wake beside Zeramet again, but reality returned cruelly afterward, slowly and painfully.

And as Levin’s vision cleared, he realized he was inside a small, unfamiliar hut, with clay walls, a wooden ceiling, a tiny water pot resting near the corner, and an old woven blanket wrapped carefully around him.

Nothing luxurious, nothing royal, yet somehow it felt warmer than Silthara Palace ever had. Levin slowly pushed himself upward, breathing unevenly and still weak, and his voice came out cracked and hoarse.

"...where...am I?"

Then suddenly his eyes widened violently, blood as the memory returned instantly. The pain. The river. The warmth is spreading beneath him.

Immediately Levin threw the blanket aside in panic and looked down toward his stomach, hands trembling, breathing shaking and then he froze.

The swollen curve of his stomach remained there safely beneath the loose robes. Then slowly his entire body weakened with relief.

"...still there..." One trembling hand moved protectively against his stomach afterward, almost afraid to touch it. "...thank Lord Urzan..."

But the moment Levin tried stepping down from the bed pain immediately struck through his body sharply.

"Ngh—!"

His knees nearly gave out beneath him, and right at that moment, the wooden door opened hurriedly.

CREAAAKKK.

Iru rushed inside immediately, but now he no longer wore imperial attendant clothing. Instead, simple village robes were wrapped loosely around him, plain and ordinary.

The moment he saw Levin awake relief completely flooded across his face.

"Malika—!" Immediately Iru dropped to his knees beside the bed desperately. "Are you feeling well?!"

Levin blinked softly at him, still slightly dazed.

"...I am well, Iru." His gaze slowly moved around the tiny hut again afterward, confused and careful. "But...what is this place?"

Before Iru could answer—

THUMP!

Tiny Lyresaph suddenly jumped through the open window in his smaller form, and immediately behind him, Asha rushed inside excitedly; both creatures hurried directly toward Levin.

Asha immediately pressed against him affectionately, licking his hands desperately, and Lyresaph climbed directly into his lap, purring softly like an oversized serpent-cat.

And for the very first time in days, a faint smile finally appeared across Levin’s face, small, weak, but real.

"You two..." His fingers slowly brushed across their heads gently. "...both of you are unharmed."

Iru smiled softly afterward, a tired smile but genuine. "The villagers cared for all of us very well, Malika."

Levin looked up immediately. "...villagers?"

Iru nodded softly. "Yes, this is the village of Sah’Rumeh...a small border settlement near the outer lands of the Qashmari Empire."

Levin froze slightly afterward because that meant they were far, very far from Zahryssar. Iru lowered his gaze gently before continuing:

"And you have been unconscious for an entire week, Malika."

Silence.

Levin blinked slowly, almost unable to process the words. "...a week?"

Iru nodded again. "Grandmother Hira treated you personally."

Levin slowly lowered his gaze toward his stomach afterward; one entire week, and somehow the child still survived with him.

And outside the tiny hut, children’s laughter echoed faintly beneath the warm afternoon winds, such a simple and ordinary sound, and yet it felt impossibly far away from Zahryssar.

Inside the quiet wooden hut, Levin remained seated silently upon the creaking bed, one hand resting protectively over his stomach and the other absentmindedly stroking Lyresaph resting quietly in his lap.

Then, softly, almost like someone finally realizing reality—Levin whispered:

"...it is strange." His blue eyes slowly moved toward the small window afterward, toward the unfamiliar skies beyond it. "We are in an entirely different empire now...and only now..."

His voice weakened faintly.

"...it truly feel like he is gone."

Immediately, Iru flinched because those words sounded dangerously close to surrender.

"Malika..." Iru quickly spoke afterward. "Lyresaph is still alive."

The tiny silver dragon immediately lifted his head at hearing his name, blue eyes watching Levin carefully, but Levin only smiled faintly afterward, a smile so painfully tired that it almost looked broken as his fingers slowly tightened above his stomach.

"And yet...I am still alone."

Silence filled the hut afterward, heavy, quiet, and heartbreaking.

"I thought..." Levin’s gaze lowered toward the swollen curve beneath his robes. "...we would watch our child hatch together but perhaps..."

His hand moved protectively against the child again.

"...this is simply our fate." The afternoon winds brushed softly through the hut, and his voice became quieter and far away, almost emotionless.

"I am meant to raise him alone...far away from his father."

Iru could not answer because no comfort existed for grief like this. So he simply stared silently at Levin’s eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, which once carried pride, fire, stubbornness, and life.

And now?

Now they only carried one purpose: survive long enough for the child to live.

Then suddenly—

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

The small wooden door slowly opened afterward, and two villagers stepped inside carefully. One was an elderly woman with silver hair braided heavily beneath desert beads and dark robes.

Grandmother Hira.

Beside her stood a young alpha man, tall and broad-shouldered and wearing thick leather garments lined with gray fur, unlike the clothing of Zahryssar.

A curved wolf-fang pendant rested against his chest, and sharp amber eyes quietly observed Levin with caution and respect.

Immediately both villagers lowered their heads respectfully. "We greet the honored guest."

But Levin immediately shook his head weakly afterward as his voice came soft and tired.

"...Please, drop the formalities." The two villagers looked slightly surprised, and Levin continued quietly, "You saved both me...and my child."

Silence settled briefly afterward.

Then Grandmother Hira smiled faintly, old eyes softening carefully.

"A life saved beneath Lord Vaeltjor’s sky should not become a debt."

Then the young villager finally stepped slightly forward afterward, one fist resting respectfully over his chest.

"My name is Kael." His deep voice remained calm and measured as he continued, "I am the captain of this village, and from what I heard from your attendant, we would like it if you may remain within this village as long as necessary."

Levin blinked faintly afterward. "...you would hide fugitives from Zahryssar so easily?"

Immediately Kael and Grandmother Hira exchanged brief glances, and then unexpectedly Kael smiled faintly. "This village does not belong to Zahryssar."

Grandmother Hira slowly lowered herself beside the clay stove before answering: "You currently reside within the outer territories of the Qashmari Empire and more specifically..."

Kael’s amber eyes sharpened slightly afterward.

"...within the lands protected by the Wolf Clans."

Silence, a heavy silence.

Even Iru’s expression shifted slightly because everyone knew Wolf Clans and Serpent Empires rarely trusted one another.

And unlike Zahryssar, Wolf Clans were infamous for one terrifying thing: they protected those accepted beneath their territory with absolute brutality.

Meanwhile, outside the hut, a distant wolf howl echoed softly across the warm desert winds, yet strangely it did not feel threatening.

Then slowly Kael looked toward Levin again, studying his exhausted face carefully, the broken sorrow in his eyes and the child still growing beneath his heart.

Then, quietly, almost like a warning hidden beneath kindness, he said, "No serpent from Zahryssar will enter these lands easily, so you may rest assured and take care of yourself."

And for the very first time since escaping the empire, Levin finally realized he had crossed into a territory even Slyvarakh could not casually control.

But somewhere far away beneath the throne of Silthara, an emperor obsessed with possession had not yet stopped hunting.