novelraw Chapter 176: The Promise On The Terrace
Chapter 176: The Promise On The Terrace
Lunethra had never imagined that at the age of eight hundred, she would find peace within a black castle surrounded by eternal mist.
The Terrace of Equilibrium had become her favorite sanctuary. It wasn’t for the view—the Forest of Lamentation remained a bleak expanse, its blackened trees looming like the skeletal remains of giants. It wasn’t for the climate—the air here was perpetually damp and cold, even with the Orchid-Ether system filtering the toxins from the fog. It was because here, she could be alone. Here, she could think.
She sat on a stone bench Dayat had manifested a few days ago—a small gift born of his unease at seeing Lunethra standing whenever she sought to enjoy the view. The bench was simple: a slab of gray stone with a low backrest. Yet, Lunethra cherished it. She had even brought a small cushion from her room to make it more comfortable.
This morning, the mist was slightly thinner than usual. Lunethra could make out the silhouettes of the Terragard mountains in the distance, faint and ethereal, like an unfinished painting. She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. The Mana in this place was thin—strikingly different from the abundance of her home in Vaelith. But she had grown accustomed to it. Her body was adapting, or perhaps she was simply learning to no longer rely so heavily on magic.
"Of all the places in this castle, you chose the quietest one."
Lunethra turned. Dayat stood in the doorway of the terrace, holding two mugs. Faint steam curled from both. His hair was still damp—likely from a shower after a grueling manifestation session.
"I’m not interrupting, am I?" Dayat asked, leaning against the frame with a hint of hesitation.
Lunethra shook her head. "No. Sit."
Dayat walked over and handed a mug to Lunethra. "Coffee. Not the Aethera version. This time, I manifested real coffee beans from Earth. Arabica. You have to try it."
Lunethra accepted the cup. The aroma was different—deeper, richer, with a sharp, bitter edge that was strange yet intriguing. She took a cautious sip. The taste was... intense. Far stronger than the "coffee" Dayat usually drank.
"It is... very bitter," she said, her brow furrowing.
Dayat laughed. "That’s real coffee, Lun. Not those local grains that just give you a caffeine kick. So? Is it good?"
Lunethra took another sip. This time, she allowed the bitterness to spread across her tongue before swallowing. A comforting warmth spread through her chest. "Strange. But... I am beginning to grow fond of it."
"Maybe you just need something bitter in your life," Dayat said, sitting beside her and taking a sip of his own brew. "To balance out how sweet you are."
Lunethra didn’t respond. She simply stared into her mug. How sweet you are. The words were simple, yet for some reason, they made her heart feel warm. Perhaps it was because Dayat didn’t often compliment her. Or perhaps because she knew he meant it.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Only the whispering wind and the occasional sip of coffee broke the stillness.
"I saw you started planting something in the back," Dayat said eventually.
Lunethra nodded. "Seeds from Elarwyn. I have kept them since we fled." She paused. "I do not know if they will grow here. The soil is different. The Mana is thin. But... I wish to try."
"Do you miss Verdia?"
The question plunged Lunethra into a long silence. She gazed at the mist in the distance, letting her memories drift back. To the majesty of Vaelith. The towering World Tree. The hanging gardens brimming with Light-Bloom flowers. Her sister, Verene, who used to follow her everywhere.
"I miss home," she said softly. "But the home I miss no longer exists. The Verdia that remains... is no longer my place."
Dayat didn’t offer a platitude. He merely sipped his coffee, giving Lunethra the space to continue.
"I do not hate Verene," Lunethra said. "She is my sister. I remember when she was small; she was so afraid of the dark. I was the one who stayed with her every night, manifesting light-butterflies on her ceiling." She offered a faint, bitter smile. "Now she is a cold queen, and I am a traitor in her eyes."
"You aren’t a traitor. She’s the one who changed."
"I know." Lunethra looked at Dayat. "But that doesn’t make it any easier."
Dayat nodded slowly. He understood. He too had a past he could never return to. Jakarta, his small rented room, his tedious job. It all felt like a dream now. But unlike Lunethra, he didn’t yearn for it. He only... remembered it.
"I can’t help you with Verdia," Dayat said. "But as for a home... you already have one here. This castle might not be as beautiful as Vaelith. But it’s your home too, Lun. For as long as you want it to be."
Lunethra searched his face for a long time. There was so much she wanted to say. About her feelings. About how much she wished to be more than just a "friend" to him. About the nights she spent wide awake, wondering what would have happened if she had been the one to meet him first, not Dola.
But she said none of it.
She only smiled—a genuine smile, though shadowed by a trace of sadness. "Thank you, Dayat."
Dayat nodded and stood up. "I should get back. Still have metal junctions to finish." He turned but stopped at the threshold. "Lun."
"Yes?"
"You’re valuable to this team. Not just because you cook or garden. But because... you make this place feel more alive. Don’t ever feel like you’re useless."
Lunethra didn’t answer. She only watched his back as he disappeared through the door.
When the sound of his footsteps had fully faded, Lunethra let out a long sigh. She looked at her half-empty mug. How sweet you are. The words still echoed in her ears.
She rose from the bench and walked to a corner of the terrace where she had arranged small clay pots. She had already planted the seeds from Elarwyn—Manaferum Sativa, several healing herbs, and a single Light-Bloom seed she hoped would bloom.
She knelt before the pots, touching the soil with her fingertips. It was cold and damp, with no sign of life. Not yet.
"I know you are not supposed to grow here," she whispered to the seeds. "This soil is alien. The air is too heavy. But I am here. I will care for you."
She poured a little water from a small pitcher nearby. The water soaked slowly into the earth, leaving a dark, wet surface.
"I am not supposed to be here either," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I am a Princess of Verdia. I should be in the palace, helping my sister rule. But fate brought me here. To this strange place. To these strange people." She smiled faintly. "And I... I am beginning to love them."
She stood and brushed the dirt from her hands. Her eyes drifted back to the mist. Something was out there. Something moving. Not a monster. Not a wolf. But something darker, deeper... more aching.
Lunethra didn’t know what it was, but she could feel it. The Mana in the air was shifting. There was a faint, foul odor, like flesh slowly rotting. A scent undetectable to a regular human, but clear to her Elven senses.
Wabil of Plague.
The name surfaced in her mind. Dola had mentioned it—one of the Seven Harbingers. An entity that brought pestilence and ruin.
Lunethra looked back at her pots. The seeds she had just planted. The seeds she hoped would bring life to this dead place.
"I will not let you touch them," she whispered to the mist, to the unseen thing moving in the distance. "I will not let you touch this place."
She didn’t know if her threat was heard. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to face an entity like Wabil. But she knew one thing: she had finally found something worth protecting.
Not a kingdom. Not a throne. Not family honor.
But a black castle in the heart of a cursed forest. A man who might never love her. A goddess who was jealous of her. Three street urchins practicing their aim in the courtyard. An old dwarf busy with cables and metal joints.
This was her home now.
And she would guard it.
Night fell over Castle Zero. Lunethra stood before her pots one last time before retiring. She touched the soil again. Still cold. Still no sign of life.
But she didn’t give up.
"Tomorrow," she whispered. "Tomorrow, you will grow."
She turned and walked back into the castle. Behind her, atop the soil in one of the pots, something stirred. It was miniscule, nearly invisible—a pale green sprout had just pierced the surface, trembling slightly as if searching for a light that wasn’t there.
But at the tip of that sprout, there was a black speck. Tiny. Like a stray drop of ink.
Lunethra did not see it.
In the distance, beyond the fog of the Forest of Lamentation, Morbis smiled. It was a kind smile, yet it was piercing. He drifted between the black trees, his translucent body nearly invisible.
"What lovely plants," he whispered to himself. "Such a pity... for here, only the plague thrives."
He vanished into the mist, leaving behind a haunting silence.
Inside the castle, Lunethra fell asleep with a faint smile on her face. She dreamed of vast wheat fields, of Light-Blooms in full flower, of the home she had finally found.
She did not know that outside, on the silent terrace, the seed she had planted with such hope had already begun to rot from within.