Duke Vaelorian's gaze settled upon Ravenna, and he let out an inaudible sigh. He then turned to Azrael, his voice laden with a mixture of weariness and determination.
"Alright, Azrael, your punishment ends today, but it comes with one condition," Duke Vaelorian stated, his patience intact despite the weight of his words. "You must never set foot in the human realm and focus entirely on your responsibilities as the heir of the Vaelorian Dukedom."
Ravenna's expression darkened, but Duke Vaelorian paid her no heed, keeping his attention on Azrael.
"If you cannot adhere to this condition," he continued, "I will not hesitate to extend your days of punishment."
Azrael acknowledged the condition with a small, respectful nod. "I will do as you say, Father," he replied, bowing before him. Duke Vaelorian returned the gesture with a smile and then redirected his attention away from Azrael.
"Excellent. Sylas, release him before I change my mind," Duke Vaelorian instructed.
"Yes, My Lord," Sylas confirmed, moving toward Azrael. With deft hands, he released the chains that bound Azrael and assisted him to his feet. Azrael, initially unsteady, quickly regained his composure, his crimson eyes fixed on his father's retreating form. Sylas offered a supporting arm around Azrael's shoulders as they followed Duke Vaelorian out of the dungeon.
Ravenna, in the presence of Drusilla, expressed her gratitude. "Thank you for taking care of my little brother, Your Highness," she said, curtsying deeply. Drusilla responded with a smile, her ruby eyes gleaming as she returned the gesture.
"I was merely assisting a friend, Lady Ravenna," Drusilla replied with a hint of amusement. Their exchange was filled with camaraderie.
Ravenna laughed and playfully shook her head before concluding, "Well then, you should return to the castle now. Goodbye." She winked and departed from the dungeon, Drusilla following in her wake.
***
Azrael had just concluded his bath, stepping out of the steamy bathroom and into his room. He was cloaked in a flowing black robe that gently enveloped him. As he stood there, water droplets glistening in the ambient light, his father's words weighed on his mind.
'Seems I won't be able to see Isolde anytime soon,' he thought to himself. ' Wait for me. I will come to you soon.'
His gaze wandered across the room, eventually falling upon a sight that took him by surprise. Ravenna was seated in one of the plush armchairs, perusing a book, her presence unexpected. He blinked twice, his surprise evident in his voice.
"Oh, uh..."
Ravenna turned her attention to Azrael, her laughter a soft and comforting sound. She rose from her seat and moved closer to her younger brother, who reacted with a hint of surprise.
"Why are you in my room?" Azrael inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Ravenna extended her hand, reaching for Azrael's. He allowed her to take his hand into her own. Her voice held a blend of nostalgia and warmth.
"I missed you so much, Azrael. You were so little when I left. Now you're all grown up," Ravenna remarked, her eyes roaming over him. "You've gotten taller, broader, and more handsome."
She squeezed Azrael's hand reassuringly, and he couldn't help but feel a slight catch in his breath as her touch and words enveloped him.
Azrael's gratitude lingered in the air as he whispered, his cheeks flushed with a tinge of embarrassment, "Thank you, Ravenna." His eyes, still aglow with the warmth of her return, bore curiosity as he asked the question that had been brewing inside him. "How's your mother?"
He continued, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy, "I haven't seen her since you left..." His words trailed off, a touch of sadness infusing his voice.
Ravenna offered a reply, her tone reflective of her feelings. "She's doing great, but she's been quite busy lately, trying to get me married. And, you know, I don't want to." She expressed her resistance with a pout, prompting a gentle chuckle from Azrael.
As they continued their conversation, Ravenna pondered about Azrael's mother. "How's your mother? Come to think of it, I didn't see her anywhere in the Manor," she inquired, her curiosity piqued.
Azrael's response carried a shadow of solemnity. "She is gone," he said, his expression faltering slightly as he mentioned a painful memory from years past. He didn't wish to linger on the past, and his simple statement conveyed that.
Ravenna's countenance shifted, hardening in response to the mention of their mother. She pulled Azrael into a tight embrace, her voice carrying an air of disdain.
"Humans are just too weak," she remarked, her fingers tracing through Azrael's hair, seeking to comfort him.
As they slowly parted from their embrace, Azrael's gaze landed on a small wooden table adorned with a tray. Upon it, two goblets awaited them. It was a sight that beckoned them to share a moment together.
"Let's drink, you must be hungry," Ravenna suggested. She reached for one of the goblets and handed it to Azrael, a gesture filled with sibling warmth and care.
Azrael's hand quivered slightly as he took hold of the goblet. His gaze fell upon its contents, and he couldn't hide his reluctance. It was filled with blood - a sight and substance that stirred a complex swirl of emotions within him.
Beside him, Ravenna seemed unfazed. She seized the other goblet and raised it to her lips with an air of nonchalance. In one fluid motion, she downed its crimson contents in a single, audacious gulp. Afterward, she placed the empty cup gently back on the table.
Azrael, on the other hand, found himself lingering, his gaze still fixed upon the goblet, his thoughts in turmoil. There was something disconcerting about consuming this blood. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but with Ravenna watching him, he felt obliged to partake. With some trepidation, he took a sip of the blood and couldn't hide his grimace. It was cold, metallic, and bitingly bitter.
Ravenna, always observant, couldn't help but tease her younger brother. "Anything wrong, Azrael?" she inquired with a teasing smile dancing upon her lips.
Azrael, though disconcerted by the experience, shook his head, his pride intact. He summoned the resolve to take another sip, then another, until he finally drained the entire glass of blood. It was an act of sheer determination, partly to appease Ravenna and partly to challenge his own reservations.
Ravenna beamed with satisfaction. "I will ask the servants to bring more," she declared with enthusiasm. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
But Azrael, his demeanor shifting, set his goblet aside. His gaze rested upon Ravenna as he admitted, "Ravenna, I want to be alone for now. We can catch up later."
Ravenna's brow furrowed in response, her disappointment thinly veiled. She complied with a silent nod and stepped past Azrael towards the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she looked back over her shoulder, offering a parting sentiment.
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Take care."
With that, she gently closed the door behind her, leaving Azrael to grapple with his thoughts in solitude.
Azrael, feeling like the world was closing in on him, staggered to his bed and slumped onto it. He couldn't bear to face the rush of emotions surging within him. Overwhelmed, he buried his face in his hands.
As the seconds ticked by, a wave of nausea began to build within him. It clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach, threatening to overpower him. Desperately, he fought the urge to vomit, knowing that it would only add another layer of discomfort to an already tumultuous situation.
"Don't... vomit," he silently commanded himself, his voice a mere whisper within his mind. "It will only make things worse..."
Gradually, the sensation passed, leaving Azrael gasping for breath on the bed. He could only manage a wry, weary comment, "That... that really did not help... That blood was disgusting..."
Summoning the last of his strength, Azrael rose and crossed the room to his window. He pushed it open, welcoming the cool air and the velvety expanse of the sky. He closed his eyes, letting the fresh breeze wash over him. Determinedly, he concentrated on slowing his racing heart and steadying his rapid breaths.
Minutes turned into moments, and gradually, the lingering sickness ebbed away. Azrael's weary body gave in to the exhaustion of the night's events. He retreated to his bed, the weight of the day's revelations pressing heavily upon him. As he lay there, eyes closed, the familiarity of his blankets embraced him, coaxing him into a much-needed slumber.