The cycle of torment continued. Lysara, trembling and frail, leaned against a mossy boulder in the dark forest. Her body ached from Kael's relentless demands, yet her fingers still clutched the ever-present cigarette. She inhaled deeply, the burning ember glowing against the darkness as the acrid smoke filled her lungs. A hacking cough erupted from her throat, sharp and violent, yet she didn't care.
Kael's massive form emerged from the shadows, his silver eyes narrowing as he took in her disheveled appearance. Her wild, matted hair clung to her face, streaked with dirt and sweat. Her clothes hung loose on her body, torn and stained from the days she spent wandering aimlessly.
"Enough," Kael said, his voice low and commanding.
Lysara barely glanced at him, exhaling a plume of smoke as her lips curled into a faint smirk. "Here to tell me how pathetic I look again?" she asked, her voice rasping from her damaged throat.
Kael didn't rise to the bait. He moved closer, his massive coils wrapping around her like a cage. "You've let yourself go," he said, his tone sharp. "I didn't mold you into this just to watch you waste away."
Lysara raised an eyebrow, though her smirk faltered as she suppressed another cough. "What do you care?" she muttered. "I'm still yours, aren't I? That's all that matters to you."
Kael leaned in, his glowing eyes locking onto hers. "You're mine, Lysara," he said softly, his voice tinged with malice. "And I don't tolerate imperfection."
---
The weight of his words hung in the air as Lysara stared at him, her defiance flickering like a dying flame. She knew better than to argue when Kael used that tone.
"What do you want from me now?" she asked, taking another drag from her cigarette.
Kael's coils tightened slightly, his expression unreadable. "You will clean yourself up," he said. "No more wandering through the forest like a vagrant. You'll bathe, wear proper clothes, and present yourself the way I intended."
Lysara let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolved into another fit of coughing. "You want me to look pretty for you?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Kael's eyes flashed. "This isn't a request, Lysara," he said coldly. "If you want to continue this game, you'll follow my rules."
---
The next day, Lysara stood by the edge of the river, her reflection rippling in the water. Her golden hair was a tangled mess, her face gaunt and hollow. The cigarette in her hand burned low, the ashes falling into the stream.
She hated the idea of bending to Kael's will, but she knew she didn't have a choice. His power was absolute, his presence inescapable.
With a sigh, she dropped the cigarette and knelt by the water. The icy chill bit at her skin as she splashed it over her face, scrubbing away the layers of dirt and grime.
For hours, she worked to restore herself. She washed her hair until it gleamed, combing through the tangles with trembling fingers. She found a set of clean clothes—stolen from a nearby village—and dressed carefully, smoothing the fabric over her body.
Finally, she applied makeup, using the supplies she had pilfered during one of her raids. Her hands were unsteady, but she managed to paint her face into something resembling her former self.
When she was done, she stared at her reflection in the river. The woman looking back at her was unrecognizable—pristine, polished, and beautiful.
But the cigarette still dangled from her lips, the smoke curling lazily into the air.
---
Kael observed her transformation with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. "Better," he said, his silver eyes gleaming as he circled her. "At least now you don't look like a dying animal."
Lysara rolled her eyes, taking a deep drag from her cigarette. "Don't get used to it," she muttered. "This doesn't mean I care what you think."
Kael smirked, his massive form coiling around her. "Oh, Lysara," he said, his voice low and mocking. "You care more than you'll admit."
She didn't respond, her lips curling into a faint sneer as she exhaled a plume of smoke.
---
The next phase of Kael's demands began shortly after.
"You'll start training," he said one evening, his voice firm. "I want you stronger, sharper. This cycle of weakness ends now."
Lysara raised an eyebrow, flicking ash onto the ground. "Training?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "You want me to be your little soldier?"
Kael's silver eyes glinted with amusement. "Not a soldier," he said. "But I won't have you collapsing every time I push you. If you want to survive, you'll do as I say."
Lysara sighed, rolling her eyes as she took another drag. "Fine," she muttered. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."
---
The training was grueling.
Kael pushed Lysara to her limits, forcing her to run through the forest, climb rocky cliffs, and spar against illusions he conjured with his magic. Her muscles ached, her lungs burned, and her body screamed for rest.
But she didn't stop.
Each time she faltered, Kael was there, his cold, mocking voice spurring her on. "Is that all you've got?" he sneered. "I thought you wanted to prove yourself."
Lysara gritted her teeth, her hands trembling as she pushed herself back to her feet. "I'll show you," she muttered, her voice filled with defiance.
She hated him. She hated his power, his control, his endless demands. But more than that, she hated the part of herself that craved his approval.
---
Despite her resentment, Lysara began to see the changes in herself. Her body grew stronger, her movements more fluid. She could feel the power Kael had planted within her awakening, sharpening with each day of training.
But the cigarettes never left her side.
Even during her training, she would pause to light one, the smoke filling her lungs as she leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Kael watched her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, but he never stopped her.
"Still clinging to that crutch, I see," he remarked one day, his voice dripping with mockery.
Lysara smirked, exhaling a cloud of smoke in his direction. "It's not a crutch," she said. "It's a reminder."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "A reminder of what?"
"That I don't belong to you completely," she said, her voice steady. "Not yet."
---
The cycle of their encounters continued, more intense than ever. Kael pushed Lysara to her breaking point over and over again, savoring the raw, primal connection they shared.
But now, something was different.
Lysara no longer collapsed as easily. Her body, honed by training and Kael's magic, endured more than it ever had before. She matched his intensity, meeting him with a defiance that both infuriated and thrilled him.
"You're changing," Kael said one night, his voice low and thoughtful.
Lysara smirked, her silver eyes gleaming as she lit another cigarette. "Guess you're finally getting what you wanted," she said.
Kael's laughter echoed through the forest, dark and chilling. "Perhaps," he said. "But don't think for a moment that you're free."
Lysara exhaled a plume of smoke, her gaze unyielding. "I never said I was," she replied.
---
As the nights grew longer, Lysara continued to play Kael's game, pushing herself further with each encounter. The coughs wracked her body, sharp and painful, but she ignored them.
She was determined to survive—to endure Kael's demands and prove that she could still hold onto a piece of herself, no matter how small.
And as the smoke curled around her, mingling with the shadows of the forest, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could keep going.
But one thing was certain: She wouldn't stop. Not until Kael broke her completely—or she found a way to break him first.