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Chapter 68 - Chapter 68: A Garden of Secrets

Chapter 68: A Garden of Secrets

The hearth crackled softly, casting long shadows across the cozy living room. Lucian sat slouched on the couch, his head resting against the back, staring blankly at the ceiling. The ache in his body was a constant reminder of the battles he had faced, yet it was the peculiar changes within him that lingered in his mind. His body felt… different, as if something ancient and unfamiliar stirred beneath his skin.

He exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. "The trials reshape everyone," his mentor's voice echoed faintly in his thoughts. He scoffed at the memory, shifting uncomfortably.

The quiet was suddenly broken by a voice—soft, melodic, and unfamiliar.

"Greetings, Mister Lucian," it said, the words rolling off the tongue like a lullaby.

Lucian stiffened, his instincts kicking in as his hand darted toward the dagger strapped to his side. Before he could draw it, the air around him thickened, his limbs turning sluggish as if bound by invisible chains.

A face appeared over his shoulder, close enough for him to feel her breath. Red eyes glowed faintly, framed by midnight-black hair that cascaded like silk. A playful smile danced on her lips, but her presence was anything but playful.

Lucian's breath hitched as the world around him twisted. His living room dissolved, and he blinked to find himself seated in the middle of an ethereal garden.

The garden was otherworldly, a perfect blend of beauty and eeriness. Roses in impossible hues stretched across endless rows, their petals shimmering with faint, otherworldly light. White doves fluttered gracefully overhead, their movements synchronized, like dancers in the sky.

In front of him stood a small, pristine tea table adorned with a porcelain teapot and intricately designed cups. Across the table, the woman sat, her red eyes sparkling with amusement. She was dressed in flowing garments that seemed to shift between shades of black and crimson, her presence as enigmatic as the garden itself.

"Tea?" she offered, lifting the delicate teapot and tilting her head in mock politeness.

Lucian's jaw tightened as he leaned back slightly. "No," he said curtly, his tone cold. "I'm not here to play tea party."

She chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate with the garden around them. "Ah, the ever-serious Mister Lucian. So predictable." She poured herself a cup of tea, the liquid a strange, iridescent gold.

"Where am I?" Lucian demanded, his eyes narrowing.

The woman set her cup down, her fingers brushing the rim as her gaze locked onto his. "A garden of secrets," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "A sanctuary, a prison, a mirror… it's whatever you need it to be."

"I need to be home," Lucian shot back.

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Men and their single-mindedness. Always wanting to leave before they've even begun to understand. Don't you wish to know why you're here? Or what you are becoming?"

Lucian's eyes flickered with irritation. "I don't have time for riddles. Just get to the point."

The woman's smile widened, and in the blink of an eye, she disappeared. Lucian tensed, his hand inching toward his dagger once more, but before he could draw it, a sharp smack landed on the back of his head.

He spun around, but there was no one there.

"You're a terrible conversationalist," her voice chided from behind him. He turned again to find her standing a few feet away, holding a small, delicate stick. "And it's rude to stare."

Lucian's patience wore thin. "Stop playing games and tell me what you want."

The stick vanished from her hand as she returned to her chair, her movements fluid and unnervingly graceful. She sipped her tea, ignoring his demand.

"You've felt it, haven't you?" she said after a moment, her tone soft but serious. "The changes within you. The power stirring beneath the surface. It's not ordinary magic, Mister Lucian. It's the Monarch Core."

Lucian's brow furrowed. "The what?"

She leaned forward, her crimson eyes burning with intensity. "A fragment of kings. Of rulers who once commanded realms. It's rare, ancient, and dangerous in the hands of the unprepared. And you, my dear Lucian, are woefully unprepared."

Lucian stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You're wasting your breath," he said flatly. "I didn't ask for this, and I don't care for your cryptic lectures. If it's dangerous, then so be it. I'll handle it."

Her laughter echoed through the garden, light and mocking. "Such arrogance," she said, standing. She walked toward him, her presence overwhelming despite her calm demeanor. "But ignorance won't protect you, Mister Lucian. The Monarch Core is not something you 'handle.' It will devour you if you are not careful."

Her words hung heavily in the air, but Lucian refused to let them shake him. "Is this all you brought me here for? A warning?"

She smiled faintly, her expression softening. "A warning, yes. But also a gift."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, Lucian felt a surge of warmth, a flicker of understanding.

"Remember this," she said, her voice softer now. "The garden of secrets holds more answers than you think. But some answers are best left undiscovered."

The world dissolved once more, and Lucian found himself back on the couch, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. He sat up, his heart pounding, the woman's words echoing in his mind.

"Monarch Core…" he muttered, the name unfamiliar but heavy with meaning.

Whatever it was, it wasn't going to leave him alone. And neither, it seemed, would she.