Destiny?...

The faint smile adorning the dithery exquisite face of the youth withered away. The Oracle's words deeply sank into Moulin's ears. Heart thundering and sensing the dreadful foreboding of the elf's explanation, Moulin blinked.

With brows knitted, his gaze slowly shifted to Lord Hadrian who had eased his stance and met his gaze. With a nod, the golden-eyed man withdrew his fierce aura and eased the expression on his face. Moulin retracted his gaze and turn to the oracle who had slowly steadied his breath.

Lifting an arm, the youth gestured Laphora to the vacant seat where Hadrian had previously occupied. He didn't want the oracle to stand while speaking after his laborious search for Moulin. The elf's loose robes slightly wrinkled as Laphora bowed in respect and brought himself to sit on the seat gestured by the blessed youth. No, he was wrong. The youth wasn't blessed at all. Taking in a deep breath, Laphora lifted his head as he calmed himself. Although he never wanted to involve himself with the young aphrodite's life, he wanted to know more about what the Hercullian lord and Moulin saw before he was unconscious. Yesterday for a brief moment, The elven oracle felt a sinister being taking possession of his body. Shortly he had seen red in his vision and felt the restriction of his soul before he was knocked unconscious by Lord Hercullio.

For an oracle to be possessed by a sinister entity it was akin to impure branding. An Oracle's body is a sacred vessel. They are the eyes and the mouth of the gods. If anyone had witnessed it, Laphora would be named defiled, tainted, and corrupted. Fortunately, only Lord Hercullio and the young vessel were the only ones to witness the soul possession. Although he didn't know if he should be relieved by that.

"Are you well, Great Oracle?" Asked Moulin.

At the glamoured title, the elf flinched. He was uncertain of what was in the youth's mind this time for Laphora to receive such address. Laphora relaxed and replied gratefully, "I am well. I am grateful for his piousness' concern... " With a puckered forehead, he lifted his chin slightly. "... I am here to give you a glimpse of your future. The future I have seen in a vision while interacting with your inner soul. I deeply apologize for the pain I have caused you during the procedure but it was necessary..."

"You have seen my future?..."

Then it came. The ominous sensation creeping inside him whenever the oracle mentioned his future. Moulin didn't know what to expect. He wished it was good but from the oracle's tone of words and dreadful expression, it seems that it wasn't. Laphora appeared more alarmed, what was it that he saw?

"Yes," The elf answered promptly while slightly lowering his head. It was as if he was hesitating. Unsure of how the young man would take it.

"Tell me..." Moulin pressed.

"..." Laphora breaths calmly before he spoke. "There were parts I did not understand, however, I will tell you all that I know..."

Parting his mouth, the elf's words flowed out endlessly like a stretching never-ending river. Every word, Moulin absorbed it in his mind. The elf talked about pitch-black darkness engulfing the vision but beneath his hands and underneath his fingernails were unknown mud. Or was it?

A corrupting plaguing black blood that slaved the world. Millions of lives falling into the clutches of death. The deadly pain of the chest, mourning the loss of a loved one.

The threads of hope mercilessly cut, unable to be mended as the world plunged into darkness and death. Rotting, withering, decaying...

The smell of rotting flesh enveloping one's body. It was inevitable.

"Three deaths..." Laphora spoke.

Moulin silently dug his fingers on the smooth table cloth at the sound of the word. "Is it three deaths of three... people?..."

The oracle shook his head.

"Of one person..."

Moulin flinched. Fearing the next words released from the mouth of the elven oracle. There was a shudder creeping up Moulin's spine and a wrenching feeling in his gut. Moulin forced himself to be calm.

"Who?..."

...

Laphora was silent.

...

The quiet gave no comfort to Moulin. A Dreadful, dreadful feeling. Moulin didn't want to continue but he knew he should. Unknown to him his fingers were trembling as if he already knew the answer to the question. "Whose?..." Moulin hoarsely repeated, unconsciously and slightly leaning closer. He was unaware of the golden eyes secretly observing his reactions.

"I... " Laphora began. "... do not know..."

"What?"

"I'm afraid I don't know..." Laphora lowered his head his eyebrows that peeked from the edges of the bandages shifted and furrowed. Truthfully, he had only seen the scenes from the view of an onlooker. As if his spirit was removed and was forced to watch another's death. The oracle was troubled.

"... Three deaths... The first death was excruciatingly painful as the biting frost crept into flesh and froze the life from the body, the second death, a falling body into the depths of the earth ruthlessly breaking every bone and tearing every muscle... The third death was murder. With the use of a long blade as dark as the night, it pierced the beating heart and seized a life..."

With a sigh, the elf kneaded his head as he fought to recall more. There was another puzzle that he had seen but his mind could not take a hold of it.

Releasing a breath, lifted his head. "I believe that is all... Your piousness. However, I am still struggling to recall some parts of the vision... It will take time but I will try to remember it..."

...

"...?"

There was no response only a stifling silence was returned to the confused elf.

"Your holiness?" He called sensing something wrong.

"Moulin?"

It was the voice of Lord Hadrian that entered Moulin's ears and prodded at his consciousness.

Snap!

Moulin's composure shattered and the once calm and serene face was pale and deathly. Jaw clenched and his body shook. Fingers trembling as they clenched tightly. The blood pounded in his ears as his heart thudded in his chest.

Death...

The first death...

Moulin's breath trembled until he could not breathe.

The freezing of a body... that death was his. The first time he had awoken... Mercilessly frozen to death...

Silver pupils shook. Shoulders trembled.

That death wasn't... his last?

Overwhelmed by dread, the youth felt like he was choked. He felt like air escaped his lungs and even though he thought he should breathe, he refused. Like choking himself to death with a trembling body.

Snow was whimpering as he lifted his paws to his master's chest worriedly. What was happening to his master?

"Moulin?..." Heavy footsteps hurried strode towards the trembling youth. He then kneeled on one knee in front of the youth. Large hands instantly cupped the youth's cheeks and forced Moulin to face Hadrian. Driven mad from worry, the man forced Moulin to look into his eyes. "Look at me..."

...

Silver eyes shook gravely unable to properly look at the man before him. He lets out a choked whimper when he finally breathes heavily but rapidly. Fat tears threatening to fall on Moulin's pale cheek.

"Look at me. Listen to me... Only me..."

When those words echoed inside Moulin's head. The youth finally met Lord Hadrian's eyes. Silver eyes clashed with golden ones, lured to soothe. Even still, Moulin felt like he was being buried alive.

A large hand caught Moulin's trembling wrist. The soft delicate palm was the presses on the chest of the lord. The calm breathing. Slow and steady in a rhythm of comfort and alleviation.

"Breath with me..."

Hadrian's tone was smooth and comforting. Slowly, it plucked away Moulin's dreadful insecurity. And slowly, Moulin's breathing synchronized with Hadrian's. Feeling the steady beating of his lover's heart and the slow rising and falling of the man's chest, Moulin's tears fell.

Slowly, Oh so slowly...

Calm...

"I'm here... I'm here..." Hadrian whispered as he felt Moulin's breathing slowly steadied. His expression was washed with helpless concern and dread. Like a mask was broken and the true face was revealed. One of the first expressions Moulin had ever witness Hadrian wear on his face. Hadrian brushed a thumb on the salty beads dripping from Moulin's eyes. For Hadrian, it was the first time he had saw his beloved cry helplessly. It was painful like a knife stabbing his heart.

The Lord leaned and briefly kissed Moulin's lips. Pressing his forehead on Moulin's, he whispered, "Can you hear me?..."

Finally feeling the heaviness in his chest leave, Moulin pressed his lips together as he nodded, speaking hoarsely, "Yes..."

Hadrian released a sigh. His eyes deeply looking into Moulin's eyes to make sure. His hand around Moulin's wrist tightened.

Snow whimpered loudly, his paws pulling on his master's tunic, trying to catch his attention. "Ao!"

Silver eyes gazed down. Moulin's fingers stroked Snow's furry head as he uttered that he was alright.

"Your Holiness..." Laphora lowered his head and bowed. "... If it was my words, please forgive me..."

...

Moulin silently stared at the elf, thoughts running havoc in his mind. He shakes his head. "No... It is not your fault..."

"Then..."

"I..." Moulin hesitated as he glanced at Hadrian. His face slightly turned sullen. "...I just realized that... those... deaths... Are possibly mine... "

...

"What?..."

Laphora was shocked speechless. After a few seconds, the elf shook his head, "No... How can you be sure?..." But when he observed Moulin's helpless expression, the elf swallowed his objections to himself. No, it can't possibly happen. "Perhaps, there is-"

"Elf."

The loud gripping voice sounded across the room. An oppressive air enveloped the room. It was too much for the currently weak oracle. Laphora's knees felt weak and he felt as if his mind was going to be pierced. The strength and power of the man's aura were frighteningly terrible! The oracle could almost lose himself to submit to the man's orders.

"Leave."

It was but one word but it held a deadly threat as it was spoken. Groaning, the elf trembled as he struggled to stand from his seat. The man did not care whether he was threatening an injured person at all. Truly, merciless.

"A-As you wish..."

Once Hadrian heard it, he withdrew his aura and the elf hastily bolted towards the doors. Hurriedly leaving the lord's quarters with a trembling body.

...

Once again, the pair of lovers were alone. However, there was not a hint of warmth in the air. It was silent and the air was still. Although the day was bright, the room felt cold and grim.

The silence lasted for seconds before Moulin spoke, "I know it is true..."

"What is?" Hadrian narrowed his eyes as he stood. His golden eyes silently watched Moulin. "Are you truly trying to take ownership of those deaths?"

"I know it is mine, Hadrian..." Moulin looked up and sullenly met those piercing golden pupils.

"Just what the elf had said, How can you be sure?..."

"Do you not believe me?..."

...

"It is not that I don't. I just do not want to accept it." The lord replied. His tone turned helpless and grim. "Do you wish to embrace those deaths so easily? Tell me... how can one die thrice?"

Moulin lowered his head and stroked Snow's head. After a while, he shakes his head while he hunched his shoulders. "I died before I was revived into this world. If someone like me can live twice, won't I also die again?... "

"..."

Hadrian clenched his jaw. Cords on his neck turned visible. "I will not let you die... You will never die. As long as I still have my breaths, you cannot die..."

"Then listen to me..." Moulin softened his voice. His eyes, almost pleading. "Please?..."

...

Slightly lowering his brows, Hadrian looked into Moulin's gaze.

"Alright..."