"When I first told you it was in the desolate lands I regained consciousness…I omitted the part about having a blank mory. I was the sa way I am now, no sense of who I am, just a black void which my first master exploited." He paused at this point, his eyes were staring far away like he could relive those monts.
Cyra's hands wrapped around him tightly, giving him the security he subconsciously needed.
Zane's voice faltered. "What do you think a power-hungry woman does with an undead weapon at her disposal?"
His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice shaking. "I was…a blank canvas, waiting for anyone to paint their colours over – good or bad." A tear slid down his cheek.
Cyra felt a tearing pain in her heart, seeing Zane's anguish; if that woman was in front of her, she would unleash unending excruciating pain to her very soul.
"She made kill so many people in her stead, anybody, whether good or bad, that stands in her way of becoming a ruler of the Desert City(desolate lands)." Zane continued in a monotone voice, lacking any emotions.
"She wasn't satisfied with getting what she wanted and wanted more; her appetite grew bigger, even setting her sights on claiming my body as well."
Cyra's hands tightened on his body, her eyes were a mix of gold and grey.
Zane continued emotionlessly, "But for so reason, I was repulsed by people's touch to nearly attacking when touched. I thought she would lose interest; instead, she beca obsessed…she made watch while one of her n gave her pleasure, teaching in the hopes of curing my sickness—she called it. It was so revolting." Zane's voice cracked.
"Love, it's okay no need to speak anymore." Cyra's heart squeezed painfully, her voice trembled as she breathed in his scent to calm her erupting emotions.
"She was so obsessed with claiming , seeing it as a new challenge, that she enacted a plan to put into deep sleep. Try as she might, no drugs seem to work. Instead, years went by, she was growing old, and I remained the sa—driving her to the brink of madness that I had to kill her with my very hands." Zane's mind flashed to that day, his body trembled
"At so point, I was numb," Zane said, his voice flat. "I prayed—hoped—that one of those drugs would finally end . But nothing ever happened."
He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze distant. "Then one day, she called to her bedroom.'' Queen Ariana—once beautiful, now worn with deep wrinkles and streaks of grey in her hair."
He paused, his jaw tightening as the mory surfaced. "She placed a cup of tree sap in front of , her face soft, almost amicable. She told her ti was nearing its end, that she wanted to make peace."
Zane's voice dropped to a whisper. "And I believed her. I drank the tree sap without hesitation."
Cyra dreaded what he was going to say next; the ends of her hair were turning gold.
"This ti the drug worked," Zane murmured, his voice hollow. "It ca from a flower…the sa cursed flower that grew where she dug out." He paused, his fist tightening as if trying to suppress the mory. "They didn't know the proper dosage. I woke up too early."
His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, the horror flashing through his mind. "When I woke up, I was…on a crude table. My stomach—" His voice broke. "It was open, gaping. Alchemists were cutting apart, piece by piece, trying to uncover the secret of my unaging body."
Cyra's breath caught, her grip on him tightening.
"Their knives tore into ," Zane continued, his tone distant, detached. "They didn't even care—they destroyed my womb. I…I felt my heart chill at that mont." His jaws clenched, and he looked away. "I killed them all. The rest…" He exhaled shakily. "The rest, you can figure out."
Zane fell weakly on Cyra's body; Cyra held him gently, comforting him with trembling hands; a bloody tear slid down her cheek; she couldn't envision his anguish and helplessness.
Cyra laid him down on the bed with her hands wrapped around him; they stayed like that for hours in each other's warmth and sounds of beating heart.
"If I didn't get to know there was sothing like embryo fudge, I would have not married you…since I can't give you a…" Zane's words were stopped by Cyra's lips; she kissed him deeply but softly.
"I don't care, who wants a child to co between us. You are mine alone and no one else including my offspring." Her possessive words left Zane montarily stunned.
"Hahaha…"
He laughed loudly, feeling refreshed and healed at her words.
"Did you ever rember anything of your past?" Cyra asked, her head lying on his chest, listening to the sounds of his heartbeat.
"Nothing… except when I am in a tight place, I get flashes of being buried alive by laughing shadows." Zane's words ca out in a whisper. For so reason, he never sees their faces.
Cyra rembered that sand storm day when he was restless and had a nightmare; her hands held him closer.
"Don't think too much about your past; your mind has forgotten it for a reason." Her eyes flashed with strange light as she said that.
In her heart she hoped that he never rembered; she had this feeling that his blank mories might be worse compared to his desolate land experience.
Zane humd and drifted into sleep, leaving Cyra with troubled thoughts.
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