Azphira Tales

The week leading to the Covenant Ceremony drifted by like water. Vanessa could not shake the growing conviction that she was wasting her time, letting it slip through her fingers like dry sand. The moment she acknowledged her lack of anticipation—or even greed—regarding her marriage to Hayden, her heart grew hollow. What would become of her once she became his wife? The future remained a hazy, distant blur. No matter how hard she tried, she could not conjure a vision of herse

Dina must have spent the entire confrontation pacing and fretting, for she bolted toward the foyer the moment Vanessa stepped inside. Vanessa offered a quiet reassurance to her pale-faced maid before heading straight for the bedroom. Mud stained the hem of her skirt. After changing her clothes, she lay on the bed and asked Dina to draw the curtains. She had granted him the meeting he desired and delivered her words; she had no intention of wasting further energy on him. She d

Her lips curled into a slow, elegant arc. His eyes flickered with intense emotion, as if he had just witnessed a scene of overwhelming beauty. [Vanessa] "I told you before." Despite her lovely smile, her voice dropped like a cold stone. [Vanessa] "This isn't love. It is merely the desperate anxiety of a man afraid Hayden will snatch something away from him again." His persistence in stopping the national wedding—even after orchestrating a kidnapping only to release her—had a

Her heart froze, as if submerged in glacial water. [Vanessa] "Is it because of that?" Her voice, devoid of any significant rise or fall, sounded remarkably cold. Dina, her eyes wide like a startled rabbit, turned her head toward the window and gasped, sucking in a sharp breath. Vanessa glanced at the maid, who couldn't hide her shock, before casually walking back toward her bed. Dina swept a hand over her chest, exhaling in relief that her lady’s destination was not the front

Declan had lost track of when consciousness finally slipped away. When he forced his leaden eyelids open, the bedroom ceiling greeted him. He pushed himself up slowly, surveying the room. The chaotic mess that had once defined the space was gone, replaced by an eerie, sterile order. He shielded his eyes with one hand. A sharp, rhythmic throb pierced his temples like needles—a headache that refused to subside. Then came the voice—Vanessa’s voice, cold and accusatory, echoing i

It felt as if mold were growing inside him. First came the nausea, then the stinging bitterness, then a twisting sensation... these unpleasant symptoms seemed to spread endlessly like a fungal bloom. Declan did not find it hard to guess the cause. He rose from the sofa with half-lidded, unfocused eyes. Bright sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains; morning had returned once again. Something caught at his feet and spun away with a clatter. He lowered a lifeless gaz

Steps moved here and there, unable to remain in one spot. It was a restless movement, an agitation that could be felt from a great distance. Behind him, a knight asked, [Elliot] "It would be best to wait inside, as we will inform you the moment they arrive. How about waiting there?" The master of this anxiety, however, firmly shook his head. Furthermore, the complexions of the knights who made the suggestion were equally poor; anyone watching would have thought they were all

[Helia] "Grand Duke! Wait...... ah!" He pulled Helia out of the carriage without hesitation. His touch, usually somewhat kind considering she was his friend’s sister, was now ruthless and devoid of compassion. She tried to stop him, but his knights grabbed her and pulled her aside. Without sparing her a glance, Declan turned his cold gaze toward Vanessa, who was huddled in the corner of the carriage. Seeing her expression shift from relief to utter loathing the moment she saw

As if the destination had been decided from the very beginning, the carriage departed as soon as they boarded. [Vanessa] "Where are we going?" [Helia] "To the border. His Highness the Crown Prince is waiting for you there." Hayden... Her throat tightened as she imagined with what heart he must be waiting for her. Even without love, he was someone she always felt grateful toward, so she felt an unwarranted sense of guilt. [Vanessa] "I see." After the short exchange of question

Hugging her knees, Vanessa glared at the corner of the bedroom. Hanging where her gaze landed was the wedding dress Alvita had personally crafted. From the soft fabric to the classically ornate jewels, the dress was flawless and beautiful, signifying a wedding of high and noble standing. However, the happiness and joy befitting a new bride had long vanished from her face as she looked at it. She lowered her gaze to her wrist. The red marks and scratches from the tape measure

[Sophie] "My Lady! Are you alright?" She was submerged so deeply in gloom that she could barely hear Sophie's question properly. [Sophie] "Uhm... perhaps if there is anything I can do to help." It was only after hearing those words that she reacted. She lifted her face from her hands and turned to look at Sophie, her gaze faltering. Kneeling beside the bed, Sophie wore a face full of concern. It was an expression that hadn't changed a bit from when she had helped her before.

The dark, heavy chain, which mirrored the despair hanging over her, was connected to a massive bedpost—one that wouldn't budge even if she threw her entire body weight against it. Her eyes darted frantically as she stared at her ankle, then the bedpost, and finally at him, her gaze filled with disbelief. She knew she had to say something, but her tongue felt frozen, refusing to obey her will. [Declan] "I don't intend to keep you chained forever." He reached out and stroked he

[Vanessa] “What... what is the meaning of this?” She stared at him, her face pale with shock. Only then did she remember the sensation of a hand gently stroking her hair while she slept. Unlike her, who was frozen in terror, the man before her remained perfectly composed. Looking at him, she began to piece together what had happened. Memories from just before she fell asleep surfaced one by one. The tea the maid had brought in the Crown Prince’s name, and the heavy drowsiness

His hand moved next toward her wrist. The clasp of the bracelet Hayden had given her as a substitute for the roses loosened, and the jewelry slid down her skin. Before she could catch it, the bracelet tumbled to the floor and was immediately hidden beneath his boot, crushed into the ground. It was an act saturated with obsession and a desire for restraint, a clear statement that no trace of the Crown Prince should ever touch her. She stared down at his boot with a hollow gaze

Declan wore a mask of charcoal gray, a shade far deeper than her own. Yet, the color was the only thing she could perceive. She was too occupied meeting the gaze of the sapphire eyes peering through the slits of the mask to notice anything else. Every time those blue eyes—resembling the depths of the ocean—brushed against her face, she felt a stinging heat, followed by a faint itch. Her fingers and toes curled with tension, and a cold sweat dampened her back. It was a suffoca

He often had the word "sorry" on his lips, but this time, it felt different. Previously, he had apologized out of a constant, anxious fear of upsetting her; now, it felt as though he were asking for her understanding for the uncontrollable affection he was beginning to display. Hayden was changing, bit by bit. Even without searching deeply for the reason, she could see it. He was now filled with a fierce determination to sway her heart toward him, leading him to act with newf