obsession chapter 12

Noxian slowly closed and opened his eyes. Complete loss of consciousness. A deep, miraculous darkness. He regained awareness without the headache, dizziness, or nausea. How long had it been? The daily, agonizing pain that felt like his brain was being carved out had subsided. The sensation of floating, of being adrift, was gone, replaced by a feeling of being grounded. For the first time since that day. The world seemed incredibly sharp, vibrant. Two years he’d spent seeking out every competent physician, apothecary, even shamans. This was his first real breakthrough. I’m glad I came prepared. He had no intention of letting her go.

“Shariette Verdett.” He savored the way her name felt on his tongue. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said it was a good name. Sasha. He murmured the name that had been haunting him, the name he’d been suppressing since he arrived. Sasha. Shariette. 

Sasha had disappeared from the Argen estate two years ago. The White Raven had appeared in Willow Hill two years ago. Their age and build were similar. But everything else was different. One had choppy, light blonde hair and ash-grey eyes. The other had wavy white hair and vivid teal eyes. Aside from their shared, inexplicable meddlesomeness, their personalities were different, too. Sasha had been impassive and calm, like a quietly burning candle. 

Shariette, on the other hand, was like a flickering flame, constantly shifting and elusive. Yet they kept overlapping in his mind. Their gestures, their movements, even their gazes. He’d almost imagined hearing Shariette’s voice in a way he’d never heard before. 

[I will save you.] 

If Sasha had a voice, wouldn’t it have been clear, like the chime of a silver bell…? He pictured Shariette, grumbling, her guard firmly up. The way she’d chewed on her lip, her expression a mask of frustration, before tugging at her hair in exasperation. Her inquisitive gaze as she’d studied him, her quick, light steps. A smile tugged at his lips. White Raven. The nickname was certainly apt.

“What are you smiling about?” Joseph asked, sweating. Noxian’s smile sent a chill down his spine. He recalled the unspoken rules the Pendragon Knights shared about their lord:

1. Making him repeat himself was a bad idea.
2. Pleasant words didn’t mean you were safe.
3. A smile? You were doomed.

Noxian’s voice was cheerful. “I need to keep her close. She seems clever. It would be a problem if she were to run away.” 

… Doomed, indeed. Joseph knew that the word “run away” coming from Noxian’s mouth was never a good sign. He himself had been chasing a runaway woman for two years. If she isn’t here, then where is she? Is she even alive? He swallowed the words, his desire to live overriding his curiosity. 

Noxian Rubelot hadn’t been known for his gentle nature, but after the ordeal he’d suffered in Argen’s trap three years ago, he’d become utterly ruthless. His obsession with “Sasha” was part of that. “My lord, we’ve searched everywhere. It’s been over a year, and no one has seen even a hair of her. It’s time to—” “Time to what?” “…You saw it yourself. Everyone in the basement was dead—” Joseph never heard the rest. He would never hear it. After that day, another unspoken rule had been added to the list:

4. Sasha is alive. Do not doubt it.