Stentorian Dame

Velvet leaned lazily against the altar, her arms folded beneath her chest, crimson nails drumming idly. The sealed cave glowed faintly with the alchemical luminescence of her potions, casting twisted shadows along the stone walls. Mira lay unconscious between them, blissfully unaware of the absolute nonsense about to unfold.

“So,” she purred, “you’re not going to fight me physically. That’s cute.”

“I’m a pacifist,” Hafiz replied dryly, wiping rain off his brow. “Unless provoked. Or if someone cuts in line at the bakery.”

Velvet tilted her head, one violet eye squinting. “You're stalling.”

“Actually, I’m flirting.”

Her eyes lit up—entertained.

“Ah. So you think you can charm your way through this?” she chuckled, stepping closer. “You think I’m the kind of woman who falls for a silver-tongued stray soaked in stormwater?”

“Statistically speaking?” Hafiz said. “Yes.”

Velvet narrowed her eyes… but she was grinning. “Alright then, shiny boy. Let’s make it a game. I’ll ask you a question. A riddle. A paradox. You solve it, I might… reward you.”

She twirled a glowing vial like a coin.

Hafiz sighed. “And if I don’t?”

“I inject her,” Velvet said sweetly, nodding at Mira.

“…I accept the terms.”

“Wonderful.” She clapped once. “First question. Something simple.”

She stepped in close. Close enough that Hafiz could smell the alchemical herbs clinging to her skin.

“I speak without a mouth. I hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

Hafiz blinked.

Then smirked.

“An echo.”

Velvet’s grin twitched. “Lucky guess.”

“Or raw genius,” he replied with a wink.

“Second question,” she said, eyes gleaming. “You must choose: A man tells you, ‘If I am lying, then I am telling the truth.’ Is he lying or telling the truth?”

Hafiz frowned.

He crossed his arms, thinking.

“…If he’s lying, he’s telling the truth. But if he’s telling the truth, then he must be lying.”

He looked up, slowly.

“It’s a paradox. He’s neither. It’s self-defeating. The statement doesn’t resolve.”

Velvet smirked. “Mmm. You’re… fun.”

She stepped back, swirling another vial of shimmering green liquid.

Hafiz took the moment to breathe—internally screaming.

(Alright, okay, she’s smart. Too smart. I gotta act dumber. No—cooler. No, wait, charming! Damn it, brain, pick a lane!)

Velvet circled Mira again like a vulture with a PhD in teasing. Then stopped.

“Final question,” she said. “Let’s test how far you’re willing to go.”

Hafiz tensed.

“I give you a button. If you press it, Mira wakes up. Safe, healthy, and free to go. But somewhere in the world, someone you’ve never met dies. You’ll never know who. No one will know you did it. What do you do?”

Hafiz paused.

The cave was dead silent.

Then he slowly walked toward her—casually, like a predator feigning peace.

He stopped inches from her, leaned in just enough to whisper:

“…I wouldn’t press it.”

Velvet’s eyes widened just slightly. “Oh?”

“I’d find a way to break the system. Redesign the game. Rewrite the rules.”

He tilted his head with that same infuriating, calm grin.

“You think I’m here to play by your logic? I’m here to break it.”

Velvet bit her lip, visibly intrigued.

“…Who are you?”

Hafiz smirked.

“Just a friend.”

“Adam’s?”

Hafiz stared.

“No. Definitely not.”

The two locked eyes for a long moment, the tension between them humming like magic.

Then—

Velvet laughed. Not her usual eerie giggle, but a genuine, exasperated burst.

“You are insufferable. And I like you.”

She walked away from Mira’s body.

“You get one chance. Wake her up. Take her. But next time… I won’t be in such a good mood.”

She snapped her fingers.

Mira stirred.

Velvet winked at Hafiz. “We’ll play again.”

And with a shimmer of smoke and scale, she vanished into the darkness, leaving behind the sweet scent of lavender, venom, and trouble.

Hafiz cradled Mira in his arms with unexpected tenderness. Her breathing was shallow, lips slightly parted, sweat clinging to her brow. Her long crimson braid clung to her damp skin, tangled from the struggle. Hafiz’s iron-clad fingers tightened slightly around her—he could feel her heartbeat returning to rhythm.

Velvet stood at the mouth of the glowing alchemical circle, arms crossed, her serpentine lower half coiled elegantly beneath her like a throne of scale and silk. Her velvet-red eyes tracked every movement like a panther’s—calculating, coiled.

Hafiz turned his back to her.

“I hope I never see you again.”

His voice cut through the cave, calm but final.

“You’re brilliant, Velvet. But if you keep choosing the twisted path just because it’s easier, then your genius is wasted. And I don’t pity you. I just won’t respect you.”

He didn’t say it with anger. Just cold, bitter truth.

Velvet didn’t answer. For a long moment, all Hafiz heard was the drip of cave water echoing around them, like a slow clock.

He stepped forward toward the exit.

One step.

Two.

Then—

“Stop.”

Her voice was quiet. Not commanding, not seductive. Just… human.

He paused, but didn’t look back.

Velvet took a breath, steadying something inside her that she didn't want to name.

“…You're the first one who wasn’t scared of me,” she said. “Not because you’re strong. But because you looked at me and didn’t flinch.”

Hafiz said nothing.

“I’ve been feared, admired, even obsessed over… but never…” She scoffed. “Never dismissed.”

Hafiz shifted slightly. Mira murmured in his arms, still half-conscious.

Velvet continued.

“You think you’re better than me. Maybe you are. But if I ever do change… it won’t be because you gave me some holier-than-thou speech.”

She stepped closer now, enough that her breath reached his shoulder.

“…It’ll be because for the first time in forever, someone said ‘I don’t want you.’”
A beat.
“…And it actually hurt.”

Silence.

Hafiz didn’t turn around.

“…I never asked to be wanted.”

Velvet smirked behind him, though her eyes shimmered with something dangerously close to grief.

“No. But part of you wished I did.”

Hafiz didn’t reply.

He walked.

Velvet didn’t stop him.

But as he reached the edge of the cave, the shadows behind him sighed her last words into the damp air:

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me, Hafiz.
And I don’t know what I’ll become because of it.”

The morning mist painted the forest silver. Dew clung to the leaves like fragile crystals, shimmering softly in the faint light of dawn. A lone figure emerged through the trees—his cloak torn, boots drenched, armor scratched with the stories of the night’s storm.

Hafiz.

In his arms, Mira stirred—her crimson braid dragging behind like a comet’s tail, her lavender eyes fluttering half-open as he marched forward like a man with no time left to waste.

The village sat atop the cliff, quiet, unaware.

At its gate, Adam sat cross-legged in front of Ka’Lerah, looking more like a rejected shrine maiden than a proud swordsman. She was mid-monologue about spear techniques and entirely ignoring his attempts to impress her.

Then—

“ADAM!!”

The booming voice echoed from the cliff’s edge.

Adam turned just in time to see Hafiz leap from the slope, cloak flaring like black wings, and land in a low crouch, mud flying, water dripping from every edge of his body.

In his arms: Mira, unconscious.

Ka’Lerah’s eyes widened. Hafiz—dripping with rain and resolve—stood up slowly.

“You dropped this.”

He handed Mira to Adam like she was a very expensive, slightly damaged parcel.

Adam stuttered, “Wha—Hafiz?! What happened—where did you—how did you—”

“Save your breath, red robe,” Hafiz interrupted, straightening his iron gauntlet with a faint clink. “You weren’t the one running barefoot through snake-infested rain hell while she was being abducted by a half-snake madwoman who thinks serums are romantic gifts.”

Ka’Lerah blinked. “He faced Velvet… and returned?”

And just like that—admiration replaced suspicion. The way she looked at Hafiz now wasn’t warlike. It was… fascinated.

In the distance, behind a mossy ridge, unseen by all—Velvet stood in the shadows. Watching. Smiling. Her velvet eyes shimmered with interest.

“I underestimated you, Hafiz… That won’t happen again.”
She licked her fangs.
“You’re far more fun than your dumb friend.”

Mira stirred.

Still in Adam’s arms, she opened her eyes groggily. Her voice was hoarse.

“Where… am I?”

Adam was about to answer—poor guy looked like a puppy that dropped its bone—but Hafiz cut in first, tone cool and composed:

“Don’t get the wrong idea. You fainted. I just brought you back. You weigh like, two bags of potatoes and half a dramatic novel.”

Mira blinked at him, stunned.

Then her lips quivered.

“I… was jealous.”

Everyone froze.

She looked down.

“I saw you with Ka’Lerah and… I hated it. I wanted you to look at me like that. I didn’t understand it then. I just… I wanted more time. Just us.”

Adam's mouth opened. No words came out.

Ka’Lerah narrowed her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the tension.

Hafiz?

He exhaled softly. His voice dropped into that signature commanding tone, the kind that made you think the air around him bent just to listen.

“Love is a battlefield. Not because it’s hard. But because we make it harder.”

Everyone turned.

“You want to be understood, but never explain.
You want to be loved, but never admit you’re scared.
You wait for the right moment—yet let it pass again and again.
And when it’s too late… you call it fate.”

He glanced at Adam.

“You like her, but you play hero instead of being honest.”

Then Mira.

“You care for him, but punish him for not reading your heart like a book with missing pages.”

Silence.

Only the wind answered.

Hafiz stepped back, facing the rising sun. Its light bathed his tired silhouette in gold and crimson.

“If you two truly want each other… stop performing. Start listening. Or lose everything.”

He clicked his tongue.

“…And they say I’m the cryptic one.”

Ka’Lerah stared at him like she was seeing a legend walk. Maybe she was.

Mira, now fully aware, turned to Adam, tears pricking the corners of her eyes—but they weren’t sad. Not anymore.

“…I’ll try,” she whispered.

Adam nodded, softer than usual. “Me too.”

Then Hafiz cracked his back, turned toward the sun, and said with a dry smirk:

“Another mission completed.”

He didn’t wait for applause. Just the wind, and the slow rise of a new day.

The sun had climbed high above the cliff village, casting golden light across the gathered crowd. The morning duel grounds now served as a farewell ceremony. Drums thudded low. Tribeswomen stood in lines, some weeping, others raising their fists to the sky in silent pride.

At the center stood Ka’Lerah, the Champion of Jublean no more.

Her twin-bladed spear was planted into the soil—one last time—as a symbol of her departure. In front of her stood Areena, her successor. A towering woman with short dreadlocks, dark obsidian skin, and two curved swords strapped across her back. Her expression was firm, but her eyes betrayed emotion.

“I’ll honor your legacy,” Areena promised, bowing her head.

Ka’Lerah stepped forward, clasped Areena’s shoulders, and whispered something only she could hear.

Then she turned—her cloak of crimson fur billowing—and walked past the crowd, toward the village gate.

Toward Adam, who was standing with Mira.

No one questioned it. They all saw what she didn’t say.
The way her amber eyes lingered on Adam.
The silent curiosity behind her sharp glances.
The restless spirit… chasing something even she didn’t understand.

“Why are you coming with us?” Adam asked honestly, blinking like a lost puppy.

Ka’Lerah smiled faintly, gaze to the horizon.

“To find out if you’re worth the trouble.”

Mira snorted. “He’s not.”

Ka’Lerah smirked, and for the first time—they laughed together. The tension, not gone, but lighter now. Manageable. Real.

Elsewhere…

In the distance, near the shadowy hills, a lone figure stood on a trail soaked with morning dew.

Hafiz.

His iron gauntlet glinted in the light. He adjusted the weight of his cloak, glanced back toward the cliff village.

He didn’t wave. He never did.

Just gave a slow nod—to no one in particular—and muttered:

“…They’re growing. That’s all I can ask.”

Then he turned, stepping deeper into the forest. Heading back to his remote mansion hidden beyond rivers, traps, and endless woods.

Back to silence. Back to solitude.

Back to the place where he belonged—for now.

He didn’t notice it.

But just beyond the northern ravine, camouflaged by the thick mist and perched upon a mountain ridge, was a new tower.

A black gothic silhouette shaped like a twisted rose, humming with arcane energy.

Inside: Velvet.

She was adjusting vials, arranging scrolls, and muttering to herself as her serpentine tail flicked back and forth.

“Hafiz, Hafiz, Hafiz… if you didn’t want me nearby, you shouldn’t have intrigued me.”

She tapped the glass vial with a clawed finger.

“Let’s see how long you can keep avoiding me now.”

Her velvet-red eyes gleamed.