Auren opened his eyes, the sky beyond his chamber windows was still dark, heavy with night.
For a brief moment, before full awareness settled, he almost believed nothing had changed.
Then the pressure returned.
It rested beneath his ribs like a coiled hand tightening slowly.
Not sharp yet but present.
He rose from his bed without hesitation.
Pride alone would not allow him to show weakness, even to empty walls.
The first day passed under control.
He attended council as usual.
Reports were delivered.
Disputes were discussed.
Trade routes and patrol shifts were debated.
He listened to every word, offered precise decisions, and gave orders without delay.
No one in the room could see what he felt.
But inside, the pressure grew.
It was not pain in the ordinary sense.
It did not stab or burn.
It pressed inward, constant and deliberate, as if something unseen was reminding him that he stood in the wrong place.
When he shifted slightly in his chair, the sensation eased.
When he leaned back, farther from the direction of human lands, it sharpened again.
He noticed the pattern.
He hated it.
By midday, the pressure had spread beyond his chest.
It moved through his veins in slow waves, disturbing the natural flow of his power.
Asric’s gaze lingered on him longer than usual.
“You look distracted,” his cousin said lightly, though his tone carried quiet observation.
“I am not,” Auren answered.
The response was calm.
The lie was not.
When the council ended, he dismissed them with a steady voice.
Only after the chambre emptied did he allow his fingers to press against the edge of the table harder than necessary.
The wood cracked faintly beneath his grip.
The first night was worse.
Distance had weight.
He felt it clearly once the palace quieted.
Alone in his private chamber, he attempted meditation, focusing his mind the way he had done for decades to maintain perfect control over his power.
The pressure responded.
It tightened instead of easing, as if resisting his discipline.
His power stirred restlessly beneath his skin, no longer fully obedient.
A faint pulse traveled behind his eyes, growing heavier with each passing hour.
He did not call Abby.
He did not speak her name.
He would not surrender to magic born from a Maid.
The second morning began with pain.
It did not build gradually.
He realized he had stayed awake all night, unable to sleep.
His chest felt tight and bound, and when he stood, the sensation followed him.
He walked the halls as ruler.
Guards bowed.
Servants lowered their gaze.
Everything appeared unchanged.
Inside him, nothing was stable.
The farther the sun rose in the sky, the sharper the pain became.
It no longer pressed quietly.
It burned.
It coiled around his power and squeezed.
By afternoon, his control slipped for the first time.
A servant happened to be walking nearby when it happened.
The pressure of his power lashed outward without warning, striking the servant’s mind like a sudden blow.
The man froze mid-step, his tray clattering to the floor as his body collapsed, knees hitting the stone before he fell completely.
His power had never acted without command.
Never.
By evening, the pain had reached something dangerous.
It no longer remained confined to his chest.
It struck his mind, sudden flashes of pressure that blurred his vision for a fraction of a second.
His balance remained perfect, but the effort required to maintain it had doubled.
Abby found him standing alone on the high balcony overlooking his lands.
The wind moved through his dark hair.
His hands gripped the stone railing so tightly that faint cracks had formed beneath his fingers.
“You are weakening,” she said quietly.
He didn’t answer and didn’t deny it too, but the stone beneath his hands fractured again.
“The spell is punishing distance,” Abby continued gently.
“It was not designed to be ignored.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
He could feel her.
Not as a presence, But as absence.
The farther he stood from her, the more violently the spell reacted.
someone had loved that human deeply enough to bind the strongest protector available and fate had chosen him.
Humiliation burned hotter than pain.
“I will not stand as a private guard to a servant,” he said softly, anger threading through the calm.
“I am a king, the lord of shadows.
My land answers to me.
I do not answer to magic.”
The pain sharpened instantly, as if mocking his pride.
Abby stepped closer but did not touch him.
“The longer you refuse your role,” she said, “the more unstable your power becomes.
It will not stop at discomfort.
It will consume your strength.”
She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully before she offered a solution.
“Bring her here, Auren.
Let her work right under your eyes where you can keep her close.”
“What?!” Auren snapped, his voice echoing sharply off the stone walls.
His jaw clenched in immediate refusal.
“And if something happens to her?
My body would move toward her from my throne before I could even think.
A king saving a human maid in front of the entire court?
No way.”
He leaned forward, his silver eyes flashing with a dangerous, protective warning.
“No one needs to know about this bond.
Especially her.”
But he understood what that meant.
If his power destabilized fully, it would not only harm him.
It could tear through the palace.
It could weaken his rule.
It could expose vulnerability to enemies watching carefully.
Two days.
He had resisted for two days, his pride had held and his power was beginning to fracture.
Silence stretched between them as the wind moved across the balcony.
Finally, he straightened.
The decision did not bring relief…It brought inevitability.
“Call Asric” he said.
Abby did not smile.
She only nodded once.
He looked out over his lands, expression returning to controlled calm.
“I will return where she cannot see what I am.”
Abby did not open the gate immediately.
She waited until Auren’s breathing steadied, and his power stopped flickering against the walls.
Only then did the golden form in the air once more.
Asric stepped through with his usual relaxed posture, as if he had been summoned for something trivial.
His eyes moved quickly across the chamber, taking in the tension, the faint cracks in the stone, the tightness in Auren’s stance.
“You called,” Asric said lightly.
Auren did not waste time.
“A human maid will be transferred,” he said.
“She will leave the king’s palace within one day no more”
Asric’s expression shifted only slightly.
“She will be moved to a smaller estate in human lands,” Auren continued.
“Not near the capital.
Somewhere quiet.
Choose the location carefully.”
He walked toward the table where the map lay open and pressed his hand flat against it.
“She will not go alone.
Several servants will be transferred with her.
Make it appear routine.
No one must question the movement.”
Asric remained silent, listening.
“And I will be placed there,” Auren added.
“Beside her.”
That earned the smallest pause.
“You will arrange it,” Auren continued before Asric could speak.
“A vampire assigned directly beside her.
I am not to be stationed elsewhere.
I am to remain near her at all times.”
The words were firm.
“Use whatever means are necessary.
Gold.
Influence.
your power” His eyes lifted to meet Asric’s directly.
“You can read hesitation before it forms.
Remove it.”
Asric folded his hands behind his back, watching him carefully.
“For what reason?” he asked quietly.
“Abby will explain,” Auren replied, his voice had cooled further now.
He was not in the mood for his cousin curiosity, not in the mood for his jokes.
Asric studied him a moment longer.
“And your throne?”
“You will rule until I return.”
“For how long?”
“That depends on Abby’s search,” Auren said.
“The faster she finds what I need, the sooner I resume my seat.”
Asric’s gaze lingered just slightly too long on his cousin, his eyes searching for even a flicker of doubt or a hidden truth behind Auren’s calm, stone-like expression.
He wanted to understand why the King was making such a choice, but Auren did not give him anything.
His face remained a mask of cold resolve, offering no room for argument or pity.
“If you have questions,” Auren said, his voice level and steady, “direct them to Abby.”
Asric inclined his head slowly, acknowledging the command.
“It will be arranged,” he replied quietly.
He did not press for more information, nor did he offer a smile.
Without another word, he stepped back toward the shimmering golden gate that had formed in the center of the room.
The circle of light hissed as it closed behind him, leaving the chamber in total stillness once again.
Auren remained standing near the large table, his hand still resting firmly against the section of the map that marked human territory.
He did not move for several seconds, staring at the paper as if he were already looking at his future.
Suddenly, the pain inside his chest pulsed once more.
It was not as violent as it had been at the start, but it was a sharp, biting reminder of the change happening deep within his soul.
It was a warning of the difficult path he had chosen to walk.
He would leave his throne.
He would lower himself.
He would stand beside a human maid who did not know him.
His jaw tightened slightly.
The humiliation would be complete, But the pain would end, and until the spell was broken…He would stand beside her.
Not as King, but as something far more difficult to endure.