My hands fell away from his face, trembling as if carrying the weight of my shattered trust, and I shoved him away with more force than I thought I possessed. His balance, already unsteady under the spell’s relentless grip, faltered further. He stumbled back, his shoulder slamming against the unforgiving stone wall with a dull, jarring thud. A grunt escaped his lips, low and pained, but he didn’t make a move to steady himself. He didn’t try to retaliate, didn’t even attempt to bridge the distance I had forced between us—so unlike the Zaydon I had known, who always fought for me, even against myself.

Instead, he crumpled. His body slid down the wall, slow and unsteady, until he hit the floor in a dishevelled heap. His knees pulled close to his chest as if he were trying to shield himself from the weight of the world—or maybe from the storm he’d unleashed in me. His arms rested limply on his knees, his head bowed low, every part of him radiating defeat so profound it was almost suffocating to look at. The Zaydon, who had always been a force of unrelenting will, now looked…broken, crumbling under the unbearable weight of his choices.

Tears stung my eyes, a hot flood threatening to spill over, but they didn’t fall. I wouldn’t let them. The ache in my chest, the raw, gaping wound his betrayal had left, might have consumed me if not for the fire that surged through me like a blazing inferno, scorching away any trace of sorrow. My heartbreak evaporated under the heat of my fury, leaving only rage to fill the hollowed spaces inside me.

My gaze locked on the faint glow of the cursed collar encircling his neck. It pulsed with a quiet, mocking rhythm as though it delighted in its victory. That vile bond, so faint it was almost invisible, was the embodiment of his betrayal, and the very sight of it made my blood boil. 

Anger seared through my veins, hot and unyielding, as the reality of what he had done pressed down on me and crushed me with its invisible hands. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms, but it wasn’t the collar alone that unleashed the full force of my fury—it was his refusal to look at me.

That act of avoidance, his averted gaze and downcast eyes was the final spark that ignited my wrath. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. After everything, after the pain he had caused, he didn’t even have the decency to face me. It was cowardice, plain and simple, and it was the last thread holding my composure together. 

It snapped.

I stormed toward him, my footsteps echoing sharply in the tense, suffocating silence of the corridor. Without a second thought, without hesitation or restraint, I raised my hand and delivered a slap so fierce it jarred through my entire body.

The crack of the impact rang out like a lightning strike, slicing through the stillness and reverberating off the cold stone walls. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his cheek blossoming with an angry red mark in the shape of my hand. It stood out as an angry red mark against his skin, a vivid, unrelenting testament to my fury.

He didn’t fight back. He didn’t flinch or react beyond the slight sag of his shoulders, his face still turned away. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, unmoving, as if he were trying to retreat into himself, to disappear from the wreckage he’d created. His silence was deafening, louder than any words he could have spoken, and it fueled the storm inside me, the churning whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and raw, unrelenting pain.

“Look at me!” I spat, my voice trembling with the force of my emotions. The demand echoed off the walls, sharp and cutting, but he didn’t obey. His continued refusal, his steadfast avoidance, only added to the churning fire inside me, threatening to consume everything in its path.

My breathing came fast and uneven, each ragged inhale stoking the flames of my fury. My hand still burned from the slap, the sting a sharp reminder of my anger, and yet, even as I stared at the man crumpled before me, so utterly broken, my rage didn’t abate. If anything, his silence, his refusal to fight back, only made it worse. It left me with nothing but the raw, unfiltered weight of my emotions, the unbearable ache of a love that had been irrevocably shattered.

The sting in my hand was a fleeting satisfaction, quickly replaced by the weight of my grief, anger, and regret. Zaydon remained motionless, his body language pleading for absolution, though his eyes frustratingly stayed averted, unwilling to face the fury he had unleashed. I visibly shook, trying to compose myself to stop the rage from consuming me.

Tears stung my eyes, and despite my attempt to remain composed, my vision blurred. Dropping to my knees beside him, I confronted the brutal truth—that the man I loved had willingly chosen this cruel fate.

“Why?” I choked out, my voice cracking with anguish. “Why would you choose this? How could you betray everything we had? And don’t you dare say it was to protect me. That’s not good enough. Why would you take such a drastic measure?”

The corridor was eerily silent, the distant hum of the night outside pressing down like a suffocating weight. Zaydon’s silence stretched endlessly, deepening my despair. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, strained, carrying the weight of his torment.

“I did it for you, Az,” he said softly. “I can’t tell you why… but please, believe me.”

His words, laced with agony, only fueled my rage. I jabbed an accusing finger at him, my hand trembling with the force of my emotions. I didn’t care that tears were streaming down my face, falling onto his bare arms and pants as I continued.

“You promised me you’d never do anything to harm me, and now look at you—breaking that promise within hours!” My voice cracked with grief.

His silence and averted gaze were unbearable. The weight of his avoidance pressed down on me, and I could no longer stand his cowardice. My resolve hardened. I shoved myself between his legs and knelt closer, the cold stone floor biting into my knees. My hands trembled with unchecked rage as I grasped his jaw, jerking it upward to force him to look at me.

“Look at me!” I demanded, my voice cracking with raw emotion. “Do you think you can just… seal yourself into this curse and pretend it’s all right? How could you believe this would protect me or make me happy?”

Zaydon’s eyes finally locked onto mine, their usual green shadowed with pain and remorse. Tears glistened in his gaze, his expression desperate, pleading for understanding. But he said nothing. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as he struggled to hold himself upright. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat, his gaze darting downward once more.

“You will give me the respect of at least looking me in the eye when you hurt me,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You need to see the damage you’ve done—to take full responsibility for shattering me far worse than a fall from the sky.”

His eyes squeezed shut as though my words were knives plunging into him.

A bitter, jagged laugh escaped me, harsh and hollow. “In fact, I’d gladly trade my pain for that fall right now,” I added, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief.

His forest-green eyes locked onto mine again, dark and tortured. A faint flicker of crimson burned within them, a haunting reminder of the dragon that lingered beneath the surface. The anger I had seen in his gaze moments before melted away, replaced by guilt, sorrow, and despair. But I didn’t care about what he felt—he had done this. He had chosen this path without ever asking me what I wanted. Because when it came down to it, my fate was entwined with his choice just as much as his own was.

“You knew how I felt about you,” I said, my voice breaking under the weight of my anguish. “And now you expect me to stand by and watch you die? To marry the man who would proudly raise the sword that kills you?”

The words hung between us, heavy and suffocating, a cruel verbal testament to the torment he had willingly embraced. The air around us felt colder, thick with the suffocating weight of our shared pain. It was as if the gravity of this spell and its consequences were physically tearing apart whatever fragile connection we had left. Desperation clawed at my chest, and I clung to a futile hope—that by voicing the brutal reality, I could somehow undo it, change the unchangeable.

His gaze dropped again, avoiding the storm of emotion in my eyes, but I refused to let him retreat into silence. My grip tightened, trembling with the force of my anger and heartbreak, and I grabbed his face with a fierceness born of sheer despair.

“Look at me!” I demanded, my voice trembling with fury. “Don’t you dare look away now. You need to see what you’ve done—to see how you’ve broken me.”