SCULPTURED DESIRE

Zyran's lips curled into a wicked smirk, his cold eyes glinting with a chilling absence of warmth, resembling two lifeless shards of ice.

"Shall we date back to all your sins as I cut Chuck out of your flesh till I reach your heart and see what color it was when you looked at my wife?

Marion's throat tightened as he grappled with the weight of Zyran's chilling threats, realizing they were far from mere bluster. A heavy silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension between them.

"Fine," Marion finally replied, his voice steady despite the unease swirling inside him.

As he stepped into the frigid palace nestled in the North, Ali, and Aaron followed closely behind some maids and guards were dispatched there to ensure Zyran carried out his order, their presence a somber reminder of his impending punishment.

The air inside was biting, a harsh chill that sank into the bones, even in the heart of summer. The palace, with its towering stone walls and shadowy corridors, felt perpetually frozen in time. Each breath he took formed a mist that hung in the air.

Perhaps this secluded spot was exactly where Zyran needed to be—a sanctuary for his sorrow, a place where he could envelop himself in the melancholy that had become his companion.

"You didn't have to accompany me here," Zyran remarked, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. He glanced at Ali and Aaron, their silhouettes framed against the fading twilight. "You should have remained at the palace, tending to your responsibilities."

Aaron responded, "But we are your guards, your Highness. We must ensure your safety no matter the cost." His words held the weight of their commitment.

"You fools," Zyran murmured.

"We will face the punishment alongside you," Ali declared, his voice trembling, his body visibly shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Zyran shook his head, a calmness enveloping him as he replied, "No need for that."

Just then, the maid approached, her movements hesitant, bowing deeply before Zyran.

"Your Highness," she announced, her voice respectful, "we have prepared your bath." she reported.

"You all work with remarkable speed," Ali commented, his gaze pointed at the maid, who instinctively bowed her head lower in response.

Zyran slid off his coat and handed it to Ali, who accepted it with a slight nod.

"Why don't you take the day off today?" Ali offered, his voice softening. "You'll need to spend thirty-two hours in the spring water{ The spring bath is the exact opposite of it name, it a bath filled with cold icy water, it is part of Zyran's punishment}."

"The sooner I begin, the better," Zyran replied,he turned to the maid, who gestured for him to follow her toward the spring bathing area, the gentle sound of water whispering promises of torture in the distance.

As he arrived at the location, a thick curtain of fog enveloped the surroundings, casting an eerie haze over everything. The frigid air bit at his skin, making him feel as though he had stepped into another realm. Nearby, the spring bath bubbled and flowed with clear, shimmering water, its surface glistening like diamonds against the misty backdrop.

The maid carefully assisted Zyran in peeling off his garments, until he stood there clad only in his pants. With a deep breath, he stepped into the icy water, an involuntary shiver running down his spine as his teeth clenched instinctively at the shock of the cold. The chilly water enveloped him, nipping at his skin like tiny needles, as he slowly sunk until the surface lapped against his chest.

With a quiet rustle, the maid departed, leaving Zyran alone.

He exhaled a swirl of fog from his lips, a mist that hung in the frigid air. those condemned to the cold palace often emerged forever changed or not at all.

"Amira," he whispered, her name barely escaping his mouth, a wistful plea that echoed in the emptiness. Her soft, warm presence lingered in his memory, her captivating eyes sparkling with life, her laughter a melody that danced in the air, and her endearing clumsiness a constant source of his joy.