Canvas of Twilight ⡇A Fallacy X Encre book.

𝟏𝟎. 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜

StarPoisons.

Seraphic, Referring to a beauty that is angelic or heavenly in nature.

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"Jasper, wait!" Encre's voice echoed through the forest they had just practically ran through, a desperate plea as he clung to the smaller figure, hurtling through many trees and plants. It was a surreal sensation, like a whirlwind of emotions, and Encre couldn't help but wonder if this was the norm in the world of vampires.

In an abrupt and heart-pounding moment, Jasper came to a sudden halt, sending Encre's apron fluttering away from his tightly cinched waist. Encre tumbled to the ground, his face meeting the unforgiving earth with a painful thud. "Gah!" He winced, cradling his throbbing forehead. "Listen, my fellow Lord, you can't simply whisk me away without a word. Where are we?" His words trailed off as he surveyed their surroundings, a vast enclosed garden shaped like a magnificent dome. Blue flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, painting an ethereal tapestry.

"Fallacy instructed me to keep this place off-limits, even to myself," Jasper confessed, his youthful voice brimming with excitement. He reached out and firmly grasped Encre's hand, leading him toward the heart of the garden. There, they discovered a solitary coffin, adorned with a name that bore an unexpected weight. A woman's name, entwined with the words "my love."

Encre's voice quivered as he turned to Jasper, uncertainty in his eyes. "Are they... entirely dead?"

Jasper's gaze remained fixed on the coffin, his emotions dancing like shadows. "Most likely," he replied softly, his voice filled with a sense of reverence. "Whoever they were, they held a special place in Lord Fallacy's heart."

"Interesting," Encre retorted with a venomous tone, his words dripping with bitterness. "For a man like him, I'd be surprised if anyone truly loved him."

Jasper's eyes flashed with unexpected anger, a hidden intensity that pierced through his usual innocence. "Lord Fallacy is not what you think, Encre! He is a kind man! He has saved many!" His passionate defense of Fallacy surprised even himself.

Silence.
Pure silence.

Encre, chastened by Jasper's outburst. He nodded to the young vampire, acknowledging his point. "...I apologize," he muttered. Turning his attention to the garden, he reached out to touch one of the countless flowers.

The petals were like silk, glistening with an unimaginable shade of blue. Soft, rounded thorns adorned the stem, and delicate swirls adorned the inner surface of the flower, creating an intricate pattern that seemed to tell a story of its own.

"I'm sorry... for losing my temper. These days have been trying," Jasper confessed, his grip on Encre's slightly oversized sleeve.

Encre nodded understandingly. "It's okay. I can see that Lord Fallacy is highly regarded here... But I still don't understand. I'm being held captive, for heaven's sake. I just want to go home, Jasper," Encre whispered, his gaze shifting between the mysterious coffin and the flower he now held.

Jasper's youthful innocence left him struggling to comprehend the complexities of the situation.

"You're still young, this is all very confusing," Encre admitted softly, frustration in his voice. "We should go back... Lord Fallacy would be furious if he caught us here."

Encre carefully stashed the mysterious flower in his pocket, picking up the fallen apron and casting one last perplexed glance at the enigmatic coffin. Something about it troubled him deeply.

Jasper nodded in agreement, taking the lead as they made their way back, leaving behind the secrets of the hidden garden.

...

The hushed echoes of their footsteps resonated through the palace's opulent halls as they returned from the hidden garden.

They were met by a fellow servant, whose name was Classique. Classique held a special place in Lord Fallacy's favor, almost mirroring Suave's esteemed position as a Spade. Although, Suave was of fourth class, A Diamond.

Classique's soft but pointed glare directed at Encre didn't go unnoticed. He then turned his gaze toward the young lord, his voice calm and measured. "Should I summon a maid to attend to you and prepare you for your customary rest hour, my lord?" This unexpected display of attentiveness was unusual for Classique, who would typically be indulging in his own slumber and idleness.

Encre, having spent weeks navigating the complex social dynamics of the palace, recognized Classique's glance as a subtle threat. He had learned to decipher the unspoken expectations and actions of those around him, even if he occasionally forgot key details.

In a rush of anxiety, Encre hurried to his room, closing the door behind him with an anxious click. Could time have passed so swiftly? What he thought was a quick walk had extended longer than he'd anticipated. Had he neglected all his duties and chores for the day? What would Suave say? And even more concerning, what would Lord Fallacy say?

Panic swept over him, and then, a faint knock at his door broke through his racing thoughts.

Opening the door, he found a crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor. Messy cursive scrawled across it, and it simply read, "Your chores are due.".

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End Chapter.
857 words.

Sorry for taking so long.
Quick Chapter,

💌

StarPoisons