CHAPTER 467: DISAPPEARING MEMORIES-II

Imagine ever loving someone so fiercely, so completely that they became the very air you needed to breathe. That their existence alone kept you tethered to the world, kept your heart from hollowing into an empty, lifeless drum. That was the kind of love Cassius had come to know, not all at once, but slowly, agonizingly, like dawn creeping across a long night that had forgotten how to end.

Before her, before Arabella, there had been only darkness.

He had never loved himself. Not his crown, not his power, not the name "Cassius," which had once rung across the kingdom like the promise of ruin. Confidence— yes, he had that in abundance, the kind born of arrogance and fearlessness. But love? Love for himself? That was a stranger he had never met. For years, he had lived only because death hadn’t come soon enough, because the world hadn’t yet decided to crush him under its boot.

But then she came. And suddenly, life wasn’t something to endure. It was something he wanted.

Because of Arabella, he had learned to look forward to mornings— the same mornings that once reeked of blood and ash. He had learned to find solace in the quiet hours of winter nights.

He remembered her as she was. How sunlight and laughter and softness in a world that had forgotten gentleness. He could still see her— hair tousled against the pillow, her body curling against his beneath the warm sheets. She would giggle at his gruffness, press her nose against his neck and whisper something teasing, her laughter bright enough to shame the morning birds.

That was what home had felt like.

When death had taken those he had once called dear, Cassius hadn’t shed a single tear. His heart was an empty cathedral where grief echoed without sound. But Arabella— she wept for him. She cried when he could not, mourned when he refused to feel, loved when he was incapable of it.

She had become the part of him he thought long dead— the soul he had buried under years of cruelty and violence.

And now she was gone.

Or worse— she was still here, but the her that remembered him, the her that loved him, had been ripped away.

All because of Morpheus.

That cursed sorcerer had dared to reach into her mind and twist it until every trace of Cassius was erased— their laughter, their memories, their nights together beneath the dim candlelight. Everything they had built, stolen, suffered for... wiped clean.

She no longer looked at him with that quiet tenderness, that defiant love that had once disarmed him. Her gaze was uncertain now, cautious— and empty of recognition.

How could he bear to breathe knowing she no longer remembered his name?

But forcing her memories back was not something that could be done with a mere spell. It was dangerous— too dangerous. The bond between them might be strong, but tampering with a mind already under Morpheus’s enchantment could destroy her completely.

When he had heard her question— "Who are you?" — something inside him broke. His hands trembled, the ache in his chest tightening until he could hardly breathe. She had looked up then, eyes gleaming green under the candlelight, and for one fleeting second, he thought she might see him— that some hidden thread of memory would stir.

But before she could, before he could bear the weight of her confusion, he vanished —melting into the shadowed wall, leaving nothing but silence behind.

She stared after him, her brows knitted in faint doubt. And then, softly, she touched her lips — the same lips he had silenced with his trembling hand moments ago— her fingers lingering there as if some ghostly warmth remained. There was sadness in her eyes, and perhaps... a flicker of something else.

Recognition, maybe. Or longing.

Morpheus’s spell hadn’t taken full root, that much Cassius could sense. Something within her resisted— perhaps her power as a witch, or perhaps their bond ran too deep for even magic to unmake.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

And Cassius feared what Morpheus would do next if he discovered that Arabella’s memories lingered. The sorcerer was the sort of man who would rather destroy his possession than see it reclaimed by another. He would burn her soul before letting her love someone else.

That, Cassius could not allow.

So tonight, he decided, he would act. After all he’d seen this afternoon— Arabella defying Morpheus, demanding her three tests before she would agree to marriage— he knew there was still fire in her. There was still her within that cage of spells.

He would find a way to awaken it.

When the castle fell into its nightly stillness, Cassius moved. Isaac, ever loyal, had fallen asleep by Arabella’s door, slumped against the frame, his head bowed in exhaustion. The guards posted nearby were yawning, their eyes glazed from long hours of idleness.

Perfect.

Without a sound, Cassius dissolved into shadow, his body shifting into a slick, inky form— a black liquid that slithered silently across the marble floor. He seeped through the narrow gap beneath her door, reforming on the other side.

The room was dark and silent. So still without a hint of anyone’s presence. It seems that there was magic being placed here but it shouldn’t alert either Morpheus or Arabella who as deeply asleep as she turned on her bed, eyes closed.

And there she was— sleeping softly beneath the silken canopy, her chest rising and falling, her face bathed in the silver glow of moonlight.

Cassius stood there for a long moment, frozen, every muscle tense as the storm inside him threatened to break loose.

He had come here to inspect the magic on her. But standing there, all he wanted was to touch her hand and whisper her name— to remind her of everything she’d forgotten.

Walking closer, he admired her sleeping face. Being so close after so many days of being apart brought him some peace but not enough when he recalled how inside of her heart there was no longer "him" there was no longer "them".

His hands hovered over her face and gently, he lowered his fingertips.