You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 81

Kazan abruptly pulled on the reins, slowing his desert horse. The cold night wind caressed his face, cooling his heated thoughts.

He let his mind wander, recalling the many miracles that had sustained him throughout his life.

Kazan had escaped death countless times. Again and again, the reaper’s hand had nearly claimed him, yet he always found a way to survive.

And every time—every time—it was because of her.

Elona had always been at the heart of his existence. His love for her, his resentment, his relentless obsession—it was all tied to her. She was his heart, his pulse, his reason for living.

She’s here. Somewhere in this desert, Elona is waiting for me.

His crimson eyes swept across the endless expanse of silver sand as his resolve hardened.

Aslan must have disrupted Zahhak’s plan. He couldn’t bring himself to kill her outright.

No, Zahhak wouldn’t dirty his own hands. Instead, he would have driven her into the deadliest place imaginable.

A place where the soul itself could lose its way and be worn down into nothing—a place like this vast, unforgiving desert.

“You won’t die alone out here. I won’t allow it.”

Kazan gripped the reins tightly and spurred his horse forward. He plunged headlong into the barren wasteland, knowing that death could strike from any direction, at any moment.

The wind howled around him, carrying his desperate cry across the dunes.

*

Elona woke up to the sensation of floating, her body drifting weightlessly in what felt like deep water.

‘What is this place…?’

She was completely submerged. Oddly enough, she wasn’t breathing—but she didn’t feel suffocated either. It was as if her body no longer needed air, and a strange calmness washed over her.

It didn’t feel like the afterlife.

In fact, she felt too alive—her senses vivid and intact.

‘Could this be an underground reservoir? I never knew there was this much water beneath the desert. But… am I dead? How do I get back to the surface?’

As countless questions swirled in her mind, a voice suddenly rang out.

“So, it’s you. Elona de Parsion.”

“…!”

The voice startled her, and she nearly screamed—only to release nothing but a stream of bubbles into the water. The voice chuckled softly, as though amused.

“Ah, yes. You are unmistakably… human. No need for panic. Simply direct your thoughts to me. Isn’t thinking something you humans do rather well?”

The voice was neutral, neither distinctly male nor female. Elona, feeling the water pressing gently against her throat, had no choice but to comply.

‘Who… are you? Where is this place?’

“I am the one you call Lu Shen. This is my favorite place—the place you call Luca.”

‘What? A god?’

Her startled thoughts reached Lu Shen immediately. The god laughed, their tone light and amused.

“Yes, humans are such transparent creatures. So quick to reveal their thoughts.”

‘…That’s embarrassing.’

“You’ll adapt soon enough. People who meet me often do. Their thoughts grow clearer, and they stop thinking wicked things. Only good thoughts remain.”

‘I can see how the temple priests would end up that way.’

“Exactly. But you… you’re different. Raw and unrefined. That’s what makes you interesting.”

Elona forced herself to calm down and focus.

After a brief silence, Lu Shen spoke again.

“You carry the child of Kazan Mileshatra.”

‘Yes.’

The mention of Kazan’s name sent a soft wave of sorrow through her heart.

‘I miss him. He only has one year left to live. Every day feels so precious… I can’t afford to waste time here.’

“One year. So, that’s why you prayed to me—to lift his curse.”

‘Yes! Please, can you help him?’

Hope sparkled in her chest, but Lu Shen’s response was indifferent.

“Why should I? Kazan stole something precious from me and never returned it. Why should I save him?”

‘What did he steal?’

“Life.”

Lu Shen’s voice grew softer, yet darker.

“Three hearts.”

Elona blinked, her thoughts momentarily halted. Lu Shen spoke as if recalling a memory from the distant past.

“Ah… three hearts. They were a gift I once gave to the first human I ever loved—Lu Ashad Mileshatra. I wanted him to live for a long time… a very long time.”

Elona recognized the name from ancient history. King Lu Ashad, the first ruler of Ashatra, was called the One Who Turned Away from Death. The records claimed that he had lived to the age of 150 before passing away.

‘Wait… that wasn’t just a myth?’

“No, you’re right. He lived exactly that long. I wanted him to stay with me even longer, but he decided it was enough and left.”

‘…Hold on. Are you saying that this incredibly rare gift—something that could let someone live for over a hundred years—was stolen by Kazan?’

“Exactly. I didn’t want to give it to him. I wanted to give it to Rite.”

‘Rite? Kazan’s mother?’

“Yes. I liked Rite. I wanted her to be my high priestess and live with me for a very, very long time. But she left me and went to Ilya Millechatra instead.”

Elona remembered hearing that name from Aslan. He had always avoided speaking about Rite’s fate.

“She died during the civil war. That’s all you need to know. Don’t ask anyone else about her—especially not His Majesty.”

“Ah, yes. Aslan must have told you that.” Lu Shen chuckled. “He cherished Rite very much.”

The god’s voice flowed gently into her thoughts, comforting and unsettling all at once. Elona hesitated before thinking carefully.

‘You’re not human. So… maybe it’s okay to ask you what happened. How did Rite die during the civil war?’

Lu Shen’s laughter echoed around her—clear and pure, like sunlight on water.

“You’re clever, human. I like that.”

The god’s tone turned serious, though still tinged with amusement.

“Very well. Since I am no mere mortal, I shall tell you how my beloved Rite betrayed me that day, fifteen years ago.”

With a voice both beautiful and haunting, Lu Shen began recounting the day Rite turned her back on the god.

*

The God of Death descended upon Ferma.

At the entrance of the temple, the eighteen-year-old High Priest Aslan stood, gazing anxiously toward the main palace. The distant sound of drums and fierce shouts echoed like the beginning of a war—or rather, it was the start of one.

Prince Shattiv Mileshatra, the second son of King Kalima, had declared a civil war against all his siblings. The capital city was in chaos, overrun by soldiers and fleeing citizens.

‘How many princes and queens have lost their lives already? What a tragic affair.’

Aslan let out a quiet sigh, recalling the dream he had the night before.

In the dream, Rité was walking toward him, holding the hand of twelve-year-old Kazan. Just as she spoke, her skirt caught fire. Aslan tried to shake his head and warn her, but Rité simply released her son’s hand and gazed silently at Aslan. The young Kazan ran away crying, but an arrow flew from afar and pierced his heart. Flames engulfed Rité in an instant, reducing her to ashes before his eyes. Aslan woke from the dream in shock and terror.

‘What did she say in the dream?’ He couldn’t recall the exact words, only the overwhelming feeling that they were deeply sacrilegious.

‘Why did I dream of those two today? Fire and arrows… Could it mean they’ve been swept up in the civil war as well?’

Aslan’s thoughts grew darker as a foreboding feeling crept over him.

“Aslan.”

A gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up.

Standing before him was the woman from his dream, holding her son’s hand.

Rité. Once destined to become the High Priestess of Lu, she had instead chosen the path of a queen. She removed the veil that covered her face and looked at Aslan with determined red eyes that sparkled with resolve.

“Rité, and even Kazan… You made it safely out of the palace.”

“Yes, we’re leaving Ferma. I had some business here, so we stopped by briefly,” she replied calmly.