The Duke of Asterion

There was nothing.

No light, no sound—just darkness.

It was cold, so cold, the kind that seeped past the skin, past the bones, sinking into something deeper. I was drifting, weightless, lost in the vast emptiness, untethered from time, from self.

And then—something pulled at me.

A gentle but insistent tug, dragging me from the abyss.

At first, I resisted. It hurt. The cold had numbed me completely, and the return of sensation was agony. My body felt like ice, stiff and foreign, but heat—blessed heat—began to creep in.

Soft fur pressed against my cheek, warm and thick, heat radiating from a source so strong it made me groan. My body ached as my blood, sluggish and frozen, struggled to push through my veins once more.

Warmth. Breath. Life.

I gasped as the pain of returning struck me like lightning, my fingers twitching weakly, my lips parting in a barely-there moan.

And then—whispers.

Prayers murmured into my ear, the words foreign yet soothing, a low rumble wrapped in reverence, in desperation.

Promises, spoken in a voice thick with something more.

The sound of a heartbeat, steady and loud, filled the void around me—not just in my ears, but surrounding me, wrapping around my fragile, frozen body like a cocoon.

I nestled against it.

Swaying gently, rocked like an infant in a cradle, the warmth cradling me, pulling me back from the brink of nothingness.

Safe.

I slept.

And then—the fever came.

Heat, unbearable and searing, burned through me, turning the gentle warmth into a wildfire. My dreams twisted into something dark, something vicious.

Faceless demons chased me through endless corridors of shadow, their whispers sharp and cruel, their clawed hands grasping, reaching.

I lashed out, my body thrashing, my mind lost in fevered delirium, fighting for my life in a battle that wasn’t real—and yet, it felt so true.

More whispers, urgent now.

Warm words, pressed against my cheek, my temple, my burning skin.

Hands—strong, steady hands—holding me tightly, keeping me from breaking apart.

A weight hovered over me, worried flutters at the edges of my consciousness, a presence that never left.

And then—

Nothing.

The darkness came again, but this time, it was softer.

Gentle.

And I slept and slept, cradled in warmth, carried through the storm by hands that would not let me go.

--

The first thing I heard clearly was Bastian.

His deep voice thrummed through my body, vibrating in my bones, as if I was inside of him, as if his very essence had wrapped around me. It wasn’t just sound—it was presence, something steady and real that grounded me in a way I had never known before.

I tried to move, but I was cocooned, cradled in warmth so complete I felt like an infant in the womb. Safe. Protected.

Why was his heartbeat so loud?