Chapter 10: Elarielle, the Dreamweaver
It began not with footsteps or summons…
…but with sleep.
Riven had barely laid his head upon the silken pillow in the guest wing of the Crimson Court when the world around him turned to liquid moonlight. His breath slowed. His heartbeat faded.
And then—he awoke.
But it wasn't the same world.
The chamber was gone. The palace, vanished. In its place stood a vast meadow under an eternal twilight sky — stars swirling like slow rivers above him, the grass silver and soft beneath his feet.
> "You've crossed into my veil," came a voice like a lullaby.
Riven turned.
She stood beneath a willow tree made of crystal, bathed in the glow of a violet moon. Her body was robed in dream-silk, translucent and shifting with every breath. Her hair flowed like ink across her shoulders, and her eyes… they contained galaxies.
> "I am Elarielle," she said, stepping forward. "And you, Riven, are very tired."
He opened his mouth to speak, but her finger touched his lips.
> "No words," she whispered. "Not yet."
---
She guided him to lie in the grass, her hands gliding over his body with impossible softness — like clouds, like sleep. His clothes melted away under her touch, leaving only warmth, vulnerability, and the quiet pull of something deeper than desire.
> "Do you know what I feed on?" she asked, crawling over him. "Not lust. Not flesh."
Her lips brushed his jaw, his throat, his chest.
> "I feed on longing. The ache in your heart that never goes away. That is the sweetest part of you."
She kissed his chest.
Then lower.
> "And I am starving."
---
Her mouth found him — warm, wet, slow.
But this was no simple pleasure. It was spellwork. With every lick, she pulled memories to the surface: his first love, his loneliness, his ache to be seen not just as a man, but as something more.
She drank it in.
> "Yes," she whispered between strokes. "I taste your sorrow. I taste your hope. I taste… you."
And then she straddled him.
---
She slid onto him with a sigh — her dream-body impossibly soft, slick, and tight.
But more than that… she was inside his mind.
As her hips moved, she showed him visions:
A kingdom where he ruled beside her, forever dreaming.
A thousand women calling his name in worship.
The moment he first cried as a boy, wishing someone would understand him.
She kissed him gently as her body rocked against his.
> "Let go," she said.
And he did.
---
They climaxed together not with screams, but with silence.
The kind of silence that carries eternity.
He held her after, and her body shimmered — fading, returning, shifting.
> "Was this real?" he asked.
> "It doesn't matter," she replied, curling into his arms. "You'll remember me every time you sleep."
> "Will I see you again?"
> "You already are."
---
He awoke the next morning alone in his bed, sheets damp with sweat, heart heavy with longing.
But beneath his pillow…
a single silver flower, glowing faintly in the light.