The Stone King's Obsession

Chapter five

Morning arrived again with a hush, as if the castle itself was holding its breath. The pale light streaming through the Chamber windows caught dust motes, turning them into drifting sparks, and for a moment, I wondered if I had imagined the faint pulse of magic I had felt yesterday.

I was awake long before my body allowed me to move properly, fingers curling around the edges of the sheets. Every muscle in my body ached with tension... Not from yesterday’s touch, but from anticipation. From him.

Rhaziel had not come into the room after the tremor of magic yesterday. He had left, quietly, almost reverently, like a man afraid to break the air around him. Yet I could feel him. In the shadows, in the walls, in the way the light bent along the edges of the furniture. He was everywhere and nowhere, a predator contained by years of self-discipline and resentment.

I moved carefully, testing my legs, stretching silently. My eyes scanned the room. The tapestry walls, the bed so grand it dwarfed me, the velvet chair in the corner. Everything seemed out of place here, too pristine, too preserved, in the middle of a castle that had rotted for over a century. The contrast made the room feel like a trap designed for something...or someone... or a precious memory.

It was then that I noticed the first subtle change. A small tray had been placed by the chair, a silver goblet filled with water, and a plate of soft bread and fruit. My stomach knotted. I hadn’t asked for it. No one had entered the room. No one could have. And this wasn't the same tray from yesterday.

The air shifted, and I turned sharply. He stood by the doorway, just inside the shadows, as if he had been there all along.

“Do not be alarmed,'' he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will not intrude while you… wake.''

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bed. “You were watching me.”

His eyes, silver-black and unreadable, flicked toward mine for the briefest instant. Then he looked away, almost embarrassed... Or perhaps, careful. “I am… observant. It is necessary.”

“Necessary?” I echoed. Suspicion laced every syllable. “What for?”

"To endure you don't run away. To endure that you stay."

I bit my lip. The words should have sounded like a threat, but they carried something darker... A possessive weight. Protection twisted into obsession, subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniable.

“You don’t trust me,” I said flatly, moving towards the tray. My hand brushed against the tray, and I took a piece of bread before I even realized it.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Trust is not the issue.”

“Oh?” I challenged, scarfing the bread, tasting the faint sweetness, trying not to let him see the way my pulse quickened. “Then what is it?”

He stepped fully into the light now, though he maintained a careful distance, long enough to remind me he could close it in an instant. ''Control,'' he said simply. ''Always control. You do not understand what over a century without touch does to a man. To power. To restraint.''

I froze. His words trembled with barely hidden emotions. Resentment, grief, fascination. ''And yet you watched me,'' I said quietly, setting the plate down. "Isn't that against your rule?" I whispered. "You broke your own rule."

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I do not break them,” he corrected. "I bend them when I see fit."

"Why bend them now?" I asked, my voice sharp.

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked closer, so slowly that each step seemed measured against the pull of gravity itself. He stopped just short of where I was standing, eyes scanning me like a sculptor examining a figure carved from impossibly fragile marble.

''You are… alive,'' he murmured finally. ''Truly alive. And that changes the rules.''

The words landed like a weight. He had lived for a century, untouched, unfeeling except in calculation, yet here I was... immune, unbroken, and disruptive. I wanted to run, to throw myself against him and and kill him, but something about his presence held me rooted. The danger wasn’t just in his power. It was in the way he looked at me, with careful fascination and the faintest glimmer of… desire restrained by fear.

''Why do you watch me like this?'' I demanded, my voice trembling despite myself. ''What do you hope to learn?''

''To learn if you are fragile,'' he said, soft but cold. ''To learn if the curse has spared you by chance or design. And… to ensure no harm comes to you before I understand the answers.''

I opened my mouth to protest, to say that I didn’t need protection, that I could handle myself... But his gaze silenced me. Something in it spoke of years of loss, of control hoarded like a weapon, and of the dangerous possibility that he could lose it all in a heartbeat.

''You are difficult,'' he said, almost gently, though his words were edged like a blade.

''I am trapped in a ruined castle with a man who could kill me with a thought! A man who killed my brother!” I shot back. ''Difficult is the least of it.''

A faint, humorless smile brushed his lips. “Perhaps.”

He moved to the side of the bed and set down another tray. This one with water and a thin, cold stew. Every movement was deliberate, precise. I watched him, aware that he was carefully observing my reactions. Even the air shifted subtly around him, and I caught faint tremors in the floorboards.

''Do you always watch people eat?'' I asked, a dry edge to my voice.

“No one eats here.'' he said simply. “There is danger in hunger.”

''And you?'' I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady. ''Do you permit yourself?''

He did not answer. His eyes were drawn to the far window, to the broken balcony sealed with layers of stone. His fists flexed. The castle itself seemed to hum faintly around him. I realized the pulse of magic... the curse... was attuned not just to touch, but to him. To us. To the whole castle.

I understood then that every small act, placing food, moving the tray, stepping close, was a test. Not just for me, but for him. A demonstration that he could maintain control, that he could watch without destroying, that he could… restrain many years of instinctive violence.

I ate slowly, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. Every movement I made, he mirrored subtly: adjusting the tray, stepping closer if I reached, retreating if I flinched. The balance of power was delicate, almost invisible. Yet the tension it created filled the room like storm clouds before a hurricane.

After I finished, he knelt near the window, staring out at the barren lands below. The air was still, except for the faint creak of stone settling. Then, without turning, he said, ''You should rest. There is more for you to learn today.''

“I’m not resting until I know what you plan to do.” I said, my voice quiet but firm.

"You just need to stay here and survive" he replied evenly. ''I need to test you. And, if I am honest… to watch.”

I froze at the last word. ''Watch?''

“Yes,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “To ensure that no harm comes to you without my knowledge. That… no one can touch you. That… you remain whole.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. It was not comfort he offered. Not exactly. It was possession. Protection. Obsession. All wrapped in silence and careful distance, but unmistakable.

''And what if I don’t want you to watch me?'' I whispered.

A faint crease appeared between his brows. His voice lowered, almost reverent. “Then you will lie awake and pretend you are not aware. You will eat and move and breathe… all while I study you, because years of patience cannot bend to whim, even yours.''

The room pulsed faintly around us as if responding to the conversation. The castle itself seemed alive, attuned to us. I realized that every small act of care, every tray he set, every step he took toward me was dangerous, not because of his power, but because of what he might feel if he broke.

And I understood, with a jolt of fear and something darker... Something that felt like inevitability... That the obsession had begun.

Rhaziel Varyn, the man who had avoided touch for over a century was already falling into it.

And I… was the reason.