Chapter 171: The mark of Four Seasons

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The Lord of Seasons’ kiss was as gentle as the first spring rain falling upon thawing earth.

Erik had expected something more forceful, like the way she had teased him ever since he awoke in the garden.

Yet her lips merely touched his and paused, waiting, like a visitor standing before a door left slightly ajar without stepping through.

Her breath carried the scent of newly blossomed flowers, warm and sweet, mixed with the faint chill of snow still clinging to the branches.

When she pulled back slightly, the mist before her face stirred. Erik still could not make out her eyes clearly. He could only see tiny specks of light trembling like stars reflected on water.

"This mark is not like a Contract," she said softly. "I cannot imprint it upon you through an order or a magic circle. It will only remain where a heart is willing to open itself to it." She paused, her finger still resting against his chest. "If you do not feel right about this, just tell me. I will stop immediately."

Erik looked at the large hand resting against his chest. He remembered the black pen, the Succubi who had never been given the right to say no, and the female soldier who had cried out for help through lips that had been possessed.

A Sentinel capable of holding an entire city together was asking for his consent in a voice so quiet that it seemed afraid of startling him.

"You too," he replied. "If you want to stop, tell me."

The Lord of Seasons froze slightly.

Then she laughed, very softly, yet the sound made the entire garden tremble.

"You truly are..." She did not finish the sentence.

This time, Erik was the one who raised a hand to touch her cheek. Her skin beneath the mist was cool like an early flower petal, but when he drew her closer, warmth slowly spread from her, like March sunlight sinking through still-damp soil. The second kiss was no longer a question.

The garden responded before either of them spoke.

The snow stopped falling. The buds on the branches near the bed swelled all at once, their green casings splitting along tiny seams. White and pale pink petals opened so slowly that Erik could hear them separating, delicate as breath.

The grass beneath the bed grew a little taller, lightly curling around the edge of the white mattress. Somewhere nearby, a stream newly freed from ice began to run, babbling like the laughter of someone trying to hide it.

Spring was not in a hurry.

Neither was she.

Her fingers traveled down to his collar, unfastening each button slowly as though peeling open the layers of a flower bud. Every pause gave him time to shake his head if he wished.

Erik did not.

He found the silk ribbon tied around her waist. The moment its knot came undone, the mist-thin dress slipped from her shoulders and drifted onto the grass as lightly as petals falling from a branch. Her skin appeared beneath the morning light, white as early snow but warm as sunlight.

Erik pulled her into his arms, skin against skin, feeling every soft curve pressed to his chest and the rapid beat of her heart, no slower than his own.

He kissed her neck, then her bare shoulder. Each place his lips touched made her tremble lightly, like a flowering branch quivering beneath a resting bee. Petals drifted in the wind, catching in her hair and falling over their backs.

Amid the blossoms, Erik suddenly saw a streak of honey-colored light.

It appeared far away, at the end of the field, as small as an oil lamp newly lit in someone’s home.

He had the sensation of a hand reaching out from the darkness, patiently waiting for someone to take it. The warmth of that hand felt so familiar that his heart skipped a beat.

He wanted to see it more clearly, but the Lord of Seasons lightly bit his lower lip and drew him back.

"Do not look elsewhere," she whispered, sounding both reproachful and amused. "I am still here."

"I just saw..."

"I know." She pressed her forehead to his. "Each season will leave behind a trace. Remember it, but do not try to name it. This is not the time."

The light shifted above them. Spring petals fell heavily, then gradually thinned, giving way to a sky so clear it was almost blinding.

Summer arrived with the sound of cicadas.

Sunlight poured over the garden, golden as honey, yet just as she had said, it was not hot.

What grew hot was the air between them.

The distant lake, once perfectly still, began to ripple. Rings spread outward and overlapped one another, as though someone kept dropping pebbles into the water.

A thin layer of mist rose from the lake and slowly spread across the grass, covering the white bed in a hazy veil.

Erik could no longer tell where the garden’s mist ended and her breath began.

The Lord of Seasons placed both hands on his chest and slowly lowered herself over him. The moment their bodies became one, she threw back her head, a trembling sigh escaping her lips. Erik had to grip her waist tightly just to steady his own breathing.

Her hair changed to the brilliant gold of summer sunlight, falling like a curtain that hid them both from the sky. Then she began to move, slowly like the first wave rolling ashore, pausing, then moving deeper.

The distant lake rippled in that same rhythm. Sunflowers along the shore gradually turned toward them, as if they too were seeking warmth.

The rhythm of the waves gradually quickened, blending with the cicadas’ increasingly urgent song. Erik held her hips and answered each movement. Her breaths began to break apart, mixed with the moments she called his name in a hoarse voice.

Sweat beaded across their skin, glittering under the sunlight like dew on leaves. Each time she bent down to kiss him, her hand found his, their fingers interlacing tightly.

He could clearly feel her weight, her warmth, and something stranger than any physical sensation.

The loneliness this woman had carried for centuries was being set down little by little, like a traveler finally allowing herself to remove a heavy pack from her shoulders.

Within the summer mist, a small flame flickered.

It trembled like a candle in the wind, sometimes seeming ready to go out, yet still stubbornly burning.

Erik did not understand why the sight made his heart ache with both pity and tenderness.

That flame was neither beautiful nor dazzling. It was only stubborn, like someone who had fallen countless times but still wished to learn how to bring warmth to others.

The Lord of Seasons squeezed his hand lightly. This time, she said nothing. She merely bent down and kissed the corner of his eye, where a bead of sweat had just rolled down.

The cicadas reached their highest note.

The Lord of Seasons threw back her head, her fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. Her whole body trembled in waves, like a lake swept by a strong wind. Erik held her close, allowing that wave to carry them both away together.

Then the cicadas suddenly fell silent.

A golden leaf drifted down.

Autumn did not arrive with a violent gust of wind. It came like a contented sigh after the waves had passed, as the Lord of Seasons collapsed onto Erik’s chest, still breathing hard, her sweat-damp hair clinging to his shoulder.

The entire garden shifted into warm colors. Maple leaves blazed red, birch leaves gleamed gold, and each one spun through the air before settling onto the rumpled blanket, her bare back, and Erik’s hand as it slowly stroked along her spine.

The lake had stopped rippling. It reflected only an amber-colored sky.

Erik lay still, letting leaves fall across his body. The Lord of Seasons’ breathing slowed beside his ear, deep and even.

She no longer teased him, nor did she try to act playful. She simply leaned against him like someone who had completed a journey far too long, and who was finally allowed to rest for the first time in years.

A bronze-colored leaf drifted before Erik’s face and gently landed in his palm.

He looked at it and suddenly remembered the translucent girl who had guided him through the Dark Mist-filled forest.

He remembered her hurried yet gentle voice, her smile pretending to be carefree while her own body faded away.

The leaf in his hand warmed for an instant, as though someone far away had just lightly touched his hand.

"She..." Erik blurted out.

The Lord of Seasons opened her eyes slightly. The mist over her face thinned just enough for him to see her lips tremble.

"You have met that child?" Her voice was very soft, carrying a sorrow Erik had never heard from her before. "Is she still as stubborn as ever?"

Before Erik could answer, the leaf dissolved into particles of red light and vanished through his fingers.

Then the garden gradually grew cold.

The snow began to fall again, no longer silently among flowers, but covering everything. It settled on red maple leaves, amber waters, and branches that had only just borne fruit, until the entire world became a pure, pristine white.

Erik thought he would feel cold, but what he sensed instead was absolute stillness, like the moment after a long piece of music ends, when the listener cannot bear to applaud yet.

This time, Erik turned over and gently laid her down upon the white snow, which held no cold at all.

The Lord of Seasons looked up at him, snow gathering in her hair and lashes, then wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down. Their bodies found one another again, but there was no longer the urgency of summer waves.

This time, it was slow and deep, like snow falling upon a lake without disturbing a single ripple.

Their breaths merged into fragile white mist, dissolving into the air before appearing again. She clung tightly to his back, her long legs wrapping around him as though afraid he would vanish with winter.

And within that stillness, Erik heard someone crying.

It rose from deep beneath the snow, broken and hoarse, like someone who had cried for so long that she had lost her voice.

He heard iron chains clinking together. For one brief moment, he felt an icy hand grip his wrist, then release it as though fearing its cold would hurt him.

Erik startled, but the Lord of Seasons pressed his head into the hollow of her shoulder.

"Do not be afraid of it," she whispered. Her voice trembled, sounding as if it might break for the first time. "If you hear that crying in the snow again someday, please do not be afraid. And do not hate it."

"Who is crying?"

She did not answer.

Erik only felt a drop of water fall onto his shoulder, far warmer than snow.

At that moment, the dark streak along the edge of the sky stirred.

Erik sensed it before he saw it.

A frigid pressure descended from the far end of the garden, like someone’s gaze searching through the darkness. The crack he had once seen among the clouds began to widen, its edges trembling like eyelids about to open.

The Lord of Seasons raised her head. This time, she did not tell him not to look. She only held him tighter, as if she wished to hide him away.

At the exact moment they both reached their peak, as she trembled and called his name while Erik buried his face in her hair, all four seasons erupted at once.

Spring flowers bloomed amid the snow. Summer sunlight shone through gray clouds. Autumn leaves flew upward into the sky, mingling with white snowflakes.

Four colors spun around the bed in a brilliant circle, thick enough to hide them both from the outside world. Erik heard a distant, furious sound, like something clawing at glass, before it gradually faded as the ring of light closed.

The crack in the sky slowly sealed shut.

Erik looked at the woman holding him and suddenly understood.

"You chose this... not only for the mark."

"It cannot see through the four seasons when they are together." The Lord of Seasons smiled tiredly. "And a happy heart is very difficult to find. You see? I am still a Sentinel who knows how to calculate."

"I thought you only enjoyed bullying men."

"Both." She laughed softly and kissed his forehead. "A woman can have many reasons at once."

An unexpected warmth spread from the left side of Erik’s chest.

He looked down.

Right over his heart, four small lines of light appeared upon his skin: fresh green, brilliant gold, maple red, and silver-white.

They were not markings carved into him, but threads growing out from the beat of his own heart, weaving together into a circular flower with four petals.

Each petal bore its own color, but at the center, they met at a tiny point of light like a seed.

"This is..."

The Lord of Seasons placed a finger upon the flower and gently traced each petal.

"A guiding mark."