Chapter 71 He know her secret
Orion stood paralyzed, his breath hitching as her incredible power pierced his very soul. The sight of that golden light didn't just shock him; it acted like a blade, cutting through the layers of cold indifference he had built to protect himself.
"This cannot be," he whispered into the depths of his soul.
His eyes were fixated on her every movement, unable to tear themselves away from the miracle unfolding before him. He was a man drowning, and she was the only light he had ever seen.
The miracle expanded. With a burst of golden light, Esperanza resurrected the massive oak, forcing the dead wood to bloom. Orion stood witness to the impossible: a forest giant rising from its grave, commanded by the hands of a girl he thought he knew.
"His eyes were wide, his lips trembling and stumbling as he tried to form a word that wouldn't come.
He was trapped in an encounter with the impossible.
His body felt anchored to the earth, motionless, while he watched her.
Esperanza’s gaze was riveted to the oak, a radiant, pure smile lighting her face as if she were sharing a secret with the ancient wood.
She turned, a smile still lingering on her lips, only to find the world turning cold. Her breath froze.
Orion stood behind her. In an instant, the immense energy of the tree felt far away, replaced by the heavy, suffocating weight of the man who knew her secret.
The color drained from Esperanza’s face in an instant.
Her gaze locked on the space behind Orion, where a shadowy apparition flickered like a dying candle.
It was a ghost of the war, a reminder of the shredded hearts they had left behind. Orion felt the temperature drop, his own soul shivering as he realized he wasn't the only one haunting her."
Orion’s gaze gentled, his fierce intensity replaced by a hushed desperation. As he advanced, Esperanza surged backward. Her movement was unrecognizable—inhumanly fast and frantic—as she put the revived oak tree between herself and the man who had seen too much.
"When did you come?" she asked, her voice a thin veil of politeness. Orion didn't answer with words at first; he reached out, pulling her flush against his body. He felt like a stranger.
"I just arrived," he lied, his voice laced with a heavy, haunting sadness that she couldn't ignore. Despite his touch, she felt the suspicious sentinels of his secrets standing guard between them.
"What are you doing here?" he murmured, his hands caressing her arms with a deceptive tenderness. He was hunting for the truth, his heart suspiciously waiting for her to slip.
"I felt... heavy. I wanted to be alone," she whispered, burying the truth of the golden light deep inside. But Orion knew. He saw the reality she was hiding, and he realized with a jolt of fear that Felix had been right all along.
He held her tighter, knowing that if she realized he had seen her power—if she knew the reality of his betrayal—she would never let him touch her again.
"He said he would kill me," she whispered, her voice barely a thread as her body trembled against the cold air.
Orion nodded slowly and released her. The loss of his warmth felt like a threat. He looked deep inside her soul, his gaze so heavy that she felt herself shrink beneath it.
"That’s why I made him leave," he said, his eyes piercing her skin like needles.
Esperanza forced a breaking, fragile smile and nodded, but the air between them was sour with deceit.
"You are lying," he stated flatly. Her eyes widened in terror; Orion’s face had shifted, becoming suspicious and pernicious, a predator realizing his prey was hiding a dagger.
"Why would I lie?" he asked, his voice dropping to a smooth, dangerous silk. "I would never lie to you... would you?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine. Esperanza stood perplexed, her mind racing to find a footing as his hypocrisy hit her like a physical blow. He was daring her to call his bluff while he held her secret over her head.
After a flicker of hesitation, Esperanza let out a faint, fragile smile. "Why would I lie?" she asked, trying to reclaim the air between them.
Orion smiled back, a sharp, knowing expression that sent a chill down her spine. He looked away then, his gaze drifting to the revived oak tree, leaving her trapped in the stifling silence of his unspoken judgment.
"Just a confirmation," he whispered. His eyes were filled with a sudden, heavy notion—he saw her not as a girl, but as a miracle. Esperanza felt her heart race with a terrifying rhythm, realizing that his "confirmation" was the end of her safety.
Her smile was weak, a flickering flame in a rising wind. The tension between them had become unpredictable and volatile. Her eyes were swapping—darting frantically from his gaze to the shadows—and though her lips spoke of innocence, her trembling body was screaming the truth. Every line of her posture was a confession she wasn't ready to make.