Voice of Dragonland

PS: Selostar's methods are fully exposed, and the content that made everyone puzzled before has been explained. How should Thranduil choose? Will the ugly guy find him?

Voice of Longyu, waiting for your presence...

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"Look, the jungle is a dangerous place~" Redagast staggered in his dilapidated hut, and took off the small fruit that the hedgehog stuck on his back and stuffed it into his mouth, "Oh, this year's fruit is very delicious ,Do you agree?"

Galian was anxious and helpless, "We need you, we need you to save the jungle from fire..."

"Oh!" Redagast turned around abruptly, "Why are you still here?"

"I said, what did the dense forest look like before, and what does it look like now, do you understand what I mean?" Redagast shrugged his shoulders, and his eyes looked serious, "There is no change, except for the continuous invasion from the north of the mountains The monsters that came, but they were there hundreds of years ago, or even longer."

"No..." Gallian shook his head, "The Elven King is not on the throne..."

"What?" Redagast pushed Galian away with a little apology, reached out to catch the Dormouse that was about to fall off the table, and put it back into the teacup.

"He's missing." Gallian whispered.

Raeda Gast paused, "Oh, no..."

"We're looking for him." Gallian stepped forward, enduring the smell of a bird's nest emanating from the brown-robed wizard.

"This is really bad news." Redagast finally sat down, took off his hat, and the little bird that nested in his hair flew up, circled the beam, and slowly landed on his shoulder .

Gallian stood respectfully, "We saw him die, but... the coffin in the tomb is empty, and Vera, he must be somewhere, but we can't find him..."

"I can try to take a look..." Redagast took out a chipped bowl, poured some spring water, and took out a handful of dusty things from his dirty pocket and sprinkled it on inside the bowl.

The weird incantation was slow and low, and as Redagast groaned, the water in the bowl rippled, and gradually changed from muddy to clear, and the dense forest and underground palace were faintly visible.

"Above Vera..." Gallian murmured.

On the surface of the water, a mass of black air floated vaguely above the dense forest underground palace, and the appearance of the undead was looming.

"I thought elves wouldn't mess with these things..."

The frightened little birds hid back to their nests, while the kind wizard put his hat on again, "I'm curious, who has the courage to wake up the sleeping undead."

"Our dearest Highness Selosta..." Galian replied blankly.

The ugly guy knew that he should obey Galian's words honestly, stay in his extremely small room, and silently prayed to the gods that everything would return to peace and the elf king would return safely.

How can he sit still?As long as he closes his eyes, Thranduil's dusty and cloudy eyes will jump out and look at him. He is willing to die a thousand times, ten thousand times, and be burned by dragon flames every day I don't want those eyes to appear again, I don't want his life to fade away before his eyes gradually, make him crazy, make him despair, make him cry blood...

The night was like a curtain, he stepped lightly on the moonlight and walked to the bedroom of the Elf King.

The guard was heavily guarded, and there were elf warriors in heavy armor standing on both sides of the corridor. They held spears, tall and tough.

The ugly one knows a safer way.

The window carved with delicate branch patterns has long been closed, and the curtains embroidered with delicate orchid patterns hang down quietly, leaving only a very thin gap to penetrate the faint moonlight.

A shadow flickered, the moonlight was covered by a ray, and an extremely ugly face hung upside down outside the curtain. If someone passed by casually at this time, they would probably be scared to death.

But the dormitory was extremely quiet.

Brown eyes moved slowly, looking inward.

The large carved bed was empty, and a candle was burning beside the desk, but no one lit the lamp to read at night.

In the past few days, except for summoning the ministers, Selosta stayed in the bedroom for the rest of the time, staying at home.

So now, where is the legendary His Royal Highness who never leaves home?

The ugly guy narrowed his eyes, pulled out the dagger from his waist, gently opened the window lock, and jumped in.

The sleeping hall was empty and quiet, and the objects that belonged to Thranduil were still placed in place, such as books, robes, flowers, portraits, and those gems that shone with a seductive luster, except that the unruly and indifferent person was missing.

He stretched out his hand and lightly stroked the coat hanging on the hanger. The fine stitches slightly pressed against his palm, carrying a faint scent of orchid musk that lingered for a long time.

"ADA..." he called out, his voice was as soft as the airflow brought by the fluttering wings of a butterfly, which instantly dissipated in the air.

He stood in the dormitory for a long time, and finally returned along the same road.

Selosta is not in the bedroom, he should be with Thranduil, but where is he?

History is always surprisingly similar. The ugly guy doesn't know that Thranduil is less than ten meters below his feet...

Thranduil was already able to sit up, and he could feel the lost vitality gradually returning to his body, like new shoots after rain, slowly sprouting branches and leaves, and it was only a matter of time before he recovered.

The dark room was dim, and a few candles were moved to the table. Selosta supported his forehead with one hand, and quickly edited and revised the documents with the other. Occasionally, his eyes fell on Thranduil, and he patrolled gently. He went back to the boring document in front of him.

The words in front of me are no longer rigid and boring, but dance mischievously.The ancient text contains a touch of melancholy that has settled down over the long years. Under the candlelight, it turns into a beautiful face, faintly hidden, and the sorrow in the eyebrows seems to condense into sticky dewdrops, dripping on the ground, heavy sound.

"Look, I can't concentrate all the time." He closed the file, rested his chin on one hand, looked back at Thranduil with a smile, "I'm going to stay up until midnight again today." Thranduil seemed to have never heard of it , eyes lowered, still as stone.

"You still don't want to talk to me?" Selosta's smile narrowed slightly, "It's right to be angry, after all, it's all my fault."

Thranduil was like a real phantom, sitting there, motionless, if not for the long shadow cast by the candlelight behind him, Cylosta even felt that the man who was as silent as a sculpture was his hallucination, It was the reflection that appeared in his mind after he fell in love and went astray, became insane and stateless.

Thinking of this, he suddenly panicked, his palms were sweating densely, sticky and humid, his heartbeat accelerated, hitting his chest one after another, he stood up, and walked towards Thranduil.

The outstretched fingertips were slightly cool, and fell on the warm skin, as if he had been bewitched, and he never wanted to leave. He squatted down and looked up at the foggy gray eyes in his eyes, "Are you scared?" Follow me."

"Do you think this kind of life is interesting?" Thranduil's gaze fell on Selosta's cheek, cold and sharp.

Selosta's honey-like smile froze, the deer-like luster in her eyes gradually receded, and a touch of pain after being injured surfaced, and then sank quickly.He slowly looked away and remained silent.

Thranduil didn't give him a leeway to relax, and went straight to the point, "I am your father, whether it is body or soul, no matter how many times you die, it will not change."

The smile lines at the corners of Selosta's mouth gradually faded, and his sadness was like a veil, covering his youthful face, casting a layer of vicissitudes on his youthful vigor, and then covering it up with a more reluctant smile, "I have time..."

"What I said will not change, forever." Thranduil didn't allow him to continue talking at all.

Selosta's lips twitched slightly, and under Thranduil's sharp gaze, she slowly lowered her head, "But, I know you love me."

"I love you, and I treat you with the utmost tolerance, allowing you to kill your mentor, kill your father, and kill your father! Isn't that enough?"

Thranduil's eyes were like torches, and any rotten gloom disappeared under his eyes.

"No, you don't understand what I mean." Selosta still smiled, those barely turned into embarrassment, his eyes wandered, avoiding the scrutiny from his father, "I know, you love me, it's between lovers love."

"How do you know?" Thranduil narrowed his eyes.

The way he pressed on every step of the way was completely different from the one Selosta was familiar with, to the point of cruelty, and the latter was still hesitating whether to tell the whole truth.

"How did you confirm something that I didn't even know?" Thranduil still looked aggressively.

"If..." Selosta tried to breathe evenly, "if you don't love me, I will die."

Thranduil said nothing.But the look in his eyes showed that he didn't believe such childish rhetoric at all.

"I know you won't believe it, and I never thought of using this to force you to accept me." Selosta's smile was bitter, and he slowly unbuttoned his sleeves, "But, this is the truth."

Countless ugly wounds were entrenched on his smooth wrist, each of which was black and purple in color, slightly higher than the skin, like ugly multi-legged insects, like the withered fingers of a devil sticking out of hell, twisted and hideous.

Thranduil reached out and grabbed his wrist, his eyes fell on it, and he remained silent for a long time.Cylosta watched his hair fall to his cheeks, his bushy brow furrowed, his lips drawn into a straight line.

"This is a binding spell. If the resurrected person doesn't love the person who awakened him, then the dead person will return to the land of decay and will never be able to return to the Temple of Mandos..." Selosta said softly, "I'll change it." After casting that spell, if you don't love me, I will die instead of you, and stay outside the gate of the afterlife forever..."

Thranduil covered those painful wounds with his palms, gentle rays of light leaked out from between his fingers, and strands of moonlight fell on his cheeks.

Round thick coral-colored water drops slowly fell from his palm, one or two, fell on the knees of the two of them, and were quickly absorbed by the fabric, leaving only a bewitching and glaring scar.

"No..." Thranduil spat out a cold word from his pale lips like a moan.

Selosta gently pushed his hand away, silently took out a handkerchief, and bandaged his palm that seemed to be cut by a sharp blade, "It is useless, a cursed thing that cannot be forgiven by the light of God."

"The wizard can do it, Gandalf can do it!" Thranduil grabbed his wrist, "Go to him and undo these curses, now!"

"Do you think I've put so much effort into laying this out, and I'll let it go at this time?" Selosta shook her head slightly.

"When will you wake up? These vicious things will corrupt your soul, and eventually become a rotten thing that falls into hell!" Thranduil was impatient and angry.

"I am not afraid of death, degeneration, or decay. This is the sin I committed." Selosta gently held Thranduil's cheek, and said softly, "If you love me, I will live. If you don't love Me, I will die for you, there is no other option, just love."

Thranduil's persistence and fierceness disappeared in an instant, his lips were as pale as the snow in deep winter, "You are crazy..."

"Maybe..." Selosta's smile was deep, like the color of sunlight falling on petals, bright and quiet, "Either love me or let me die..."

Thranduil had no choice, he stiffened his body, and let Cylosta slowly approach, the lips as bright as petals fell on his cheek, bringing a burst of warmth that made him shudder.

Nothing to resist, nothing to refuse.

Its cruelty far surpassed death, it was a living torture, bit by bit, it crushed his pride and self-esteem into dust and scattered it all over the ground.

He finally stretched out his hand, pushing Selosta's kiss away when he was slowly falling to kiss his lips, "Is it worth playing this kind of game with your life?"

"It's not a game, it's a gamble, and the stakes are my life. Look, I haven't lost."

"Absurd! Cylosta, I am so disappointed in you!"

Selosta smiled slightly, her determined eyes were like a spider looking at its prey struggling in its web, "I said, I can wait."

The basement is like spring all the year round, but Thranduil feels cold, that kind of coldness seems to be alive, piercing his heart, and rushing along his blood to the limbs and bones, they scream, collide, Give him a little leeway.

Selosta stretched out her hand, wrapped around his shoulders like a vine, and hugged his shoulders tightly, "Every day I live comes from your love, as long as I think this way, I am not even afraid of death..."

"Vera..." Thranduil's body trembled slightly, and the chill deeply eroded his body and his thinking.

"What's wrong with you?" Selosta tightened her arms, "Is it cold?"

"Leave me alone." Thranduil pushed him away, slowly but surely.

"Okay." Sailosta said, but refused to let go.

"You..." Thranduil raised his face, but met his lips.

It is as soft as a dandelion flying in spring, with a light warmth and the aroma of flowers and plants, very light and light, like a sweet dream in the waning night.

Selosta backed away quickly, her smile still as thick and sweet as honey, "Then I'll go first, and I'll come to accompany you when I finish my business."

He didn't know Thranduil's sorrow and pain.

He didn't know that those heavy burdens were on his shoulders, and he could hardly breathe.

Absurd, but true.

The empty time passed by especially long, just a few days, as if a year had passed, the chaotic past in my mind gradually settled down, clearly like the veins of leaves penetrated by the sun.

After all...he owes him...

I owe him a chance to live, I owe him a serious answer, I owe him an explanation about love...

How to repay?How to repay?With what to repay?

Thranduil sighed, looking at the flickering candle, unable to give himself an answer.