No one was watching him. No one could watch him. Inarius was utterly isolated in his sanctum, his followers shut out, his magical wards and barriers holding strong. Not even Malthael himself could've snuck a peak at him, and what he was doing currently.
Not even she could've possibly known.
Still he hesitated before the mirror.
He had done it before, called up her image in a moment of weakness, to see if he still desired her still. What a terrible idea that had been.
Inarius did not do things by halves, and that included loving Lilith. So he still loved her.
This just seemed...too much. Would it really help him to face her memory again? It was a ridiculous notion, trying to absorb and dismiss what she'd done to him, what he'd done to her, what he'd felt for her.
Huffing, Inarius finally summoned the image of her. That was it, just an image; she stood at his side as she once had, watching him. There was that look in her face, the one she'd only ever turning towards him; that uncertain desire, that tentative, genuine affection he knew she'd had for him.
Inarius stepped closer. He was bending the physics, in this chamber of shining mirror that he'd created for himself. Instead of his own reflection, she stood before him. Watching him.
He should dismiss her. He should turn from her, forget that she ever existed.
But it wouldn't help the way his resonance thrummed, the excited ripples in his wings just from seeing her again had prompted.
Oh, he still loved her. He hated that he did, but couldn't so anything to stop her.
With a sigh that fogged the surface in front of him, Inarius shut his eyes, and leaned in.
Only cold glass touched his lips.
