They say that right before a hurricane, there is an eerie calm, a silence so unnatural that it cuts deep into the flesh. But that is not what happened. It was chaos followed by more chaos.
I heard it then, the screaming, the cries. Raulyn turns towards me, eyes widened. He tells me to stay put and then runs out of the room. And for some reason, instead of taking this opportunity to run away, listen.
I look around the room. I try to figure out what time it is; how long has it been since I've gotten to Linove. I can't recall.
I think of Malikah. I wonder if she is okay. I scanned my body, half bare. I had significantly healed. The only apparent injury is the carved sun.
Other than that, I am covered in dirt. I haven't bathed in an unsanitary amount of time. My hair is oily and dirty. I probably look like absolute shit. I feel hunger reel through my body. Thirst. My lips are dry, matching my mouth. Every swallow is rough and painful. I want to go back in time. But the thing they don't tell you about time travel is that if it ever existed, you would have to choose a time to go back to. And there isn't a time I want to go back to.
What about me?
Adam's voice is hurt and imaginary. I blink at his faded memory. My nose tingles as it always does before I cry. I can't answer it- him. I should want to go back, shouldn't I? I should want to be held by him again, to be loved by him. But- A soft whimper escapes me- why don't I want that?
“I don’t know. I don’t know what is- what is real. I know how I felt with you, but now it just seems like a faded memory. It doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real anymore.” For a brief instant, I worry someone might hear me and think I’m insane.
But something bothers me. Something feels different about the way I think about him now. I loved him with all my heart. But I don't think I loved him with all my soul. It sounds dumb, but some things weren't- I'm not sure where my thoughts are going.
You were my only love!
I imagine his manly growl and he takes me by the shoulders and shakes me to try to knock some sense into me.
"Yes, but you won't be mine." I say this, and it nauseates me. If I had just eaten, I could have easily puked.
You are my soulm-
"No. We were in love. We were not soulmates." And that was the first truth in a history of lies. Adam had been my first love and it had been great- amazing. We loved each other as if the world was at war because, well, because it was. Soulmates would have loved each other like the world had gone up in flames. I see the world in flames and me and another, my soulmate, holding each other, fireproof. Adam was no longer here to hold me and for some reason, I think if he was, it wouldn’t be enough. And then, like that, his imaginary voice vanishes.
Why am I thinking this way? Why was is this what I’m thinking about now? And then I think maybe it’s a form of self-hatred—self harm. Maybe I’m destroying all that was because it is lost to me. Maybe I’m trying to protect myself—to fade the good memories to bad so that I long for less.
I have been alone for what felt likes hours when I begin to hear chanting. It is ruthless and wild. Drums are playing a song that sounds like pure rage. My heart sinks, and my throat tightens. I know who that is. But why would Kayon be attacking their allies?
But then I thought of what the king says. Perhaps my perception of Cronad is flawed. Perhaps, I know nothing. I begin to feel trapped, so I go to open the door. Locked. I start banging on it. I was trapped. Too stuck. Too vulnerable. The enemy could easily break down the door and take me back-no. Not again. I would not let myself be taken again. Fuck, he was right. The king had said I had allowed whatever happen to me happen. Shit. He was right. I was the idiot who walked right into the camp, into the crowd and begged for the soldier's lives. And I couldn't even save them. They were now clothes and piles of meat, rotting in the brutal Kayonese sun.
I foolishly try opening the door again. I pound on it. Bang. Shout. I am terrified. And suddenly, the distant chants and yelling becomes chaotically silent. It was a silence so unnatural it could only be magic.
And then the king bursts through the door looking drained and pale.
"You need to stay here. I don't care what you think of me. You need to- just-" the return of yelling hastens his words.
"Don't leave. Stay put...please. I'll return."
He starts heading towards the door, but in all of the anarchic screams of violence and war, he stops and looks back at me. His face is pulled into a frown. Not angry, no, worried. He opens his mouth to say something. But whatever he wants to say, he can't bring himself to do so. He just looks down shamefully and slams the door shut.
I need him to come back. To tell me what he was going to say. I need him to tell me what's going on. Why does he care if I go out and get slaughtered by the Kayonese? If I was a prisoner, what value was my life?
But then I think about the light. The power. It’s funny, you would think having some kind of magic would make you feel powerful, stronger. But it only made me feel less in control. With something this unknown and this unpredictable lurking inside me, the most significant danger to me was me. In truth, I don’t know if I actually believe that I have magic. Could it have been a fluke? I mean, wouldn’t I have seen signs sooner? In twenty-two years, wouldn’t there be some kind of clue? Sometimes clues go unnoticed because you aren’t searching for them. I think about that. It was what my eighth-grade history teacher had said. She was warning us about the dangers of society and how everything has gone to shit (well, not in those words.) We called her Loony Lucy. She would preach on how we needed to make a change and that our generation was the future leaders. At the time, she just sounded insane. Now, I realize how wrong she was. We could never be leaders of a future that doesn’t exist.
I think about Jal and Kane. My, well, I’m not sure what they are to me. Friends. If I can admit that Adam wasn’t my soulmate, I can admit that I had two crappy friends. Where were my friends? Alive? Dead? Island of Death? I didn’t know where they had been stationed. The bases were random. The last time I spoke to them, we said casual goodbyes as if we would see each other the next day. It has been five years since then. Then, the only friend I had was Adam. Having only one friend for five years is not ideal. I mean, I don’t need a lot of friends, but Adam didn’t like to talk that much. I would try to say something, and then he would kiss me. It was cute for the first year. He would hold my face in his hands and mumble something like, how can I not want to kiss you all the time? I always blushed. He also, when feeling bold, would cut my talking off and whip out his cock, magically already erect, and shove it in my mouth. Now, I know that sounds aggressive, but I liked it. Loved it. I was a slut, and I liked being submissive. But...I also wanted to talk. Reflect. I was deep. I tried telling Adam that. He laughed and said, me too, in you. And then he would continue fucking the shit out of me. And that was all well and good, but I was so lonely. So desperate for closeness of souls- minds. And now, when I think about how empty I feel inside, I long for the night before I left to base, the night when Jal, Kane, and I were sat for hours and talked about whatever we wanted to—whatever we needed to.
I slowly rub my eyes. I try standing up, but I collapse. I need something to eat and drink. I can’t do anything. I try to stand again. I fall on my face. My body is so weak. I may not have many visible wounds, but internally, I was being torn apart. I hear noises. Footsteps. Not loud. A pair. One person. I drag myself into the corner of the room. I hold myself in fear. Fawn. Shitty, cowardly, pathetic baby animal who cannot defend himself. My hands make fists. I’m angry at the world for betraying me. The footsteps stop. The air smells bad. I smell bad. More anger. Heat flashes across my face. The burning sensation of rage. I’ve felt it before. Many times, actually. The door begins to open. The room becomes brighter. Not from the door opening but from the light my fists are emitting.
"Woah boy, it's me."
The king speaks as if he was trying to calm a spooked horse. But it worked. I calm down. The light dims ,and I slump back against a wall. I try to look at him. Malnourished, my eyes couldn't see all that well. But I could see he was bloody and bruised. His shirt was ripped as were his pants. He had been fighting. He had gotten hurt. And even though it makes no sense, I don’t like that.
"What- what happened to you? How did Kayon-"
"How do you know it was Kayon?"
"The chants." I can see that he wants to ask more. He wants to say more. It seems as if he always wants to say more than he does. But he sees the state I'm in and ignores his need for details and does something I don't think a king is supposed to do, let alone the king of Linove. He walks towards me and scoops me up and gently throws me over his shoulders.
"I can walk-"
"You sound like an idiot." His tone is surprisingly playful.
"You're hurt." It feels weird talking to his back.
"If you call a scratch being hurt, you must be weaker than I thought.
"Won't someone see?" He doesn't answer, he just stiffens. I don't think he processed the fact that this was weird. In fact, I don't think I have processed it. This is fucking weird as shit.
"No. Besides, what can they say? I’m their king." He says it arrogantly, but I can still feel that his back is stiffened.
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Save your energy.”
I want to argue but he’s right.
“Where are we? Where are you taking me?”
“Did I not say you need to save your energy?”
After ten minutes of walking through unfamiliar darkened underground halls, we reach a staircase.
“Put me down.” He does.
“You aren’t able to make it by yourself.” He was right, but I hated being slung over his shoulders. It was demeaning. Though, perhaps that was the point. Beads of sweat pile at his forehead, and I was suddenly aware of how hot it was. It was so humid, and the air was thick and heavy.
He hasn't said a word the entire time. It was uncomfortable. I was leaning against the wall when I realized he was staring at me.
"What?" It cones out soft, weak, fatigued.
He blinks and looks away as if he is embarrassed by being caught.
"You need to eat. Drink." I nod lazily.
"Can you not throw me over your shoulders?" He looks at me quizzically.
"And how do you expect me to carry you? Like a newborn?" With that, I could tell he was picturing it in his mind. His face becomes distraught- confused.
"No. Piggyback." He had turned away, and now he takes a sharp turn towards me.
"What the bloody fuck is that?" His language changes so swiftly, I'm taken by surprise. He is speaking like me. Finlurian. It feels unsettling.
"Like, I'll straddle your back." I can't think of a better description.
"I don't think you know what you're saying." He starts to take a step towards me and reaches his arms out to throw me over him. But before he can do that, I use whatever strength I have left to swipe past him and pounce onto his back. He freezes in complete shock. I want to laugh, but I have no energy.
"Now, grab my legs, and I'll hold onto your neck." He does. Slowly.
"This is..."
"Better?"
"Intimate." Not the word I would choose.
I don't reply because I can't think of anything that would make it less awkward.
He has already begun ascending the stairs when I begin to shut my eyes. And then my head falls into the nape of his neck, and I fall asleep.
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