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Was he serious? He was on the brink of death and wanted to carry me?
“I don’t think that’s a goo?—”
Before I could finish my sentence, one of his limbs grabbed me and I screamed through the air, automatically wrapping my arms around his neck as he quickly scaled the crater wall.
Without given time to come to terms with what just happened, we sprinted toward the darkness, our hearts pounding in our chests. The desert blurred around us as we moved with a speed fueled by desperation.
"Your friend will die," his mandibles clicked and my heart battled with what my mind knew.
I took a dry swallow as I led him the best I could to an area I had stumbled upon a long while back on one of my runs. We ran through the dark sands, Isolarel’s labored breaths echoing in the stillness of the night. His body was weak and battered, but his determination pushed him forward. I could feel his pain, both physical and emotional, as if it were my own. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, but I refused to let it break me. We had to keep moving, keep running, until we were far away from the clutches of Seth.
I could save him. We got away. We did it.
We pressed on, our footsteps barely making a sound as we navigated on our path. The desert seemed to stretch on endlessly, the sand was whispering secrets and the wind carrying a sense of foreboding. But we couldn't afford to be afraid. We had to find a safe place, somewhere Seth couldn't reach us.
Isolarel fell a few times and I quickly got beneath his shoulders, straining my muscles to get him back to his feet. I was glad I was in shape enough to help him as much as I could because he weighed as much as he looked.
"We can't stop now," I urged, my voice filled with urgency. "We have to keep going."
Isolarel nodded weakly. "I won't let him win."
After a few more yards and my muscles crying out for mercy, Isolarel fell off my shoulder.
"Just let him take me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Leave, so you can survive."
Panting with exertion, I gave him whatever smile I could muster. “You’re stuck with me. I won’t leave you."
He growled in objection but didn’t fight me as I gritted my teeth and forced him to his feet again.
We saton the cavern's floor, our lungs taking revenge on our abuse with every breath we tried to catch. I was lucky I still had a small bottle of water with me to share as our hearts began to slow and a sense of peace settled over us the further the night went.
My mind wouldn’t rest, though, as I wondered how long Mr. Redding could truly hold back a god? I wanted to believe he made it out okay. My heart cried out for it. Instead of facing what may possibly be the truth, my mind played back his stories of them. I had worked at the library for a good three years before it happened. His wife and daughter had tragically lost their lives in a devastating car wreck caused by another swerving vehicle that was trying to avoid scaffolding that had fallen and blocked the road.
I had been there to console him in the aftermath, witnessing firsthand the profound grief that consumed him. Through countless therapy sessions, he had managed to regain some semblance of normalcy in his physical appearance, but his shattered mind had never truly recovered. That was when he dove into his books and research of ancient texts.
Perhaps, this was his way of fighting against the gods he believed were responsible for tearing his family away from him—He sought to defy the very forces that had brought him such immense pain. It was a desperate and audacious act, fueled by a mixture of anger, grief, and a longing for justice.
But there was another possibility that lingered in the depths of my mind. Could it be that Mr. Redding's desire to hold back a god was driven by a yearning to join his wife and daughter in the afterlife? Was he searching for a way to reunite with them, to find solace and peace in a realm beyond the reach of mortal suffering?
This thought sent a shiver down my spine. I had witnessed the depths of Mr. Redding's despair, the emptiness that haunted his eyes. It was a pain that no therapy or medication could fully heal. And yet, in the midst of his anguish, there was a glimmer of hope, a small flicker that refused to be extinguished.
I wondered what drove Mr. Redding to such extremes. Was it his grief that pushed him to the brink of madness, or was it his unwavering love for his wife and daughter? Perhaps it was a combination of both, an unyielding determination to find mollification in a world that had been torn apart.
“You should have left me.”
Pulled from my inner turmoil, I jerked my head to the side to look at Isolarel. “What? No. Why would I do that?”
“Because I will do nothing but bring you suffering,” he deadpanned, slowly sliding to the ground on his side.
I gasped and went to grab him but he locked my wrists in his lower hands instead. My breath caught and he quieted for a few moments before pulling me down to lay beside him. He was too strong to resist and at the same time… I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.
We stared at each other in a strange intimate position, not saying a word—simply breathing in each other’s presence as if we needed the other to anchor us to the small sense of peace we stole for ourselves.
“W-What are you doing?” I dared to ask—confused, timid and curious all at the same time.
“Trying to read the mind of a small female who would risk her entire mortal existence for a being that had already been judged for eternity.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended by his observation. I guess I was stubborn in many ways when I set my mind to something. It didn’t seem as dire as he made it out to be, but the more I let his statement marinate in my mind, the more truth rang out.
