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The last part of the sentence was like a whisper. Who did this familiar voice belong to? I could taste his name on the tip of my tongue, but every time I thought I finally caught it, it slipped away and was swallowed up by the dark mists that enveloped me. My soul urged me towards him.
"I can no longer help her. My magic is not enough. There is only one being left who can free Myrina from this power. Give me permission to get her. For Myrina, Dumah," Aza replied in an unexpectedly firm voice.
A growl cut through the room.
"Don't call me Dumah. You know my name. Now, bring her here. Quickly, Aza!" These words had been cold, so the soft "please" that followed them like a breath was all the more astonishing.
Hurried footsteps moved away, and I heard a sigh as soon as the door was closed. Fingers tenderly stroked my hot cheek. Fingers that drew a trail of memories I wanted to grasp and which were taken away from me the next moment by another wave of darkness.
The gentle crackling of fire mingled with the silence of my darkness, bringing my senses back to this life. The scent of herbs, oils, and unfamiliar odors invigorated my breathing, and a few rays of sunlight tickled my eyelids.
Feelings of security and infinite happiness took hold of me, put a smile on my face, and the pain and darkness disappeared with them.
Almost as if I had had a long, fulfilling sleep, I stretched out in the soft blankets before opening my eyes, expecting to see my room.
I realized in amazement that the surroundings were utterly unfamiliar, but I still felt neither fear nor panic. I was lying in a magnificent four-poster bed, its wooden frame entwined with carved roses and adorned with red velvet curtains open to the window side of the room. My gaze fell on soft red-printed wallpaper that framed a large stone fireplace from which the crackling fire emanated. Small pillars supported the fireplace frame, and the ledge was decorated with two fat flying angels—two putti.
The open window was as high as the ceiling and adorned with flowery skirting boards. A warm breeze wafted into the room, accompanied by its own scent: lavender, jasmine, rosemary, lemons, and roses. Everything reminded me of an Italian villa in Tuscany. Was I in Italy? And if so, how did I get there?
With every question I asked, I felt the darkness trying to manifest itself in me anew.
"Breathe easy, girl."
My gaze shot to the other side of the enormous bed. Someone had pushed one of the curtains aside, and a breathtakingly beautiful woman stood in the opening. She had milk-white skin, black hair that reached down to the floor, and shining silver eyes whose pupils reminded me of those of an animal.
Although I knew deep in my heart I should have recoiled, I just stared at her motionlessly, like a deer in front of the hunter's shotgun. Power oozed from her every pore, and when she approached me, she didn't walk but hovered above the ground.
"Drink this," she told me emotionlessly, holding out a steaming mug. Even if I hadn't wanted to take it, my body responded to her request without understanding, and my hand reached for the drink.
Without hesitation, I put the cup to my lips and drank the bitter brew ultimately. Over the rim, I caught a glimpse of a grin that contained a cruelty I had never seen in a human before.
When the last drop trickled down my throat, I returned the cup.
"Good girl," she purred, staring at me as if she could see deep into my soul. Discover my most secret wishes and dreams there.
"Hecate! Get out of her head!" a dark male voice suddenly sounded from the room door behind her. The silver-eyed woman let out an angry snarl, but no one was there as soon as I looked in the direction from which the words had come.
I knew that voice. Who did it belong to again? My head still seemed stuck in the fog surrounding me in my sleep.
"Don't worry, little girl. The fog will clear at any moment, and you'll remember."
I gazed curiously at Hecate, who had now come so close to my bed I could see spiraling swirls in the liquid silver of her pupils. They almost seemed as if they could draw me into them.
"How do you know that?" I asked in a brittle voice that rasped sharply in my throat. It was as if I hadn't spoken in days and had been shouting for hours.
She giggled briefly. It wasn't a happy sound but a cold one that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Because I see it," she breathed, and again, she deepened her gleaming silver gaze.
Right at that moment, the memories struck. Unexpectedly and mercilessly.
CHAPTER 2
The images came flooding back to me like an inner movie. I instinctively closed my eyes, but the memories found me anyway. Memories of my parents, my brothers Chris, Jordy, and Rick, when we were still children. My school days, my friends. Charly. The prom at high school. Alex and I in suits and evening dresses. Arm in arm. Kisses. Our first night together. College and our decision to study law. Charly again. Laughter, happiness, straw-yellow hair in the sea breeze on Coney Island.
Mom's sudden illness. Worry, grief, death. Uprising, coup, and the Knights of John, who seized power worldwide. Dead bodies in the streets, executions, flames devouring bodies. Women and girls are banned from schools, colleges, universities, and higher professions. My books that disappeared from my room, as well as my beloved jeans and colorful shirts. What remained were hated long, colorless dresses, embroidery utensils, and lots of tears. And Alex. My fiancé, my best friend.
Dreams. Amazons, horsewomen, queens, princes. Engulfed in another world and yet connected to me.
