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“Years. Hundreds, maybe thousands. We cannot know the will of the Gods.”
“So now I just sit with my thumb up my ass painting pretty pictures and hope for the best?” I can’t hold the venom from my voice, but the tall scholar doesn’t seem to notice or care as he saunters through the empty halls.
“For now. There are many things you need to learn. Your powers are lost to you, but should your mate bond a Shard, you may see some hints of Chroma slowly return to you. You are stuck between worlds, Prince Dan’thiel. It is not an easy existence, but it is better than being dead. Enjoy this time before your essence is lost to the universe for eternity and your journey ends. The Gods have given you a magnificent gift by releasing you here. Perhaps you can use this time to find some peace. Now follow me.”
Rynlin urges me forward with a hand on my shoulder.
Instead, I sink to my knees in the middle of the empty corridor, the cold stone sending sharp pain cracking through my knees as I hang my head low, uncaring. The tears flow unhindered down my cheeks, coating my lips in the salty mixture. Malicryn blindsided me. She killed me and doomed my soul for eternity. My shoulders shudder as my sobs echo in the stone prison that is to be my home.
My people will continue to suffer, but the heartache stings more vividly. I’ve been betrayed by the one I trust most. Again.
Rynlin reaches out, placing his hand on my shoulder, kneeling beside me as I cry my tears of grief.
“You were not meant to be hers. She knew this, and the despair she felt led her down a dark path. The Gods will punish her audacity and presumption in time.” His soothing tone is at odds with the disturbing concept. This injustice must be punished sooner. By me.
“She will pay for what she did. I will see her suffer for this.”
Rynlin waits patiently, nodding, his hand resting comfortingly on my shoulder.
“Can I do anything here besides wait and hope my mate bonds the Shards?”
His gaze lingers on me, taking in my determination, considering.
“There are ways to observe other realms from here, but it is shameful. Many here do not approve of the practice.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in closer and continues.
“There may be some small ways to influence other realms. This is my personal area of study. Although it is reckless, it is not yet forbidden. Actions like sending Dreamshares or enhancing natural occurrences seem to be the primary path. Things like moving the wind to your will. But I believe this is not helpful for you. Perhaps if the Vessel bonds some Shards and your Chroma returns, you may be able to influence the living realm in small bursts of energy.”
“The wind? How am I supposed to make them bond with the wind?”
Rynlin gives me a sympathetic look. Still, a glimmer of hope, however unlikely. Standing, I wipe my hand down my face, clearing the last clinging droplets of tears from my cheeks. I nod in acceptance as Rynlin turns to continue through the eerie halls of my new home.
In a world that is neither here nor there, there’s nothing to do but to wait and to hope.
Chapter Thirteen
Mira
The following morning, Sunder and I pack my car with supplies for the week ahead. Jasper was understanding last night when I called him to tell him I’d be gone for the rest of this week and into the next for a mental health break.
“Don’t worry about it. Listen, you’ve had a lot of stress lately, and I know things haven’t been easy, especially with the latest pressure from the C-suite. Take the time you need and come back when you’re ready. You’ve got to take care of yourself. This is just a job, Mira.”
If he weren’t twenty years older and already married, I’d be totally smitten with him. My chest still aches at his kindness. He’s such an amazing human, mentor, and boss.
I hope I’ll get to see him again after I…
The trunk slams shut as Sunder finishes loading our bags, startling me from my reverie. As he climbs into the driver’s seat of my car, I pick up Bobble’s carrier from the sidewalk. Presumptuous, but ok. I hate driving anyway, so I climb into the passenger seat beside him with Bobble in my lap, much to Sunder’s dismay.
“He’s a cat. He’ll be fine by himself for a few days,” he says for the fifth time this morning.
“He’ll be fine coming with us, too. He doesn’t like being alone. Besides. I’ve taken him to a cabin before. He likes running around the wilderness. Don’t you, baby? Yes, you’re my good little Bobble cat.”
Sunder grumbles under his breath as he starts the engine. We drive in silence until the traffic lightens up outside the perimeter. Only two hours to go. Bored out of my mind, I turn on some music.
Layne Staley’s hauntingly soulful voice flows through the speakers. His live performance speaks to the broken pieces of my soul more and more as I age. Closing my eyes, for a moment we stand together before the intimate crowd. Our pain intertwines, sinking and rising together with his harmonies. I wonder if Sunder feels it, too?
Stealing a glance in his direction, his face betrays nothing. Watching the trees and billboards fly by, my mind floats back to the night I found out Tim is getting remarried. Lying on the floor, my failures laid bare.
“I like this,” Sunder says quietly. I sing the next line in a tuneless bellowing attempt, “…yet I fight this battle all alone. No one to cry to. No place to call home.” He gives no reaction as I belt out the Alice in Chains song.
