Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
Selene
The door seals shut, as does the air in my lungs. Tristen advances, diving to tackle the old man. Arms out wide, he curls them in, but he only hugs air. His head smacks against the stone wall. His magic flares out to protect him. The entire room is blanketed in shadows, hindering my sight.
“Fuck!” Tristen grunts.
“Tristen, let me see so I can help!” I plead.
He lowers his shadows, appearing by my side, sword in hand.
“Where did he go?“ I whisper, as my eyes fix on the two candles on the dresser. If he were near them, his breath would surely shake the flames.
We form a defensive circle, our backs touching. “Titus is gonna kill me,” he mutters.
“We’ll be fine,” I try to assure him. The door is gone! This is a stone cage. “He was a fae.”
“Selene, that guy is a vampire. I saw his fangs.”
“No,” I argue. We both take small steps, scanning the room. “He was fae; his ears were tipped.”
“Tipped? He’s a wrinkled ball; you’re confused. I’m more worried about how he vanished.”
“I’m not a fae.” The old man’s voice rumbles as deep as a dozen warriors singing before a battle. “Not that I find insult in being compared to your kind.”
“Start swinging!” Tristen shouts. He lunges and begins stabbing thin air. His movements snuff out one of the candles.
“Stop!” I hiss. If those lights go out, we’re blind.
“I warned him about being pompous and impulsive,” the man sighs.
My words get trapped behind my beating heart.
“You’re scaring the queen,” the old man mocks Tristen.
“I am not scared.” I lick my lips. “What are you?”
“That’s a loaded question.” There is a smile in his words. “I have never been able to fully solve it.”
“Maybe I can help,” I offer. Dust and mold fill my thirsty lungs.
His laugh is so deep it shakes the air.
I step back, trying to grab Tristen. “Tristen! Stop stabbing blindly.”
“I prefer to kill, not be killed, but so be it, mate-in-law.” His eyes widen at his slip of words.
“Mated,” the man purrs. “Congratulations.”
“Would you like to shake hands?” I counter. Come out, come out, wherever you are?
I sense magic, smell it in the air like marshmallows melting under a campfire. Yet I see none. A ripple of light and shadows flashes. He’s back in the chair, sitting cross-legged, smirking as he fans his robes out.
Tristen dives forward. Blink! He’s gone, reappearing on his bed, cross-legged and relaxed. “Tristen, stop.” I step between them. The silk fabric covering my body feels like a cast, restricting my movements.
The old man stands slowly, offering me his hand. “If I wanted you dead, you would be,” he states honestly, eyeing his hand for me to shake.
“Greetings like that do not promote peace,” I say sourly.
“I seek something more important than peace.” He turns his palm, waiting for me to grasp it.
“What is that?” Slowly, I raise my hand.
“Don’t be a fool,” Tristen grunts under his breath. I appreciate him letting me make the decision. Titus would have done the same before we were mated. Now he’d pull me back.
“I seek…” He guides his hand into mine, palm to palm, but I keep my fingers open. “Survival for my children and their children. Family is the only thing that makes my existence less painful.”
My warm palm meets cool, wrinkled skin as we shake hands.
“Congratulations on being bonded. It’s an honor and a rare gift that should be cherished every second you have it.” His eyes press into me like a warning fire. He opens his fingers, waiting for my release.
Gradually, I peel each finger back. He swings his hands comfortably behind his back.
He moves his ancient, weary eyes onto Tristen. “It was to be Titus who came to see me, but,” he looks Tristen up and down, “You will have to do. Your brother has endured enough, accepted more than one should bear. It’s time you pull your weight.”
In a flash, I press my dagger to his neck, digging it into old, wrinkled skin. “I will kill you if you touch him,” I sneer.
He remains unfazed. “You would try, I have no doubt. If that blade could kill me, I’d welcome it. Now,” he swings his hand up and presses his fingers to the blade, attempting to lower it. Not one inch of his skin is sliced.
How is that possible?
“Are you going to let me talk, or is this a pissing contest?”
“I’m comfortable.” I keep my dagger high, eyeing the sharp edge that should have cut him. “Talk.”
His chest falls. Snap! He’s gone. Weight hits the chair. Tristen and I turn around to see him sitting there again. “I’m more comfortable like this. I’ve had enough of the dramatics. Do not dare me to reveal my true nature.”
I tip my chin up. “What are you?” I demand.
“I am none yet spoken, merely fantasized about. I am here nor there, which makes me everywhere.” He releases an old laugh.
“Yet nowhere at all. I am not day or night; I am the in-between. I am lost and forgotten, yet comfortably content. I am the mystery on the horizon that is endless. I am hope, for it is the spring of all life.”
I lower my blade, much to Tristen’s dissatisfaction. “I am just a queen, whom you can call Selene. What may I call you?”
He rubs his jaw with intrigue. “I am… one with many names. None that matter; I still have not found one that satisfies me.”
“You prefer to be nameless?” I press.
“At times, yes. It’s tranquil. If they call, I do not have to answer.” He crosses his legs.
“That doesn’t sound like hope.” I assert.
“Hope is not always seen and felt, Selene. Hope is a dream and a nightmare. It is the unknown. Hope is an arrow that guides you, but leads us down a path of more questions.”
Tristen warned us he spoke strangely. I think he spins the truth, but tries to make it appear pleasantly alluring so he doesn’t frighten people away. He’s not rude because we’re bothering him; he’s angry we don’t seek out his company.
“But at this moment, I’d like you to know me by a name.” He thinks long and hard, as if pondering which he’d prefer.
“So if I call, you’ll answer?” I arch a brow.
His unsettling smile is his response. Such sorrow is evoked by its melancholic angle. Sometimes Everett would look at me like that. “No, Selene. This will be the only time you see me.” He glances at Tristen.
“I told you, talking with him is like pulling teeth,” Tristen groans. He keeps his footing and blade aimed at the old man.
The old man chuckles. “Perhaps I am teaching you patience. You will need it in the days to come. But you may call me Elderan.”
“Elderan,” I repeat. “Why do I see you as a fae?”
“Does it not make you more comfortable?”
“I’d rather face the truth.”
His grin pulls unevenly. “Are you sure? It will hurt us both.”
Tristen moves closer. “Are we sure?”
“Yes.”
Elderan’s hooded eyes meet mine. “Very well.”
Tristen shields me with his body as light bursts all around us. I anticipate pain. Death. I feel nothing, just light so bright I can not see or hear. Am I floating?
Tristen’s arms hold me tighter as panic sets in. His body is a mountain, shaking; his voice is a distant roar of an avalanche, desperately seeking to clear everything in its way. His shadows fail to protect us. Elderan’s light proves to be an unstoppable force.
“Enough,” Elderan softly states. The light vanishes, but Tristen and I are so jolted we can’t see. “I warned you. I’ll stay in this state of time-worn flesh.”
My hands move frantically, feeling the stone floor, sensing my surroundings. Tristen’s hands move across my body. “It’s me,” I tell him. His warm breath brushes against the nape of my neck. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “Are you?”
“I think so, but I can’t see yet,” he rasps.
“Me neither,” I reply warily.
“While your senses are recovering, you both will sit down and listen,” Elderan orders. “I already told Tristen many things.”
Tristen snorts, “I don’t get the feeling your mother was a fae.”
“I like to observe; that was not a lie. She did raise me, but she was not the first nor the last. As I mentioned, I come and go. She did have the power of hindsight. I just happened to know the story, but I respected her, sat down, and played my part of a child so she could mother me.”
“So you’re a psycho who likes to play mommy fetish.” Tristen shifts so he’s in front of me. Everything is blurry now; that’s good. Soon I’ll see clearly.
“No. But if I do not walk in your shoes, how can I understand? So I do. Sometimes, I am a child; other times, an old man. Once, I was a falcon; that visit was ended when an arrow claimed me. I remember when I visited as a dragon. The views were the same, but the falcon was much slower.”
“You’re a shifter?” I ask. However, I’ve never heard of shifters changing into forms like that.
“No,” he replies. “What I am matters not. My purpose here is to aid in your survival. Evil has flourished in the absence of the runes.”
My heart sputters, my fingers inch out, seeking Tristen’s hand. “You speak as if you are a god.”
“Gods can be killed. I’m different. No matter what happens, you can only trust two things, Selene.
There will always be a beginning and an end.
Kingdoms can fall; it gives an opportunity for more to rise.
Worlds can shatter, but it just creates more energy for others to clash together and form.
A beginning and an end. A genesis and a demise,” he repeats.
His eyes bounce back and forth darkly, like someone quickly turning pages so the reader can’t stop and study the details.
I lick my lips, trying to sound more curious than I am petrified. “Just tell us what you are?”
“You seem like you truly care.” His lips twitch. “It can’t hurt,” he mutters to himself. “I am a Genesis.”
“So you start things?”
“Things, worlds, creatures. Yes I start,” his voice slips into a state of anxiety. “And others seek to end.” His inhale is sharp, closing of this subject.
“If your ability is endless, why not just rid the world of evil? Why do the runes matter so much?”