Chapter Four
Iris
I don’t know this place. It looks…celestial. The night sky is a blend of purples and blues as more than one moon circles above. The vision shifts and I am in a palace. The world beneath the balcony is vast…it stretches to the edge of the formation, which floats high above the land…
“Remus”
I jolt awake, flying up in the bed. My body doesn’t recognize my surroundings, and it takes me a moment to breathe through my panic as the vivid displays that played about in my brain slowly dissipate into a foggy memory.
“What the hell was that?” I murmur as I place my hand against my forehead.
My skin is clammy, even though this place is colder than the average “warmed” household on Earth.
The flashes across my mind felt unnatural, as if they were forced, making me subconsciously panic.
I’ve never seen the place that appeared in my dream, but it felt so vivid… so real.
As I slow my breathing, I look around Remus’s bedroom.
It’s much different than his home on Earth.
The walls stretch impossibly high, but the entire wall is a window that overlooks the mountainscape.
The upper half is an accumulation of columns, the designs of which are more than likely native to this planet, and the ceiling, instead of containing a window that opens to the world above, displays detailed embellishments.
I shift over the edge of the bed, but it doesn’t move even though it is slightly elevated from the ground using whatever technology exists on this planet.
And the moment I move, a warm light dimly radiates from the walls, illuminating it just enough that it isn’t sharp as I awaken.
I release a soft gasp as a table floats to the edge of the bed with clothing, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and what I assume is this planet’s version of toothpaste and soap.
One is a clear bubble-looking object, while the other is a cloudy petal-shaped material, and underneath them, in Remus’s neat handwriting, are the labels.
Not only in English but in the Leviathan language as well.
I scoff in irritation, snatching everything from the table as I make my way to the designated bathroom.
Remus’s patience is beginning to wear on me.
Not only does he no longer bother to argue back with me, but he gives me space.
And it’s starting to grow exhausting being angry over what I cannot change.
Remus left me alone for the remainder of the day yesterday.
The only proof of his existence being when left dinner at the newly installed door and even let me sleep in his bed.
Alone. Just as he did for the entire trip to Xyrannis.
I don’t know if it’s the bond between us or my own fucked up brain. But I’m beginning to grow antsy even if we’ve only been on the ground for a day.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I quietly make my way out of Remus’s room to the rest of the house.
I vaguely recall the direction to the living room from his brief tour yesterday.
The sun still has yet to rise, leaving the house cast in a dim glow as the lights are still hesitant to fully shine.
As I move up the hall, I notice the floor warms with every step that I take, making me feel more comfort as I walk through this foreign place.
Once I reach the steps, the smell of food hits my nose, and my stomach twists as I realize just how hungry I am. My mouth waters as a smell similar to bacon calls to me, and I follow it into one of the few things that resembles the ones on earth—a kitchen.
Remus is at the center. His attention focused on placing the cooked meat on a plate as I enter.
The kitchen, though similar to the layout of an Earth kitchen, has Remus’s style all over it.
The entire backsplash is a window that reveals more of the mountainscape.
But instead of an open flame to cook on, it looks like it’s a flat circle that warms, hence Remus’s cooking.
I quietly sit on the barstool, and just as I do, a floating tray comes from the counter, placing a familiar pink liquid in front of me. I study it intensely, my skin prickling with my nerves as I recall what drinking that means.
“Did you sleep well?” Remus asks, placing a plate in front of me. I eye it wearily, but it looks like bacon, eggs, and toast.
“I thought you didn’t eat…” I say, looking at him in confusion.
He smiles, leaning against the counter as he studies me.
“No. But you do,” he says.
I hesitantly grab a piece of bacon, bringing it to my lips. It’s perfectly cooked and even tastes like bacon.
“Is this…bacon?” I ask, looking at Remus once again.
“Yes,” is all he gives me.
And I can tell by the amused twinkle in his eyes he is waiting for me to ask instead of offering the information as he usually does. He’s making me talk to him. And he knows my curiosity won’t let me pass up this opportunity to speak to him.
“How is there bacon on Xyrannis?” I ask.
“I told you, your planet is a resource planet. It’s possible to have goods imported since it’s been a part of our empire for over a decade,” he says.
“Must have been an expensive import,” I say sarcastically.
Remus chuckles, moving to the refrigerator.
But instead of opening it with his hand, he uses a gesture, and the door opens.
I note that it’s fully stocked with food that looks brand new, all still in its containers and vibrant in color.
He moves to the left side of the fridge, his palm flattening to reveal another door, and to my shock, it opens.
He then quietly pulls out a block of ice so clear I can see his fingerprints through it. It looks like he’s holding air.
“Believe it or not, this was much more expensive to import than your planet’s unsavory desire for disease-riddled meat,” he says, placing the ice in my glass.
“This came from Ceruleaus. We can only harvest a few months out of the year, making it a luxury to get ahold of its imports,” he says.
I can’t help but laugh as Remus once again reveals something about himself. He likes nice things. Even imported ice from a planet instead of just freezing his own water.
“So you were just slumming it on earth,” I say, earning a charming grin from him.
“More or less. I don’t mind the living conditions thrust upon me if the situation calls for it. And besides, you made it much more bearable,” he says watching me carefully.
His words are a splash of cold water, and I remember I’m supposed to be mad at him. But he speaks before I can shut down.
“How did you sleep?” he asks again.
I hesitate, unsure of whether I should share with him my strange dream. Now that I’ve been awake for a while, I’m sure it’s just another side effect of either being on this planet or the bond. It feels like a fever dream at this point.
“Okay,” I say.
“It will take some time to get used to everything here. But I will try to make the transition as seamless as possible,” he says gently as he moves to clean the kitchen. His movement is graceful as he swipes his hand over the area he was cooking in, and the stovetop disappears.
He’s once again being nice to me, and I hate it even more. I shift my attention behind him to the window that reveals our surroundings. It’s still dark out. I look around the room for a clock to tell me the time, but I don’t see anything that resembles a clock.
“How long was I asleep?” I ask.
“About seventeen hours,” Remus says, and I almost choke on my bacon.
“What?” I gasp.
“Your body is exhausted. You’ve had a long trip, and you’re on a new planet with foreign elements and living conditions,” Remus says.
He quietly rounds the counter, standing closer than he’s stood in a while.
“You’ve also been through a lot mentally. It’s okay to rest, Iris,” he says. His hand gently touches my cheek, rubbing it slightly as he speaks, and when I look into his eyes, the ocean of purple reflected at me is calming as it tells me just how relaxed he is.
He takes in my silence, smiling.
“Once you finish your breakfast, I’d be more than happy to give you a proper tour. Maybe even show you around outside,” Remus says.
I take another bite of my bacon, savoring the flavor before responding.
“Do you not have things to do? I thought you were the leader. Don’t you have to get back to plotting to wipe out another planet,” I say suspiciously.
On Earth, Remus and I rarely spent mornings together. He was always gone before I awoke; if he was around, he was still working. But it seems like he has no intention of going about his duties, even though he just arrived home fresh off conquering a planet.
“All my duties are on hold for the next three days. It is our custom. Anytime my siblings and I return from battle, we are given three days to rest. No one is to bother us during that time. That also gives the council time to arrange everything for when I emerge,” he says, ignoring my jab.
He doesn’t realize just how terrifying his words are.
He’s admitting that they have conquered so often that they have put in place a system that allows them to rest when they return home as if it is such a common occurrence.
And as the thought crosses my mind, so do Margot and Jude— the unfortunate collateral in this situation, according to Remus.
I wonder how many people on how many different worlds have suffered the same fate thanks to Remus.
“The sun will be up in an hour. Take your time finishing,” Remus says, sensing my mood shift. He moves away from me to finish cleaning the kitchen, and I quietly go back to eating, glad for the space.
Remus
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always enjoyed seeing other planets. I appreciate the beauty that comes with different conditions of different worlds. Sometimes, I even interfere myself to allow the planet a chance to grow into what it can be. But other planets can never compare to my home.
It’s my place of solace—my peace.