Chapter 2 #2
When the woman turned to see her, she was immediately taken aback by her beauty. She had light ebony skin and almond-shaped hazel eyes clear of flaws. Her jawline rivaled Azahara’s, and her silky, wavy raven hair begged to be touched.
The woman stared straight at Azahara, blinking her eyes as if clearing a haze over them.
“Oh, good morning.” Her voice was rhythmic and melodic, strongly emphasizing the vowels.
While it had a slight nasal quality, it still held a feminine incline.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Her hand pointed out towards the Neptune.
“She is,” Azahara agreed, “the Neptune, right?”
The woman hummed. “Yeah, what do you think of the new paint job?”
She wasn’t sure if she had enough time for this conversation but held back any snarky remarks. “The all-black was mysterious, but the gold gives it a glow when the sun hits it. I imagine it would look like fire crossing the sea at the day’s peak.”
“See, you get it,” the woman said, putting her hands on her hips with determination. “Men are so obsessively against change; it’s irritable.”
“Right,” Azahara looked away from her then, “do you know the Captain?” She decided to get straight to the point.
“I do; who’s asking?” The young woman was amiable and looked to be in her mid-twenties, if not younger, still getting her feet wet in the world.
“I am. I have business with them.”
With a widening smile, her cheeks pushed up high, her eyes nearly disappearing. “You sent the letter.”
Even with her face completely covered, the shock in her eyes must’ve been enough of a tell because the woman laughed. Maybe the Captain had shared the letter with the crew so they would all be on the lookout for her.
Azahara swiveled her head to ensure no one was coming up behind her. When the woman came back into view, her hand was extended toward Azahara.
“Captain Hawthorn, at your service.”
“C-Captain—” Azahara stuttered, extending her hand to shake hers.
A sly smile crossed the Captain’s lips, “Are you shocked because I am a woman, or that I am so young, because if it’s for—”
“You are young; do not see me as daft. Women are just as capable, if not more capable, than men in all things.” Azahara wouldn’t entertain any conversation suggesting otherwise.
The Captain took her hand away then and nodded, “Good. My full name is Alyssandra Hawthorn, but I prefer Alyse. Formality is nice, but when it comes to my crew and friends, I’d prefer to be addressed as Alyse.”
Azahara understood and gave her a nod of agreement.
“And you are Azahara Rhay Rothwen.”
“Starfall, Rothwen was my family name. It’s Azahara Starfall now. You can call me Aza, for short.”
Once more, Alyse must have seen the confusion in Azahara’s furrowed brows. The letter had only addressed her as Azahara.
“My great-grandfather talked about you. Not to me, but to his sons, and they onto theirs. You made a profound impact on him, enough that my father told me your story.”
“Oh,” Azahara felt her face heat up, but thankfully, the mask concealed her embarrassment.
“He didn’t tell them everything, so don’t worry, if you guys—you know—”
“No—no! We never.”
Alyse giggled, “He spoke of your beauty and how no man was worthy of it. So, to hear you say that does bring me peace. I’d hate to find out that you were a great-grandmother.”
Thoroughly blushing now, Azahara squeezed her eyes shut and laughed. Hot tears brimmed them at the feeling, opposite to how she had felt in the past several weeks.
With a shaky breath and another short laugh, Azahara responded, “I promise I’m not that. I can guarantee it.”
Dramatically, she wiped her hand across her forehead as if she had been sweating. “Thank the goddess,” a resounding laugh followed before Alyse continued, “I knew I’d like you.”
Azahara smiled but kept her eyes as neutral as possible. Somehow, she knew that Alyse would be necessary to her journey, not only for being the Captain of her ride but a light needed in her darkness. You are a monster; don’t forget that. You could destroy that pretty smile in a matter of seconds.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Azahara shifted slightly away.
“Okay, so, you want to go to Ilkiz,” Alyse said matter-of-factly. “We can discuss specifics on that later, and the crew is already aware of who you are, so—”
“Who am I?” Azahara cut in.
Alyse put her hands behind her back and tilted her head. It only took a moment for her to understand Azahara’s question, proving she could fully capture a ship and its crew.
“They are aware that you are the one wanted for what is being called the ‘Massacre at Sunfall.’ A few days ago, well after receiving your letter, we also received notice from the King that a woman matching my grandfather’s description of you, down to the freckles, would be trying to find passage to Ilkiz. ”
Azahara could feel her heartbeat quickening, yet she remained silent.
“None of us believe what happened there,” Alyse continued, her voice steady and empathetic, “everyone, including myself, lacks your side of the story. Whether true or not, we choose to believe there’s a reason behind it all.”
Azahara’s need for this ship to get to Ilkiz was pressing, and the idea of being abandoned here meant confronting a different kind of battle. She restrained her inclination for a sarcastic response and kept silent, allowing Alyse to continue.
The Captain’s smile remained unwavering. “You’ve paid us more than generously, far beyond the bounty on your head. Furthermore, the crew and I share a strong disliking for the King and his rule, so... he can eat pig shit.”
Hearing those words was precisely what Azahara had hoped for. Given the gravity of her situation, she was aware of the danger she was putting these people in, but needed their support more than she would have ever wanted to admit.
“Thank you.” Azahara finally said.
Alyse winked and nodded.
Azahara felt an increasing unease deep in her stomach. The resemblance between Alyse’s personality and Illyan’s surprised her, adding to her pain in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
“I noticed you don’t have any bags,” Alyse noted, catching Azahara off guard. “Do you need us to grab anything before we depart? We’ll set sail as soon as you’re aboard the Neptune.”
Stealing her eyes away from Alyse, Azahara nodded. “I’m just going to get some essentials before boarding. It shouldn’t take me long.”
With that, Alyse instructed her to board the Neptune when she was ready and offered assistance if needed. They parted ways, and Azahara made her way to the center of the merchants market.
She had hastily left after regaining her memories, determined not to grant Zhal or Illyan the power to confine her and prevent her from going.
She knew they would have tried, and the consequences would have been disastrous.
Losing Kaed had already shattered her, and losing them and her home too, would have been unbearable.
It could have unleashed a devastating scene similar to that at Sunfall, leading her to destroy the realms and everything beyond. There would have been no world left once she was finished.
Clothes could be purchased, but her home and family could not.
And so, that was where she found herself, browsing through the racks of a merchant’s stall.
The merchant sat quietly, diligently sewing in her chair.
Azahara was drawn to the stall, sensing she wouldn’t face bothersome haggling or negotiations here.
Moreover, the hanging clothes all appeared exquisitely crafted, adorned with shells and colorful ribbons that evoked the enchantment of the open sea.
Azahara preferred the rugged, charming clothes over the elegant ones that Illyan would have criticized her for not choosing. After setting a few garments on the table with a pair of boots, she was ready to pay.
The older woman rose with expected haste. Not wanting to appear impatient, Azahara averted her gaze to take in her surroundings.
The air buzzed with energy as merchants proudly displayed their wares, vying for the attention of passersby.
Colorful canopies stretched overhead, providing patches of shade and a vivid spectacle of goods.
The aroma of freshly baked bread and exotic spices enticed visitors to sample the diverse culinary delights.
Everywhere, animated conversations filled the air as locals and travelers exchanged laughter and stories, their voices blending harmoniously with the melodic tunes played by street musicians.
Children frolicked by one of the nearby merchants, two of them wielding play swords. At the same time, the other pretended to wield a bow without any arrows, pulling back invisible strings and “shooting” at their playful companions.
Azahara smiled, observing their innocence.
Trauma is dangerous; it strikes when least expected.
As one of the boys wielding a play sword turned against the boy with the bow, a sudden jolt robbed her of breath. With a swift and direct lunge, the sword pierced the boy, unleashing a searing wave of pain coursing through Azahara.
In the blink of an eye, the bustling merchants square dissolved, replaced by a haunting memory of Sunfall.
The scent of blood and the stench of death filled her senses, casting a pall of darkness and foreboding.
The ground was stained with crimson, and lifeless bodies lay strewn around her like macabre decorations.
Within arm’s reach, Kaed knelt, his hand reaching out towards her while a blade protruded from his chest. His once radiant emerald eyes gradually dimmed, and their light faded into emptiness, leaving a profound sense of loss.
She could smell his blood above everyone and the salt in her tears falling down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
Azahara, still trembling from her vivid flashback, turned her gaze towards the voice that had called out to her. She blinked, struggling to refocus her vision and distance herself from the haunting memories that had gripped her moments ago.
Her hood and mask remained securely in place, shielding her face and the turmoil it hid from the world’s prying eyes. With shaky hands, she steadied herself, determined to overcome the lingering effects of her traumatic recollection.
As she looked around, she noticed that the children she had seen moments before were now huddled behind protective adults, staring at her with wary eyes. The adults themselves regarded her with a mix of concern and unease.
Feeling the weight of their collective gaze upon her, Azahara forced herself to stand. However, the ground beneath her seemed unsteady, destabilized by her nervousness. She brushed aside the invisible threads of her past and focused on the present moment.
Following the voice that had reached out to her, she saw a man who appeared to be the source of the inquiry. His eyes held genuine concern, and she swallowed, her gaze settling upon him.
“I’m okay,” Azahara assured the elderly man who had shown concern for her. He had a gray beard and long white hair cascading down his shoulders.
Azahara turned toward the merchant without meeting her gaze.
She placed more coins on the table than the clothing was worth and added, “I’ll take a trunk too, if you have one.
” In her peripheral vision, she watched the older woman walk away, hoping she wouldn’t alert the guards out of misplaced concern.
The elderly man spoke again, “Do you need anything?” Azahara looked up at him.
“No, please, leave me be,” she responded, shrugging off the approaching hand. “I don’t need your help.” She hoped her curt words would encourage him to walk away, but they had the opposite effect.
The man chuckled and asked, “Are you sure?”
Azahara locked her gaze onto his. Although he couldn’t see it, her jaw clenched tightly, and she felt anger surging up her throat, ready to unleash a torrent of nasty words. However, his hand swiftly pressed against her shoulder before she could utter another word.
The red haze that clouded her vision dissipated, and her anger and sense of dread vanished. A soft exhale of relief escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes, savoring the kaleidoscope of colors dancing behind her eyelids.
The man’s voice reached her, “There. Now, are you okay?” Azahara opened her eyes, and the man was smiling wider.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice breathless. As he removed his hand from her shoulder, the calm feeling persisted. “Thank you.”
“Miss, here is your trunk,” the older woman called her attention, and she saw her packing away the clothes she had purchased.
The man chuckled and added, “Anything for you, Sunshine.”
Azahara’s head jerked back in his direction when she heard the term ‘Sunshine’. However, he seemed to disappear before her eyes, as if he had never been there in the first place.
She spun around in nearly a full circle, scanning the sea of people for the familiar sight of the man in the blue shirt and brown trousers. But there was nothing, no trace of him in the crowd. She was utterly shocked; no man his age could have moved fast enough to seemingly vanish into thin air.
The soothing sensation of his touch was reminiscent of when Illyan used Magic to lull her to sleep. However, this feeling was different. Its warmth and raw power resonated within her, and she recognized it. That man had to be Sam.
But why did he leave? Why did he leave her?
Come back, please.