Chapter 27
“H
ow could you overlook that?” A very distinct male voice broke through the silence that sleep had her in.
“Excuse me, mop head, how was I supposed to know?” A booming, deep female inclined tone answered.
“You are literally Ilkiz, that is how. Haven’t you been connected to her for months; how wouldn’t you have known?”
“I’m sensing some underlining pain points, is this just about the boy or something else?”
“Are you patronizing me for your oversight?!”
“I think you need to nap, just like our girl here.”
“How could you have stabbed her like that?”
“She took my power, I let it slip.”
“I think she’s waking up.”
“She has been awake, you are losing your touch.”
“Please—” Azahara groaned, “Don’t stop on my account.”
She felt a cushion below her, but it wasn’t a full-on mattress or bed. The hard ground under it seeped through, reminding her that she wasn’t in the ship’s comforts and Jayce wouldn’t be there to wrapping her in an embrace.
As her vision slowly cleared, the surroundings gradually took shape.
She found herself in what appeared to be a chamber, a spacious and singular expanse.
The air carried the distinct fragrance of aged parchment, leather, and the warmth of a crackling fire.
Blinking away the initial blur, she focused on the nearest wall adorned with thousands of books.
A solitary desk and chair occupied a corner, surprisingly neat.
The ambient lighting, dancing from the flickering flames, imbued the space with an ethereal quality, as if she had stepped into the pages of a living history book.
A pair of legs came into her field of vision, belonging to the individual engaged in conversation with Ilkiz. As he stepped in front of her, she instinctively raised her head. He loomed above her, a towering figure that obscured his face from her view.
“Let me assist you up, Azahara.” She pushed up onto her arm and raised her hand. Gracefully, she climbed to her feet and met his gaze. “Damn, she was not wrong.”
Stepping back, grasping the undertones of his words, she instinctively withdrew into herself.
His striking features were reminiscent of a fair-skinned Karver, boasting sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and a complexion of rich ebony.
The sides of his head were cleanly shaved, and his short dreads gathered into a tie at the nape of his neck, their exact length elusive from her particular angle.
“Don’t stress, technically I’m dead, so you don’t have anything to worry about from me.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, “Gods technically aren’t alive…”
“Ah, I like this one.” The booming voice echoed in the chamber, and while it sent a chill down her back, she didn’t cower from it. “Do not worry, child, he won’t touch you unless you ask.”
“Ilkiz, why would you add that last part?!” The man, who looked no older than she did, groaned out. “Please excuse her, she’s old and obnoxious.”
Her arm curled around her waist, gripping tightly at the fabric, “Who—”
“Am I?” He raised a thick eyebrow, exposing his glowing orange eyes. “I’m so glad you asked,” She got the sense he hadn’t spoken with many people outside of whoever entered this chamber. “My name is Rahmulous, but you would likely know me as, Rah.”
If he hadn’t rushed to her, she would fallen to the floor with how quickly her legs went numb. “Wow—” He expressed, placing a hand at her back, the other gripping her arm. Her eyes were open so wide that they began to sting, and tears brimmed at them.
“Rah—” She finally blinked, and having him so close to her, she could sense it.
She could feel him as if she were him, and he, her.
He smiled widely, “And you are Azahara, it is a pleasure to meet you, finally—at least as myself. It has been a while since I’ve had any interaction with someone outside of Ilkiz, so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m a bit, out of touch.”
The urge was too strong, and she allowed for it.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself to him as though he were a long lost relative.
Someone she knew but hadn’t seen for decades.
There was no fear that held her from embracing him, and for once, she was happy that the reciprocated response was gentle, and with care.
He even moved her from side to side, as she used to do with her younger brother, who never lived long enough to be taller than her.
Her head pressed against his chest, and she let out a silent sob. Rah gently ran his hand against the backside of her head, curving it between her shoulder and neck. “I know,” She could feel him smile as his cheek pressed against her temple, “We’ve got you. You made it.”
It was crazy to think how a simple couple of words could cause her to crumble at the seams. Her arms tightened around him, and he held her without consternation or judgment.
She was resolute that this world held no one who would understand what she was going through.
In her mind, Rah had died nearly seven thousand years ago, the last living soul burdened with such a fate.
Yet, here he was, in the flesh. Or, at least tangible so.
“Don’t ruin this, Rah.”
“You will be the only one to ruin anything, ghost. Relax.” He said, edging her back slightly. The gentle smile on his lips as he looked down at her longingly made her face burn from crying. “She’s already been—what do they call it, claimed? Mated—” he shivered, “Sounds so possessive.”
“Bonded, you idiot. Or just simply, taken.”
Rah laughed, “Sure, I’m just here to help, nothing more. Like I said, I’m technically dead.” He brushed his finger against her cheek, wiping away the tear that was falling. “You going to be okay?”
She nodded and took an unsteady breath, “Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Now, do you want to turn and meet Ilkiz? I’m fine to keep staring at each other, but time is of the essence.”
It was then that she felt a strong wind brush against her back, sending her hair flying in front of her face. The heat from it indicated it was not made organically, but from a creature; a massive one.
“She’s been here the entire time?”
“Well—yes, how do you think I’ve been speaking.” Suppose Azahara hadn’t thought that through. It sounded like it was coming through her head, and not necessarily within the room. Thinking back, though, it did sound like the voice was echoing around her.
Rah rolled his eyes, and placed his hands on her shoulders, “She’s just a large horse, don’t be intimidated.”
When he turned her, she was not prepared for what her eyes lay upon. “Did you just compare me to a horse, Rah?!”
Ilkiz was beautiful and stating that she was huge would be an understatement.
She was elegant, and her form was curled upon the ground.
The pristine white scales shimmered in the candlelight, and the subtle red undertones lent an aura of both serenity and power.
Her size was breathtaking, and while she wasn’t bulky by any means, her length rivaled Xlok, who was the oldest known Giant to have ever roamed the realms.
Her fiery-red eye met Azahara, and immediately she felt the same connection she had with the water serpent dragon that Akua summoned.
It was as though Ilkiz was looking through her mortal form, delving into the depths of her very spirit.
She could see the wisdom in the dragon’s eyes, and the fear that had wrapped her just seconds ago, was gone.
Taking a step towards her, she saw the gentle rise and fall of its mighty chest, and that same warm current of air that emanated from its breath hit her once more.
A horn, like a polished ruby, rested regally on her head, and Azahara could swear she could sense its life force coursing through her own veins.
Ilkiz was the embodiment of strength and resilience, and she wanted people to feel that when they looked at her. Not a body to be touched and prodded.
“You are much stronger than the others,” Her head turned, and as Azahara was mere inches from her, she reached out a steady hand.
“You already found the connection, it is profound.” The size comparison was difficult to comprehend, but when she compared just a single of Ilkiz’s eye to her, it still was bigger than she was.
Her hand pressed against her scales, and the texture was both pleasing and strange. It felt like leather, with etched designs across its surface. Each change of the scale was a different feel, and under them, she could feel fur as though she was touching Starlight.
Azahara let out a heavy breath, not realizing that she had been holding it the entire time, “I cannot believe I am touching a Dragon. Not just a Dragon; Ilkiz.”
“It is quite incredible.” Rah was standing beside her then, his own hand coming up to touch, “Except I’m offended you said she’s stronger than me.” He pulled at one of her scales, and a shrill hiss came from Ilkiz.
“The truth hurts, boy, don’t make me devour you.”
“Oh no, I’m so scared.” His arm came over Azahara’s shoulder and he pulled her to him. “Anyways, I’m sure you have so many questions.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the massive, slanted eyeball in front of her to really gather what was happening. “Move your arm, Rah.” Nearly immediately he did and took a step back.
“My bad,” he chuckled nervously. The cadence of his speech was disorienting, but suppose he was from a completely different time, so it would make sense.
“Ilkiz,” Azahara moved passed the moment, “the Trial.”
“You completed the Trial, little one. Not in the way that we intended, but I believe that was my own fault for underestimating you.”
“Oh, so you take the blame for her but when I try to do it—”
“I will roast you for dinner, Rah.” They fought like Xol and Jayce, but this tension has been built for thousands of years. “Every one of the four elements of the realm, known as the Veritum, require a trial.”