Chapter 25 Azahara #2
Azahara’s surroundings snapped back into focus as if a switch had been flipped. She could feel the grass tickling her cheek and the gentle rustling of fresh air in her hair. Six eyes peered down at her, and a collective sigh of relief filled the moment.
“Hmm?” She felt her throat vibrate as her eyes captured what was happening, but her mind was still trying to put the pieces together.
Kaed put his warm hand on her cheek. “Azahara, can you hear me?”
Zhal leaned back and stood, seemingly satisfied that she had woken. Illyan stayed, their worried eyes lingering on her left eye.
“What…?” Kaed put his arm under her neck and lifted her onto his leg.
“You fainted,” Illyan commented, looking at Kaed before back at her.
“You had a panic attack,” Zhal called out, quite angry. “Tell her the truth, damn it!” Kaed wiped away her hair from her face, feeling the sweat it clung to. His thumb brushed something away from the corner of her lip.
Her heart was coming down from its rapid beating, but she still felt discomfort in her chest. There was a tingling sensation in her fingertips, as if someone were sitting on them, and she couldn’t move them. Everything around her had come to a screeching halt, which made her head pound.
The worst part that she wanted nothing to do with was that as she looked up at Kaed and Illyan, she just wanted them to leave her alone. She wasn’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or caused by the attack. A feeling of being detached from their care wrapped her, and she leaned away.
Illyan stood up and looked at Zhal. “What happened?” There was no anger or intensity in their voice. Kaed just looked at Azahara with no judgment, just an apologetic gaze.
“She fell and hit her face, cut her eyebrow down to her cheek, causing her to bleed.” Zhal was matter of fact. “The sight of blood must’ve triggered it.”
Her eyes closed momentarily, and Kaed pulled her up and kissed her forehead. “Stay awake for a bit, hmm?” His voice was gentle. “Can you drink some water?” She licked her lips and was greeted with a sour taste.
Without a word, she nodded, and water trickled slowly down her throat, providing a bit of relief from the lingering bitterness.
Kaed then lifted her gently, adjusting her posture.
He grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping her cheek and left eye.
A sudden stinging sensation caught her off guard, making her flinch.
Now, the memories were starting to come back together. She remembered the training, slipping and sliding on the rocky ground, her face taking the brunt of it, and the sight of blood...
So much blood…
Her hands began trembling. “Hey, hey, hey.” Kaed immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She rested her forehead against the curve of his shoulder and neck.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice quivered, and every part of her yearned to let the emotional distress flow through her tears. She knew it would be a relief, but the tears refused to come.
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
“Did I... vomit?” She didn’t want to ask, but she needed to know.
Kaed nodded his head. That revelation left her feeling utterly drained, and she slumped against him, gazing into emptiness. How could she be both strong and weak at the same time? It was just blood...
They moved her from where she had her attack, placing her near the horses and their belongings.
Despite their attempts to coax her into eating, Azahara had requested to sit by herself during their meal.
Illyan and Kaed were on the brink of forcing food into her, insisting that she needed sustenance, but Zhal intervened.
Grateful for Zhal’s support, Azahara huddled into herself while the others finished their lunch.
How was she supposed to be of any use to anyone when she felt so weak?
The thought haunted her. You died. A gentle voice in her mind, both familiar and unfamiliar, spoke to her.
It held love and compassion and didn’t want to witness her in pain.
No one should have to remember what you do .
The voice belonged to her, but from many centuries past, when the playground had been her sanctuary rather than a hidden cottage protected by wards.
Give yourself some credit… look at what you have done since then. It’s been only a few days, and you are riding to the kingdom with people that would die for you to warn a dipshit king about the unknown.
“I’m weak,” she whispered, not realizing she’d said it out loud.
No, you aren’t. They don’t think you are. Ask them.
“I won’t.”
No one should have to go through what we have, but it isn’t over. Take your time, and then fight like hell.
Kaed was beside her, his hand resting on hers as she curled herself into a tight ball, knees drawn to her chest, and arms wrapped around them. “You are anything but weak, Aza,” he reassured her with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with sympathy.
Azahara lifted her head, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion, and gave him a subtle nod of acknowledgment.
Then, she turned her attention to Illyan, who watched her with helpless eyes.
“Has this happened before?” Though they hadn’t been with her during the times she had previously died, they had been around when she returned home the same year.
Illyan hesitated before responding. “Yes, but,” they continued, maintaining eye contact with Azahara, “you’ve always asked me not to mention it in your future lives.”
“Future lives?” Zhal’s surprised tone drew Azahara’s attention. That was right, Zhal had no knowledge of who or what Azahara was.
“It looks like we have a lot to discuss during our ride today,” Kaed suggested, helping Azahara to her feet. “Let’s get going.”
They rode for hours, talking non-stop.
Azahara addressed with Illyan as to why she hadn’t wanted her future self to know about her panic attacks.
Initially, they explained that it was documented in her journals, but discussing it had only exacerbated her depression and led to more episodes, making her conclude that it was better to leave those memories behind.
Though she disagreed, she accepted the reasoning.
Illyan’s final comment on the matter was that she had never inquired if it had happened before, which didn’t surprise her.
Every version of herself, each year, seemed to be distinct in some way.
They then explained to Zhal what she was, providing insights for Kaed in the process.
While Kaed had read some of her journals, they hadn’t delved into the details of her history.
Illyan began by recounting the beginning of her story, giving Azahara more time to recover from her recent attack.
She appreciated the gesture, but when it came to answering questions, she wanted to take the lead.
“Why did he curse you?” Zhal’s first question came as no surprise.
“Obsession over me. He wants me to be his Dikos Mou.”
“What the hell is that even mean?” Zhal wasn’t very pleased. “It’s an old language, I can tell.”
Azahara sighed, “I’m assuming it means his goddess, or just plainly, his.
” Kaed’s presence behind her offered comfort once more.
The earlier detachment she had felt was dissipating, like snow melting in the summer heat.
“I’m not certain if it’s an official title, but based on what I’ve gathered from my journals, I would become immortal like him if I accept. Not mortal, but not a god—forever his.”
“And he would lift the curse,” Illyan concluded.
She nodded.
“Why haven’t you?” Zhal inquired. “It seems like it could have been an easier path considering the suffering you’ve endured.” She struggled to articulate her emotions, but Azahara sensed profound sympathy in her words.
Kaed tensed, awaiting Azahara’s response.
“That seems like the easiest out, but it isn’t,” she began, taking a deep breath before exhaling with a sigh.
“In my journals, I wrote every single encounter with him. In each of them, he abused me.” She hesitated, revealing something she had never shared before, not even with Illyan.
“One year, he tried to convince me that he wasn’t the monster I met, and he had changed.
He brought me flowers, took me to a show, and paved my path in gold.
He was kind, more so than I had ever written about.
Yet, my intuition told me it was all a trick.
So, I rejected his advances. Told him no. ”
Azahara paused, and everyone stayed silent. “He then proved me to be correct in my decision.” She wanted an out from this conversation; no one gave it to her. “He had beaten me until I couldn’t speak.”
“That’s enough…” Kaed whispered.
She struggled to swallow.
“Then sold me as though I was a piece of meat, proving he owned me.”
“Azahara…” She could feel him trembling.
“And they tortured and ra—” Kaed’s hand came over her mouth, silencing her, while his other tightened around her waist.
“Please…” he begged.
When Kaed had told her he would love her and would choose her for the rest of his days, she wondered if he regretted it. Was this part of her too much for even him to bear witness to?
At least Goddrick never... did the unspeakable to me. I don’t know how I could survive that.
Silence fell upon them. Not a word was uttered as they unanimously resolved to press on through the night, offering respite to their weary horses only when the animals themselves demanded it. They never did.