Chapter 8 Food For Thought
The rest of my day was spent studying the book The General had brought me.
When I first sat down and took in the cover, I expected to find a title, but there wasn’t one, just a single symbol etched into the front.
One that was ancient-looking and unfamiliar, yet oddly mesmerizing.
On opening the cover, I expected a history lesson or worse, some cryptic military manual.
But a surprise came in the form of a folded note tucked between the pages.
One addressed to me… From him.
It read, simply,
‘It may not be a personal journal. But it is an insight into my world.’
That one line… it shouldn’t have meant so much, but it did. It felt oddly personal, like a glimpse past the armor he wore so well. I traced the beautiful calligraphy with my fingertips, moving them down to the initials written neatly at the bottom of the note.
A.N.
For a second, I just stared at them. He had a name. A real one.
And somehow, that realization made him feel… different. Human.
I’d never thought to ask him before, and now I felt foolish.
In three years of knowing him, I’d only ever called him The General…
usually with a curse word or two in front of it.
That bastard. That asshole General. The son of a bitch General…
I had a list as long as my arm. It was practically a title of honor at this point.
I smiled despite myself and flipped open the first page. However, my amusement vanished quickly when I was greeted by lines of strange, foreign script.
“How does he expect me to read this?” I muttered to the empty room, like maybe the walls would take pity on me and magically answer.
Then something unexpected happened. The second I moved the note aside, the edges of the book began to glow faintly.
A soft, white light pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the surface.
“That’s… weird,” I mused, before the glow spread outward and the script became a shimmering blur, quickly warping until the letters shifted into English.
“What the…” I breathed, leaning closer. The ancient symbols faded completely, replaced by a single line across the page:
‘The History of The?kós and Its People.’
“The?kós,” I repeated carefully, tasting the unfamiliar sound, one I think read like, ‘Thay-kos’. Although I couldn’t be sure. It made me wonder what the name would have sounded like coming from his lips. The thought came uninvited, and I immediately rolled my eyes at myself.
Great. Apparently, I had a thing for men who spoke mysterious languages in cryptic riddles. Well, maybe not all languages, as I doubted having him speak Klingon would have the same toe-curling effect.
“So, this is your world,” I murmured, unable to help but feel touched by this gift. It was as if he had given me a piece of himself and a glimpse into his origins. But I guess it was only fair, considering he still had my journal.
I began to read, and as the hours passed, I found myself completely drawn in.
The book described a world both divine and dangerous.
It was said to be ruled by beings once worshipped as the gods of Greece: Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, the Titans, and countless others whose stories had trickled into human mythology over the ages.
The more I read, the more the puzzle pieces began to click into place. The creatures I’d fought. The myths that haunted our nightmares. Each was like a whisper that modern humanity had dismissed as legend.
All of it had come from his world.
I couldn’t help but wonder why we knew so much of it here on Earth? Had the Rift once been open long ago? Had people crossed over, bringing with them stories of the divine, shaping our myths around truths we were never meant to know?
The book didn’t mention Earth, but the coincidences were too great to ignore.
And if this was truly where he had come from, then our myths were actually their history.
I laughed under my breath as the bitter irony wasn’t lost on me.
Hell, Theikos could be on Earth for all I knew, perhaps in a different time period, or a different dimension.
I didn’t understand the Rift at all, so the possibilities were endless.
“If only I’d had this book years ago,” I muttered, “Maybe half the creatures I fought wouldn’t have nearly killed me.”
No, instead, I’d spent years cobbling together scraps of information, scribbling every fragment of knowledge into my journal, desperate to survive one more day.
Now here I was, holding the encyclopedia of a God’s world in my hands.
It made me wonder what The General had thought of it. Had he scoffed? Dismissed my messy, scribbled observations with that infuriating smirk of his? Or had he, perhaps, been a little impressed by the things I’d gotten right and that a lot of my assumptions hadn’t been assumptions at all?
Not that I’d nailed everything, of course.
I’d had to invent nicknames for half the creatures I wrote about.
Still, the thought made me grin. Somewhere out there, historians would’ve sold their souls, or at least a limb, to be reading what I was reading now.
It was incredible. The kind of knowledge people dreamed of.
No wonder time had slipped away from me.
Because when I finally glanced at the clock, my stomach dropped when I remembered I had a dinner to get ready for.
The thought alone sent a ripple of nerves through me, but what really made me take pause was when I made my way back to the closet.
Or should I say, to the sight of the black dress hanging there.
That damned dress.
Was I really going to wear it? Honestly, I needed to just stop taking it off the rail and putting it back again.
Something I had done about a half a dozen times already.
The last time, I held it up and glared at it like it had personally offended me.
And those matching shoes? Yeah, they weren’t helping either.
Was this his plan all along?
Had he or one of his people chosen it for tonight? I couldn’t picture my uncle Rick or Aster dressing for dinner, and as for The General, well, I had no clue. But then again… why else would a gown like that be in here, and in my size as well?
“God, this is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, throwing my hands up before yanking the dress off its hanger like it was my latest enemy.
“It’s just a dress, not a declaration of war.” Half of me hoped it wouldn’t fit. At least then I’d have an excuse if someone had expected me to wear it. But when I stepped into it, that excuse quickly vanished.
It fit. Perfectly.
Like a glove, in fact, and as I turned toward the full-length mirror, I froze. For long moments, I just stared at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. My throat tightened, and tears stung my eyes as my fingers smoothed over the soft fabric.
The dress was… beautiful. Midnight black, soft as silk, with a subtle shimmer that caught the light when I moved. It hugged my figure in a way that felt both powerful and terrifying, the hem brushing just above my knees, the neckline daring but elegant.
It gave me a glimpse of someone I used to be, or should I say, someone I could have been. Because this dress was a reminder of everything I’d lost. Of the life I’d been forced to surrender.
The last time I’d worn something like this had been prom night, for God’s sake. And I’d never imagined that three years later, my next dress would be for dinner with The General. Someone who may or may not have been responsible for a piece of the world tearing open, letting monsters out.
Just how many moments had I missed because of the Rift? Romantic dates, family weddings, birthdays, college parties, the list went on. An entire future erased.
Looking at myself now felt like holding a double-edged blade. On one side, there was relief and proof that I could still look like the old me, that I hadn’t been lost completely. But on the other side was regret, sharp and relentless.
I wasn’t sure which side cut deeper, and in the end, I asked myself one simple question… How many chances would I get to wear a dress like this again?
In this cruel, dark world, the answer was obvious…
none. So I decided to take this one. Maybe for once, I could let myself feel beautiful, even if only for a night.
It was a chance to forget and to live for a single moment in ignorant bliss.
So, I decided to make an effort. By the time I finished twisting my hair up into loose curls, I heard the knock at the door.
“Who is it?” I asked, my voice a little higher than I intended. Part of me expected The General again, and a secret part of me was also foolishly disappointed when it wasn’t.
“We’ve come to escort you to dinner,” a voice answered from the other side.
I hesitated, then peeked through the peephole. My eyes widened at the two figures standing outside my door. And they looked… well, not exactly human. I opened the door slowly, my stomach twisting with a mix of curiosity and caution.
The first of the pair was male and enormous. His broad frame filled the doorway, his hazel eyes sharp and full of light, though their warmth was buried beneath an expression of disdain. His heavy brows shadowed his gaze, and the slight curl of his lip suggested he thought himself far above me.
I bit down on the first snarky remark that rose to my lips. He probably wouldn’t appreciate my commentary about his delicate fairy wings fluttering from between his shoulder blades. I’d seen sturdier wings on a fruit fly, but starting a fight before dinner seemed counterproductive.
“So, you’re here to escort me to The General?” I asked, turning my attention to the other guard, and I immediately blinked in astonishment. She was breathtaking in a strange, haunting way.