Chapter 11 #2
Oh, I hadn’t answered him. I almost didn’t know what to say but decided to tell the truth. For once, I’d not measure every word, and just tell him. “I dreamed I battled the Demon King.”
He looked at me with surprise. “As in an actual swordfight?”
“Yes. We were farther north, not here.” I turned to gaze in that direction.
“The forest had been decimated, the land scorched of anything but dirt. We fought, and fought, and inflicted wounds on each other over and over. Finally, he drove his sword through me. I used the last of my strength to behead him. Then his eyes opened again, and he grinned and asked me for another round. I woke up scrambling for my sword and fell out of the bed in the process.”
Edwin bent to chafe my arms gently in comfort. His eyes never left mine as he heard me out. “You said you didn’t want the Demon King’s resurrection hanging over your head, which is why you brought us here. Did you dream of this before?”
“Yes, but not like this. Tonight, it felt shockingly real.”
He glanced back at the portal, and I could see his brilliant mind churning away with facts and possibilities. “Did you feel like you were in that moment? Or were you more of an observer?”
“I was fully in the moment.” Just what was he thinking over there?
“Did you even feel the pain of your wounds?”
“I did.”
“Huh. One last question. You’ve dreamed of this before? This exact thing?”
“Many times.” Unfortunately for me. It led to dreadful sleep.
His eyes went soft and wide with wonder. “Nimus preserve me, you…you hit all the benchmarks. We are taught in the temples that everyone reincarnates, living multiple lives, until our Tasks are completed. Do you think you battled the Demon King in a previous life?”
Look at him, reaching the right conclusion with little help from me. As expected of my Edwin. “I know I did.”
“So this wasn’t really a nightmare but a memory from a past life?”
I ducked my head in confirmation. “Yes, you’re correct.”
His gaze came back to mine, wonder shining in those beautiful blue eyes, but also compassion.
“Very, very few people can remember a previous life. This was a Task of yours, I’m sure.
Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to remember it.
No wonder you wanted to come straight here to make sure the demon portal was still sealed. ”
“It weighed on me,” I admitted, basking in his wonder. “I had to be sure the portal was closed and would stay closed.”
“I understand. So much of your behavior over the past week now makes much more sense. Can I ask a question? This dream must be from the first defeat of the Demon King, when he was sealed here. Why, if your Task was to kill the Demon King and send him back to Hell, are you reincarnated again? Did you have more than one Task? It’s uncommon but not unheard of.
No, I shouldn’t ask. You probably don’t know. ”
I did know. I wasn’t sure how much to tell him. As open as he was, could I dare say more?
Did I dare not?
Desperation opened my mouth, overturning the question of how wise this was. “The Demon King wasn’t my only Task. That I do remember.”
“Astonishing,” he murmured. “To remember this much. Do you remember your other Task?”
Very well, but I wasn’t about to share. “I suppose we’ll find out.”
“It makes sense that you have more than one,” Edwin said, his brilliant mind clearly taking this information and churning it, working it from every angle.
“If that had been your only Task, you would have been escorted into Paradise immediately. And if you’d failed it, you would be at the beginning of your Path to Paradise. ”
According to the gods, the Path to Paradise was the series of lessons a soul must learn in order to achieve Paradise.
Most souls chose to take the easier route, spending multiple reincarnations to learn these lessons.
However, if a soul was willing to take on a specific Task—and they were never easy—and they completed the Task, they were allowed into Paradise upon death, no more reincarnations necessary.
But when someone failed their Task, they were set back at ground zero, in a sense.
They were offered the choice of a new Task, a new chance, but started the Path to Paradise all over again.
It was part of why I had been so adamant about not moving on without Edwin.
I had no idea what his Task had been, but he’d failed it.
When the angel said it might take hundreds of years for Edwin to join me, she hadn’t exaggerated.
It might well have taken him several lifetimes to finish his new Task.
I hadn’t wanted to take the chance. I would much prefer a second go at this life redoing my own Task, rather than force him to go through several reincarnations.
I dearly wished I knew what his Task was.
That would simplify matters, but hopefully in actively helping with my Task, we can either figure it out or bring him along with me to Paradise.
“I meant what I said, though. In this life, I’ll marry the man I love and live with him. I’m due that simple happiness.”
Edwin snorted and straightened. “If you defeated the Demon King in a previous life, I think you’re due that and more.”
He took a seat next to me, close enough our shoulders brushed, which astonished me. Edwin usually didn’t like being in close contact with people, not until he’d grown comfortable with them. I was so thrilled I wanted to hug him and had to grab the blanket in a stranglehold before doing so.
I almost said something stupid like you don’t need to keep me company but managed to cage the words behind my teeth. Edwin always needed to keep me company. According to me.
“I’ve always been fascinated by previous life stories,” Edwin admitted, his voice low and soothing in the predawn light.
“I’ve read every account I could find on them.
Even badgered a few temple priests about the topic, although only a few of them knew much about it.
It has to be a deliberate thing, I would assume, that the gods and goddesses do for our sakes, to give us some kind of a hint about this life’s Task.
It’s the only rational explanation for why some of us remember and some don’t. ”
“I spoke to Vuheia,” I murmured, a strange lethargy stealing over me. “She said even though the body forgets, the soul remembers.”
Edwin nearly vibrated in place. “A goddess told you this?! Astonishing. Your Highness, truly, you should consider writing down everything you remember. It’ll help you process the situation and, if nothing else, leave another record behind that will help others who experience the same thing.
I truly think it’ll be to your benefit, though.
Your psyche has memories of events you haven’t lived through in this life, so of course it’s struggling with how to manage those memories.
No wonder you’re not sleeping well. What else did your goddess say?
Oh, that’s rude to ask, I’m sorry. I’m just so fascinated by this topic. ”
Vuheia had been right. Even though Edwin’s body had forgotten, his soul clearly remembered our first life, hence him gravitating to this topic so very much.
I listened to him prattle on about everything he’d read or learned, and felt peace steal over me.
It was nice, hearing him happily talk about something he liked. I’d missed this, very much.
He smelled of mint, as he always did, and sandalwood from his hair oil.
Being this close to him, hearing him speak informally, felt like a true homecoming.
So many of our evenings together had been like this, with him tucked in close against my side, his familiar scent in my nose, the sound of his voice music to my tired ears.
I could feel myself dropping off and forced my eyes open again and again.
I didn’t want to miss a second of this.
Edwin
I paused mid-sentence as Prince James’s head came to rest heavily on my shoulder, almost startling me out of my skin. Now, when had he fallen asleep?
I’d been told I had a soothing voice. I’d often read to my nieces and nephews to put them to sleep.
Perhaps my voice had been enough to lull him too?
Prince James clearly struggled with nightmares—we’d all caught hints he wasn’t sleeping well—and my heart broke for him.
Of course he couldn’t confide in just anyone about dreaming of a past life.
You couldn’t just blurt something like that out to people.
Plus, he was in a completely new environment, with people he had only recently been introduced to. He had no one to confide in.
I let him rest against my shoulder, strangely comfortable with the closeness, which was uncharacteristic of me. I tugged the blanket over his chest and let him be.
I’d have to wake him once the town woke up, which was only an hour or so off, and I was already loath to do so. He needed every bit of sleep he could get.
He was such a gentlehearted man. Once we got closer, perhaps I could offer to read to him at night to help him relax? I couldn’t do so now—that would be presumptuous of me—but maybe in the near future such an offer would be appreciated.
For now, I let him sleep.