Chapter 20
Severed Thread
Emrys
I call out to her, my tempest. Relief washes over me as Harlot’s chest moves slowly up and down, her lips slightly apart.
I cradle her limp body as I take her away from the monstrosity that was once Elijah, now diminished to a pool of blood and crushed organs.
Hatred flows through my veins, and rage pulses beneath my skin.
I shove Faas aside with my shadows, the tendrils curling around his shoulder, and I pass by him without uttering a word. I am unable to speak any words; my mind is solely focused on my love and her safety. I step into the darkness and vanish with her, teleporting us to our safe place, the fortress.
I undress her carefully, not wanting to rouse her.
I heal her body from the nightmares it endured, the deep bruises evaporating from her pale skin as my shadows infiltrate and erase what’s been done.
I gently clean the splatters of blood from her body that decorate her flesh.
My fury bleeds from me in waves, although I keep it caged, it never calms. Seeing my tempest like this, broken and silent, it's the ache that makes my heart beat. I cup her face and brush my thumb across her voluptuous lips. I push the thoughts of her possibly not surviving this ordeal aside. I won’t be able to handle the heartbreak.
If my Lucem mei dies, I shall shroud the world in darkness and bloodshed.
A havoc unleashed, unlike anything seen before, not a single soul is safe from my wrath, none can escape through shelter, as I will burn everything to ashes.
I glance at Harlot, her breasts rise and fall, and I close my eyes for a brief moment. I can’t afford to think like that, not as long as she’s with me, right here. I pull up the silk blanket and tuck her in. Her face turns into a pained grimace, and she murmurs.
“Emrys.”
The hairs on my neck prick up at hearing her voice, laced with pain, as she whispers my name, which is devastating. All I wish is to take her hurt away, to take her place, for me to suffer instead of her. I clench my fists, my rage resurfacing.
“Stay strong, Tempest. Come back to me,” I whisper instead in response.
I lie next to her that night and stare at her face, her twitching eyelids, the fluttering eyelashes. I smooth a wandering strand of her raven hair back behind her ear with tender precision. She squints her closed eyes, the corners of her mouth curl downward, and a scared gasp escapes her lips.
“No, no. Emrys. Emrys, I need to get back to him.”
The words are barely audible as they spill out of her like a suppressed whisper.
A lonely tear leaks from her eye as her fingers clutch the silk of the blanket.
It pains me to see her struggle like this, while she fights whatever demons are keeping her sedated, away from me.
I can feel her going astray, and I keep calling out to her softly, to come back to me.
I go under the covers and wrap her body against mine in a tight embrace.
I do my best to pour all my love into her, a lifeline to grab, to hold onto instead, while she clings to a silk thread that’s about to break.
“Return to me, Lucem mei, my little tempest, please,” I say with a croaky voice.
The following morning, those storming eyes that I adore so much glare at me, holding a coldness I don’t recognize. Her lips are pressed together in a thin, unforgiving line. Her body trembles, the inner turmoil evident.
“You,” she spits, her voice is venomous. “All of this is your fault. Because of you, I’m drowning in this pain and heartbreak!”
I catch her small wrist with calculated precision, not to hurt her, before her fist finds the side of my head.
I blink at her as I nudge against the walls of her mind; she subconsciously lets me in, but what I find is total ruin.
Her love for me is present, yet it’s clouded by an anger that tries to consume her.
It desperately wants to corrupt her soul.
I can sense Harlot fighting against it, that foul curse won’t let her rest even now, to grieve what is lost, even if it was false.
“Tempest, please, come back to me,” I plead.
I find her eyes once more, and our gazes meet.
The anger falls from her face, silent tears wetting her cheeks.
I’m still holding on to her wrist. She touches my face gently with her other hand, and the moment her fingers brush against my skin, all I want to do is kiss her.
Kiss her tears away, erase the pain she’s going through.
I lean into her touch. Part of my rage is replaced with a desire to claim her body, show her who she belongs to, but from what I just witnessed, her mind is too fragile now, too disturbed.
If I push my tempest too much, our thread might break.
Harlot wipes her tears; her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, and the softness leaves her face.
“Are you happy you ruined me beyond repair? My heart is shattered into so many pieces, I don’t even know where to begin to pick them up.”
I remain silent. Even though her words are aimed at hurting me, I purposefully close off my heart. I will not allow the curse’s influence to burrow itself in the hollows of my mind as well.
Her eyes darken into a storm once more, the sorrow replaced with fury as she hurls more barbed insults at me.
I endure them, offering myself as an altar for her misplaced anger.
All Harlot needs right now is a place for her unraveling to burn out, and I will willingly take it until her wrath finally bleeds dry.
This time, I allow her to slap me; she needs an outlet for the consuming rage that builds inside of her.
Days go by as she continues her sharp jabs at me, followed by silent tears and sometimes violent sobs, with interludes.
I relish the moments she crawls onto my lap and sighs into my embrace, our bodies melting together like old times.
My soul mourns the second her hands are splayed on my chest, and the pushing away starts.
There’s nothing more I can do besides whispering my words of love for her, to express my need and let her feel the longing of my soul for hers. Our bond borders on a quiet splintering, yet time will reveal if we can mend our union.
The tendrils of the curse have been hooked in her psyche from the day she was born.
It had nestled itself in the back of her mind, revealing itself as years passed.
It is a natural course for the vile thing to want what isn’t its own anymore.
Patience is all I can give to her; some might call it obsession, but to me it's devotion.
Even once the curse is shed and her survival changes her, I will always love her.
She lies next to me, asleep, and I drink in her beauty. The sorrow etched on her features pains me.
“Please, Lucem mei, don’t leave me behind, find your way back to me. I’m right here, as I promised you. Let me save you from your mind, allow me to be your guardian.”
I whisper softly in her ear, as I nudge her mind lovingly. She has to come back to me; the world will not survive if she doesn’t, because by the old Gods, I won’t know mercy if everything I loved turns into everything I’ve lost.
She turns to me, her eyes still closed, but her fingers find my chest and rest.
“I love you, Emrys. Don’t forsake me.”
My soul swells at the words. I kiss her forehead.
“Never, Tempest, you’re too tangled into my soul,” I say softly.
In the morning, she carefully kisses me, just our lips meeting each other.
As mentioned, this entire story started as a dream, a fever dream if you will.
Since that faithful night, the story has evolved as I have written and rewritten it.
And now…