21. Underworld, Here We Come
Archer
We are headed to the eastern border of Mytherra to the portal gates that'll take us to Egypt in the mortal realm. Azael suggested we make a pitstop at the apothecary, Hag's Delight, to grab a few things for our journey.
Alistair had us making a detour to Councillor Enithyme's place in case Aleiraah had been there. But her head butler stodgily informed us that Enithyme has been in the human realm for weeks. The Supernatural Council sent her there for some work and Aleiraah hasn't stopped by.
Disheartened that she hadn’t reached out to her mother's old friend, all of us singularly focused on bringing Aleiraah back with us. No other alternative is good enough. She’s the end game.
Every time we have put our heads together on how to beg for her forgiveness, it ends in a heated argument. So we decided to focus on the journey for now.
I know it's not going to be easy. My heart feels like it's being crushed by a vise when I think of my actions. A werewolf in heat. Mindless. Rough. I taunted her, made her cry. Violated my own mate.
I'm still asking myself why I used her as a means for release. I just wanted to rut the anger out of my system. Needed to mark her from the inside until she's nothing but mine.
I never treated Belle that way.
Her memory, as always, causes a phantom ache in my heart. I was always careful with Belle, my true mate, who was taken away from me before time.
She was a fragile little thing, shy and sweet. She depended on me for everything. I considered her my peace, my home. When she passed away into the afterlife, I went mad with grief. Searching for any means to bring her back.
When Baz showed us the 'Heart of a Hollow Star' I was crestfallen for a moment. I had heard rumors about it, that it could bring back a soul to this plane. Only, there were no guarantees if the person would still come back the same.
I had searched every corner of Mytherra for years for the artifact and finally gave up hope.
Then one day, I met Aleiraah, at a minotaur cage fight.
She had been cheering wildly, for the underdog fighter. Same as me. And throwing popcorn at the opponent’s supporters. A few kernels had landed on me and something had stirred in my chest again.
Aleiraah was the complete opposite of Belle. She's also a tiny thing but unlike Belle, she wasn't fragile. She spoke her mind, and won me with her humor and sass.
She didn't really depend on me for anything. My beautiful, strong Moon.
Her zest for life made me want to live again. So I let go of Belle's memories and pursued Aleiraah. Realizing that fate had given me another chance at love.
The 'Heart of a Hollow Star' brought back memories laced with the frustration of years spent in dead-ended search. It was bitter sweet, and I resented Baz for having it all this time.
I might have tried to bring back Belle had I known Baz back then. But given a chance, I'd not trade my love for Aleiraah with Belle.
Memories of Belle still haunt me. I mourn her wolf who never got to live a full life. But I know that my bruised heart belongs to Aleiraah now.
Then why was I so cruel to her?––My wolf has no answer like me.
I curse the moment we agreed with Rinn to tie her to the four poster bed. He thought it'd be easier on her than being suspended from his tentacles. Fucking bullshit!
Later, her wrath had been evident. Aleiraah destroyed her bedroom and the four poster bed before leaving us in the dust.
Rinn discovered the damage when he went to collect his fukiya before leaving for Egypt. He had forgotten the weapon in her bedroom after using it to put Silas to sleep.
When he didn’t come out for a long time, we went after him. The sight of the room crippled us with a fresh dose of remorse.
It lay in shambles, like a tempest had blown through.
The bed was blasted to smithereens, with the four bed posts cut down to ribbons on the floor.
And on the wall, where the head of the bed used to be, there was a huge 'FUCK YOU' carved using cinnabar.
Her silver charm bracelet—with the seven charms representing us—was nailed to the wall below the writing.
Rinn was close to tears, a picture of devastation. I felt lower than scum. The silence in the room had been louder than a scream, broken only by Silas throwing up on the floor.
There was an echo of Aleiraah's pain in the room that I could almost taste on my tongue.
We had deliberately avoided that space after moving her to the spare room. The god who helped her escape, must have put a noise-dampening spell to block the ruckus the damage would've caused.
Our mate had taken her anger out on the space we'd once shared—the same place where we had wronged her.
Shame had silenced us on our way to the apothecary—hearts heavy with bitter regret and pain.
Silas
The image of Aleiraah's destroyed bedroom is burned in my mind.
Guilt is the only emotion apart from bone-deep shame that I've felt since Veilmoon. When we stopped at Hag's Delight, I consulted a witch healer at the back while others were busy procuring stuff they needed.
I've known Zarelle for a few decades. She's a friend who has helped the Nightgleam pack in times of need. After giving it much thought I asked her if there's a way to remove the barbs from my dick permanently.
If Aleiraah ever deigns to take me back, I'll at least never jeopardize her safety––if I'm rendered powerless at the hands of my own panther.
"Are you sure, Silas? Also, you don't look too good. The Nightgleam line, your line, might cease to continue if you alter your shifter traits. The barbs are there for a reason." She had looked at me searchingly.
"I’m certain Zarelle." I had confirmed with steely conviction.
"I cannot risk hurting Aleiraah again. She...
you don't know the way she suffered. If this isn’t possible then I'd have to bind my panther permanently so he can never take charge again.
Do you have a spell for that? And if that's not feasible, you can surely put a curse on my dick so that it rots and falls off, can't you? " Desperation had driven me to ask.
Zarelle who had grown increasingly alarmed by my questions finally laughed out loud.
"I'm not a dark-witch Silas who puts dick-curses.
I happen to know some, but that's a conversation for another day.
And binding your panther half is against nature.
Immoral too. Why don't I give you a potion to start with? It’ll soften the barbs, and with time, they might fall off altogether. "
"Might?"
"That's the best I can offer at this time without causing serious damage, uh, to your member." She said wryly.
"Ok. If it doesn't work, will you give me the names of the witches who specialize in curses?"
"Yes, I will. But try my method first and don't be impatient. These things take time. And ask your mate what she'd want."
I had left the shop with several vials of the said potion, called 'Dew of the Gentle Briar'.
Zarelle had cackled while labeling the vials.
I didn't find it particularly funny. Then again, Zarelle didn't know the extent of my sins.
It probably would've made a bright-witch like her curse my dick for free.
Now we're almost at the portal that'll take us to the west bank of the river Nile––a portal to the Egyptian Underworld.
Minotaur guards allow us passage in exchange for coins.
One after another, we step through the crumbling stone archway wrapped in vines.
The center of the portal undulates with a violet light that sucks us in.
It throws us onto the ruins of burial grounds of Pharaohs long gone.
The sun is just setting in the western horizon.
A cloaking spell from the Hag's Delight conceals us from mortal eyes. But there are no humans in sight, only ancient ruins built by Pharaohs.
Azael chants under his breath for a moment then moves in a direction with purposeful strides.
Following him, we arrive at a set of nondescript pillars withered by the sands of time, when the sun fully sets.
A huge hawk flies overhead and perches on top of a pillar, looking down at us with its raptor's gaze.
Space and time distorts around the hawk as Azael inclines his head slightly, "May the sun eternally shine upon you, Ra."
The hawk cocks his head, then in a flash transforms into a man with the head of a falcon. He lands gracefully on the steps between the pillars, wearing a kilt made of gold and solid gold armlets.
Ah! The Egyptian sun god, Ra!
"Azael." He rasps, the sound half-man, half hawk-screech. "What brings you to the gates of Duat?"
"We come in peace, Ra. Our mate was taken by a god of the Underworld and we wish to bring her back with us."
"Taken, you say?" Ra ponders.
We silently regard him, letting Azael take the lead.
"Interesting. Osiris is too obsessed with Aset to be healthy.
And Anubis, his son, is overworked, underpaid, and lives under the thumb of that hussy Anput.
And when he's not, he's seen frolicking with that bluestocking Bastet.
I doubt either of them would've the time or inclination to abduct your mate. "
We all stare at him in various stages of shock, except for Azael, who appears nonplussed.
"What? Don't look so surprised. I learned a word or two from those British excavators obsessed with digging up the dead!"
"We believe she went with him willingly."
"Oh? This just took an interesting turn. Come, the night is still young, you must entertain me with this story of your mate running away."
"She didn't run away," I growl. The others seem to be fuming too at Ra's callous words.
"Sensitive, aren't we?" He manages to sound snarky even in that half-man, half-falcon voice.
"We drove her away with our actions. We're here to win her back." Baz adds.