Chapter 13 Divine Intimacy #2
He took an inhale, then nodded after a beat.
‘Very much. Aeryn-Thall was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She had spun-gold hair that flowed like liquid light and eyes the color of a dying star’s core.
She was also kind, warm as a summer hearth, and possessed a grace that could quiet a battlefield.
She made me laugh when she mimicked the stuffy high-priests and tousled my hair just to see me scowl.
She cared for me with unyielding patience and a love that felt like a permanent shield.
I’ll never forget her. I even had this sigil branded into me in memory. ’
He showed her a gold-inked, moving glyph on his upper shoulder that glimmered to view at his touch.
It was of a blossom Sheba had never seen before, with shimmering gold petals and a haunting, intricate design.
‘That’s the Aeryn flower, a sacred bloom in Sacra that heralds the first breath of the celestial spring, after which she is named,’ Idan said. ‘It reminds me she is always looking over me.’
Sheba reached out, her fingertips grazing the gold-inked bloom. As she touched the moving glyph, it seemed to vibrate with a pulse of power.
For a fleeting second, the highland hut faded, replaced by the ghost of a golden garden, the faint, melodic echo of a woman’s laughter, the heat of a midday sun, and the soft fall of rainy mist.
The sigil’s petals brushed against Sheba’s thumb, and the heavy knot of her grief loosened, as if Aeryn’s memory was reaching out to soothe the medic who was finally tending to her son’s soul.
Over the next few days, it became clear the bond they shared was a living, breathing tether that pulled tighter with every passing day.
It strengthened in the casual brush of his hand against her hip by the fire.
In the silence of a heated gaze over their cups of kahawa, and in the effortless delight of waking up beside him.
Their passion intensified day by day, anchored by a quiet, steady comfort.
She’d found a soft place to land nestled in the arms of a man who treasured her.
One morning, the smothering winter drifts retreated, leaving the mountain slopes dusted with a lighter, crystalline powder that sparkled like crushed diamonds.
Idan stood by the stone hearth, his massive frame silhouetted against the rising sun, amber bleeding across the peaks.
‘The path to the valley is clear, the snow has melted enough for us to make our way,’ he remarked. ‘We should check on Lattaya village to see how they’re faring since the Rhixon raid. They also need to see we haven’t vanished into the ether.’
Sheba agreed, with both relief and anticipation.
For weeks, a quiet dread had hit her every time she gazed toward the canyon; the ghost of the hospital assault haunted her, as did her worry for the locals.
However, the thought that they were checking on their friends in the village lightened her spirits.
They pulled on winter cloaks and packed their satchels with thick slices of honey-cured meat, crusty loaves of hearth-baked bread, and clusters of tart mountain berries.
Idan took her hand as he led her through the towering pines and onto the path to the village.
It was a stunning day, the skies light blue and clear, the panoramic view of the valley below them astounding.
From time to time, their eyes met, his with an intensity that sent jolts through Sheba, as if she were on the edge of the most exciting adventure of her life.
With a man who was as protective as fokk, strong as well, carrying her over dangerous passes, and vaulting her over a river.
When the terrain became a mess of snow, ice, and broken rock, Idan scooped her into his arms.
Sheba gasped, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders as his power surged.
‘Damn, the gods were showing off when they made you,’ she teased.
‘Want to see how much more ludicrous I can be?’
Without waiting for a response, he blurred into motion.
He transformed into a streak of shadow and gold light, carrying her across a series of treacherous ravines at a lightning pace.
She gasped, her heart hammering against his chest as she grinned into the wind.
When he set her down, one hand lingered on her waist, the other moved to her neck, fingertips playing with the hair at the base of her neck.
He captured her mouth in a series of unhurried, devastatingly sweet kisses before pulling back with a dark smirk that suggested he knew how much he was ruining her composure.
Sheba found herself spiraling into a new kind of addiction. It wasn’t just him; it was the entire ambiance.
From the crisp mountain air to the golden-washed beauty of the day, and the possessiveness of his arm wrapped around her.
He kept her tucked against his side, dipping his head to steal another kiss, his lips a constant, electric reminder of the scorching passion they shared.
For a few hours, the world appeared curated just for them, a sanctuary of pine, melting snow drafts, and the pale yellow shards of winter sunlight.
It was, in every sense of the word, holy.
The illusion shattered when the first signs of civilization crested the horizon.
Lattaya Village emerged in the distance, a cluster of modest stone huts and weather-beaten timber longhouses huddled against the valley floor.
The freeze still held on here, with roofs covered in thick blankets of white drifts and heavy, glass-like icicles hanging from the eaves like frozen daggers in the fading light.
The domestic smoke rising from the chimneys signaled the end of their private paradise.
Instinctively, they pulled apart, the easy intimacy of their touch fading in the need of propriety.
With their eyes scanning the treeline, they began the final leg down toward the hamlet.
As the ancient trees thinned near a rushing river, a woman washing clothes on the bank glanced up.
Her eyes widened, and she let out a piercing, melodic ululation of pure joy that rippled through the valley behind her.
She then leaped to her feet and ran to Idan and Sheba, hugging them, before breathlessly taking off to warn the settlement.
By the time they reached the village center, a riot of color and sound rose to greet them.
Children swarmed Idan’s path, their hugs swarming the couple.
Young girls ran forward, draping heavy, fragrant garlands of violet blossoms over his neck until the scent of crushed petals and nectar filled the air.
‘We missed you, Idan!’ a woman called out, as she and her friends threw petals on him.
He waved them off, flushing at the unexpected welcome.
Chief Xian appeared from a large hut, his face a map of joy and visible relief.
He grasped Idan’s forearm in a warrior’s greeting, and the two men moved aside for an intense, hushed discussion.
Sheba sat on a sun-warmed stone wall, allowing the local children to braid emerald blades of grass and florets into her dark curls.
Her eyes lingered on Idan’s profile, loving the way his presence seemed to lift the entire village’s spirits.
The Chief gripped Idan’s shoulder as they wound up their discussion.
‘I won’t let the invaders reach the Wadi,’ Idan promised, in a somber timbre. ‘How are the patients from the hospital faring?’
‘Very well, most are back to normal life,’ the Chief added. ‘All thanks to Muna.’
Idan turned back to Sheba. ‘Salkia, speaking of, there’s someone you need to greet.’
He guided her toward a circular stone hut where the air hung heavy with the scent of fragrant herbs, dried sage, and damp earth.
A woman with skin the texture of polished mahogany and eyes bright and emerald, peered up from a basin of steeped roots.
She rose, curtsied, and welcomed them inside as Idan bowed toward her in a gesture of respect.
‘Sheba, meet Muna,’ Idan told his woman. ‘She’s the local healer, filling the gap since the medical center got razed.’
‘I’ve never been busier,’ Muna said with a smile.
Sheba bowed to the woman. ‘I’m so sorry for the burden it must have placed on you.’
‘The hospital was well regarded, Nurse Munene, and its absence leaves a hole in our hearts,’ Muna said.
‘But caring for my own is never a burden. My ancestors left me with a tradition of natural healing plants that I enjoy sharing with those I can. We’re coping, though a new center would be a sanctuary for our laboring mothers and the elders whose bones have turned fragile. ’
Their conversation halted as three men arrived in a commotion.
They carried in a young boy with a splintered shin bone, his skin shredded from a fall on the mountain scree.
Sheba’s instincts ignited, her hands reaching out to assist, but Muna waved her away.
In respect, Sheba knelt beside Idan as they observed the healer work.
Muna pressed a thick poultice of vibrant, neon-green moss against the bloody wound, humming a resonant, vibrating song under her breath.
Before Sheba’s stunned eyes, the torn edges of the dermis pulled together as if stitched by invisible fingers. The angry crimson of the wound faded to a dull, healthy pink in seconds.
‘Amazing,’ Sheba breathed.
‘Tis, the healing is being accelerated all over the valley for a span now, and we’re grateful for it,’ Muna murmured. ‘The gods are more than generous.’
As she spoke, she glanced at Idan with narrowed eyes and a tilted head. This caused Sheba to gaze at him, too.
He shrugged, but his sigils shifted. He canted his head and ignored them both to study the now-calm child.
Sheba once more wondered about just how extensive his powers were.
He ushered her from the hut soon after, his eyes glinting.
‘Where to next?’ she asked, her mind still reeling.
‘I have a side mission,’ he said, a cryptic smile tugging at his lips.
After saying farewell to their village friends, they traveled further west.
They left the lush valley for the stark, haunting beauty of the Silent Deserts, the Wadi Tansin, and the Okama Plateaus.