28. Chapter 28
Iawoke still wrapped in Malik's arms, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath of sleep. It was warm in the temple we had settled in, the fire having died down to a low crackle, the embers on the log keeping us warm.
I did not intend to fall asleep in Malik's arms the way I did, but after everything we had been through, I found that I no longer minded so much.
My body felt heavy, the culmination of the exhaustion from our journey and the river's jostling making my muscles scream in exhaustion even after a full night's sleep.
Though the only thing that mattered now was that I was warm and alive with Malik by my side, far from the men who threatened not only me and Wellea, but who so easily turned their back on Malik.
I could have laid there for an eternity, in that blissful state, pretending that nothing outside of these temple walls existed, yet the power of Rida moved underneath me, strong and inescapable.
We were surely only a few days away from her and my arms tingled with her power, my hands twitching with the urge to move, to do something.
I extracted myself from Malik's arms slowly, careful not to wake him, rising and making my way around the temple as I clutched the tapestry tightly around my body.
This temple carved into stone was relatively small, only big enough to fit less than half a dozen people at a time inside, but it was well tended to, and new, if the conditions of the carvings were any indication.
I studied the carvings on the wall—now visible in the dim firelight—a welcome distraction from the power that threatened to drown me.
I always loved seeing how the different carvers depicted the story of the Mother, yet as I looked closer at these, I found that they were different from any that I had ever seen.
They showed the world before the Shroud, but different than I had known it.
I saw men grow gluttonous, engorging themselves with the abundance of food and drink, to the point where they could no longer tend to their farms, forcing others to do it for them.
I saw disease spread, but there was no end to it, for the Mother Blessed did not kill anything, not even a virus.
I saw women and children become sick, the few elderly in Yllsora succumbing to it, for no one could be bothered to give up their luxuries for even a moment to help a neighbor.
On and on this went, the gluttony and greed of rulers and kings killing those who were born less fortunate, those with power rising, while those with none crumbled and fell.
The next panel showed a Divine, one that seemed to be Myaella, her hair, long and as opalescent as the moon, dancing on the wind as she sent a Shroud over the world, everything—crops and cows and everything in between—withering and dying beneath it.
But it was what I saw next that I could not make any sense of.
It showed a pattern, one of darkness and light, of life and death.
It showed all things of Yllsora dying: the plants, the crops, the people.
It showed them giving themselves back to Yllsora after they died, becoming one with the earth.
But after they did so, it showed life, coming back, even stronger than before.
On and on it went, this cycle of life and death, the world only flourishing more and more as it continued.
And instead of the grief and pain that was so often shown in other temples after the Black Shroud, these carvings only showed happiness and hope from the people of Yllsora, revelers dancing on top of the death of so many, on top of the rot that comes with all dying things, just as they had in my dream.
They celebrated this cycle of life and death, honoring those who no longer walked Yllsora, and celebrated the new life that came from it.
It was then I knew this was no ordinary temple of the Mother Blessed. This was something else entirely—these carvings were dedicated to the Black Shroud, the rot, and the Divinity who had brought it upon us.
I wondered who had carved these scenes, where they were now, or if Myaella had placed them here herself during the Shroud.
Myaella, I thought to myself, the one who stalked the Mother beyond the Caelium to the world she had created as her solace, the one who had been haunting me this entire journey, the one who had found me in my dreams, showing me images not so different from the ones depicted in this temple.
Was this her attempt to establish herself as a competing Divine of this world? To gain a host of followers, to take everything the Mother and Mother Blessed had worked for, only to establish her own way of life?
"Lyra?" I heard Malik awaken behind me.
I turned around to face him, finding sleep still heavy in his eyes.
I made my way over to him, pushing the images of the carvings out of my mind, of what such a thing meant for this world, and kneeled as he attempted to sit up, the cut down his side slowing his movements.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, helping him lean back against the wall of the temple.
"I've been better, but I've also been worse," he said. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," I answered as I began to unwrap the linen from around his wound.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth as I began to examine the cut, his hand gripping my thigh as it met open air.
"How is it?" Malik asked.
"It's healing," I said, examining the light pink area around where the wound had been. "My healing helped." Malik was the one saving me so often that, though I never wanted to see him hurt, I was grateful for the chance to help him in my own way.
"Thank you," he murmured as I rewrapped his side, leaning his head against the wall in exhaustion. "I'm not sure if I would have made it without you."
I huffed a laugh. "I'm sure you would have. But I'm sorry," I said. "For last night."
Malik moved to look at me. "What are you sorry for?"
"For not being able to keep it together. For being weak when you needed me."
Malik's eyes softened at my words. "You're allowed to not be perfect around me, Lyra."
He had said as much so many times since we left Sorrel, yet I still found myself ashamed of it.
"Still, thank you," I said quietly. "For doing what you did in the camp, for defending me. For coming back to Wellea in the first place."
"I would never let anything happen to you, Lyra."
He had said those words time and time again, yet the guilt of it all threatened to drown me.
He had sacrificed everything for me, gave up everything he had worked for over the last ten years, just to ensure my safety.
He had shown me just how far he would go for me, further than I ever thought anyone would, and I still could not wrap my mind around it.
"If you had never come here, your men would have never turned on you. You could have just driven the mainland men off of Uscal and stayed there and kept the peace. Why risk yourself for me?"
Malik's face was more serious than I had ever seen it as he considered my words.
"No," he said coolly, surprising me. "I was never going to have peace there.
Not if my men could so easily turn against the Mother Blessed, against my mother, against you.
It would have eventually all come to a head.
Besides, if it were me, I know you would do the same.
" He looked out across the temple sanctum.
"I couldn't just stand idly by while I knew you were standing against so many threats. "
I looked down, once again overtaken by his loyalty and willingness to sacrifice himself for me, even after all this time.
"That, and I couldn't lose the woman I love again," he continued.
I sucked a breath in at that word—love.
It overwhelmed me, that word and all the meaning it held.
After Malik left, I was unsure of what that word meant to me anymore, as most of my relationships outside of my family were born of political maneuvering.
But the moment Malik had returned to Sorrel, I started to remember its meaning, remembering how he made me feel, even as much as I tried to deny it.
Yet, I was still too fearful to speak such a thing out loud, for then that would open me up to rejection, and I wasn't sure if I would survive much more of it.
My silence bellowed between us, making the air taut and heavy without a response.
"Lyra, we can't keep running away from this conversation," Malik said, his voice tired yet determined.
I looked back up at him and found the same desperation in his eyes that I'd seen when he proposed to me back in Sorrel, the same all-knowing stare that I knew I could never hide from.
It was then that I realized I feared his love because it cracked me open, made me bare all the parts of myself that I was terrified to come face-to-face with.
Being with Malik meant looking at the parts of myself I didn't want to, no matter how painful it was.
But I was better for it, because it undid me, made me who I was and forever changed me in ways that I could have never dreamed of.
With him, I acknowledged my faults—my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let anyone help me, my inability to relax and just be.
Not having to confront those parts of myself was the easiest part of the last ten years, and probably the only reason I survived.
I had shoved down all the parts of myself that I didn't want to deal with, forgot all the work I did to overcome them, and with no one asking me to confront them, I hadn't had to until Malik returned.
And then he reentered my life, and suddenly I remembered everything that I was with him.
With him, I was patient, and willing to bend where my stubbornness often wouldn't let me.
With him, I was willing to be softer, to let myself be seen, to ask for help when I needed it.
With him, I remembered all those parts of myself I had loved, because he showed me their beauty.
He amplified them and brought them into the light for me to love even more.
The truth was simple—I had loved Malik my entire life, even during those years when I wondered if he thought of me, and I wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
I never did stop—the entire time I was with Therian, I couldn't help but think what this life would be like with Malik instead.
Days full of love, not just putting up with one another.
Mornings spent lounging in bed with one another, not having separate rooms. A life actually shared with one another, because we both wanted to.
Whether he was my other half or just the perfect reflection of my own soul, I did not know. All I knew was that I did not want to be away from him ever again.
However, still one uncertainty remained.
"Would you have come back here if not for the mainland men attacking Uscal?
" I asked as I turned around to face him.
My heart beat out of my chest as the words left my mouth.
I needed to know the truth before I said anymore, before I confessed, for I was too afraid to bare my soul, only for it to be shattered once more.
"Lyra—" he said.
"I need to know. Because you keep acting like you would have come back, yet I hadn't heard from you in years.
Not once, not at all. You left one day and that was it, never to be heard from again.
Do you understand what that does to a person?
I grew up thinking you were going to be my husband, the person I could lean on for all my life.
I gave you everything, and you left like it was nothing, like I was nothing. "
Devastation took over Malik's face as he took in my words and the weight and pain behind them.
"Is that what you think? That it was so easy for me to leave?"
I nodded, the silence between us filled with all the pain I felt at his leaving.
"That night, when I left," he started, "it was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Even as we boarded the ship under the light of the moon, I had to make myself not look back, because even then, I was so desperately in love with you that I knew I would do anything to keep you by my side.
But I knew I had to leave, to protect you after the Shroud. "
"But why?" I asked. "Why did I need protecting? Why couldn't you do that from Sorrel? I needed you. And you left."
Malik didn't get a chance to answer because as I asked the questions, a familiar cloaking of cold spread over the room, as if winter had found its way inside the temple.
There had only been one other time that I had felt a cold such as this one, and terror ripped through me at the thought of being so close to Rida but still too late.
"Malik, do you—" I asked as I turned, only to find Malik studying the ground, his brow creased together as if in deep concentration or contempt, unaware of the change that had taken place in the room.
I had only begun to reach out to him when Malik's voice lashed out, strained but sharp.
"Stop," he said.
I froze, as it was unlike Malik to speak to me in such a way.
"Is everything okay?"
"Lyra," he said, his voice gravely. "There's something you need to know."