Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
-LIL-
The sensation of falling was consuming—a rushing force that tangled with gravity, sending my stomach lurching upward into my throat, where it lodged itself, smothering my voice.
I’d wanted to scream, to unleash every ounce of rage bottled inside me, but no sound could escape past the weight pressing down on my chest.
The world around me twisted into a blur, an unrelenting storm of images.
These weren’t like the visions that had danced on the walls of the palace or castle—whatever that place was—but something more intimate, more visceral.
There were no walls here to project them.
The space itself was unknowable, incomprehensible.
Laughter, wild and untethered, echoed faintly.
Rage boiled like molten lava just out of reach, while quiet moments of joy swirled delicately like autumn leaves caught in the wind.
Light and shadow danced around me in a violent rhythm, bright flashes colliding with depths of darkness, each chasing the other in a maddening, endless cycle.
They came close to touching—so close it hurt to watch—but were torn apart.
And then, somehow, my feet touched sand.
Another beach.
I don’t know how I landed—if it was a gradual slowing or a sudden, violent halt—but I was upright.
The sky above was unlike anything I’d ever seen, as if it were painted on a canvas that shifted with every heartbeat.
Light and shadow wove together, a living tapestry of constellations and galaxies that pulsed with energy.
The sky itself was caught in a moment between dusk and dawn, a perpetual twilight of purples and oranges that bled into each other.
It was a strange, haunting beauty that made me pause in my tracks.
I sank onto the edge of the shoreline, where the tide lapped at my feet with warmth I hadn’t expected. It smelled like nothing I’d ever known—no brine, no salt—just something ancient and sweet, like the essence of memory itself distilled into air.
Each wave brought a new scent, a fleeting sensation that shifted and slipped away before I could name it.
The water glowed with colors I didn’t know the ocean could hold: blues that burned like sapphires, greens that shimmered like emeralds, and a kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and pinks.
It was life incarnate, luminous and unrestrained.
Some of the lights stayed far out in the depths, distant and untouchable, while others drifted closer, as if drawn to me. They hovered at the edge of the tide, brushing against my feet with a strange sentience. One particularly vivid blue light curled around my toes like a cat seeking affection.
I tried to focus on the rhythm of the waves, the faint crash of water against unseen rocks. Breathe. I reminded myself, feeling the tightness in my chest begin to ease. This place, with all its strangeness, held a serenity I hadn’t known I needed. A tranquility I’d never let myself seek.
Maybe I wasn’t really here. Maybe I was still back in the Center Court, my hand stretched out to some man I barely knew, as he bound me to Rai for the rest of my life.
I dug my toes deeper into the wet sand, letting the warmth seep into me, trying to ground myself in the present. It was then that a sudden burst of green light flashed through the water, breaking my train of thought. The light surged toward me, deliberate and unhurried, before settling at my side.
“Hello,” I murmured, reaching out tentatively with my fingers. I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t feel any fear. Something about the light felt… safe.
“You did that last time.”
The voice was sudden and sharp, pulling me to my feet in an instant. I spun around, ready to unleash my anger on Thetius, only to freeze in place.
“You’re not Thetius.”
“I most certainly am not,” the woman replied, her voice like liquid gold.
She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. Her skin glowed as if kissed by the sun itself, her eyes an endless ocean of blues and purples, impossible to look away from. Her hair shimmered like the sky above us, flickering with images and stories that moved as she did.
Despite her beauty—despite the sheer power that radiated from her like a storm waiting to break—I forced myself to stand firm.
“Are you not afraid, Lil?” She asked, her smile soft but knowing as she stepped toward me.
Can she hear my heartbeat? Will she know it is a lie?
“No.”
Her laugh was low and melodic, slicing through my feeble attempt at bravado. “That’s okay.” She stopped just a step from me. “You never have been.”
“Is it the role of everyone I meet in these realms to be cryptic and frustrating?” I demanded, crossing my arms. “Is it possible for anyone here to give a straight answer?”
Pause. Breathe. Then speak. It’s not too difficult, Lil.
Her smile deepened, and for a moment, she saw through me—every thought, every insecurity laid bare.
“I’m not your enemy, Lil,” she said gently. “I never have been.”
The words lingered in the air as she turned and walked toward the water. The glowing lights surged forward to meet her, swirling around her ankles in a frenzy of color and devotion.
Gods.
It hit me then—what Thetius had said.
“Should you encounter Hild on your journey, you should ask her.”
“Hild?” I whispered, the name trembling on my lips. No. It wasn’t possible. The Gods weren’t real. This isn’t real.
“It took you longer than last time. That’s interesting,” she said, her voice as gentle as the distant hum of waves. She glanced back over her shoulder, her smile deepening into something tender, almost nostalgic. It was the kind of smile one might give to an old friend—warm, knowing, bittersweet.
Last time? The words snagged in my mind, repeating like an echo in an empty hall.
“I will do my best to answer all of your questions. But...” She paused, tilting her head as if listening to a melody only she could hear. “I haven’t been here myself in quite some time, and I wish to say hello before we begin.”
Without another word, she crouched at the edge of the water. Her fingers dipped below the glowing surface, and the world held its breath.
Then, the ocean erupted into an explosion of light and color. The water spun in a radiant whirlpool around her, the glow intensifying with every rotation. The spiral grew, lifting higher and higher into the air.
The colors twisted and stretched, their tendrils reaching skyward like the arms of some cosmic dancer. The vortex expanded until it filled the space around us, its circumference vast and unyielding. My breath caught as the storm of light broke free.
Ribbons of color streaked through the twilight sky, interweaving with the stars and constellations.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My feet moved of their own accord, carrying me closer to her. The air shimmered, warm and soft against my skin, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek, unbidden.
Hild stood, her gaze fixed on the sky. “It is,” she murmured, her voice reverent.
“Each time you see it, no matter how many times... It is one of the most beautiful things of creation. Her creation.” She met my eyes with an intensity that felt like a physical weight.
She reached out, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
“I can imagine that your time with Thetius left you teeming with questions.” Her tone shifted to something lighter, a teasing lilt creeping in. “And this little display surely hasn’t helped.”
A laugh burst out of me, raw and genuine. It startled me as much as it pleased her. “You could say that,” I admitted, still half-laughing.
Hild’s smile softened. “I think it’s time we go for a walk and have a conversation. Does that sound okay to you?” She slid her hands into the pockets of her long, flowing dress, gesturing ahead with a nod, her movements calm and unhurried.
I hesitated, then nodded, my curiosity outweighing my confusion.
“It’s very good to see you,” she said as we began walking. “I apologize that it has been so long.”
“And how long, exactly, has it been since we’ve seen each other?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. What does one even ask a Primal? A God?
“You can ask me whatever you like,” she replied smoothly, “this is a safe space, and I promise—if I know the answer, I’ll reveal it to you. I’ve never kept anything from you. I don’t intend to start now.”
I muttered under my breath, “I keep forgetting you can hear my thoughts.”
“Yes,” she said, laughing softly. “An unfortunate side effect of what I am. But alas, you’ll get used to it.” She pointed ahead, her finger tracing a line toward the horizon. “That’s where we’re headed.”
“How long has it been?” I pressed, my voice sharper now, though I couldn’t explain why.
Hild glanced at me sidelong, her expression unreadable. “It has been the equivalent of fifty years since we last spoke.”
“Fifty years,” I scoffed, stopping in my tracks. “You do realize I’m twenty-seven, not fifty?”
“I’m well aware,” she said, unbothered by my outburst. “You weren’t in this form the last time we spoke. But it was still you.”
“Wasn’t in this form?” I repeated, my disbelief spilling over. “Are you mad?”
She stopped walking, turning to face me fully.
“Lil.” Her tone was laced with a patience that only deepened my frustration.
“I know this is hard to believe. And believe me, I grow tired of reminding you of this each time we meet. But there is a pattern to this.” She paused, “I promise, this will make sense soon—just as we crest over that horizon.”
Her words hung in the air as she resumed walking, her steps light and purposeful.
“This is a dream,” I muttered, half to myself.
“It isn’t a dream, Lil,” she called back without turning. “You are here for a reason. Now come on. We have a schedule to keep.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she added, “Besides, I want to hear all about that messy-haired man waiting for you in Azmeer.”