Chapter 13 #2
“Look, it’s late. There’s nothing to be done tonight. And nothing to be decided. You should get some rest. You need it. And so do I.”
I shook my head. “I’ve slept so much in the last forty-eight hours. I don’t think I can.”
“You’ve also been through so much in the last forty-eight hours that you must.” He pressed his lips together, watching me carefully.
“Sleep, Lyriana. Real sleep. Being down here, I forgot how much a mortal body needs it—how much our magic needs it to replenish. It will help. Any lingering pain, or fever you have. Any weakness or clouding of your mind. In the morning, you’ll feel stronger, and you’ll be ready to make your next move. ”
I sighed. “I know. I just don’t feel like I can.” “I’ll help,” he whispered. “Again.”
I stiffened.
“Not with magic. I swear. I’ll just sit beside you until you’re dreaming. Or I can sing to you, rub your back. Whatever you want. Whatever you need to fall asleep.”
“Will you—” My throat went dry. And I remembered Rhyan saying something so similar to me after my father died. I needed the same thing as I did then. “Will you hold me?”
Auriel looked relieved. “Of course. Go on. Lay your head down.”
I did, and I felt Auriel shift behind me a moment later, pulling me against him.
He removed my belt, and the weapons I’d strapped to it.
But I took the scabbard, holding it in my hands, and clutching it to my chest. There were fresh cloaks bundled on the table, and some folded clothes.
Probably from Sean. I had a sinking feeling that they were spares Rhyan had kept here.
“Do you need anything else?” Auriel asked.
“No.”
His arm wrapped around me. “Now sleep,” he whispered.
I let out a shuddering breath, and closed my eyes, listening to his slow, even breaths. I was asleep within seconds, realizing only at the last second, as unconsciousness was taking me, that Auriel was still wearing his armor.
And whether it was thanks to the Gods, or Auriel’s presence, his body acting like a balm for mine—a deceit of Rhyan’s body—I slept. But I didn’t dream.
My eyes opened early the next morning. Auriel’s arm was still wrapped around me, his hand resting on my hip. Warm.
Familiar.
But wrong.
I started to shift away and sit up, but his hand flattened against me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice groggy. “You’re up?”
“Mmmmhmmm.” I turned around, laying on my side to face him. There were some dark circles under his eyes, and his curls were mussed, but otherwise, he looked like he did the night before.
“Hey,” he said again, his eyes soft and still heavy with sleep.
“Hi,” I breathed. “Did you sleep okay?”
He winced. “Not really.”
“Because of me?” I asked, a little embarrassed.
His eyes darkened, grazing down my body, then back up to my face. “Well, I haven’t had to share my bed with a mortal in a long time.” He winked. “And you kick a lot.”
“I do not!” I yelled.
He laughed. “Okay, you don’t.”
I rolled my eyes, and pushed playfully at his shoulder. He was still wearing his armor, which I imagined couldn’t have been comfortable. I sat up suddenly, feeling shy at how close we were and got off the bed, trying to put some distance between us.
But when I looked back, he was struggling to sit up, and wincing. His neck was turning red. Then he flinched when his armor seemed to push against him.
My eyes narrowed. “Auriel, why did you sleep in your armor?”
His lips tugged down. “I forgot to remove it—another mortal body thing I have to remember.”
“You’re lying,” I said. His face was pinched, his words had been clipped. “You’re in pain.”
“No,” he said.
I felt it suddenly in his aura. He was in pain. “Then take your armor off,” I said.
“Trying to get me naked?” He winked, but it looked like it hurt him to do it.
“Auriel?” I asked.
All the humor he was attempting drained from his face.
Finally, he sat up. But he was moving slowly, and looked like he was having trouble breathing. Like just sitting up in the bed had been too much effort.
“You couldn’t take your armor off, could you?” I said, searching his eyes. “You’re hurt.”
He jerked back from me, his lips pursed together, and his jaw tensed. “I’m fine.” Auriel nodded vigorously, as if he was trying to convince himself. “I’ll recover. Just some …” he flinched again, “broken ribs I think. From the fall. And then from that soturion I fought after.”
“Auriel,” I said. “What the hell! You should have said something.”
“I was more worried about you. Your fever really was high, and you—you couldn’t stand. And then after—everything you were feeling. It scared the shit out of me. I mean, by the realms, you’re so, so mortal.”
“And right now,” I pushed his golden hair from his forehead. “So are you. I know this is uncharted territory—you becoming human again, but Auriel, what happens to you now? What happens if you—if you die?”
He shivered. “I think we’d better not find out.”
“Can I—” I took a deep breath. “Can I see?”
“Lyriana.” He looked away, almost embarrassed, his neck reddening.
“Please, Auriel. We’re in this together now. You can’t just take care of me. At least, if you want to keep it up, then at some point I need to take care of you.”
“I’m still a God in a lot of ways. I’ll recover.”
“And if you don’t?” I wrung my hands together. “Look, I can’t take care of him. I can’t help him. And I need to—I need to do something, and you’re hurt. Let me take care of you.”
His eyes searched mine, his body still, then finally he lowered his chin, biting the inside of his cheek. “All right.” He gestured to his shoulder. “I uh … I’m going to need some help with my armor.”
I nodded, and climbed off the bed so I could stand before him.
Then I found the clasps and buckles of his chest plate.
Quickly, I unfastened each piece, and removed them one by one, carefully placing them on the table beside my belongings.
He’d given me his cloak in the woods, replacing it with a short tunic he’d pulled up beneath his armor.
But when I reached for the ties behind his neck, Auriel’s gaze was distant. Like he was embarrassed. He didn’t want me to see him in pain. Didn’t want to reveal weakness.
I crawled back onto the bed, moving behind him so he could compose himself.
It was so like Rhyan. I remembered the first time I’d seen him hurt.
That fucking asshole, Brockton, had beat him up in the arena, had bitten his eye, bitten through his scar.
Rhyan had been so unwilling to let me care for him.
So guarded. Even after that, it took him months to fully open up to me, to trust me with his vulnerabilities. His secrets.
I ran my hands soothingly down Auriel’s shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, soft and taut over his muscles.
My fingers brushing lower, finding smaller scars I hadn’t seen, markings of a war from another life.
Then I fully unlaced his tunic, letting the sleeves fall down his arms. What remained of the cloth slid down the front of his chest, exposing him down to his waist. Carefully, I shifted myself back off the bed, and came to stand before him.
For a moment, in the dim flickering light of the basement, I had to compose myself. Auriel was beautiful, and I had the opportunity to look more closely and carefully than when we’d been in the forest.
The muscles across his chest and abdomen looked like they’d been carved from marble with an exquisitely practiced precision.
Like his body had been dreamt of by a master artist. Rhyan’s had been the same way to me.
Perfect in my eyes. Perfect in every way.
But he’d always been mortal. Real. Warm. Mine.
Auriel though—while almost identical, somehow still looked like a God.
Otherworldly. Not from any single feature I could identify.
He just was. Even now—even injured. The only thing marring the perfect sculpting of his chest were large, angry-looking red and purple bruises.
And on the right side of his rib cage, there was a sharp-looking lump, like the bone was out of place and trying to force its way out.
Everywhere else that wasn’t bruised or broken was scratched up and red and irritated.
Without thinking, I ran my hand down his chest, my fingers splaying across the worst of his injuries, and smoothing over the skin stretched across the broken bone.
Auriel’s body stilled except for a shuddering breath. “Lyriana, wait!” he said. “Wait!”
But it was already happening. My hand had warmed with fire, and my heart glowed as the red ray of the Valalumir, the light inside my chest, came to life.
Light spilled out of my tunic, golden and warm, spreading and illuminating the entire basement.
Within seconds, the darkened room had been filled with a luminous, golden glow of light.
Auriel’s eyes widened. His bruises began to shrink, the red and purple fading back into the tan color of his skin. His rib cage shifted, righting itself, the lump vanishing.
And I shuddered, barely stopping myself from crying out, feeling the pain he’d been in. Taking it on as I healed him, as I once again used Rakashonim.
As I took on more, I started to gasp, feeling my own ribs crack and break and bruise.
Not really. They were fine—it was the effect of the healing—the need for the energy to exist somewhere, for there to be balance.
What was created could never be destroyed.
I bit back my scream. I wasn’t hurt—but the pain was real enough.
“Lyriana!” Auriel yelled in warning. “Lyriana stop. Don’t!”
But I couldn’t let go, couldn’t pull my hand away. The pain in my ribs was growing more and more tense.
“Wait!” Auriel yelled.
And then … something else was happening. Something far bigger was beginning to heal.
His aura.
It had felt larger than life to me when he’d first appeared, when I had no idea who he was or what was happening. But in that first moment, before I fainted, he had felt like a God.
Since I’d woken in the cave, Auriel had felt more human, more fragile. His aura weakened. He’d looked every bit an immortal, looked exactly as I would have imagined an all-powerful being. But he’d mentioned moving slower, having trouble adjusting to the physical world. And I’d seen it.
Seen him struggle with his mind slowing down—forgetting what he knew in the other realms, forgetting the knowledge he possessed as a God. Even sounding unsure of how he’d gotten here, or how he might leave.
The light began to spark between us—bursting like fireworks, growing brighter and brighter, until it hurt to look at him.
And then, I felt it. The moment his aura healed.
There was a sudden dimming of the light and strength of mine. My power. My knees shook, then gave out.
“Asherah!” Auriel yelled, jumping to his feet and catching me.
He scooped me into his arms, and laid me back on the bed, his eyes wide and blazing with green.
The color was more vibrant than before. It looked more like Rhyan’s green in the sunlight.
Now … even in the dark, it was an exact copy.
As if the light from the green shard of the Valalumir itself was behind them.
“Asherah. My love.” His mouth opened, then closed and he stumbled back, another burst of light exploding from his body.
“Fuck,” he yelled, and fell to his knees, his hands opening and closing helplessly. “You’re the fire,” he said. “It’s inside you. Rakashonim. In your heart.”
“Auriel,” I said, reaching my hand for him. But I couldn’t move. The effect of the healing had taken its toll.
His breathing was heavy as he stood up, and then the room darkened again, the only lights which remained were the flickering flames of the candles.
“By the realms—by the fucking realms,” Auriel yelled, rushing to my side, and taking my hand in his. “Lyriana? Lyriana, please. Please. Are you okay?” He kissed my knuckles.
I nodded. “Just a little tired. Again.”
He kneeled at the edge of the bed, and squeezed my hand. “Do you know what you’ve just done?” he asked. “You healed more than my body. You—oh shit. Oh shit!” He was breathless, his eyes wild. He let go of me then, and stood, stumbling backwards, until he hit the wall.
“What? What happened?” I asked weakly.
“I remember,” he cried out. “I remember now. Fuck! You healed—you healed my memory, too. I … I’m not cut off anymore. The light. It’s the light. The Red Ray! By the realms! The Valalumir itself.”
I frowned, not sure what that meant—he was almost babbling. “Are you okay?” I asked. From the look on his face, I couldn’t tell if having his aura in full force, and his memory of being a God while mortal, was good or bad. Or if … somehow, I’d done something wrong. Something that hurt him.
Auriel shivered. “I’d been trying to remember this the whole time.
Since the moment I felt my power drain. I could feel it—at the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t touch it.
” He gasped. “It will happen again, soon. But I know now why we’ve been fighting.
What I was trying to say without knowing it.
I know now why it feels wrong to you to go after Rhyan. Why it feels wrong to let Sean do it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Lyriana,” he gasped. “I was so close to remembering back at the tomb. To telling you everything. But my mind was already clouded, weak, and with the sun in your hair like that, and Asherah’s chest plate I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“Rhyan doesn’t have to die.” His throat bobbed, his entire body vibrating with the knowledge.
“It’s been hidden. It’s been hidden for a thousand years.
It was forgotten. The knowledge lost. Buried.
But, I remember. I remember now. We can save him, we can save his soul—the part of my soul that’s his.
The personality that’s Rhyan. Lyriana, we can bring him back—restore him from the state of being an akadim. ”
“What?” I sat up, my heart thundering. I shook my head. “Auriel, don’t say that. Not unless you mean it. Absolutely mean it. You cannot joke about this.”
“I’m not.” His eyes were wide and blazing with fire and emeralds, and then the light left him again.
His chest heaved, gasping for breath as he sank to his knees.
“I buried the knowledge with me. In my tomb. That’s why you were drawn there.
That’s why you were brought there. You were desperate to save him, to heal him.
And with all the power you’d called on and wielded—you thought you’d failed.
You hadn’t. You went to the source. I remember now.
I think that might be why I’m here. To right the wrong.
To fix a mistake we made a thousand years ago.
” Tears were falling from his eyes, streaking across his cheeks.
“There’s a way forward for Rhyan. Lyriana, there’s a cure. ”