Lyra's POV
I felt the shift in the air as we transcended space and time, and I instinctively guessed where he was taking me—the real world.
The wind, whistling lively through the air, smacked at me, rustling my long hair behind me as we landed on a rather large patch of grass. I looked around, blinking out the sting of the wind—we were on a hill.
For a moment, I had forgotten about him. But the instant I realized he was still holding on to me, I shrieked away from him, my face darkening with horror.
I threw my eyes around at the hill again, cautiously this time, so I could watch him via the corner of my eyes—all I saw were just patches of grasses and bright brown sand, then the very blue sky and nothing. I didn't know where we were, but I could tell it was the real world. The air was warmer, and the sun beat down on us harder.
I shifted on my feet, my gaze narrowing exclusively on him now. "Where have you brought me?"
"To your world. To see your people. I figured out the palace might be too boring for you, since there isn't a human you can relate to," he grinned, giving me another warm smile, and he began to stroll down the hill.
I followed his broad, powerful back with my eyes. My gaze strayed to his head, just enough to spy his horns varnished—he'd made them go away so he could look more human.
"And why do you care?" I yelled at him.
He heaved his shoulders with an air of nonchalance. "I just do," he said. "Besides, Draziel gave me a task to do for him, and I think since you hate me so much, you might want to follow me around while I do this task." He said, over his shoulder. But his voice was fading, swallowed by the distance as he walked further and further down the hill, the wind brushing his robe about behind him.
I stood on the hill, watching him go, my gaze tainted with grudge. He didn't even attempt to glance back at the human he was leaving on the hill—the arrogance with which he carried himself. He seemed so sure I would follow him.
As if by reflex, I moved a foot after him, but I stopped. I couldn't let him win. He was the one person in the world I wanted to avoid, the evil bastard that killed me multiple times. Crazy yet, he was also my ticket back to the underworld. Without him, I was stuck on this hill.
The logical side of me finally won. I grunted, clenching my jaw hard. I dropped down the hill after him, fantasizing different ways to kill him if I somehow happened upon some demon powers.
"What do you mean by Draziel gave you a task to do?" I probed as I got nearer to him. I heaved my robe high, since it was too big for me. It swept the ground, and the grasses didn't seem to want to let it go.
"He asked me to help find the you that exists in this lifetime. You need to merge souls with the version of you that exists in this timeline, or you will die in six months, or if extremely lucky, as Varin puts it, a year."
That stopped me cold. If he had punched me, he wouldn't have knocked as much air out of my lungs as he did with just those words.
My heart thrashed wildly again as I sprinted forward. I stood before his path—though well away from him. So I could be ready to defend myself if he ever thought to attack me.
"What do you mean by I would die in six months or a year?" I asked.
He stopped. He cradled his sword to his chest like it was a newborn. "What happened with your body glowing earlier was because you are an aberration in this timeline—"
"I know I am; everyone keeps telling me that. Just damn get on about why I will die in some months time if you don't find another version of me." I snapped, my voice a bit wheezy as my breath gradually seized. My gaze was fastened on his face now, expecting him to make a damn speech.
"Two same souls cannot survive in the same timeline; one would get sucked away into time to bring back balance. To stop that, the souls have to merge. What happened with your body glowing will happen again and again, and you will keep getting weaker and weaker until you finally die. If we find the version of you in this timeline, we can prevent that…"
But I was no longer hearing him—his voice fading slowly from my consciousness. I staggered briefly back, covering my face with my palms. I wanted to cry, to bawl my heart out to this miserable curse I was caught up in, to ask why death never leaves me no matter where I go, but nothing came—not even a strand of tear.
So I steeled my mind and shook off the sorrow. This wasn't the first time I would die anyway. Six months—a year. It doesn't matter. I just have to find my way back to the future to save Draziel, to before he took the oath. That is all that matters.
I raised my head back to him. Then I dropped out of the way, throwing my hand forward—asking him to take the lead once again.
He stared intensely at me as he strolled past. He seemed surprised that I didn't cry after the news. He continued to glance back at me as we dropped further down the hill.
Gradually, a huge fortress wall began to take shape miles around us—the further we went, the huger the fortress became. Below us, various colors of tents hinted at market stalls, glasses from latticed windows stealing the sunlight, making them eye-blinding to look at. Narrow cobbled streets twisted around a multitude of stone buildings and timber-framed houses to make a beautiful medieval city.
Somewhere, a bell chimed loudly, marking the hour with authority, so loud I closed my ears with my palms while we got down to the streets. The cobbled stonework of the streets became sharper, became more real. I suddenly realized how far back I had traveled in time.
My first encounter with Draziel was almost vague in my memories—I couldn't tell what exact year it was again. But the world wasn't this much medieval when we did.
We strolled down the street, feeling the weight of the thick air—heavy with a blend of aromas. But the one that caught me was the warm, yeasty aroma of fresh bread. It brought me to a complete standstill. I never thought my stomach had churned as hard as it did now. I could almost feel my intestines tying around themselves. It's been a long time since I ate something. It seemed like a century ago.
I completely forgot about Zarek as I ran fast to the nearest bread stall in the street. I stood before the store like a beggar, salivating at the sight. My throat bobbled continuously, my stomach churning more and more, so much that it actually began to ache. I watched as two men in old and ragged medieval clothing hauled crates of bread from an oven. They put them on display on a large, waist-high table before him.
I felt the urge to snatch a bread and run, but that would only make me a thief—though I had been one in one of my many lifetimes. Also, I didn't figure I could run much if I stole. In this oversized robe and bar-girl skirt, I thought, staring down with mild disgust at the dreary attire I wore, I'd be caught even before I moved a foot.
I bit hard on my lip, grunting softly as I turned back gently to find Zarek. The words felt so heavy in my mouth that I had to shut my eyes a bit as I asked. "Can you lend me a coin to get some bread?"
I could not bring myself to comprehend that I was asking my biggest enemy for help.
But I snapped my eyes open instantly. Fine tremors burned through me, and I stiffened in alarm. He was nowhere before me.
I stared down both sides of the street, letting my gaze go as far as it could go, further and further down the thatched-roof houses and the hundreds of stalls that lined the street. But he was nowhere—he was truly gone.