VALORIA WILDEROSE
I am stuck in another nightmare, running for my life about to be killed by a cloaked figure with a knife, and once more I can’t escape from it.
I’m stabbed over and over again, each wound burning a gash deep into my soul, sending ripples of excruciating pain that doesn’t end until I’m thrown wide awake.
I leap upright, gasping for air and trembling from fear and a cold wind that isn’t there.
All my instincts are alive and screaming as my body throbs painfully with echoes of the past.
I realize it was a dream again, and I’m sitting on my bed, except this ti with the lights off.
My heart hamrs against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I press a hand to my chest, willing it to slow down.
Soft dim light from the moon peeks into the room through the window, making most things around visible enough based on their silhouette.
The lack of sun confirms that the day has passed and it’s night.
Another day gone with ti being wasted on sickness and recuperating from being poisoned.
How many days do I have left now? Sixty-sothing? The number feels impossibly small, shrinking with every wasted mont.
That fills with dread almost as bad as the one I felt in my dream, blurring the line between the dream world and reality.
A stirring beside pulls my attention away from my pain and myself, realizing I’m not as alone as I think I am.
Azrael is sitting right next to on the bed, upright now that I’ve just woken up after screaming out loud for help.
I can see the confused tension in his blue eyes even with the darkness around us.
I can probably map out other parts of his face too, even without the bits of light in the room.
If it was anyone else I’d scream and fall off the bed, but his presence is all too familiar, so finding him here feels normal.
"Are you okay?" His question stirs my heart more than I want it to.
I look away rather than responding.
"What are you doing here?"
"I said I would be back." His answer is simple.
And I don’t argue with it.
He said he would be back and I didn’t believe he would, even though I waited for hours before sleep took and the nightmares snuck in.
But he’s here now, and I don’t think I want to be alone right now.
Even if he’s the last person I should want beside . Even if everything about this is wrong.
I lie back down slowly, staring up at the ceiling, sinking into the sadness that surrounds with the little ti I have left.
I’m losing hope and courage, and now visions of my past have returned to haunt .
I never did find out who tried to kill . Instead I buried it to keep moving forward, thinking that it was sothing I could co back to later.
But now with things not going my way anymore, maybe a detour won’t be so much of a bad idea. Maybe it’s the only chance I’ll get.
The thought terrifies more than the nightmares do.
My head hurts.
"I had a nightmare. It’s one I used to have when I first got here. It left for a while and now it’s back." I open up because there’s no point in staying silent.
Because it’s easier to just tell him.
Easier than pretending I’m fine when I’m falling apart.
"I don’t want to think about it right now. Distract , Azrael."
I finally look at him, discovering that his eyes have not left since I woke up, staring with a distant look within them.
"What do you want to talk about?" he asks.
I stare at him for a mont too long, lost in thoughts too far away for my foggy mind to comprehend, before I can pry my eyes away from him again.
And then sothing finds its way into my mind.
"Venus," I whisper her na low, but he hears it.
His calm eyes are strained instantly, staring at accusatorily as if I’ve insulted him with just that one word.
He’s annoyed too fast, looking elsewhere.
"Valoria, drop it," he snaps.
But it’s nowhere close to being enough to discourage , not while I’m heavily invested in the mystery that she now is and why he wants to avoid speaking about her.
"I know who she is now. The warrior princess werewolf that slayed the god of death with the blade from the goddess. She killed your master and is possibly the reason you’re cursed."
I watch his face contort with more discomfort, yet he doesn’t deny any of it. Doesn’t look at either.
I continue.
"When you were in pain, you called out to her fondly. ’Þū eart mīn heorte lufu.’ It ans ’you are my heart’s love.’ I studied the ancient languages in the library."
It took hours, but I learned a few words, specifically looking to decipher that one phrase he had made while delirious—like an obsession.
Now he scoffs, chuckles bitterly before a deep-set frown takes over his entire face.
"Impressive." He nods slowly. "It’s impressive, the lengths you’ll go to invade my life and spin narratives that suit you. I wonder what new explanation you’ve spun in your head this ti."
I frown.
"You’re not a saint either. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the sa thing if given the opportunity," I snap back at him, letting his annoyance be contagious for just a mont before I can stop myself.
He stares, offended again, but doesn’t retaliate. Realizing the truth behind my words, he can’t argue.
Rather he sighs with defeat, resting his back against the headrest.
"I don’t even rember what she looks like," he confesses in a broken voice, and then his gaze shifts to again, giving a glimpse of the pain he feels from not rembering.
It’s agonizing and crushes him.
I’ve never seen him look so broken. So human.
"The only thing I do rember is that she had eyes like yours—perfect bluish-green aquamarine, like the deep oceans." He stares into them with a deep sense of longing that defies ti and space.
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