The Fantasy Trove

Bobby learns more about his father than he wants.

 

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Chapter 15

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Memories Shared

 

A chilling breeze swept past me as I found myself outside a dilapidated concrete structure. Broken windows and shattered panes marred its façade, and the surrounding asphalt parking lot was riddled with weeds crisscrossing through deep cracks. Although I couldn’t feel the cold, an odd sense of awareness told me of its presence.

 

“Where am I?” I demanded, my voice echoing in the desolate environment. I was in conversation with Charlotte mere moments ago. How was I transported to this unfamiliar place? Had the succubus somehow controlled me and brought me here while I was unconscious?

 

My attention was drawn to a figure bundled up in a thick coat a few feet away. Instinctively, I moved toward them, only to see Charlotte’s silhouette standing before me, her expression a blend of sorrow and apprehension.

 

“This is a memory I’m not proud of,” she confessed, her voice laced with a mixture of reluctance and vulnerability. “We won’t be able to interact here, no one can hear us, but I wanted to...” She trailed off, shaking her head as if struggling to find the right words. “No, that’s not entirely true. I don’t want to show you this, but I believe it’s only fair, considering I’ve been privy to your deepest secrets. So please, watch, and try not to judge me too harshly for what I used to be.”

 

I nodded in understanding, a swirl of emotions rising within me. This experience was far from what I had anticipated when gaining access to Charlotte’s memories. Where were the carnal escapades? Where were the explicit and debauched encounters spanning centuries? As she claimed to be ancient, why was she showing me something that seemed relatively modern?

 

The crunch of gravel under tires diverted my attention as my gaze fixed upon two men who pulled up in a yellow and black sports car, their forms shivering in the cold. Anger surged within me as I recognized one of them.

 

“Protector Stephens and Carpenter Brody,” the voice from the bundled coat called out in an unfamiliar feminine tone. While I had initially assumed it was Charlotte speaking, the softness of the voice suggested otherwise. Surveying the empty lot around us, I couldn’t fathom how she’d arrived here unless she was dropped off. The only vehicle present belonged to the two men. “You’re late.”

 

My father, appearing much younger than my last encounter with him, stood behind another man draped in thick white robes. I focused on controlling my emotions, invoking the calming exercises I had honed over the years to master my temper. The urge to confront him, to channel my anger into my fists, was strong. But I remembered Charlotte’s caution that we couldn’t interact with this memory and rooted myself in place.

 

Inhale... one, two, three, four... Exhale... one, two, three, four...

 

“Let’s not waste time on pointless arguments,” the man I assumed was Protector Stephens retorted with a sneer. “We’re here to assist the Daughters of Respite with your mission, not to play your underlings.”

 

My father’s subtle flinch in response to the man’s tone surprised me. Memories of my interactions with my father painted him as an overbearing and authoritative prick.

 

Then the woman, still hidden within the furry coat, pushed back her hood, and my breath caught in my throat. Though I couldn’t place her, she was captivating. Soft brown hair framed her cherubic face, freckles scattered across her cheeks below luminous blue-green eyes. While her figure was concealed beneath the coat, she appeared no older than nineteen at most.

 

“If we could skip past the chauvinistic nonsense, I’d appreciate getting on with this,” the woman said, her voice gentle yet laced with unyielding strength that gave it an iron edge.

 

“Of course, of course,” the older Knight waved off her comment dismissively. “Just a quick question, if I may. Is it true that the Daughters of Respite don’t experience menstrual cycles? What’s it like to escape the clutches of the monthly mood swings?”

 

“Protector Stephens...” My father’s voice carried a note of both exasperation and disapproval.

 

If the woman took offense, she didn’t reveal it immediately. Instead, she did something even more unsettling. She smiled, her lips painted a glossy pink curving into a grin reminiscent of the Cheshire Cats.

 

“That’s right, we don’t,” the young woman responded, and suddenly the world around us shifted. Everything seemed to slow down, colors dimming. The woman strode purposefully toward the confident Knight, and just as suddenly, the world snapped back into place. A sharp gasp escaped the robed Knight, his body tensing as a dagger was poised near his groin. “We’re always ready to strip the power from someone who thinks they can belittle us. So why restrict it to just one week every month?”

 

“Uh...,” the Knight stammered, his voice strained as the pressure increased from the dagger against his groin.

 

“You can call me Jules,” the woman introduced herself. Once again, the world shifted, a temporal distortion slowing everything down as she returned to her previous position. A girlish giggle escaped Jules, and she pulled her hood back over her head, the dagger nowhere to be seen when the world returned to normal.

 

“With the unpleasantness behind us, shall we focus on the task of protecting humanity from the monsters that are now freely roaming our world?” she inquired with a hint of determination.

 

“What are you trying to show me?” I questioned aloud, but Charlotte wasn’t present. “And where are you, Charlotte? This is supposedly your memory.”

 

“Watch,” Charlotte’s voice reverberated around me, although her form remained elusive.

 

Could the young woman be Charlotte? It didn’t entirely add up. The Daughters of Respite were almost extinct, but I knew their reputation. While every member of the Paladonic Knights was male, the DOR was an all-female order renowned for their combat prowess, defending humanity from supernatural threats and possessing near-immunity to magic. I briefly toyed with the idea that Charlotte could be acting as a double agent, but her characteristic flirtatious demeanor was nowhere to be found. The Charlotte I knew would have engaged in banter with Protector Stephens instead of responding with a dagger. Unless, of course, it was all part of an elaborate ruse?

 

With nothing else to do, I followed Charlotte’s guidance and continued to observe.

 

Jules made her way over to the car, slipping into the back passenger seat. Protector Stephens directed my father to “get in the back with the witch” as he positioned himself behind the wheel.

 

Without any conscious action on my part, I suddenly found myself uncomfortably squeezed into the middle of the back seat. One moment, I was outside; the next, I was hunched in the back of the two-door coupe.

 

“Apologies for that,” my father whispered to my left. “I would apologize for him, but that’s just how he is. He’s also one of our best healers in the company.”

 

“You’re apologizing because you find me attractive and want to worm your way into my affections,” Jules responded with a scathing retort, not even sparing him a glance.

 

“You tell him, Jules!” I cheered inwardly, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing my father taken down a peg.

 

“Actually, no, I’m not,” Bernard Brody countered. “I’m a happily married man. My wife is about to give birth to my son. Here, I’ve got pictures if you’d like to see them.” His voice carried a distinct note of pride as he began scrolling through his phone. Jules continued to ignore him.

 

“She’s not interested in gawking at pictures of your dear Susan, Carpenter Brody,” Stephens interjected with a condescending tone. “Unless, of course, you happen to have some racy photos of her? Feel free to share those around!”

 

“Pig,” Jules muttered under her breath.

 

“I keep telling you, Susan isn’t like that,” Bernard retorted, a note of exasperation in his voice that suggested this was a recurring argument.

 

“She would be if you wanted her to be,” Stephens laughed, dismissing my father’s protests. “Just a single suggestion from you, and she’d be as slutty as the other wives.”

 

While I enjoyed watching my father squirm under the treatment he received from Protector Stephens, a part of me couldn’t ignore the fact that Stephens was talking about my mother. The idea of inflicting a slow and painful death upon him felt like too weak of a punishment.

 

My father seemed to shrink into himself as he put his phone away, his pride wounded by Stephens’ taunts.

 

Observing this version of Bernard Brody, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had transformed into the man I’d grown up despising. This version of him appeared respectful and considerate, a far cry from the man who would return home drunk, berate me for imagined wrongs, and then unleash his anger on my mother. Of course, I now knew that my mother had actually enjoyed those moments, being a masochist. Nevertheless, I hadn’t enjoyed the emotional and verbal abuse.

 

“We can skip this part of the drive,” Charlotte’s voice informed me. “There’s nothing more of significance in these conversations. You’ll witness the impending disaster soon enough.” Her tone was sullen, leaving me with no opportunity to respond before I found myself standing outside a decrepit home.

 

The place appeared even more dilapidated than the house I grew up in. Missing shutters on one window, peeling paint, and boarded-up windows gave it an air of abandonment. A quick glance up and down the street revealed that the neighboring houses weren’t in much better condition.

 

“Just a reminder,” Jules’s voice came from within her coat. “I get first dibs on the young women in there. After that, you’re welcome to any men and the older women.”

 

“I’m not entirely sure why you witches want the young Vanara, but we’ll do our part,” Protector Stephens remarked. “Carpenter Brody, are you ready?”

 

Turning my gaze to my father, I was surprised to see him donning spiked gauntlets. He was already clad in a chainmail shirt and sturdy leather trousers. A kite shield leaned against the back bumper of the car. His weaponry was complete, with a pistol holstered at his left hip and a short sword secured on his back.

 

“Just need you to cast your protective spells on me, and I’ll be set, Sir,” Bernard responded with a nod.

 

Taking a moment to assess the group, I realized that Stephens likely fulfilled the role of their healer, my father was their tank, and Jules served as the primary damage dealer.

 

Stephens gestured with his hands and muttered an incantation under his breath, then turned his attention to Jules. “Need any magical assistance?” he asked, a suggestive tone lacing his words.

 

“I’m immune to your magic, remember?” Jules retorted dismissively.

 

“There’s more than one kind of magic, you know,” Stephens persisted, undeterred by her response. His eyebrow waggling continued as if he’d forgotten the encounter in the parking lot. Or perhaps he just enjoyed the act of rejection?

 

“I’m immune to all your magical tricks,” Jules snapped back, her glare directed at the healer. “Your young Knight has more of a chance than you do, and that’s only because he’s a gentleman. But I have no interest in either of you.”

 

“Give me an hour, and I’ll change your mind,” Stephens continued his advances, blatantly ignoring her obvious lack of interest.

 

“If it takes you an hour to satisfy a woman, I pity your wife,” Jules shot back, her words laced with sarcasm. “Now, if you’re done pretending to be impressive, can we focus on the task?”

 

“Fucking frigid bitch,” Stephens muttered loud enough to be heard by everyone.

 

Ignoring his comment, Jules waited for my father to take the lead. Bernard positioned his shield before him as they approached the front door, with Stephens trailing behind. My father counted to three softly, then turned the unlocked doorknob and charged inside.

 

Describing the ensuing chaos in this journal will be challenging, but I’ll do my best. I had no prior knowledge of what a Vanara was until I laid eyes on one. The tallest of these creatures stood around five feet tall, possessing ape-like heads and tails but human-like bodies. They wore children’s clothing, and the males preferred going bare-chested.

 

The interior of the dilapidated house made more sense after seeing these Vanara, but at the moment of our entrance, I was perplexed. Monkey bars, poles, ladders, hanging ropes, and a single couch filled the front room. Vanara were suspended from various points, all turning to face us as we barged in. A heavy silence hung for a brief moment before the creatures let out an ear-piercing collective screech.

 

My father drew his pistol from his hip and fired two precise shots at the lead creature. The monster barely flinched and retaliated by launching a golden energy ball toward us despite being hit. Bernard raised his shield to intercept the projectile before quickly repositioning to take aim again.

 

“Focus on their heads or hearts!” Jules yelled as she emerged from behind my father. The world seemed to slow as she drove her dagger into one Vanara’s eye and then pierced another’s heart. I noticed that time manipulation didn’t affect every Vanara as one continued to launch its glowing attacks at Jules.

 

“Watch out!” I instinctively cried out, though I knew they couldn’t hear me.

 

“They can’t hear you,” Charlotte’s reminder stung with a hint of annoyance.

 

“Why are you showing me this?” I demanded, my frustration growing.

 

Charlotte remained silent.

 

Lost in Charlotte’s response, I missed parts of the ongoing battle. When I refocused, Stephens was mending a scorch mark on my father’s left shoulder. Bernard had discarded his pistol and brandished a short sword in his right hand.

 

The fight raged on, my father deflecting projectiles with his shield while Jules maneuvered to strike a few of the Vanara, then retreating to cover. Stephens quickly healed my father when needed, but he ignored Jules when she was hit in the leg by a thrown dagger toward the end of the battle. At first, I thought he was being cruel, but then I remembered that his magic wouldn’t work on her.

 

“We’re clear!” my father shouted after a few moments of eerie silence. He turned his attention to Jules, noticing her pained expression, and swiftly moved to her side. “Here, keep pressure on it. I know healing magic won’t work on this, but I have an emergency first-aid kit in my pack back at the car.” He then hurried out of the house.

 

“I’m familiar with wound treatment,” Jules hissed through clenched teeth after him.

 

“What a waste,” Stephens commented, kicking the lifeless body of a small Vanara. It appeared to be a child.

 

“We should collect genetic samples for our research,” Jules remarked, her tone somber. “I wish we could have taken some of them alive, though.”

 

“Heh, yeah,” Stephens chuckled. He crouched over one of the creatures, lifting its shirt and then dropping it in disgust. “Never mind. Even the females have hairy chests.”

 

Bernard returned with the first-aid kit, ready to tend Jules’ wound.

 

“Is sex the only thing that occupies your mind?” Jules questioned, wincing as Bernard tore her pants to access the wound.

 

“Sorry, but I need to see the wound,” Bernard said, focusing on his task.

 

“Just because you’re sexually frustrated doesn’t mean the rest of us are as cold-hearted,” Stephens chimed in as he joined them, holding Bernard’s discarded pistol. He aimed it at Jules, his tone condescending. “You know what? I’m tired of your attitude. It’s quite tragic that your injuries turned out to be fatal. Especially for someone as attractive as you.”

 

“What? They’re not—” Bernard started to say, then shook his head. “It’s not loaded. I emptied it into that big one over—” but his words were cut off as Stephens pulled the trigger.

 

Time seemed to slow again, the world losing its color. I watched as Jules tried to move away, but her actions caused her wound to worsen due to the needle Bernard had just placed in her leg. The gunshot echoed, and Jules fell to the ground, clutching a new wound on her chest.

 

“Huh,” Stephens shrugged his shoulders with a cocky grin. “I must have reloaded it. Fancy that?”

 

“What in the world are you doing?” Bernard stood up, his eyes filled with rage as he confronted his superior. “She’s an ally! Why would you shoot her? Are you out of your mind—”

 

A second bang echoed around the house, and my father fell across the woman. A new hole in his head. Of all the times I’d dreamed of watching my father die, wishing for it to happen, actually seeing it made me feel numb.

 

“Well, damn,” Stephens chuckled, looking down at the lifeless bodies of the other two. “Seems he caught a bullet between the eyes. Looks like I’m the only one left standing.”

 

“You’ll... pay,” Jules managed to say before a fit of coughing overtook her, accompanied by blood. A memory flashed briefly, reminding me of Willmont’s final moments, but I pushed it aside.

 

My father was dead. But how could that be? He’d mentioned his upcoming son’s birth, placing this memory before I was born. None of this was making any sense. I had vivid memories of an older Bernard Brody, drunk and berating me, telling me I would never measure up, that I needed to be stronger, wiser, and better, or else the world would chew me up and spit me out.

 

“Don’t worry,” Stephens’ lips twisted into a sinister grin. “I’ll make sure to have some fun with you before your body gets cold.”

 

The world shifted again, and Jules made a swift move. When time resumed its normal pace, I saw that Stephens had a new adornment around his neck: the hilt of a dagger just above his collarbone, blood spattering his hand as he gripped the weapon and pulled it out.

 

Jules and my father’s lifeless forms were surrounded by a fresh coat of vivid red gore. Then, there was a final gunshot, and the scene faded away.

 

I stood in darkness, grappling with the emotions stirred up by witnessing these deaths. I was confused, uncertain about why Charlotte had shown me this memory. Yes, I’d seen death in the caves and even among the Varanas, but watching these three humans meet their end was profoundly different.

 

“I’m sure you’re feeling lost,” Charlotte’s voice echoed around me. “With my eidetic memory, I can still vividly recall everything that happened back then, even though I was a different person.”

 

“So, you were Jules,” I uttered, the realization sinking in. “But wait, were you playing both sides? How were you immune to magic if you only pretended to be a Daughter of Respite? And why—”

 

“Keep watching,” Charlotte interjected somberly. “If you still have questions after the next part, I promise I’ll address them.”

 

“There’s more?” I asked, feeling a sense of unease, yet I was abruptly transported to a different location. One that was familiar, although much less crowded than before.

 

We were back in Purgatory. The dull, faded tiles underfoot blended into the off-white walls and stained drop ceiling. The space was still vast, and with fewer souls around, it seemed even more extensive than I remembered.

 

My father was easily recognizable, rubbing his forehead while surveying his surroundings. Charlotte—or Jules—was a bit more challenging to identify. She wasn’t in her usual demonic form, nor did she entirely resemble the person I had known as Jules. Instead, her appearance shifted fluidly between the two states, her form in a constant state of quasi-liquid transformation.

 

“What in the world?” Bernard stammered, his eyes locking onto the peculiar apparition. He instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn’t present.

 

The figure dropped to her knees, clutching her head, emitting a moan that blended both pain and anguish. The sound was pitiful, a mixture of suffering and despair. “No! I am Jules! I was... I used to be… No! Lies! I can’t…”

 

Despite his evident apprehension, I could see genuine concern on my father’s face as he tentatively approached the enigmatic entity.

 

“Jules? Is it... Is that truly you? What have they done to you?” He extended a trembling hand toward her shoulder.

 

A clawed hand shot out, seizing my father’s wrist. Once again, I was reminded of the sensation when Charlotte did the same to me, but this time she appeared to have less control over the action. My father’s eyes glazed over, his expression becoming vacant. Had I appeared that dazed when she did it to me?

 

“Yes, Jules... No, Jules was her! I am... I’m…” The creature’s voice cracked, teetering on the edge of hysteria as it wrestled with its identity.

 

“Well, well,” a dry female voice interjected. Another figure had joined the scene—a squat female demon with a single horn curling from the left side of her head. Despite her compact build, she sported a sharp pinstripe suit, carried a clipboard, and exuded an air of both boredom and officiousness. “Another Daughter of Respite. Those women certainly know how to stir up trouble, and we’re the ones left to clean up their messes.”

 

“Yes! I am... No, it’s lies!” Jules’ voice wavered.

 

The plump demon shifted her attention to Bernard, her expression souring. “And it seems you’ve acquired a companion as well. I suppose I can manage both of you at once. You’re in luck, though. We’ve received word that a significant battle is on the horizon, which means we’ll be quite occupied once that commences.” She regarded the tormented being for a brief moment, her own face contorting as the internal struggle persisted. Seeing that neither side was gaining dominance, she moved toward the crouched creature and delivered a sharp slap.

 

“Ow!” The entity recoiled, taking my father down with her as she transformed back into Charlotte’s demonic form. “Why did you... My head! I’m back to being myself!”

 

“Hmm?” The squat demoness appeared intrigued. “It’s a rare occurrence when those women manage to get hold of a succubus. No matter. Follow me and bring your companion.”

 

“My companion?” Charlotte’s gaze shifted to my father, her features betraying a hint of embarrassment. I could almost swear her crimson skin deepened in hue. “Well, damn. It seems I’ve got myself a damn Knight! He’s... kinda cute. Ugh, I can’t believe I acted like such a prude.” It was astonishing to witness how her demeanor had shifted from the intensity of her recent experiences to a more relaxed attitude.

 

The environment changed once again, placing us within a smaller office. The diminutive demoness typed on her computer, reading something before returning her attention to us.

 

“You should release him. He needs a clear mind to determine whether he’s headed for Heaven or Hell,” the officious demon advised, waiting until Charlotte released my father. He blinked several times in rapid succession before continuing. “Good. Now—”

 

“I need to know if Protector Stephens is still alive!” Bernard’s words rushed out almost urgently.

 

“Your assailant?” The demoness appeared taken aback. “At this moment? Did you not hear me mention that we’re about to experience a surge of incoming souls?”

 

“Yes, I need to know—” Bernard began, but Charlotte interjected this time.

 

“He’s dead. Jules took care of him right after he killed you,” Charlotte informed him, her voice carrying a mixture of weariness and contemplation. “Or I killed him. Jules still feels like a separate entity, even though I know it was me. Or rather, my body under the influence of the personality they implanted in my head.”

 

“That’s a common reaction among victims of the Daughters of Respite,” the plump demoness commented. “You’ll probably reconcile with it eventually, although I can’t be entirely certain. Few of those women led balanced lives, and even fewer spend much time here. Now, if we can proceed?”

 

“Then I must know if he’s in Heaven or Hell,” Bernard snapped, a frantic intensity in his gaze. Personally, I was surprised at how composed he appeared while sitting next to the succubus.

 

“He committed murder,” Charlotte said with a wince. “He didn’t strike me as the type to be rewarded in the afterlife.”

 

“I need. To. Know,” Bernard ground out between clenched teeth. “Please! I don’t care where I end up as long as I know his fate.”

 

The elegantly dressed demoness shook her head with a grimace before rising to her feet. “Never let it be said that we in Purgatory don’t go the extra mile for our clients.” She headed toward the exit. “I need to access a different database for him. It seems he didn’t end up here. Give me a few minutes.”

 

Once the door closed behind her, my father leaped to his feet and hastened to the computer.

 

“What are you doing?” Charlotte queried as she moved to join him. He scarcely flinched when she leaned on the desk beside him.

 

“Look, you seem like a decent... um, creature, or whatever, but I need to work quickly before she returns,” Bernard babbled, his fingers flying across the keyboard as Charlotte observed. “There! Great. It’s just as he told me. Now we add this line here... It must be at least three days. Susan will be furious with me when I get back. I’ll need to make it up to her and our son. And... done!”

 

Bernard stood and dashed to the door, pressing his ear against it.

 

“Is everything all right?” Charlotte inquired, arching an eyebrow.

 

My father turned toward her, his gaze lingering for a contemplative moment before he spoke in a torrent of words.

 

“Listen, I don’t know you well, but if you’ve ended up here, it means you’ve lived a life of balance. I don’t care about the teachings and proclamations of the Knights; not all non-human beings are malevolent, even… even if they resemble demons.” He paused, his ears attuned to any sounds beyond the door, before continuing. “Time is scarce. If you want another chance at life, come with me.”

 

Charlotte’s expression flickered with fleeting indecision before she shrugged, a hint of defiance in her voice. “Why the hell not? I don’t have much to lose. Besides, given the chance, I have scores to settle with the Daughters of Respite.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Bernard flung open the door and bolted out of the room.

 

Once again, the world turned to shadow, and the version of Charlotte I was familiar with spoke to me from the abyss. “Your father gave me advice on how to navigate this afterlife. I faced intense interrogation due to my gender. That was before it became public knowledge that many Daughters of Respite were actually non-human entities, with their memories and appearances altered to seem more human. When I departed that Texas facility, the Knights cared little about who I was. I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t have to resort to manipulation. Although I must admit, their dreams did grow increasingly lurid, and a couple even grappled with their own sexual identities.”

 

“Why are you sharing this with me?” I demanded, shaking my head in frustration. “Honestly, I’m not interested in those details. So why did you show me those memories?”

 

Charlotte’s response emerged after a prolonged pause, her voice carrying an undercurrent of fatigue. “I’ve witnessed civilizations rise and crumble. Your mind can’t fathom even a fraction of my experiences. I’m far older than you realize.”

 

“I don’t need your boasting or belittling,” I retorted, my anger rising like molten lava. “Why did you make me witness all of that? Why those memories?”

 

Charlotte’s reply came with a tone of weary understanding. “I’m not trying to undermine your feelings, Bobby. However, I want you to understand that I mean it when I say I’ve never encountered a man like your father. He wasn’t the individual you remember from your memories. You can’t fully comprehend the agony he endured, the turmoil that compelled him to treat you as he did.”

 

My anger surged, a potent blend of frustration and pain. “And what’s the explanation? Why did he do it? You’ve rifled through my memories. You know the torment he put me and my mother through. Regardless of what my mom claimed about enjoying it, I certainly didn’t! He turned my childhood into a living nightmare. Happiness was elusive, only present when he wasn’t around.”

 

“And yet, he took action to address the incident where you harmed that child. He ensured you received extensive martial arts training to manage your anger. He even entrusted me to watch over you to ensure your safety,” Charlotte responded, her voice carrying a hint of affront, though she must have recognized my justifiable anger. “I’m aware of your feelings and comprehend the reasons behind your animosity. But I wanted to reveal a broader perspective on Bernard Brody than you knew. Your parents were cautious about your entry into the Paladonic Knights. I disagreed with how they handled your upbringing, yet I wasn’t your parent. Your mother provided you with an explanation, and you don’t resent her.”

 

“My mother never made me feel like I was the most wretched piece of detestable refuse to have sunk to the depths of the sewers!” I retorted with a surge of frustration. “Those were my father’s exact words after I hurt that kid. I was already grappling with remorse for losing my temper—I recognized I went too far. What I did to him, due to his taunting me about being poor, was unjustifiable. But my father amplified my self-loathing at a time when I needed a fatherly figure to guide me.”

 

“Bobby…” she said my name, the syllables suffused with pity and sorrow, igniting another surge of anger within me that felt like it could raze everything in its path. I didn’t want her pity; I wanted her to comprehend the extent of my father’s failings. But there was nothing for me to direct my wrath—or, if I’m candid, my shame—toward. We remained mere voices adrift in an abyss. “You were a third-grader who left a fifth-grader with both arms fractured, a shattered nose, and a kneecap in pieces. You needed to understand the gravity of your actions.”

 

“I know that!” I yelled, my voice reverberating with pent-up frustration. “I’ve put in immense effort to rein in my anger, to ensure it never takes control of me again. I’ve striven to keep myself in check. And can you fathom how often he made me feel worthless because he had to pay for those lessons? How frequently he reminded me why I was being subjected to martial arts training? And now I realize that every instance he complained about the financial strain of those lessons... it was all a lie!”

 

“And yet, just last night, you lost your temper and nearly repeated the same pattern with Adam,” Charlotte’s voice conveyed the reprimand despite its soft timbre.

 

“I thought he’d shot Shayna!” I protested, appalled by the unfair comparison. “That fifth-grader didn’t merit the repercussions of my actions merely for taunting me about being poor. But Adam damn well deserved much worse.”

 

“I’m not excusing Adam’s behavior or actions,” Charlotte swiftly replied. “However, your reaction was triggered by emotions for a woman who’s been playing with your feelings. You would’ve ended his life if not for that officer’s presence. And in the end, he shot his own ass! Adam may be the quintessential douchebag, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the top thousand I’ve encountered over centuries. And he certainly doesn’t deserve death for being an idiot.”

 

Despite myself, a chuckle escaped me. It might have been Charlotte’s labeling of Adam, her endurance of far more challenging individuals through centuries of entrenched chauvinism, or perhaps it was the fatigue from the constant internal struggle. Regardless, my anger seemed to ebb away.

 

“You’re right,” I admitted after a prolonged pause. “At least about Adam. And I acknowledge that Shayna’s cautious nature is a defense mechanism. She made significant strides last night. However, you won’t sway me from the fact that my father remains the worst man I’ve ever known. That’s placing him even above Adam on that infamous list.”

 

“I understand—I genuinely do! He wounded you in ways only a father could. But my sole intention was to unveil facets of him that you weren’t privy to.”

 

“Does that mean you’ll let me wake up?” I inquired with an almost wistful desire to slip into a deep, dreamless slumber and leave my troubles behind.

 

“Yes, and before you become ensnared in the emotional turmoil of today, I want to apologize,” Charlotte’s voice sounded sincere. However, I couldn’t help but wonder what she was apologizing for this time. Before I could voice my question, my physical eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring at the familiar ceiling.

 

Two immediate realizations dawned upon me. Firstly, I was alone in the bed I’d shared with my wives. Secondly, the sound of crying reached my ears, prompting me to rush towards its source. I hurried out of the master bedroom and discovered Elly and Shayna seated at the dining room table. Elly held our shorter wife tenderly, soothing her as she wept.

 

“I allowed myself to be carried away,” Shayna’s voice was broken by sobs, her face buried in Elly’s comforting embrace. They were both clad in minimal attire, but my primary focus was on Shayna’s distress. “I can’t believe I permitted her to manipulate me like that. I feel so filthy!”

 

“Hush,” Elly attempted to console her, her fingers delicately combing through Shayna’s darker locks. When she glanced up at me, her expression was inscrutable. Did she want me to leave them alone or join in to offer support? Would Shayna even allow my assistance? “We did nothing wrong last night. I understand your feelings, my love, but—”

 

“But nothing!” Shayna’s voice cracked, and she pulled away from Elly’s comforting hold. Unaware of my presence, her anger, and attention remained fixated on our wife. “I knew that thing was a succubus. I believed I could maintain control while in that dream realm. You assured me that she couldn’t manipulate us there. Yet, the things I allowed her to do to me... I can’t erase them from my mind! Can’t you see? She doesn’t need to manipulate us within that realm. I allowed myself to be seduced by a demon, and it’s all your fault!”

 

I instinctively moved forward, but Charlotte’s voice resonated in my mind.

 

If you intervene, her rage will be redirected towards us. I apologize for my role in this, but you don’t deserve her wrath, particularly after our progress with her last night.

 

One look at the pain I saw on Elly’s face told me all I needed to know about Charlotte’s advice.

 

You’re right, I don’t deserve Shayna’s wrath, but Elly deserves it even less, I told my stowaway. I’d rather step in and be the bad guy than let Elly suffer when I can help.

 

I know you’re a man and always want to fix things, Charlotte shot back, but sometimes it’s better to let others commiserate than to butt in.

 

“It’s not Elly’s fault,” I asserted firmly, sensing Charlotte’s apprehension of my intervention. “I apologize for the extent to which things escalated for you last night. Charlotte assures me she won’t—”

 

“You!” Shayna erupted from her seat, launching herself toward me. Her finger jabbed forcefully but futilely at my chest, accompanied by a torrent of angry words. “This is all your doing! You led me to believe I could trust you! Why did you have to wear that necklace on First Knight? Why did you have to die and return with that succubus in your head? It would have been better if you’d remained dead!”

 

“Shayna!” Elly’s voice admonished the fiery woman glaring at me, yet I raised my palm in a calming gesture, urging Elly to hold back.

 

While Shayna’s finger poking into my chest was physically harmless, her words cut into my core. Charlotte was right, and I should have kept my mouth shut. I tried to convince myself that she didn’t truly mean it, but the wounds they inflicted were still keenly felt.

 

Maintaining an unflinching gaze with Shayna’s icy blue eyes, I addressed Elly in measured and composed words. “She’s entitled to her viewpoint. I can even empathize with where she’s coming from. I never intended to cause either of you pain, but I see that my presence here is achieving precisely that.” I let a firmness seep into my voice and observed Shayna taking a hesitant step back, which I closed by drawing myself closer and asserting my presence as I stared down at my diminutive wife. “However, don’t direct your anger towards Elly. She bears no responsibility. If you wish to direct your resentment anywhere, let it be towards me. Elly, on the other hand, deserves nothing but your affection.”

 

As I addressed Shayna, her begrudging steps backward continued, and her eyes widened as the weight of my words settled in. When I concluded my statement, I straightened, turned, and departed the room without uttering another word.

 

Holy fuck, man! Charlotte chuckled in my head. That was intense. If I were wearing panties, they’d be soaked. I’ll break my promise to tell you that Elly appreciated what you said. Her panties were also moist, FYI. And Shayna—

 

“Don’t,” I growled, cutting her off as I hastily dressed in the spare room, my own clothes still in that bedroom. I hoped the elf had the sense to remain out of Shayna’s line of sight. The bed was tidily made, but my concern was focused elsewhere. “I’m not in the mood to discuss that right now.” After throwing on my clothes and swiftly brushing my teeth, I picked up my phone, contemplating if I should ask Al for a ride to class. However, my intentions shifted when Elly walked in, fully dressed, diverting my attention.

 

Before I could react, she seized the back of my head and initiated one of the most intense kisses I’d ever shared with her, all while remaining fully clothed. The duration of our passionate exchange eluded me, though it ended too soon.

 

“You’re an incredible husband,” Elly breathed, her voice slightly shaky. “Now, before you say anything, I know what you did back there, and I’m grateful for it. You didn’t have to step in, but you did, and I appreciate that. I understand you have a stronger connection with her, and your defense means the world to me. Also, I want you to know that, from my perspective, having you in my life is an absolute joy.”

 

Shaking my head, I gently disengaged from her hold. “Could you cut it out with that self-deprecating bullshit?” My tone may have been harsher than intended, judging by the hurt that flashed across her eyes. I quickly moderated my voice, trying to convey my sentiments more gently. “Elly, I love you. I don’t favor either of you over the other. I don’t find one of you more attractive than the other. I truly can’t comprehend why you fail to recognize just how remarkable, intelligent, and incredible you are. I love you, Elly. Don’t undermine that by belittling yourself. Your unique qualities shine brightly, irrespective of who stands beside you.”

 

“I... I’m… wow,” Elly stammered, blinking in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “I know you’re just saying that, but—”

 

“But nothing!” I interjected, my frustration seeping into my words. “You’re easily the smartest woman I know. So why can’t you see your own greatness?”

 

Elly and I locked gazes, and in those charged moments, I sensed her mulling over my words. When she finally responded, a trace of regret underscored her words, although skepticism lingered in her tone. I wasn’t prepared for what she told me.

 

You’re familiar with my past, how I grew up, and how I was eventually cast aside. Then, when Shayna and I became friends, I saw her brilliance and somehow found myself overshadowed by it. I’d mastered the art of fading into the background with my parents, but Shayna radiated charisma and confidence with such ease, that I always felt overshadowed.

 

“So I concealed my true self, masking my identity. Despite a few boys telling me I was beautiful, I was sure they were just trying to get into my panties. I’m pretty adept at deciphering other people’s intentions, a skill I honed as a defense mechanism. I understood they were sexually attracted to me, yet most teenage boys would jump at any opportunity. Even though I wasn’t attracted to men, I might have given a few a chance if not for the restrictions imposed by the Knights. I couldn’t lose my virginity. Of course, I couldn’t explain this to them, and their inability to handle rejection only drove me deeper into my shell.

 

“My shell was only breached around Shayna—well, and now you. Everyone wanted to be friends with Shayna, while I was tolerated as the odd girl who hung around her. My intelligence outmatched that of almost everyone around, and some people struggled with a woman who could outthink half the professors at our university.”

 

Elly paused, tears glistening in her eyes, yet her gaze remained steady as it met mine. I was beginning to understand the depth of her struggle, and my determination to dispel her insecurities grew stronger.

 

“But you’re different,” she resumed before I could respond. “You truly believe all the things you say about me. I knew you were different from what I read in your file. Well, reading between the lines, actually. But actually experiencing it is something that’s new to me.”

 

“Didn’t I prove that on the first night in my dream space?” I asked, my hands gently resting on her shoulders.

 

“You did, but... well, I suppose years of ingrained thinking doesn’t dissipate overnight.” Elly chuckled, moving closer into my embrace, her head nestled against my neck. “Even if that night seemed to stretch on for days. Can I ask you for something?”

 

My arms tightened around her as I replied, “Of course. Anything.”

 

“Just be patient with me?” She placed a soft kiss on my neck before continuing, her voice sincere. “I’m aware you love me despite not knowing every facet of me. And I promise I’ll work on viewing myself the way you do. I trust your judgment and genuinely believe you feel exactly how you’ve expressed.”

 

“It’s not just a claim,” I said with conviction. “It’s an absolute truth.”

 

I felt her nod against my neck, her arms briefly tightening around me. “I… It’s just…” She trembled in my embrace for a moment before gathering her resolve. “No, I want to believe you. I’ll trust you. Seeing the disappointment on your face a moment ago hurt. I never want to make you doubt me again. I’ll work on becoming more open and outgoing, I promise.”

 

“Focus on being the person you aspire to be, Elly,” I whispered gently. “Don’t try to mold yourself into Shayna’s image. You’re not her, and you shouldn’t be. Embrace the version of yourself that brings you happiness. I’ve glimpsed your core, and I want you to understand that I love you for exactly who you are.”

 

“You sure you’re not studying psychology?” Elly teased, placing another tender kiss on my neck.

 

“Damn it!” The reminder of class time made me glance at the clock, and I realized I was running late. “I need to get to class!”

 

“Or we could ditch,” Elly playfully suggested, her right leg sliding up and wrapping around my thigh.

 

“Haven’t you had enough of me from last night?” I laughed, not budging.

 

“Never enough one-on-one time,” Elly continued to pepper kisses along my neck, and I eyed my bed with a tempting thought. Just as her lips neared mine, Shayna appeared at the doorframe and addressed the room without looking directly at us. Was she still upset with me? I resisted the urge to consult Charlotte, reminding myself Shayna would talk to me when she was ready.

 

“Come on, Elly. You wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect attendance record.” I noticed she avoided eye contact and wondered if she was still annoyed with me. Regardless, I was tempted to ask Charlotte but squashed that idea. Shayna would communicate with me when she was ready.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Elly responded, reluctantly detaching herself from me. Before her warmth left, I pulled her in for a swift kiss and released her. “Guess I’ll drive Bobby in today. See you in class?”

 

If Shayna was harboring any resentment, she didn’t display it. “Sure, okay. See you there. Just make sure you don’t take any detours, or you’ll be late.”

 

“Yes, mother,” Elly chuckled, tugging my hand as she led me to the garage.

 

Even though we had spent a few days together, I realized I hadn’t really paid attention to Elly’s vehicle. Shayna’s red Kindred Ravager overshadowed the pearl-white convertible parked next to it. I didn’t recognize the specific model, but the emblem on the hood indicated it was another creation by Kindred. Once seated in the passenger seat, I noticed an embossed “Slipstream” on the glove box.

 

Quick side note in my journal here. Who on Earth is Kindred? Before marrying my wives, I’d never encountered them as a car manufacturer. Are they foreign? Given that both my wives drive their models, I’m guessing they must be owned or somehow affiliated with the Paladonic Knights. Also, whoever is in charge of naming their models seriously needs to reconsider their career choice. Ravager? Slipstream? Next thing, they’ll introduce an off-road vehicle called “Rocky”! Maybe I should think about a career in marketing...

 

Anyway, let’s get back to the present.

 

“Is it weird that a part of me still wants to ditch?” Elly’s hand rested on my thigh as she maneuvered the car out of the garage.

 

“Do you actually have a perfect attendance record?” I inquired, genuinely impressed.

 

“Well, almost,” Elly admitted with a wince. “Shayna’s impromptu makeover yesterday made me late, but apart from that, yes.”

 

“Well, I won’t be the one to lead you astray, no matter how tempting it might be,” I told her, contemplating whether to suggest returning home. I could probably afford to miss a class or two… I think.

 

If you knew the things she was thinking about doing to you, you’d be begging her to take you right here, right now, Charlotte informed me.

 

You just want to feed on our sexual desires, I accused her jokingly.

 

Nope! Charlotte cackled in my head. Don’t need to. I’m already glutting myself on Elly’s desires.

 

Slut! I exclaimed with a mental chuckle.

 

Actually, never mind, she said in syrupy sweet tones. I really want you to go back. I’m curious if she can actually do that last thought. I’ve never thought of that. Oops! Busted.

 

“You’re communicating with her, aren’t you?” Those words might have sent shivers down my spine in any other relationship with any other woman. But even in this situation, I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said, treading carefully.

 

“No, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Elly replied, giving my thigh a reassuring pat before allowing her fingers to idly trace patterns along my leg. “Did she share my thoughts with you?”

 

“Not in explicit detail,” I chuckled, feeling a sense of relief. “But she tried to persuade me to bring you back to my bedroom immediately.”

 

“Hmm, that could lead to some interesting discussions.” Unfortunately, whatever thoughts were running through Elly’s mind, she didn’t share them with me.

 

I really like her way of thinking! Charlotte chimed in a moment later. Then, in a switch, she assumed control over my words and directly addressed my wife. “I concur, and we’ll have more to talk about without prying ears around. However, we’ll need to figure out how to establish a two-way conversation, though… Yeah, that’s a solid plan.”

 

“Hey!” I interjected, taking back over my mouth. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

 

My apologies, but I had to ensure she got the message. No, I won’t reveal the specifics. We women need our share of secrets, too.

 

We continued driving silently for a few minutes, Elly’s hand tracing unhurried circles on my leg. Then, with a determined declaration, she announced, “Fuck it. She’ll just have to forgive me.”

 

Without any clarification from either the driver or my internal companion, I leaned back in my seat, anticipating that Elly would soon turn the car around and head back home. To my surprise, however, she pulled into a car dealership.

 

“Um…” I scanned the surroundings as we exited the car, noticing a salesperson hurrying over to greet us. “This isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

 

“Let me handle the initial conversation,” Elly said briskly before addressing the olive-skinned woman approaching us. “Good morning, uh… Is it pronounced Demitra?”

 

“Good morning!” The woman’s grin was accompanied by a nod in our direction. “Yes, you got it right. Are you considering a new car today?”

 

“Yes, my husband was recently promoted, and we wanted to commemorate the occasion with a unique vehicle,” Elly declared, radiating confidence.

 

The saleswoman’s eyes briefly flicked to Elly’s car before lighting up as they settled on me. “Congratulations are definitely in order. You’re in luck; we received information on the latest models last night.” She turned and headed towards the dealership building, and just as I began to follow her, Elly’s hand on my chest halted me.

 

“I had some kin that strongly recommended this place,” Elly said, using a phrasing that struck me as odd. “I’ve always hated the process of buying a car, but they assured me that this is the place to go.”

 

Demitra turned back to us, her practiced smile concealing a fleeting grimace before she spoke. “I dread to think of the experiences they might have had at other dealerships. However, I can guarantee that we prioritize a hassle-free shopping experience, and you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for here.”

 

Elly visibly relaxed, but there was a glint in Demitra’s eyes as she cast an eager look my way, a moment that didn’t escape my notice.

 

“I realize this wasn’t the plan you had in mind,” Elly whispered as we followed Demitra, “but getting your own car is necessary. Besides, judging by how she just looked at you, that might still be on the table.”

 

My stride faltered as if stumbling over an invisible obstacle while an ill-timed gulp of saliva went down the wrong way, causing me to cough and splutter. Elly’s reassuring slap on my back accompanied my desperate attempt to regain my composure. Surely she didn’t mean what I thought she did... right?

 

“I’m sorry, what?” I managed to whisper, my voice a mix of surprise and confusion, as we approached the door Demitra was holding open for us.

 

“I’m not blind, Bobby,” Elly replied in hushed tones as we continued walking. “And I’ve come to realize that you’re still adjusting to the world you’re now part of. So, I thought this might be an enlightening experience for you. Besides, don’t you find her intriguing? I certainly do with that mocha skin and dark eyes.”

 

This time, I succeeded in not choking on my own saliva, although we were too close for a further discussion on that particular topic.

 

Demitra didn’t lead us to any cars, as I had anticipated, but rather to a kiosk in a back room. With her practiced smile, she instructed, “If you could just enter your employee number in this box, we’ll be able to see the options that fit your budget.”

 

“I don’t—” I began to protest, realizing I hadn’t received an employee number from the Knights. Thankfully, my wife stepped in to rescue me.

 

“Don’t worry, darling,” Elly assured me with a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I’ve got it memorized.”

 

As I observed her fingers dance across the keys with impressive speed, I caught glimpses of my birthdate, initials, and other characters. The screen flickered a few times before transforming into a solid gold background, centered by a vivid blue number 2. The color and numeral remained visible for several seconds before vanishing.

 

Demitra’s countenance shifted into one of astute curiosity, her lips moistened as if in anticipation, and she turned to us, a broader smile stretching across her face. “Well, it seems things are going quite well for you, Mr.—?”

 

Bobby. Bobby Brody,” I introduced myself, extending my hand for a handshake. For some reason, Elly’s grip on my arm tightened to the point of discomfort. I half-expected her to draw blood, yet her expression was all smiles when I glanced at her.

 

“Well, Mr. Brody,” Demitra’s eyes gleamed with a certain eagerness as she delicately accepted my hand. “Everything appears to be in order. We have a selection of exquisite options within our Kindred vehicle range for you to consider.”

 

I leaned in closer to Elly, my nervousness growing. Despite the assurances that everything would be covered, the situation’s intensity made me uneasy. “What can we afford in terms of monthly payments?” I whispered, seeking some clarity.

 

“Gold,” Elly murmured back, not directly answering my question. She met my gaze with an intensity I struggled to interpret. “You can ask her. She can gather the information from my thoughts.”

 

Demitra’s amused voice cut through our hushed conversation as she held a door open for us. “Already discussing what you’d like him to get you?”

 

“Something like that,” I attempted to play along with a chuckle, my mind racing with questions. I demanded answers from Charlotte, frustrated by the lack of clarity.

 

Charlotte’s response was a cackling laughter. Yes, a genuine cackle!

 

I believe, for the first time, you’ve sparked a bit of jealousy in your brilliant wife. Apparently, the color corresponds to your potential, according to the Knights. Rose gold is her color. Elly tells me each hue represents a different potential rank—black being the lowest, followed by red, blue, green, and gold at the top. There are various shades in between, but gold signifies the highest potential.

 

And the number two? I inquired as we walked down a corridor toward an elevator.

 

Simple, Charlotte explained as if it were obvious. That’s your rank. The screen indicated to the saleswoman that your potential is limitless, but you are newly at the second rank.

 

Suppressing my emotional response, I faced the mirrored walls within the elevator. Demitra’s gaze was on me, as intent as a ravenous hawk spotting a plump, juicy rabbit to devour.

 

As I mulled over the situation, I couldn’t help but wonder if this turn of events was a positive sign or if it indicated that my involvement with the Paladonic Knights was deeper than I had initially thought. Was this somehow connected to the events in the caves, or was it due to something entirely different? Unfortunately, even Charlotte didn’t possess the answers, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach.

 

What I could figure out was that the more I delved into the workings of the Paladonic Knights, the less my feelings towards them remained positive. Even though I was about to get a new vehicle, I knew nothing came for free. Nevertheless, it was evident that they held significant expectations for me despite my reservations.

 

*    *    *    *

 

1072 A.D.

 

Ardin awoke to a disorienting darkness. His sense of time was lost, a blurred passage between his last memories and his current awareness. As he slowly sat up, the initial realization was his ability to move. His body ached, and a heightened sensitivity to the cool air on his skin sent shivers down his spine, yet the discomfort was bearable.

 

Surrounded by an impenetrable void, he couldn’t see anything. An assumption crept into his mind—this must be Hell’s deepest, darkest abyss. But, at least his physical senses seemed intact. Thoughts of his predicament swirled, his mind racing to understand his predicament.

 

In the teachings of the priests, Hell was a realm of fiery torment, a place filled with the reek of sulfur and brimstone. Yet, the air around him felt damp and cool. This wasn’t the inferno he’d envisioned. Where were the demons meant to be his torturers? Where were the agonized and tormented cries of sinners? The anticipated waves of terror he’d prepared for ebbed and flowed within him.

 

Reaching up to his face, a shocking truth unveiled itself. He was devoid of eyes, the sockets hollow and void of sight. Panic gripped his heart. How could he defend himself against demons if he couldn’t see them coming?

 

As his hands explored his immediate environment, his new ability took hold, and the surreal nature of his reality deepened. He was not in the afterlife; this was the remains of his home. Fingers sifting through ash, he absorbed information through his peculiar gift. Fragments of his past life lay scattered—his deformed children, their presence close, but a bit further lay the lifeless form of Venita. Did she perish while attempting to shield our children from harm? He wondered, a mournful contemplation amid the enigmatic darkness.

 

With trembling hands, Ardin’s fingers traced a path over the scorched earth until he reached where Venita’s remains lay. An internal struggle brewed within him—did he dare confront the sight of her charred bones? The weight of his uncertainty hung heavily in the air, overshadowed only by his overwhelming need for closure.

 

He summoned his courage and let his hand descend upon the bony shoulder below him. The moment of contact shattered the barrier between the living and the dead. Knowledge surged into his consciousness, but it was not of his beloved wife. Instead, the spectral connection unveiled the truth of Old Maerta’s demise. A scream, raw and ragged, tore from his throat, a manifestation of his grief and terror reverberating in the eerie emptiness around him. He had hoped for answers, yet the revelation plunged him deeper into the abyss of unanswered questions.

 

His anguished cry echoed, punctuating the dark silence. The fractured bones he touched bore the marks of violence, blades, or force, breaking the fragile structure. But where was Venita? Why was there no sign of her presence amidst the remains of their shattered home?

 

Driven by desperation and dread, Ardin cast aside his shoes and rose to his feet. He drew upon his unique ability, a supernatural gift allowing him to navigate his surroundings, a distorted semblance of sight in a world of darkness. He moved with a hesitant urgency, each step guided by intuition and his innate connection with his environment. Corpse after corpse, he searched, an unrelenting fervor driving him as he sought any sign of his missing wife.

 

Time lost its meaning as he continued his relentless search. Over and over, he moved from one skeletal form to another, his heart pounding in his chest, a desperate prayer for discovery mingling with his mounting despair. His quest led him through the charred remnants of what was once his village, a haunting reminder of the life he’d known.

 

The warmth of the sun’s touch on his skin signaled the arrival of dawn, the world outside his personal darkness illuminated by its golden rays. Yet, even in the light of day, Venita remained elusive, her absence a constant ache in his heart.

 

Exhaustion clung to his bones, and hunger gnawed at his stomach. With a heavy heart and unshed tears, he retraced his steps, a weary journey that brought him back to the heart of his devastation. Gently, as though cradling a fragile treasure, he gathered his broken children into his arms, holding them close, his grip tender yet unyielding. Their innocent lives, free from the knowledge of tragedy, brought bittersweet solace, a reminder of the life that still clung to him amidst the ruin.

 

Ardin shuddered, his tears invisible but no less real, his cries echoing through the wreckage as he clung to the only fragments of his shattered world that remained.

 

As Ardin’s senses slowly reawakened from the grip of sleep, the memories of his harrowing ordeal rushed back, mingling with the fragments of his broken reality. His body was on the mend, his bones knitted back together by forces unknown, and his skin bore the remnants of Zeus’s thundering assault. However, his eyes remained shrouded in darkness, an unrelenting reminder of the cruelty he’d endured.

 

Zeus’s attack had wreaked havoc upon him, yet his stomach rumbled with hunger, a stark reminder of his humanity. He groped around in the debris, his hands seeking sustenance amidst the ruins. Once a beacon of hope, the ambrosia lay among the remains, its once vibrant promise now marred by the devastation.

 

Within the folds of his tattered clothing, the fruit Venita claimed held the power to save her, and their children still rested. He retrieved it, a glimmer of something to hold onto amidst the despair. Yet, even with his gift that allowed him to glean information from touch, the fruit held its secrets close, revealing nothing of its inner workings.

 

Venita’s fate weighed heavily on his mind. Did she survive? Had she managed to escape the nightmare that consumed their home? A torrent of questions flooded his thoughts, each driving him further toward a single goal: finding his wife and uncovering the truth.

 

His turmoil was overwhelming, a complex mix of grief, longing, and an insatiable thirst for answers. He held the fruit before him, its presence both a symbol of hope and a reminder of his loss. Though his children were gone, the desire to save whatever remained of his shattered world, should Venita still be alive, consumed him.

 

Resolute, he took a bite, the tangy sweetness of the fruit mixing with the bitterness of his emotions. The taste was a bitter reminder that life went on even in the midst of his personal abyss, and he was determined to discover the fate of the woman he loved, no matter the cost.

 

As Ardin’s teeth punctured the fruit’s flesh, a rush of life-giving nectar flooded his senses. Despite the fruit’s weeks of torment, the juice tasted nothing short of divine. Each drop seemed to infuse him with renewed vigor, an almost euphoric sensation that washed over his body, pushing aside the weeks of pain and exhaustion. A guttural moan of ecstasy escaped his lips, and his mind expanded in ways he could scarcely comprehend.

 

In this heightened state, he felt an intimate connection to the world around him. The creatures he had once considered bothersome pests now revealed their vital role in the intricate web of life. He saw the harmony of the ecosystem, the bugs breaking down the remains of his fallen companions, nurturing the soil, and paving the way for new life to take root. Even the scorched remnants of his village, now teeming with potential for rebirth, held a beauty he hadn’t noticed before.

 

His senses extended beyond the land, reaching into the depths of the sea. He felt the ebb and flow of the tides, the movement of schools of fish, and even the presence of predators lurking beneath the surface. The newfound clarity allowed him to witness a predator refraining from an attack due to its satiation, an intricacy of the natural world he would have missed before.

 

With the overwhelming influx of power, his physical discomfort melted away, leaving him feeling revitalized and more alive than ever. But his eyes, the very organs that had once granted him sight, now lay sealed, their absence compensated by his other heightened senses.

 

He took his pendant in hand, his gift affording him insight into the merchant’s nefarious deeds. The revelation cemented the merchant’s guilt and justified Ardin’s own actions against him. Holding the pendant seemed to unlock a window into the past, the very moment when the merchant had stripped him of it after the bandit’s attack. The memories surged forth, filling in the gaps and adding more depth to his understanding.

 

As his connection to the pendant deepened, a flicker of curiosity arose within him. What other secrets might it hold? Could it guide him toward the answers he sought, the truth of what had happened to Venita and the fate of his children? With newfound clarity and purpose, Ardin was ready to unravel the mysteries that had taken hold of his life, armed with his enhanced senses and an unyielding determination.

 

Determined to find any trace of Venita, Ardin cautiously extended his senses towards Old Maerta’s remains, hoping to catch a glimpse of her final moments. The visions that assaulted his consciousness were beyond horrifying. He witnessed a nightmarish creature, part human and part serpent, descending upon the crone with a fiery sword. Maerta’s bravery was evident as she tried to shield the wailing children, only to be struck down in a torrent of merciless violence. The monster showed no remorse, its sinister grin etched into his memory as it set fire to his children’s bedding; the sound of their agonized cries would forever haunt him. In Maerta’s dying moments, she couldn’t provide any insight into Venita’s fate; she hadn’t known where his wife was.

 

Driven by despair and determination, Ardin’s bare feet carried him from one lifeless form to another, revealing the brutal atrocities inflicted upon his village. The merciless creatures that invaded their sanctuary seemed to emerge from the depths of his darkest fears. His mind painted a horrifying canvas of twisted beings, monstrous amalgamations of human and beast, each one reveling in sadistic glee as they slaughtered with abandon. The night had been a maelstrom of terror, and Ardin bore witness to the aftermath, a landscape of death and destruction.

 

Yet, amid the chaos, a small glimmer of hope emerged as he retraced Venita’s path, stepping into the same footprints she had left behind. Through his heightened senses, he felt the visceral fear that had gripped her, saw the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she fled from the carnage that had befallen their village. While he couldn’t be sure whether it was before or after the tragedy that had claimed their children, he clung to the belief that she had survived the inferno.

 

Ardin’s heart ached to pursue her, to chase after the woman he loved with every fiber of his being. Yet, the burden of duty pressed heavily upon him, a solemn obligation to his fallen people and his children’s memory. The sun bore down on his skin, scorching him, as he dedicated the hours of the day to laying his friends and companions to rest. With his newfound abilities, his sightless eyes ceased to matter as he worked tirelessly to dig, move, and honor those who had once been a part of his tight-knit community.

 

As the sun’s intense heat gradually waned, Ardin’s resolve burned brighter than ever. He knew he couldn’t let these monstrous beings escape the consequences of their unspeakable acts. His heart seethed with a newfound determination, fueled by the agony of losing his loved ones and the relentless thirst for justice.

 

Sensing the desolation around him, Ardin’s awareness shifted in the direction Venita had fled. It was a path he would follow, a journey he would undertake with an unyielding purpose. The violence inflicted upon his village was not something he could ignore or brush aside. It was a grievous affront, a savage declaration of war against his people, against him.

 

With his senses honed to their fullest extent, Ardin took his first steps towards vengeance. The pain of loss mingled with the fire of retribution, forging an unwavering resolve within him. He would hunt down those responsible for this brutality, these abominations that had shattered his world. They would pay for their sins, and justice would be served.

 

As the horizon painted the sky with hues of orange and red, Ardin’s journey began again. His footsteps marked the start of a relentless pursuit, a quest to uncover the truth, seek retribution, and ensure that the monsters responsible would face the wrath of a man who had nothing left to lose. But first, he needed to find his wife.

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From the Author

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