Death is immortality.
Death is your second chance.
Velian Terrashine belongs to a classless society of equality, art and democracy; a land full of creativity and mindfulness. It is in that perfect political system that one wrong movement, one carele...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
OUR HANDS WERE STILL ENTWINED. I would have protested, I would have shouted and screamed for help, I would have done something to keep him away from me, but there was nothing to be afraid of anymore because there was nothing to hope for, either. He could stay here forever if only he wanted to, and I would have let him. There was nothing to fight for, nothing to hide when everything would soon be revealed. A whirlwind of emotions I'd always been, but now the wind had taken them all away.
The sensation of his callused fingers caressing the back of my palm while sending breaths of relief down my body was abhorrent, his touch not soft or gentle. The hands of a warrior—not an artist. At least the pain had faded, and I didn't need to bite the inside of my lips just to force myself not to cry. At the end of the day, now there was no place for tears, no room for fear, either.
"I know that you're not in the right state of mind to make any permanent decisions, but I want you to try to think through what I'm going to say to you," he whispered, his voice so low that it didn't sound human.
I only nodded since speaking demanded too much energy and without even bothering to stare him down for more than a second, I closed my eyes again. There was nothing to fear when the scenario I'd been the most afraid of throughout my entire life was about to happen. My death wouldn't be glorious, my legacy wouldn't keep me alive in the minds of everyone I would leave behind. No one would light up candles for me in a hopeless effort to bring me back. I wasn't an artist. I hadn't offered anything to anyone. My death would be of the same value as my life—zero.
The man next to me let out a weary breath before he continued, "I will get you out of here alive. And you will come to my kingdom. It's that simple."
I didn't care about his offer. I knew he was bluffing. There weren't any kingdoms around here. But I let him go on, letting the liars believe they were good at lying.
"We'll dive into the ocean and we'll disappear. No one will find you in my kingdom because no one from your world knows that it exists. And as for me, I'll have you as a weapon by my side to fulfill a plan I'm not allowed to tell you more about right now. You live and I win. Seems like we both win."
In Lantra, I was useless. In his kingdom, I was a weapon. Where could I find a place to just be?
He was the first one to break our touch. I almost caught myself craving more. However he'd done it, there was not a hint of ache rippling through my body. I just hoped that even without his touch, everything would stay this way for a little longer—still, normal. Flinching my eyes toward him, I found him staring at the clock, his sun-flecked skin gleaming in the semidarkness.
"I want to know your name," I said, surprising even myself with the demanding tone of my voice.
I didn't know what my role was in his wicked game of oaths and offers. I didn't care about learning more about his kingdom, his plan, why I was a weapon. A fool he was for the way he thought I would believe his empty words of some unknown kingdom existing in the ocean; a magic-wielder for the way he'd alleviated my pain with just connecting our hands—his own being a canvas of ruined flesh and scars I was too disgusted to even dare to look at.
