Chapter 38

" A re you done crying yet?" The man snaps impatiently.

I wipe the evidence of my despair from my face using the sleeve of my tunic, which still carries the tangy scent of blood.

"We have all of the time in the world." Guylita's voice is delicate and soft, coarsened by age. "Let me know when you're ready."

"I'm ready," I say as I wipe another tear from my cheek.

"My name is Guy –"

Another sob explodes out of me before she can finish saying her name. The emotion of being down here, of being responsible for her imprisonment, of learning that I'm worth nothing if I'm not a pawn willing to be used and played at the king's discretion, all seems so unbearable that I can't steady my thoughts long enough calm down.

They sit in silence, allowing me to process all of these emotions without offering a lie to tell me that things will be okay. Because down here, in this dark and desolate cell, there's very little joy to go around. The darkness is a thief poised and ready to clobber us.

After a while, once the emotions turn into more of a dull ache than a stabbing pain, I say, "Go on."

"My name is Guylita." There's not a hint of impatience in her voice. If I had to bet, I would guess that she also faced the same despair that I feel now upon arrival. Who knows what personal demons she had to face in the dark? "Your friend was wise to seek me out. I've spent my life studying the gods and their interactions with humanity. One of the most miraculous gifts of all time lies embedded within your soul. You're special. Both prophets and skeptics alike speak of you with awe."

"Get to the point," the man prods.

"Years before your true birth, the prophets spoke of a pair bonded in Onyx." A memory flickers in my mind at her words. Neither death nor life can disrupt the pair bonded in onyx , the prophecy said. "You are one half of that pair."

"What does that mean?" I find myself frustrated by my lack of understanding. But how could I understand any of this? Every aspect of this secret has been carefully guarded, starting with the village that acted as a cage to the outside world and extending to my time here. "Please, just explain it to me."

"You really don't know?" The man pipes up again.

"No! That's what I've been saying! Come on, now. Please, just explain everything from the beginning. Don't leave out a single detail," I beg, but my voice teeters on breaking.

Guylita takes a deep breath before speaking. "Manka, the god of life and death, chose to grant immortality to a human once, many centuries ago. But he only gifted it to one single person, Raylor. For the first hundred or so years, Raylor lived happily and enjoyed all of the riches of life. Men and women alike threw themselves at his feet, desperate to get a taste of the legend himself. People started to treat him like a god, offering their money and gifts to him in sacrifice. He accumulated great wealth this way as he traveled from village to village, demonstrating the impossibility of his death. He accepted their tithes, drank in their praises, and lavished in the spectacle he'd become. The world was his playground as he gallivanted around, unafraid of death. Until he met Lucia. And then his world stopped.

"Raylor and Lucia fell madly in love. He gave her everything. But while she grew older and grayer, he remained as young as the day they met. It wasn't long before she grew ill, and Raylor faced the consequence of his immortality. The gift that he cherished became a curse that he could not bear. He would have to watch her die a slow, agonizing death and live the remainder of his eternal life haunted by her loss.

"He begged and begged for Manka to grant immortality to Lucia, but Manka wouldn't budge. Only one can experience an endless life, just like you wanted, he said . Raylor traveled to the ends of the earth and back searching for a cure, some elixir to grant him and Lucia a lifetime together. But nothing worked. And while he was away searching for a remedy, she passed on to her next life. When Raylor returned to her bedside only to find that she was no longer a part of this living realm, he shattered. For nearly two centuries, he holed himself up in their cottage, refusing to eat or drink, but death never came for him. Finally, he had enough. He went to the god of life and death and begged him to take back his gift, for it was of no use to him without the love of his life. This time, Manka accepted his pleas and reunited Raylor and Lucia in death."

"Where do I come in?" I ask.

"She's getting to it," says the man who seems eager to argue, regardless of the point.

Guylita continues, "After the failure of Raylor and Lucia, Manka had an idea. Granting immortality to one would never work; he had to find two. Only a pair could survive for an eternity. And so, he searched for a human couple to bestow the gift of immortality. Decades passed before he found Caelis… and you."

"Caelis? As in King Caelis of Umbra?" My mind is spinning in so many different directions.

"Yes, King Caelis of Umbra. Though, at the time, he was not a king, and you were not Radya. You were Caelis and Perdita," the man explains matter-of-factly as if his words were self-explanatory.

"What do you mean I was not Radya? I am Radya, not Perdita. Wouldn't I know if I was somebody else?"

"Well, let's see. Did you know that you were once someone else?" The man asks sarcastically.

"No," I huff.

"Okay, then. I think it's safe to say that you wouldn't know if you were someone else. Can we continue?"

I grip my hands together and nod, even though he can't see it in the dark.

Fortunately, Guylita takes my lack of response as a prompt to continue. "Perdita and Caelis lived in a small Umbrian village, tucked away in a remote corner of the forest, far away from the rest of the world, with little interest in anything but each other. The stories say that a stranger came wandering to your doorstep after being turned away time and time again, looking haggard and hungry. Most people mistook him for a beggar and slammed the door in his face. But not you. The two of you took him in, cared for him, and offered to let him stay for as long as he needed. And while you were busy caring for him, the god himself was observing you. He took note of the kindness that you showed to him, and to each other, and decided that you were worthy of the gift.

"They say that you both refused Manka's gift at first, claiming to be happy enough for a lifetime without an eternity to look forward to. But that only made him more adamant. It was you or nobody. Allegedly, you still refused his offer, which displeased the god of life and death. And so, he bestowed his gift upon you, despite your protests. He trapped you both in immortal bodies, unable to pass on from this life until he deemed it so.

"But unlike your predecessor, you did not seek wealth or abundance. You stayed in your village, never growing older or accruing fame. It stayed that way for decades until Manka decided to nudge you out of your seclusion. He told the village of what he did, and the people started to flock to you. They left gifts at your doorstep and lined up for miles to get a glimpse of the couple who would live to see the end of time.

"When the prior King of Umbra passed without a living heir, the people declared you and Caelis best fit to lead the kingdom. Despite your refusals, they made you their king and queen, placing crowns of onyx on your head to represent your unbreakable love."

Guylita pauses her explanation there, and questions ring through my ears like a horn at daybreak. "I still don't understand. If Perdita was immortal, how did she die?"

I refuse to use the first person. She, Perdita, and I are two different people, no matter what she says.

"Will you shut it? I mean," the man stops to clear his throat. "Respectfully, can you please save your questions until the end? Please and thank you."

"Have some respect, Amin," Guylita says. My back stiffens at the mention of his name. I remember it. I remember him. He is without a doubt the same man that I met in Carcera.

"I said respectfully ," Amin refutes.

Guylita scoffs. "Where were we? Ah, yes. You, Perdita and Caelis, became revered throughout the land. The people worshiped you like gods. Each generation born under your rule brought with it an increased appetite for conquest. They felt that you were the true leaders capable of uniting the two kingdoms. The people pushed for war.

"Caelis refused to put his people in jeopardy, but they demanded it until, finally, war became inevitable after the Alium skirmish that killed fifteen Mendacian soldiers. King Benedict saw the murders as an incitement and declared war on Umbra. The fighting went on for over three hundred years. And with each passing of the Mendacian crown on to the next generation, they grew hungrier for victory, desperate to finish their ancestors' war. Neither side made headway as they sacrificed the lives of countless soldiers. Until twenty-three years ago, that is, when Sir Magis came along. He convinced King Vani to try something new. He studied Davina's prophecies and believed that he found meaning in the line, neither death nor life can disrupt the pair bonded in Onyx, and only the cerulean cage may separate them. He believed that the cerulean cage could be made with magic."

I audibly gasp at her words. Could Sir Magis have betrayed me in this life and the previous one while looking me in the eye without a hint of remorse?

She continues undeterred, "He gathered all of the praecian warriors and trained them to complete the spell that would suck the immortality from your bodies. They surrounded both you and Caelis on the battlefield, but Caelis slipped away in the mass of bodies, unknowingly leaving you behind. The warriors surrounded and trapped you within that cerulean cage. The cage got smaller and smaller until it finally engulfed you. Everyone assumed that it worked when they saw your lifeless body lying limp in the dirt. That belief remained intact until a baby girl named Radya appeared in the very same village in which Perdita and Caelis were born, only a month later."

"How -" I start to ask, but Amin clicks his tongue. "Fine, sorry. Go on."

"People started to raise eyebrows when they noticed the imprint on your hand. It was identical to a marriage imprint, a mark which doesn't appear naturally. It can only be created in the binding ceremony of marriage, as is custom in Umbra. You see, as long as both spouses are alive, then the marriage symbol will stay tattooed on their hands, only erasing upon death. But Caelis' never went away, even after Perdita departed. Many believed it to be a fluke. But as long as the imprint stayed visible, Caelis never lost hope," she pauses, allowing me a moment to let all of this sink in.

The marriage symbol… that's why everyone was so fascinated with my birthmark. Liliana had a similar marking on her hand, which makes sense, seeing as she was also married in Umbra. She told me that it was a sign of womanhood, or maturity, or some other nonsense. I start to rub my hand together as if it might help me remember some of this, but the slate has been wiped clean.

"One day, a man stole you from your cradle while your parents were sleeping, returning you before they awoke. He drew every detail of the mark on parchment so that he could report it back to King Caelis for comparison. When your parents discovered what the man had done, they fled. They refused to sacrifice you to the king, not believing the lore behind the mark. And so, they made a deal with King Vani. Safe passage into Mendacia and a life of protection in exchange for your hand in marriage to their son."

"Why would I be safer with King Vani than with King Caelis?" So much of this doesn't make sense. How could they trade one evil for another? How could I not remember an entire lifetime?

"After your supposed death, King Caelis lost control of his temper. His grief blanketed the kingdom in darkness. Without sunlight to nourish the crops, the land became barren and the people starved. But what your parents didn't know is that when the man who kidnapped you returned to Caelis and confirmed the markings, the veil of darkness in Umbra was lifted. The small seedling of hope breathed life back into the land. He began his search for you right away, but you were already gone." Guylita lets out a heavy sigh as if relieved to have finished telling the story, as if every word was a labor.

"That's where I come in," Amin says. "I spent years searching for you, turning over village after village looking for that mark. We nearly gave up until Perry sacrificed his life trying to enter Carcera. I knew that he must have found you. And when I saw you with my own two eyes, I nearly cried," he laughs.

"I remember. You stared at my hand and gave me the creeps," I try to laugh, but it comes out flat.

"By the time we figured out how to pierce the barrier, it was too late. You were gone, and they seized us," he says, but the amusement seeped from his voice.

"Us?" I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

"Preston and I went searching for you together. When they captured us, they split us up for interrogation. I haven't seen him since," he says, and the silence that follows speaks volumes.

Amin and Preston. Only two?

I remember seeing three.

"I'm sorry. Both of you sacrificed so much for me, and I… I'm sorry." No words could convey how sorry I truly am. To Amin. To Guylita. To Paul. The woman in the market. So many bore the consequences of my existence.

"I would do it again a million times over for my king. And for you."

"I also live without regret," Guylita adds.

"Amin, I understand that you're here largely in service to the king. But Guylita, how can you say that you have no regrets? You're innocent! You're only here because you got trapped in my web of mistakes!"

"I spent my entire life studying the gods, but I was never a god. I studied the prophets, though I was never a prophet, either. No matter how much I studied and tried to live a life of worth, nobody ever appreciated my knowledge, my life's work. And so, I isolated myself, feeling worthless and rejected by society. It wasn't until you came along that I finally served a purpose. If my decades of studying served even one person, then it was all worth it. Even if it landed me here," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Thank you," I whisper, though the words could hardly convey the full weight of my thanks. "Your life means something."

She hums in thanks, and then we nestle into a still silence.

I don't understand what any of this means. How could I possibly be tied to Perdita? I fear that, once again, everyone is mistaken. My life is the one that is worthless.

* * *

The cell is cold and damp. The kind of cold that settles in your bones and rattles through you in an endless shiver. Time passes without measure. The cell offers neither comfort nor distractions. Every word of Guylita's tale plays on endless loop in my mind, interrupted only by brief flashbacks of Olly that makes my heart hurt.

It is endless and unforgiving.

When I can't take the silence anymore, I call to Amin.

A defeated "yeah?" is all I get in reply.

"Lord Myles told me that the men they arrested were caught rifling through my old cottage," I say, pausing as I contemplate the question to come. "Did you find letters hidden under the mattress?"

When I saw the mirage of my parents, they mentioned the letters written to me many years ago. I had all but forgotten about them until that day.

"I did," he says.

"Do you still have them?"

"No, they confiscated them before they brought me here. Used their bloody magic to force me into handing them over."

They're as good as gone. "Did you read them?"

"No." The solemn silence thickens between us. "I'm sorry."

I'll never read their words – the last remnant of our lives together. Even if they explained the rationale behind agreeing to the arrangement, I'll never learn it.

The room feels like it's shrinking, sucking me down into the pits of hell.

Down, down, down, we go.

* * *

A noise snatches me out of my mind's gloomy depths. It sounded like an explosion in the distance.

"Did you hear that?" Amin whispers through the slats of the cell.

"Yes," I say.

Muffled yells echo down to the cell. I hold my breath, trying not to make a sound so that I can focus on what's happening. I hear swords clashing, men yelling, and footsteps growing closer. Their words are unintelligible, but I focus on them with all of my might, trying to decipher any little piece of information that might provide a clue as to what's happening. Gods, I wish that I could see something, anything.

When the clanging stops, the footsteps grow louder. They're rushing towards us, but who are they? A faint light appears underneath what must be the cell block door. It starts to shake like someone's trying to open it.

There's nowhere for me to run. Nowhere to hide. Whatever is on the outside of this door will find me. Gods, I wish that I had mastered protection spells. My heart might explode out of my chest as I await my fate.

The shaking stops, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

No, no, no, no…

The hinges creak as the door swings open and bodies storm their way inside.

"Hey, brother," Amin says far too calmly, considering the explosion that filled the silence only a second ago. "Took you long enough."

Part of me wants to hide. I squeeze my eyes shut as if closing them might somehow make me invisible. But the other part of me, the pesky little voice that nags me to do things that I'll regret, is urging me to look. Slowly, I peek and see three invisibles flanking a man. The radiant skin of the corporeal invisibles illuminates the room like a soft flickering candle, washing the cell in a dull glow. Their eyes are a pale blue. So different from the menacing red eyes that tormented me for years.

Through the dim light, I make out a man in the center. He has a slash above his brow, but the blood seems to have already dried. He's panting, his broad chest puffing and deflating rapidly, while he waits for the blue-eyed invisible to open Amin's cell.

As I take in his features – dark hair, piercing cerulean eyes, and a dimpled chin – the pieces start to fall into place.

Every part of my body comes alive in his presence. Being around this man, this stranger, invigorates me like a sunflower angling toward the sun. It is a whole-body reaction of peace and calm, lightning and thunder. I want to soak up this feeling until the end of my days.

That's all of the confirmation I need to know that the man standing before me is Bas.

The Bas.

My Bas?

No, Amin's Bas.

Bas.