Capítulo 3: CHAPTER 1
Song of the chapter : The Heart Wants What It Wants ~SelenaGomez
CHAPTER 1
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PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
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The Sun looks brighter than usual today, bathing the road in its rays. It is unusual for a winter morning. Warmer. The morning air feels cleaner, crisper.
Winter in Zaayes is never too cold. Therefore, I don't have much of an idea of what 'too cold' means. Only the bed-time stories that Sheroa often writes on the large slate for us to read to sleep gives us a rough assumption of what 'too cold' may mean. It exists only in the icy mountains and the evil Land of Wudes that exists beyond it.
I turn around and wave the ritualistic goodbye to a smiling Melinda, before beginning the moderately short walk to school. Sheroa has already left earlier in the morning with Chorsh and Rubele, my brothers. Chorsh is fifteen and Rubele is fourteen, and they are still in middle school, that starts earlier than the high school. School took place in the same premises in two consecutive shifts. Sheroa drops Chorsh and Rubele at school and from there, heads straight to his bakery at the Town Market Square. Chorsh and Rubele walk back home alone. Our shift ends by early afternoon.
Halfway to school, I meet Chorsh and Rubele. "Hey! Ya gonna be late today if ya don't hurry Aizz!", Rubele yells playfully at me. Their classes end half-an-hour before ours begin. I just give him an elaborate show of an eye-roll. Both of them are quite nice brothers to have. Or, should I say step-brothers?
I could, if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I don't want to feel like a helpless mother-less kid by calling Melinda my step-mother. She's the only mother that I've ever known. Moreover, the word 'step-mother' itself gives off a negative vibe that obviously doesn't suit the kind-hearted Melinda.
Chorsh just waves at me and I wave back at him with a slight smile.
The sun looks even brighter in the school's large and bare ground, due to the lack of even the browned-out, half-naked trees. The dry grass of the ground is silent under my shoes, unlike the fallen leaves on the road. The school-building's white-washed walls almost shine under the winter-sun.
"Aizoo!", Evelyne, my best friend since our first year in middle school - that also happens to be the first official schooling facility available in Zaayes, runs to me and throws her arms around my neck, catching me off-balance and almost knocking me straight to the ground, lest a pair of hands catch me around the shoulder.
I quickly push Evelyne off of me with a hiss of, "Eves!", and then turn around, intending to say 'Thank you', when I recognized the scent before I physically look up to see who it was.
Wood and mosses with an undertone of cinnamons.
Andre.
I look up and my grey eyes meet with his blue ones. His eyes have an open-ness about them. Clear and deep. Like the sea.
"Thanks.", I mutter more apologetically than gratefully. He flashes a wide, handsome grin. "Haven't I already told you enough number of times Aizea that whenever you're about to fall, its my duty to catch you before you fall?", he says in a creamy voice with a flirtatious lilt and a naughty wink. Evelyne slaps his arm for me, and shoots him a nasty glare. He breaks into the jovial Andre-like laughter, that has more than half of the girls of the school swooning.
I and Evelyne are included in the other half.
"Don't you look a little pale today, Aizea?", Andre asks me as the three of us stroll into the corridor that leads straight to the assembly room, sounding sincerely concerned. I clear my throat awkwardly and shake my head in negation, not daring to speak the answer out loud; the last person I would want to reveal the real reason for looking 'pale' to, is Andre. However, one sideways look at his frowning face tells me that he already knows that something is wrong with me, and I am not revealing that to him. Andre is extremely perceptive and that frightens me to no ends. That is the biggest reason I can never ever say yes to any of his romantic advances. Why else will any sane girl in Zaayes not want to be with Andre? He is easily the most eligible bachelor in all Zaayes - now even more so than ever with the date of the selection-and-coronation day just about a month away.
As of now, inspite of everything, he is a really good friend of mine. Despite me turning down his suggestive proposal of attending the dance at the annual carnival last year with him, he has never taken any of the 'no's negatively; probably because he knows too well just how much of an introvert I am, and also the fact that he is sort-of 'friendzone'-d for me.
Andre shrugs dismissively, though the frown retains its position between his brows. He is still suspecting that something is wrong with me, and well, he isn't wrong.
Class begins as morosely as everyday. The zero-period consists of a set of prayers that we all have to recite to the Lord of Shifters, and also a short, tremendously boring sermon by the Head of the School Disciplinary Council - an old man with a huge built, matching grey hair and beard, pitch-black eyes and a bronze badge with HSDC inscribed on it - during which quite a few students of the higher secondary grades tend to doze off. That was only because we have heard it so very many times that we have every word, every letter, every punctuation and pause memorized.
"I don't understand why we still need to hear this everyday after having memorized it so thoroughly in all these years!", an exasperated Evelyne exclaims in a whisper-yell as we walk out of the assembly room and down the bustling corridor towards our actual classroom, and immediately earns a heated glare from Andre. I never really understand why my two best friends cannot come to pleasantly amiable terms even after sharing a common best friend for all these years. But now is no time to voice that question, since, I can sense the untimely rise of red in Andre's otherwise clear blue eyes. "Hey, hey! You know she was just trying to mess with you, right?", I use my softest and most convincing voice, and lightly place a hand on Andre's right shoulder. His taut muscles twitch underneath the thin barrier of his navy-blue-checkered uniform shirt. It takes him some time and some deep breaths to finally calm down and nod. This is not the first time that Andre has gone all-mad at the mere mention of any negative comments directed towards the sermon, the prayers, or any of Zaayes's 'legacies'. His shifter spirit is much more dominant within himself than any of ours, and that means he can often be ticked-off very easily.
Well, not 'ours', however. Me excluded.
Andre's eyes meet mine and the red in them dissolve completely. This is what I have been recently fearing more than anything else - my uncanny ability to calm him down. In Zaayes, this has a certain symbolic meaning, one that scares me to the bone.
His shifter spirit harbors a favor and a liking for me. And that could mean only one thing - he will stake his claim as soon as he takes over the warriors' council. Now, he is only respecting my view owing to our friendship and just letting me buy some time.
I push the unwanted thoughts and fears away, and somehow manage a slight smile for Andre's - no, my own - sake. The calmer he stays, the lesser his shifter falls for me.
The classes go on as monotonously as they always have, with me and Evelyne occasionally exchanging a whispered joke or two and Andre's eyes continuously drifting towards me and away from the annoyed teacher, as usual. The teacher, however, never speaks a word of reproach - no sane person in Zaayes would ever want to infuriate Andre (rather, his shifter).
In the soft golden light of the day, leaning against the foot of the maple tree under the clear blue sky, it would seem that Andre's behavior is actually just as romantic and teenage-infatuation-like as Evelyne found it; just as giggle-worthy. But, I know better - I know how the night sounded to someone whose hearing still works after the moon replaced the sun in the sky, and whose eyes doesn't hold any tint of red.
Evelyne nudges my shoulder none-too-gently with her elbow. "Lost again, baby girl?", she asks and smirks knowingly. I shoot her back a shy smile and a mock glare. It hurts knowing that her knowing smirk points at all the wrong things - she does not really know nearly as much about my life as she thinks she does. No one does. No one other than Sheroa, and I won't even dare to try to imagine what can possibly happen to me if Sheroa ever reveals this piece of information to anyone, especially the council.
I slightly shudder at the thought and immediately my eyes meet Andre's. His blue eyes hold an intensity - whenever he looks at me - that even his current light-hearted expression can not mask. Evelyne immediately shoots up straight from her half-lying position beside me, at the very sight of Andre. Irritation radiates from her very skin, so much so that I can almost physically feel it. She unabashedly turns away and faces the sun that has just begun it's gradual shift to the west.
She would rather look at the burning sun than at Andre. I want to groan but Andre's gaze makes my throat go all dry and whatever words my lips had planned to spill, die down in their very origin. His gaze softens as the hot desire, that was almost making me flinch, is replaced by a look of sincere apology. He honestly regrets his behaviour with Evelyne this morning. Only for my sake. And, I feel a cold chill make its way down my spine.
Andre comes close enough and then apologizes with a truly sincere-sounding voice, "I am really sorry, okay? You know I don't quite have a grip on everything that my shifter feels" - his eyes momentarily drifts towards me, trying to convey the words that he can't say directly out loud, and then he adds the dreaded two words that I was praying that he wouldn't - " or does."
This is an advanced clarification submission episode for what his shifter will almost certainly compel him to do, right after the coronation; and now I realize that the apologetic look that I earlier saw in his eyes were not even intended towards Evelyne for my sake - they were intended right towards me, for Andre's own sake.
Evelyne lets out an annoyed scoff, but doesn't speak a word. "I am sorry. I really am.", Andre repeas, using his supremely creamy and persuasive voice, and Evelyne closes her eyes as her brows furrow. I bite my lip to hold back a giggle. But the smile fades soon. I know that falling for this creamy persuasive tone would be as easy as falling from a cliff, and that was a fall that I cannot afford, for I knew exactly what monsters lurk in the waters beneath. And also that, I am not one of their kind. Very certainly.
"Yeah yeah.", Evelyne finally opens her eyes and speaks almost dismissively. No matter how much she dislikes Andre, even she couldn't help but soften up a bit at that tone. "Forgiven.", and Andre lets out an audible sigh of relief. I immediately break into a laughter, without letting too many unwanted thoughts haunt me. The tinkling sound reminds me of times when inspite of knowing about the 'monsters' and the differences between us, I used to laugh carefreely with Andre and Evelyne, without an inkling of the fact that the most dangerous shifter in all of Zaayes had already started to like me a little beyond the square of absolute 'friend-zone'.
Soon enough Andre joins in, followed by Evelyne, who directly falls into my lap in her fit of senseless laughter. We don't quite know what we all are laughing for, but maybe our instincts know that we might not get such a golden opportunity to laugh so freely in the near future. Life in Zaayes, after all, is uncertain. The dark soldiers of the Land of Wudes haven't attacked in probably about a century, but they can be triggered by almost anything - ranging from an absolutely mistaken mistake, to a deliberate sin committed by some insanely suicidal chap, who not only wants to kill himself but all of Zaayes as a whole.
Andre's blue eyes twinkle like two fine blue crystals, with child-like amusement, under the sunlight. It is in moments like this that I wish that the shifters within all the people around me - the monsters who were considered so 'sacred' - actually evaporate, never to return again. But, my fortune is set and I know that I will have to choose death for myself sooner than daring to spend a night with Andre.
I am the first to stop laughing, and I shook my head to clear it. These are thoughts that I can't afford. Andre stops right after and gives me a concerned look. I reply with a reassuring smile. That's all that I can offer him; for, I have always considered my life pretty precious, and I will fight for it till the last possible moment.
We have another period, before we walk out the large rusted gates of the school campus. The freshly woven cobwebs amongst the ornately carved designs of the reddening grilles gleam golden in the sun. Sheroa is standing in his default position outside the gates, at the opposite side of the street, waiting for me with a gentle smile, despite the tints of the characteristic dangerous liquid copper-red hue very gradually beginning to rise behind the normal dark brown of his eyes. Evelyne gives me a quick hug, the red beginning to leak into her green eyes as well, before heading home. As I slip my hand into Sheroa's, I can still feel Andre's intense waiting gaze on my back. Sheroa's eyes meet him and a strange shadow passes his clear eyes before he manages a cool smile at him. I truly don't want to hurt Andre - the guy who has been nothing but nice, friendly, kind, patient and indulgent with me; not to mention that he is indeed my other best friend besides Evelyne - and I turn around with a bright friendly smile, in order to greet him farewell for the day.
I already know that it is a bad move, considering the fact that his shifter spirit is already taking over now, and he is no longer a kind friend or a patient suitor but the soon-to-be ruler of Zaayes; the strongest amongst all... and a claimer with a vicious urge to possess (me).
The coppery-red in his eyes is more prominent than it is in anyone else's, obviously, and the intensity with which he suddenly meets my gaze makes me want to annihilate myself on the spot. I quickly smile and wave a goodbye before turning towards Sheroa and tugging slightly at his hand, signaling him to move. I know that Andre has yet again spotted the lack of the coppery-red hue in my eyes, and his suspicion is more in magnitude than it was yesterday. This can only go on increasing, till he finally calls my great bluff and decides to get rid of such an abomination as myself.
But, as I traverse the short distance home with Sheroa, a deafening silence putting up a translucent wall between us, I wonder who is actually the abomination.
Apparently, it is obvious that it's me, but my instincts yet-again make an unusual opinion by contradicting my conscious; and just like usual, I decide to pay more heed to my most unusual instinct. Maybe, I always take my instincts' opinions to heed because I know that a day is destined to come when the whole of Zaayes will certainly conspire against me, including my beloved father, and at that point, I will have nothing but my gut-feelings to rely on.
Night descends upon Zaayes, as Sheroa tucks me to bed as early as ever and once he is gone, as per his instructions, I double-lock the door and window from inside, before going right back to bed and reading, completely under the large comfortable blue quilt. This is the daily drill after our early dinner; and soon, I doze off.
But then, the noises begin.
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Capítulo 4: CHAPTER 2
Song of the chapter: On My Way ~AlanWalker
Chapter: 2
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PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
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At first all of this sounds no different than a simple wild wolf's howl. Then it's get's wilder - more like the enraged and aggrieved howl of a wolf that has just lost its mate. However, the tone changes soon as more and more howls join in, which first resound as sixteen separate howls and then turns into a livid cacophony that chills my bones right to the core of the marrow.
I dare not sit up, although my curiosity burns harder than the previous night - this is the daily routine. And my apprehension and curiosity - a strange combination - escalate every night, just like Andre's suspicion.
A singular howls echoes throughout the town and maybe even someway into the misty forests - Andre's cry of despair and rage. His shifter is aggrieved that I am something that he can't quite figure out, or maybe he's livid at me for distancing myself from him. Obviously he understands what I'm doing. I'm drawing myself more and more into my own cocoon of apparent solitude - actually, safety - and turning down his approaches. No girl in Zaayes would dare do that, ever. But, I know that I'm not just another 'normal' girl in Zaayes.
The strange foreboding and suspicion creeps into my veins again, and the skin-crawling howl is followed by another that rips through the sky, and even through my heart. It does shatter my heart every single night to hear him vent out the grief. But the sheer rage outweighs the grief only increases my determination to survive.
Yes. I want to survive through all of this, more than anything else, and maybe one day find some solution to this nightly terror. But, who am I? Just an exception to every rule in Zaayes.
I let out a quiet sigh, as my acquired reflexes are given way, ahead of my fear, my curiosity, my suspicion and another strangely intense feeling that coldly creeps up from the apex of my heart - I have no idea what it is - and I close the book aside, falling asleep on my stomach.
I stand facing the misty forest - the wind whistling through its misty depths calling out to me in a dangerously alluring tune. The wind is cold and it makes me shiver. I let my teeth sink into my lower lip, as I slowly raise my hands up to rub my upper arms. But, before I reach up to touch myself, he does. The warmth of his touch sends tiny sparks racing across the thin barrier of my skin and all throughout my body. I turn around, and the amber eyes - that almost glow golden - catch my hesitant gaze. They are intense, but more so than Andre's ever can be. In a different way. They glow with an overwhelming amount of love and beneath that, shine his wit, his exceptional intelligence, his devotion, his care, his bravery and all those things that I love him for. "Adelfí psychí mou", he whispers, with such adoration that I almost melt in his arms. His soft whisper echoes through the wind, as the heat from his body crosses the negligible barrier of fabrics between us and warms me up. His hands skim up and down in a regular, soothing motion on my upper arms and I feel my whole body relax. The howls have long faded away in the background, and all I hear is the soft murmur of the wind against the leaves, the steady thump pf our hearts beating in synchrony with each other, and his even breathing that in turn accelerates mine - in sweet anticipation, not apprehension. "Se agapó", he whispers again, against the shell of my ear. "What does that mean?", I whisper back, my curiosity getting the better of me. He chuckles - a silky sound that resonates through my own heart, and automatically twitches up the corners of my own lips. "All in perfect time, prinkipissa mou.", he replies softly and I pout at him. His terribly handsome grin only broadens, but the heavy air of mystery that blankets him doesn't dissipate. "Now, what does that mean?", I ask again, in yet another futile attempt to know what that endearing that he uses to address me daily, actually means. "In perfect time, in perfect time.", he murmurs back. I narrow my eyes. "So, are you ready to come along, tonight, prinkipissa?" I shake my head vehemently. He sighs. "So, it's a no again.", he whispers dejectedly. And then suddenly, his warmth begins to recede from around me. "The next night, prinkipissa mou.", he murmurs alluringly, as he darkens away from my vision.
As usual, I am the first to wake up in the morning, the remnants of the nightmare-cum-dream still lingering at the back of my eyelids, the warmth of his touch still causing the skin of my upper arms to tingle pleasantly. I try to recall his scent. It always soothes me when I am usually wary and distressed in the first hour of the morning.
He smells of rain, a bed of cosmoses, freshly fallen pine needles and... home. I know that's such a strange thing to say. How can a person smell like 'home'? And, that too some stranger from my dreams, when I am lying in my own bed at my own home. But as I am thinking it through again, it does feel odd to call this place my home. If it is indeed my home, why don't I ever fit in? Why don't I have a shifted spirit of my own too? Above all, why don't I even want to have a shifter spirit of my own and become like the rest of them? Is it because somewhere deep down, once the sun is down, I do resent them?
Oh no... Stop thinking along those tracks Aizea!, I sharply reprimand myself.
Honestly, I need to admit that reprimanding myself works better than being reprimanded by someone else. Shaking my head in order to clear my weirdly wild running thoughts, I carefully creep out from underneath my dear soft blue quilt and step out of my warm bed.
The touch of the chilly floor on my soles gives me the uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation. I flinch slightly, before determinedly pressing my foot even harder on the ground and letting the other foot join it. I stand up shakily, and slowly, very carefully tiptoe my way to the door. I peek outside through the tiny peep-hole and when I spot no one other than the pinkish rays of the early morning sun, I open the door softly and trudge my way to the washroom.
Once inside, I lock the door, flick on the light and stare at the wide grey eyes on the mirror. The fear that I am so used to seeing in them is lesser in magnitude than the previous morning and the wayward determination that has recently started creeping it's way into its apparently disturbed depths has grown just a bit - just a bit more than yesterday morning.
I sigh. I want to survive all this mess; I really do. But I truly don't know how.
I am absolutely confused. Should I say 'yes' to the achingly handsome in my dreams? Who is he? Is he even real? What good can ever be waiting for me in those misty, dark forests?
And... What did he call me, again? 'Adelfí psychí mou'. What does that even mean? Above all, do I have any way out of... everything... if I don't take his hand? I am just going to die and waste away if I don't - and that's frankly the last thing that I want.
But, what if he is from the Land of Wudes? One of their evil forces? Can I even betray this family that has brought me up with such care and put my safety before their own?
Evelyne...? Even, Andre...?
I want to band my head against the mirror, or maybe the washbasin is a better choice. I hate this part of the morning. Facing my own reflection, my own questions and then failing to answer them.
"Aizea!", Melinda's shrill but groggy call fortunately breaks my reverie of absolute overthinking. I quickly brush my teeth, use the toilet, get freshened up and hurry out. Melinda is in a night gown and is grim and grave as she retrieves the box of cereals from a kitchen shelf. I don't even speak a word or try to make eye-contact as I take the bottle of milk out of the small refrigerator and pour the milk in a container and putting it on boil.
This is the daily drill and I know it to perfection. Don't talk with anyone in the early morning. Don't even make eye-to-eye-contact. You never know you is already standing at the tipping point and what may set them off. I don't even dare sigh in exhaustion, as I finally take the boiled milk down from the fire and holding the bowl with a kitchen-cloth, pour the milk out into the five bowls that Melinda has already arranged in a row.
Their bowls already had the cereals. But, Melinda always let me do my own things; probably because she knew that I may have my own opinion about something that I may very probably be not be able to express to them - atleast in these hours. I in fact liked this little freedom of decision for myself.
But as I pour out my cereal in my bowl that already contained the milk, my curiosity suddenly spikes up like never ever before, and I peek up from behind the curtain of my golden-brown waves of hair, at Melinda and immediately my eyes are caught by hers.
Oh NO!
What I see, makes me want to tremble and make a run for the hills.
How ironic!
Her usually soft chocolate-brown eyes are not only tinted with red, but blazing. Not blazing with anger or desperation. But with hunger. A strange strange kind of hunger, or thirst, whatever you call it, that seems to be in war with her determination - her determination to keep the promise that she had once made - the promise to keep me safe. The red also seems to be a bleed of regret and sheer thirst; and the longer this heart-shattering moment lasts, the sharper her intensely hungry or thirsty or whatever gaze , tries to pierce into my eyes... into my very soul.
I almost shudder, but actually don't. I will not fall weak. My anger always fuels my strength and my fear always fuels my anger. I was scared to death just a second back, but right now, I am livid, as a sense of betrayal seeps bitterly into every pore of my body. Why was she staring like that at me? As of she was famished and she would rather have me than the bowl of milk and cereals waiting on the table. Honestly, it was so very creepy.
I quickly pick up my bowl and fish a grab from the cutlery holder and race to my room like my very life depends on it - because I really think it does. But then I remember a rare advice that the stunning man from my dreams had once given me - Never turn your back on an animal while you decide to flee it. Turn your back on it only when you know for certain that you are all set to run so far away from its lair that it can never lay a claw on you again.
He mostly never said anything significant to me other than calling me certain endearments in some foreign language and extending his palm to me, for me to take his hand to wherever he supposed to take me. But, there were nights when he said an extra sentence or two. I recognized those as survival tips but never understood why he told those things to me.
Now, suddenly the realization dawns on me. He knows something that I don't. And, he knows that I will need to fight for survival in this place that I called home.
I set the bowl on my bed-side-table, take a deep breath, clutch the unwashed spoon tight and head out to the washing-sink. I pretend to not notice Melinda who's still standing where I last saw her and wash the spoon, feeling her gaze burn holes into my back all the while. Washing cutlery before eating is a disciplinary protocol. I do all this acting absolutely relaxed and comfortable, and then head back to my room with an impeccable mask of calm.
As I finally sit and start eating the warm and milk-soaked cereals, I start having an uneasy feeling. I feel unsafe, very very unsafe in my own home. Over everything, I don't even feel like I'm at home, and my regret to have not taken his hand last night grows more than yesterday morning.
The rest of the days flows by just as usual. I go to school. I manage to find Evelyne before she pounces to "hug" me. But then things begin going downstream, again. Andre's as-blue-as-the-sea eyes lock on me and they almost bore into my soul with the burning intensity of his suspicion. "Looks like whatever was troubling your sleep has finally left you alone, Aizea.", he says instead of the regular morning greeting. I almost stutter but quickly catch myself while answering, "Thanks, Andre. I feel better." I actually do feel better.
Yesternight, the dream lasted a bit longer. Time in my dreams and in the real world is very different. Sometimes, just a short while there stretches althroughout the night, sometimes vice versa. The first case is the more preferable case scenario for me.
I smile, and try to make my fake smile look as real as possible; and Andre thankfully falls for it, flashing me a brilliant smile of his own in return. His suspicions seem to have lessened a bit, if only just a tiny bit, and I'm grateful to whoever is up there - if there's anyone at all - for that. The less I'm suspected, the longer I get to make up my mind.
We attend the daily sermon and then head to our first class, together. Just as everyday, Evelyne approaches the seat right next to me as soon as I am seated, but a strong arm grabs the edge of the desk from behind, blocking her way. Both her and my eyes immediately skid to find Andre. His blue eyes are fixed on me, so intense with concentration and a varied array of emotions that it scares me.
Why does this day have to be getting just so much better and better, huh?
Evelyne frowns deeply, her green eyes looking at me questioningly. I shrug, mirroring her confusion.
Deep down, I probably have a feeling that I know why Andre is doing what he is doing. But, I am just too petrified to admit that.
Maybe, I am too emotional as well.
"Andre?", I question him softly, as he settles in the seat right next to me, the folded up sleeve of his uniform shirt giving way to fair, mildly tanned skin, that lightly brushes against my hand. Very tiny, almost negligible, tingles run up my skin. My stupid body can't even understand just how dangerous feeling even an ounce of draw towards Andre is, for me. I gulp soundlessly, and begin to move my hand away, when his hand grabs mine.
His hand isn't soothingly warm, like him, but a scorching hot. I don't even know why I am comparing their touches in the first place, though.
But, it is harsh! Like, really harsh. So not like Andre. I wince slightly, before looking up into a pair of scorching blue eyes, which right now resemble a blazing summer sky infinitely more than the cool sea.
My heart skips a beat, but not in the good way.
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