July 12, 1302

Halimi

Matt was in the meadow again, but this time it was dark. He looked up at the starry sky and watched a white petal float down on the breeze, glowing softly in the moonlight. He sank to the ground, sitting on the cool grass and taking the pressure off his hurt leg. Though he was in dream-state, he could still feel physical things here, including the pain.

He glanced down at his battered body. It was the same as it was in the waking world—the bandage around the puncture wound in his thigh, the burn marks on his bare chest, and the beginning of bruises, mostly around his broken ribs. He even tasted the dried blood on his cut lip.

“The sky is dark because of your mood," Sera said from behind him. "Dream-state naturally reflects feelings unless I control it."

Her sweet voice made his eyes sting, and something in his chest twisted painfully, hurting him much more than the physical damage. He didn’t belong here with her—he belonged in his waking hell. “Please don’t,” he pleaded in a whisper. He had never begged, not once in his entire life—it was a sin in the eyes of Malluk; weakness of any kind was disgraceful, a punishable offense—but he was begging now. He just wanted her to be okay, to be safe, to be as far away from a monster like him as possible. “Please, just go away.”

She walked around him, her white dress fluttering in the breeze. She looked sad and then distressed when she saw the condition he was in. She gasped and her eyes filled with tears as she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached out.

He turned his head away from her. “Don’t touch me.”

“I can’t heal the physical wounds in dream-state, but I can make them go away while you’re here,” she told him, and held his face in her hands.

He tried to pull away from her, but she caught him again, and he stilled. His body sagged a little in defeat as he felt the warm tingling of her divine magic pour through his broken body. The pain subsided—the physical pain, at least.

She let him go. “What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He sighed. “Just my past catching up with me,” he told her miserably. “A woman that I hurt, that I broke.”

“How could she do this to you?”

“Anger, revenge, trying to protect someone she cares about.” he answered quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name—he didn’t want Sera to know it was her friend he was talking about, her friend that he had done so much damage to.

“Letting her hurt you won’t make anything better.”

He huffed a small, humorless laugh. “Let? The ropes give me little choice.”

She gasped again and stood up. “I’ll leave right now. I can get there in—”

“No!” His voice was suddenly hard and commanding.

She knelt down again and caressed his cheek. “Mathias, I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“It’s nothing,” he told her. “I deserve much worse.”

“This won’t change the past. And no one deserves to be beaten.”

He looked down and sighed. “She’s not doing any more to me than I did to her.”

It was silent for a while. Finally, he forced himself look at her, to see the horror and disgust on her face. But it was worse; it was pity. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Please, just hate me. You should hate me.”

“No,” she whispered, tears slipped down her angelic face. “I can send a message to the guard there and…”

He shook his head. “They won’t help me, they know me too well.”

“Then I’m coming to you. I’ll make it better, I’ll talk to her and—”

“You’re not coming here,” he told her fiercely, raising his voice a bit and meeting her gaze evenly. “I don’t want you in my world. You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t even be in my damn dreams!”

“Then go!” she snapped. “You can leave this dream-state whenever you want.”

He sighed and looked down. He couldn’t do it—he couldn’t make himself want to be away from her, regardless of what was right, of what was best. Selfishly, he just wanted to stay with her, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. “I can’t,” he whispered.

She lifted his face. “Good, because I want you to stay. You say you don’t want to hurt me, but this hurts me, Mathias. Knowing that you’re in pain hurts me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. But you can’t come here.” He turned his head away again; he couldn’t stand the sight of her tears. “Stop doing this dream thing… then you won’t know.”

She was silent again. When he glanced up, it was to find her studying him, looking thoughtful. She sighed. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll promise not to come to you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until you say I can or you come to me.”

He was relieved, since he knew he would never do that. “Okay.”

“But you have to promise me something.”

He nodded.

“While you’re in dream-state with me, you won’t talk about how horrible you think you are. You won’t worry about the past or things that can’t be changed. And you will stop fighting me. It’s my choice to touch you if I want to, so stop with the I’m not worthy stuff.” Though her tone was firm and commanding, her sweet voice was still soft and warm.

He smiled a little in spite of himself. He couldn’t help it when she was demanding like that. It amazed him. Most people were intimidated by him—women like her were scared of him, and rightly so—but not her. However, if she knew more about him, she would be scared of him too. He didn’t want her to know.

He was suddenly scared that she would lose that look in her eyes, that she would look at him with disgust and hatred, the way Vivyka did… the way she should look at him. Whatever it was Sera felt for him—perhaps love, like Vivyka had said—he desperately wanted her to keep feeling it. He wanted her to keep looking at him with those adoring blue eyes. He needed it; he needed her.

He considered her deal. If she wouldn’t find him in the waking world, he reasoned, then he could just enjoy being with her here. She was just a dream, a visiting angel. Here, reality didn’t have to exist; the whole world could just go away for a little while. Here, it was just the two of them.

He nodded again. “I promise.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She moved her hands to his shoulders so she could lean close and kiss him. Her kiss was the opposite of Vivyka’s, so different from anyone else's. Sera’s kiss, her every touch, was incredibly tender.

He hesitated for a moment, but then gave in. He couldn’t—wouldn't—fight her anymore. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her gently against him, holding her close. Her lips parted, and he kissed her deeply. The sweet taste of her, the feel of her tongue moving with his, caused an electric shiver to run through his body and his chest to feel too full.

She was so soft, so vulnerable, so trusting. She melted in his arms, giving herself to him completely. And when he kissed her, it was more than just something physical—it touched a raw place inside him. It ached, but at the same time, it was wonderful and he never wanted it to end.

He felt like every moment of his entire life was filled with pain, but when he was with her, she made it better. She filled the void, the cold darkness, with her warm light. He just wanted to cling to her, to not have to go back, to not have to be alone anymore.

When she broke the kiss, she was smiling again with that adoring look in her eyes. She sighed contentedly and shifted her position so that she was sitting, cradled in his arms. She leaned her head back, resting her cheek against his arm, and gazed up at him.

He smiled back at her as he caressed her face and then ran his fingers through her silky, light gold hair. Her expression became blissful, and she closed her eyes as if she were feeling the warm sun after a long winter. It was the way he felt whenever he saw her. She was his sun—the rest of the world was dreary, cold, and gray without her in it.

They sat there for a long time. It was strange to him that he felt so completely content, that it felt so good just to hold her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Not just your looks, but all of you. You’re just… an angel. I can hardly believe you even exist.”

“But I do,” she assured him. She moved her hand from where it rested on his chest, caressing him. “You’re beautiful, too—inside and out.” Her hand stopped over his heart. “Your heart is beautiful. It just needs the mud washed off, and that takes time.”

“How do you know?”

“Partly because of Woodlander perception,” she answered. “I get it from my parents—my mom’s half-nymph and my dad’s half-elf. But mostly I know because of my job and my empathy.”

“Where’s your birthmark?” he asked. She moved her head so she could pull her hair out of the way and show him the symbol on her neck. He laughed softly. He had forgotten that Aryst’s mark was a sun.

She rested her head against him again. “What’s funny about it?”

“It’s just very fitting. You’re so full of warmth and light… you’re like the sun,” he said. A moment later, he frowned in thought. “What do you think the mark of Malluk does?”

She gave him a disapproving look.

“I’m not saying anything bad, I’m just wondering.”

“They never told you?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “They just say that we take after him… without weakness.”

“They are like him, not you, not anymore,” she corrected gently. “But it feels weird, doesn’t it? You’re free, and yet… you’re lost.”

He smiled at her insight. “Exactly.”

She nodded. “Regardless of good or bad, it’s what you’ve known your whole life, and now suddenly it’s all gone. That in itself will take time to adjust to.”

“So I know what magic Malluk’s clerics and priests have, but what divine gift do we… they have?”

“Well, I’ve heard it called a cold conscience. Without weakness refers to Malluk not having a heart. He believes the heart is the cause of all weakness—mercy, compassion, forgiveness and, of course, love.”

He nodded. “I’ve always believed the same.”

She sat up so she could look at him fully. “And now?”

“I don’t know,” he said, studying her, searching her eyes for the answer. “Is love what I feel?” He took her face into his hands and caressed her with his thumbs. “Is that what this is?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but then changed her mind. “I can’t tell you that. Your feelings are your own; you need to label them yourself.”

He dropped his hands and sighed in annoyance. “Fine. Then just tell me yours. Tell me why you look at me like that.”

She smiled tenderly. “Because I love you.”

He tensed at actually hearing it from her. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

“How’s that?”

“Do you know much about Woodlanders?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Well, they’re sensitive to nature, and love is just nature. So they tend to know their soul mate as soon as they see them. The elves call it rahnam,” she explained. “My parents knew the moment they met that they would never be apart. They’re connecting pieces, part of each other. And it’s the same for me. I've known from the second I saw you that I will always be with you, and always love you, no matter what.”

“But… you don’t know me,” he argued. “You don’t know who I am. You don’t know my past. You can’t imagine the things I’ve done, the things I’m still very capable of doing,” he added sadly. “If you did… you wouldn’t say that. You wouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Mathias, there is nothing that could change my feelings for you,” she promised. “People think I’m so naive and delicate, but I’m really not. I’m a healing cleric. A lot of people pass through the temple, and I feel and hear all sorts of things. Counseling people is part of my job. It’s actually my specialty; I’m a dream healer, after all, which goes hand in hand with that. I understand that people do bad things. You know, even criminals in jail are allowed counseling. But the past doesn’t matter—you learn and do better. The past is not who you are anymore. What you did before doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t love who you were. I love you now, who you are right this minute, who you are with me.”

He shook his head. “I still feel it. The anger, the violence… all of it. It’s still in me, and even without Malluk’s mark…” He closed his eyes. “I still like it… the feeling of being violent, of hurting people,” he admitted quietly.

“We all have those things in us,” she said, her voice gentle and understanding instead of appalled.

He opened his eyes and frowned at her.

“But we all have compassion, too,” she told him. “And feelings, no matter how ugly they might be, are never wrong. Only actions can be wrong, and we are in control of those. Wanting to hurt someone, even liking the idea, doesn’t make you bad. Even good people have those thoughts and feelings sometimes, but what makes them good is that they keep themselves from actually hurting anyone.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “You have violent feelings?”

“Well… I get upset sometimes.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Wow. That must be terrifying.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh shush,” she told him, though she was smiling. “Okay, maybe I’m not a good example of normal, but… well, Tess and Ayden feel those things.”

He nodded. He could imagine Ayden having plenty of violent thoughts, at least about him. “Why is it so easy for them to not act on their feelings?”

“Even without any marks, Tess and Ayden and I have been nurtured differently. Our families are kind and loving. They brought out the good in us, and that overpowers the bad, helps us make the right choices.”

“Mine brought out the opposite.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “When I was a little girl and I did good things, like…” She thought for a moment. “When I helped my elderly neighbor carry some groceries home, it made my parents happy. As children, our biggest desire is to please our parents; we want their affection and approval. But your parents were very different. I don’t think you being kind to people made them happy.”

“No. I could never do anything to make my father happy. Not that I tried.”

“What about your mother?”

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about the past.”

She smiled. “You aren’t being negative,” she pointed out. “This kind of talking is good. So, what made her happy?”

He shrugged. “Being mean to my father,” he said, unable to help smiling. “When I was four, he put a finger in my face—he was telling me that I did something wrong. So I bit it, hard enough to draw blood. I spit and said he tasted nasty, like the maggot he was.” He chuckled. “My mother laughed and ran her fingers through my hair…” He trailed off, and his smile left. His mother had always done that. As a child, he had thought it was a show of her affection for him, but it wasn’t. She had never cared about him; he had just been her pet, her puppet.

He dismissed the thought and looked back at Sera. He suddenly realized that he should probably feel bad for laughing at the memory of hurting his father, but he really didn’t. “Sorry,” he said anyway, “but my father was a jealous bastard who hated me.”

She nodded understandingly. “You were taught to be violent and mean from a very young age, by your parents and Malluk’s church. So that’s what you became. How old are you now?”

“Twenty-four.”

She sighed. “Twenty-four years of living in that environment.” She shook her head sadly. “Losing a mark won’t take that away. You can change, but not overnight. It’ll take time. It’ll take strength and effort to push the darkness back and let light become the dominant force. And it won’t be easy.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile then. “But you won’t be alone.” She reached out and caressed his face. “I will always be here with you,” she promised. She considered something for a moment. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t call you Mathias anymore.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I should use Tess’s nickname for you, because you’re not that old Mathias anymore—you’re different now, because you chose to be different. You can be anything you want to be now, Matt.”

He liked that name on her lips—it did feel symbolic—but as much as he wanted to believe her, he couldn’t. She didn’t really know. She couldn’t possibly. She was far too sweet and soft to be in his world. She was too good to understand the monster he really was.

But then he remembered something: in the waking world, he was tied up and Vivyka was waiting for him. Soon, she would kill him. He wouldn’t be here anymore, and Sera would never be in danger when that monster part of him broke free. There would be no chance of him losing his temper one day and hurting her, as he knew he eventually would.

He sighed and caressed her hair, then ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. He didn’t want to worry about anything right now. He just wanted to enjoy her while he could. “My angel,” he whispered feelingly, and she smiled adoringly at him.

He pulled her close and kissed her perfect lips. She slid her arms around his neck, kissing him back with more passion than he expected. Never had a kiss brought him as much pleasure as hers did. There was nothing in the world that felt better than just being with her. She was an angel bringing him a piece of heaven. He wrapped her in his embrace, holding her tenderly, and she melted into him once again.