“Only our physical bodies are immortal. Our souls are most certainly not.”
I avert my gaze, unable to look at him, unable to breathe.
“This is the future you’re facing. The one I’ve granted you, if, God forbid, anything should happen, that is.”
My fingers instinctively fly to my throat, remembering what Roman said about my compromised chakra, my lack of discernment and weakness, wondering if there’s some way to guard it. “But—how can you be sure?” I look at him as though caught in a dream, some horrible nightmare with no way to escape. “I mean, there’s a good chance you’re wrong since it happened so fast. So maybe that was just a temporary state. You know, like I brought you back to life so fast you didn’t have time to make the trip here.”
He shakes his head, his gaze meeting mine when he says, “Tell me, Ever, what did you see when you died? How did you spend those few moments between the time when your soul left your body and I returned you to life?”
I swallow hard and look away, gazing at the trees, the flowers, the colorful stream flowing nearby—remembering that day I found myself in this very same field. So taken by its heady fragrance, its shimmering mist, the all-encompassing feel of unconditional love, I was tempted to linger forever, never wanting to leave.
“The reason you didn’t see the abyss is because you were still mortal. You’d died a mortal’s death. But the moment I had you drink from the elixir, granting you infinite life, everything changed. Instead of an eternity in Summerland or the place beyond the bridge—the Shadowland became your fate.”
He shakes his head and looks away, so deeply mired in his private world of regret I’m afraid I’ll never reach him again. But just as quickly his eyes meet mine when he says, “We can live an eternity in the earth plane, you and I together. But if something should happen, if one of us should die—” He shakes his head. “The abyss is where we’ll go, and we’ll never see each other again.”
I start to speak, desperate to refute it, tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t. It’s no use. All I have to do is look in his eyes to see the real truth.
“And as much as I believe in the powerful healing magick of this place—just look at the way it healed my memory—” He shrugs and shakes his head. “I can’t afford to give in, no matter how safe my desire for you may seem. It’s too risky. And we’ve no proof it’ll be any different here than on the earth plane. It’s a gamble I can’t afford to take. Not when I need to do everything I can to keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe?” I gape. “You’re the one who needs saving! It’s my fault all this happened in the first place! If I hadn’t—”
“Ever, please,” he says, voice stern, willing me to listen. “You’re in no way to blame. When I think about the way I’ve lived—the things I’ve done—” He shakes his head. “I deserve nothing better. And if there was any question that my karma was to blame, well, I think it ends here. I’ve spent the better part of six hundred years devoting myself to physical pleasure and neglecting my soul—and this is the result—the wake-up call, and unfortunately, I’ve dragged you along. So make no mistake, my concern is for you and you only. You’re my only priority. My life is only important in that I stay well long enough to protect you from Roman and whoever else he might hurt. And that means we can never be together. Never. It’s a risk we can’t take.”
I turn toward the stream, a thousand thoughts storming my brain. And even though I heard everything he just said, even though I experienced the abyss for myself, I still wouldn’t change what I am.
“And the other orphans?” I whisper, remembering how I counted six, including Roman. “What happened to them? Do you know if they turned evil like Roman and Drina?”
Damen shrugs, rising from the bench and pacing before me. “I always assumed they were too old and feeble by now to ever pose a real threat. That’s what happens after the first one hundred and fifty years—you age. And the only way to reverse the process is to drink the elixir again. My guess is that Drina stockpiled it while we were married and slipped it to Roman who eventually learned how to make his own and then passed it to the others.” He shakes his head.
“So that’s where Drina is now,” I whisper, overcome with remorse when I realize the truth. No matter how evil she was, she didn’t deserve that. Nobody does. “I sent her to the Shadowland—and now she’s—” I shake my head, unable to finish.
“It wasn’t you who did it, it was me.” He fills the space beside me, sitting so close there’s only a sliver of energy pulsating between us. “The moment I made her an immortal, I sealed her fate. Just like I did yours.”
I swallow hard, comforted by his warmth along with his wanting to assure me that I’m truly not responsible for sending my number-one enemy through all of my lives straight into that hell.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, gaze full of regret. “I’m sorry I involved you in any of this. I should’ve left you alone—should’ve walked a long time ago. You would’ve been so much better off if you’d never met me—”
I shake my head, unwilling to even visit that place, it’s far too late for looking back or second-guessing. “But if we’re destined to be together—then maybe this is our fate.” Knowing he remains unconvinced the second I read his expression.
“Or maybe I’ve forced something that was never meant to be.” He frowns. “Did you ever think of that?”
I look away, taking in the surrounding beauty, knowing words alone can never change any of this. Only action can help. And lucky for us, I know just where to start.
I stand, pulling him up alongside me as I say, “Come on. We don’t need Roman—don’t need anyone—I know just the place!”
eight
We head for the Great Halls of Learning. Stopping just shy of its steep marble steps as I peer at him, wondering (hoping!) he can see what I see—the ever-changing façade that’s required for entry.
“So you really did find it,” he says, voice tinged with awe as we watch the revolving collection of the most sacred and beautiful places on Earth. The Taj Mahal morphing into the Parthenon, which turns into the Lotus temple, which becomes the Great Pyramids of Giza, and so on. Our mutual acknowledgment of its beauty and wonder allowing us into the grand marble hall lined with elaborately carved columns straight out of ancient Greek times.
Damen gazes around, face a mask of absolute wonder as he takes it all in. “I haven’t been here since—”
I peer at him, holding my breath, dying to know the details of the last time he was here.
“Since I came to find you.”
I squint, unsure what that means.