Chapter 32 - A Journey to the Past Part 2

A homely maidservant of middle age was busily preparing some bath equipment when Ysabelle woke up, sitting up slowly in her bed.

“Oh, you wake milady, ” the servant said, stopping from folding a towel in the table.

“Where...am I?” Ysabelle asked groggily.

“You are in the High Priest temple milady, in Berean, Kingdom of the North, ” answered the maid casually. She didn’t even show any distress looking at her current guest with disheveled hair and skin covered in clotted blood.

“Berean? Priest?” Ysabelle parroted. A shooting headache happened to catch her attention but it was only brief. She palmed her head though amidst this, massaging her scalp as if to soothe it but in truth, she was trying to gain her memories back.

“You were brought here by the High Priests’ messenger, Mik’hael, ” the servant said, granting her a lost puzzle of information, but it only ended there. “If you have further questions milady, please direct it to him. I am afraid I don’t have the right answers for you except that I am here to help you wash all the...” she paused and examined Ysabelle from head to foot with curious eyes, “blood away.”

She threw a small towel into her shoulders and then lifted a container of warm water with both of her hands. Ysabelle opened her mouth intending to object, but as soon as she did that, a knock on the wooden door came, and then it opened revealing Ysabelle’s five uninvited visitors.

Their presence made the servant bow low and scurry all the way into the farthest corner of the room. Ysabelle, on the other hand, watched as four aging men entered, her eyes were wide as she took in their appearance. All of them were wearing robes of white and gold, but of different colored stoles. One priest was holding a cane, while another possessed a staff. She was in awe in front of them, realizing she was surrounded by powerful men of their time. Her mother used to bring her to the City of Samaria’s temple. Only then was she able to witness priests performing rites. This was the first time that she was up close to such holy men and because of that, she didn’t even know how to act.

Ysabelle cast a look on the maid whom she found was already observing her. The servant gestured for her to prostrate, to bow her head or even to kneel, but Ysabelle chose not to, keeping her head high. Her insides though were already tightening, especially when she saw their awestruck faces. They were the same expressions as the ones she saw thirteen years ago, after she stood up from the cot, revived from death.

Now, she felt as if she was like some newfound specie of an animal.

The fifth man though who stepped inside the room caught her attention more than the four had. Her breath hitched after realizing who the man was. She may not have seen his face then, but she definitely could well recognize the beautiful red locks hanging on his shoulders.

Ysabelle would have called out to him but a voice suddenly broke after a sea of silence filled the room.

“My God!” High Priest Eleazar exclaimed. He was finally out of his momentary surprise. Dashing in her front, he quickly knelt and took her dirty arm with both hands, leaving the staff to lean on its own against the mattress.

Ysabelle gazed at him in surprise and bewilderment. She almost wanted to pull her arm away if not for the worry in his eyes.

“Child, you should clean yourself, ” Eleazar stated, looking at her with compassion.

And that did it for Ysabelle. She was on the brink of breaking down but held her emotions in check.

“I don’t see...the reason why, ” she whispered, voice coming out raspy unintentionally. “The blood in my skin is from my parents and mine. I won’t clean it for this reminds me of their death and what was supposed to be mine too.”

Their eyes connected and it was the high priest’s own who widened first.

“You...know what happened to you?” he asked, taken aback.

Ysabelle neither nod or shook her head as she went to look at the four other men towering above her, especially to Mik’hael, who had an unreadable expression.

“I am supposed to be dead, ” Ysabelle started, pulling her arm from Eleazar and embraced herself. “The blade that pierced my stomach was a solid iron! I felt the pain... I felt my blood draining from my veins. It was real, very real, yet I am here... Why?”

The last word was intended for all of them to answer, including the maidservant who was clueless, and including Mik’hael who chose to be as silent as a mouse.

High Priest Aaron stepped in and released a deep sigh. “My child, we apologize, ” he said, “We don’t have the right answers for that. We don’t know why you are still alive after your brutal death. The Heavens must have plans for you, it might be for a greater purpose above all of us here, but given the current circumstances, you have to be strong.”

“No... I can’t be strong. I have no family anymore! I have no one. No one...” Ysabelle sobbed.

“We are your family now, child. I know that the pain of loss you feel now is still fresh, but soon, time will take it all away, ” was Eleazar said whilst patting her shoulder tenderly.

They were comforting words for Ysabelle, yes, but that didn’t ease her heart for in this kind of life, she knew... she knew that it won’t happen.

The pain will just be buried deep within her heart waiting to be relived again.

***

Dobri Castle

Modern Day

And relive it she did, crying to herself in her bed once she had finally reached her bedroom after a whole day activity at the gardens with Mehak’s schoolmates.

Her camera and black sling bag were on the table, her day clothes and beret hat was tossed on the floor. She didn’t bother drying her hair after taking a quick shower, choosing to slip on a comfy silk nightdress, and hitting the bed immediately. That’s when her emotional breakdown had struck her. She had kept it at bay the whole day after her conversation with Father Marcus and Mr. Grann that morning. It was a struggle. But when the walls of her room now taunted her unending loneliness and the promise of the same ahead of her years, tears spilled continuously on her pillow.

The pain of losing her parents was agony.

The pain of losing the families she had come to care for was the same.

But thinking of the pain she’ll get when she loses Marcus was something different. Entirely different. It was more than agony and it was tearing her heart apart.

It was never her intention to... never allowed herself. She had guarded her heart against it successfully for many, many years. But, God, she knew she was falling for him, and it was already too late to stop it.

Unable to bear the facts presented, she continued to express it through her tears, and that continued on until she fell asleep.

***

“Such a frail woman, ” H commented to himself when he materialized inside Ysabelle’s room and sat at the side of the mattress. “Even for an immortal, you still think of yourself as a human.”

He scanned the length of her and gave out a delighted smirk when he found her nightdress pleasing to the eye.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you would just learn to accept the circumstances of your life and enjoy it? Huh? Ysa-be-lle?”

His eyes glowed red when he moved to touch her bare shoulder. Ysabelle’s eyes lightly flinched.

“Do you really want to be a mortal that badly?” H asked and then, on impulse, squeezed her right arm, sinking his nails into her flesh. The tattoo of flames and vines under the sleeves of his cassock immediately moved like it had a life of its own. These vines crept up into H’s fingers and crossed through Ysabelle’s reddened skin. She whimpered weakly upon contact, but still remained asleep. Just as a thick vine circulated around her arm, H stopped it by releasing his hand.

“Ah, tsk, tsk, tsk, ” he clicked, producing a devilish grin, “But no. Oh, no, not yet. I still want to play with you and Marcus.” Standing up, he dragged the same chair from the armoire into the foot of the bed and sat there the same as he did yesterday night. “Our game has only just begun.”

And then, a similar violet haze enveloped Ysabelle’s bed.

***

“Where—?” Ysabelle whispered, but stopped. She doesn’t need an affirmation that this was another dream and that she was right in the middle of a desert with black sand. It was cold, very cold, and the air’s coldness as nipping at her helpless skin. Even though it was of no difference, she managed to wrap her arms around her chest trying to warm herself.

Right over the horizon, she could see a crescent purplish moon and the sky adorned with a sea of blue and violet stars. Sand dunes were everywhere and she was even standing in a big one too.

A sudden rush of wind got her hair to flow wildly. Groaning, she grabbed a mass as much as she could and clamped it down her shoulders. The wind grew stronger however and this caused her to panic. She doesn’t need a millennium of experience to know that sands could be harsh when blown by such a speed.

Turning in circles, she found a small bedouin tent some distance away.

‘Lucky, ’ she thought and dashed there in the hopes of taking shelter inside.

What she didn’t know though was that it was Marcus’ makeshift tent.