Iona was shivering with cold, her teeth chattering and she was frozen to the bones. She looked around her and all that came in her vision was pristine white of ice crystals that formed a rime on the tall pine trees. Perhaps it was afternoon because the sun glared on them. The wet patch of ice-frosted grass she was splayed on was like a bed of needles. From the corner of her eye, she saw intricate pink blossoms whose petals had a trace of white frost around the edges. She dragged herself out of the water, coughing and covered in mud. Exhaustion took over. All she remembered was that she was in the battle and she thought she would fade away into oblivion.
She pulled herself on her elbows to understand what was going on, but the entire place around her was… empty. No sound of warriors or swords or people. But one thing was clear—there was no darkness, it was all so good… so free… so pure… and she was so tired of everything… She embraced the wet frosted soil and drifted off into deep sleep.
When Iona opened her eyes again, she was still there, her head pounding, her stomach grumbling. She didn't know for how long she was there, but it seemed like forever. It was close to night and frost swirled around her in patterns, or was she imagining? She tried to pull herself up, but even that was an effort. She just wanted to go back into her deep slumber, for death was the only way out now. The ice crystals on the pine trees in the snow forest were glinting the orange sunlight and looked like garlands of nature, draped for miles and miles.
She heard a light footfall on the ground behind her. She wanted to turn, but that was also an effort. "You are here," said the voice, a male voice. It was so cool, so calming, so death-like that she wanted to give in to it. "I have been searching for you everywhere…" Such a deep baritone voice that was almost like a lullaby, that wanted to suck her life. Memories of Anastasia plunging the sword in her flashed across her mind. Memories of her getting kidnapped, of being whipped, of being thrown in the prison for months and of being forced to embrace dark spirits, of letting them use her as a vessel, came rushing in. Horror, rage, anger, metal ache rushed in and she felt like crying. And she did. Tears ran out of whatever was left in her. Back of the throat burned.
"Let me go…" she whispered.
A smooth claw ran over her bare arm and down to the side of her exposed belly. "I have come to take you away from those memories, Iona," he said.
Suddenly, she heard more heavy footfalls, snow crunching the ground behind her. Sun had dipped down the horizon for the ice crystals that hung on the trees were slowly turning a deep purple, a deep blue. And that pine and mist smell. Gods, it was stirring her senses. It was so… sensual, so comforting. What could it be? Who could it be?
She heard a clash of swords, clash of armor, and bone chilling shrieks. Black blood sprayed on her and the ground and her clothes. It reeked of… rotten flesh… as if belonging to someone who had rotted inside out. She felt like puking. Bile rushed to her throat. What could the creature be?
Every one of her senses rebelled. She tried to pull herself again, but somehow, she felt devoid of life. So much noise behind her but it was all muffled. Something thudded on the ground and rivulets of black blood formed around her. She closed her eyes.
Warm fingers pressed against her face. "Hey! Hey!" he said. The pine and mist smell communicated to her. "You there?"
Iona fluttered open her eyes only to stare into his menacing green eyes, the color of which was akin to the pines of the snow forest. The man was beyond… beautiful. His beauty made her breathless and she passed out without asking him a question. Did he have horns on his head because in the night they seemed to curl behind his temples? The next she knew was she was scooped up against something so warm that she wished she could stay there forever. The man carried her away to god-knows-where.
——-
The dark forces that had engulfed Iona were so malevolent and strong that it had taken all her will, all her strength to free Iona from their clutches. Only the Evindal sword was able to take them away from her.
'You have to kill me.'
That's what Anastasia remembered. Rest all… rest was a distant memory.
'You have to kill me.'
She didn't know whom she killed.
'Sweetheart, I love you…'
She didn't know who called her that. She remembered the sound of his voice. "Sweetheart…"
Anastasia sat in the dark cave, somewhere in the deep jungles with a small fire burning in front of her. She was feeling ravenous. She had eaten the rabbit stew the werewolf had made for her after hunting down one. And now the same brown shock of fur was sitting at the mouth of the cave, protecting her, watching her.
Anastasia couldn't help notice those little people, with their small wings, who watched her even at night, who peered at her through the thick trees, brambles and tall grasses. Every day she would find their offerings—blackberries, apples, oranges and whatever jungle fruit they could get their hands on.
She stared into the fire as she tightened the fur cloak around her. The fire was crackling and so were her jumbled up thoughts. Over the past days, all she remembered was that when she woke up one night, her steel armor was broken, her hair windblown, her clothes tattered and her memories… washed away. She was nestled against the vokudlak, in his warm fur. "Kosi ti?" she asked the vokudlak in her fae language. Who are you?
He peered in her blue eyes and conveyed, "Kaizan."
And since then, Kaizan, her sole companion, had never left her side. He took care of all her needs. He said that she was their queen, that she was a goddess and that he was a devoted servant. But she had laughed it all away. "Deities don't stay in the wilderness!"
She didn't know how she reached this place or where she was. Even Kaizan didn't know where they were. She had asked him repeatedly and he would shrug and say, "Somewhere in the Lore…" He once said that he was trying to find his way back home. But where was home? And there was something that he was hiding?
Once the vokudlak asked her whether she remembered Ileus, and she gave him a blank stare. "Koje Ileus?" After that he never asked her again, only looked at her with pain that tightened his features.
The fire crackled as the last of the log caved in sending a flurry of embers up in the air. She was focusing on something… someone… there was this large… a very large gap in her heart. The void was so aching that sometimes it was impossible to comprehend as to why was she so… sad. Right now, the name Ileus filled the gaps in her soul.
