Page 191 of Barbi and the Villain

“Good.” I chuckle.

It takes me a few tries to cut through his thick hair, especially since I’m using a knife instead of a pair of scissors. He sits patiently, helping me here and there until I’m done. His long locks fall to the ground, his hair now barely above his ears.

“Is this fine?” I ask as I step back.

He ruffles his hand through his hair and nods, satisfied. Despite being so used to his long hair, I have to admit he looks dashing with short hair too. In fact, this new cut gives him an air of danger and mystique that wasn’t there before.

He gets up and brushes the remaining hair off his clothes. But as I peek on the ground at the leftover strands, I can’t find it in my heart to leave it all behind. Bending down, I grab a thicker strand and braid it.

He looks at me curiously, his eyes widening when he notes what I want to do with it.

“Barbs…”

“It would be a shame if it went to waste,” I explain shyly as I tie the newly pleated strands around my wrist like a bracelet.

“That is…” He clears his throat. “I appreciate it.”

“Now we can go.”

He picks up the dogs and the small baggage and we step forward. The knife is still in my hands and I bring the tip of the blade to the middle of my palm, imbuing my blood with my essence. A few drops fall onto the surface of the portal, and the color immediately changes. From a foreboding black to a welcoming pink.

“It’s time.” He sighs. A look of pure determination descends upon his features.

Grabbing my hand, we step together inside the portal.

29

Whatever I might have imagined about Tartareia proves to be false.

I had this image of a raging inferno and devil-like creatures running around naked holding pitchforks and chasing the next sin to commit. It is supposed to be the primordial hell, is it not?

Instead, Tartareia is quite…normal.

Well, normal for a realm that does not have a sun. The sky is a reddish color, the only light coming from the four moons hanging over every cardinal point. It is not completely dark, but it is also not overly illuminated.

We arrive at the outskirts of a village, and that scenery lends even less credibility to all those hellish legends. There are houses built of timber, with straw roofs and a little area for livestock. People are going on about their daily tasks, tending to the animals and working the field. Yet that is where the difference starts to become more accentuated.

Due to the lack of sunlight, both the animals and the crops are vastly different from any I’ve ever seen.

The animals have larger eyes to accommodate for nocturnal vision and the plants are of the variety that require minimal light to thrive. That in turn makes the villagers also exhibit some different features that I am sure could be explained evolutionarily in one way or another. The most striking difference is also in the eyes. Not only are they larger, but their irises have a reddish hue.

“Why don’t you have reddish eyes, too?” I ask Nykander as we make our way through the village.

“Tartareians are different from the Sons of Tenebreis for the mere reason that our genetic material is different. These people do not live as long as we do, nor do they have abilities. The Sons of Tenebreis still retain their genetics from the Primordial gods. Tartareians are mortals that moved in the realm thousands upon thousands of years ago, and their biology has changed from generation to generation to better adapt to the environment. Due to the increased lifespan of the Sons of Tenebreis, we do not respond to the same environmental pressures,” he explains—quite eruditely I might add.

I gaze at him with a dreamy smile.

Tall, dark, handsome, powerful, and smart. Thank you, fates! You really turned my ideal man into reality.

“Wait here,” he mentions as he comes to a sudden halt.

I do as he says while he goes to one of the merchant stands by the side of the road. He engages the seller in conversation, and not a few moments later, he returns with some local clothes and three small leather harnesses with leashes for the dogs.

I stare at him wide-eyed.

“How…”

“There is a species here that is the size of our dogs. It’s called a pyde and it is normally used by villagers to hunt the rodents that ruin their crops. I merely asked for the smallest harnesses they have. I hope they will fit them, since carrying the house with us will only attract more attention.”

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