Page 75 of Hell-Bound

“My followers have told me that you have taken up the mantle to find Vutar’ka Zhartun. I hope you can appreciate the magnitude of this task, my child.”

Ren was dumbstruck. It was strange to her that this being, appearing so unassuming and meek, could intimidate her to speechlessness. She felt that if she said something wrong and provoked his ire, it would be the soft ire of a disappointed father rather than the fiery anger she had come to know from Azur. In some ways, so much more painful.

“Yes, Leo told me this task was of utmost importance to you.”

The god pinched his brow together.

“It is indeed. The recovery of this tome could help millions of people, Ren. It will even help you.”

“Me?”

“Without question. If you recover the relic Vutar’ka Zhartun, I will be able to restore some of your memories.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“I know that you have doubts, my child,” he continued, seeing through her in the uncanny way gods did. “You exchanged your memories, and now you fear their recovery.” He shook his head solemnly. “But do not fear, Renata. I am The Almighty. I can protect you. Restore you.Redeemyou.”

Her breath caught.

“You can…redeem me?”

He smiled. “Yes, even you, Renata, if you serve my holy purpose.”

Her throat bobbed. She thought of Azur. Of the fragile trust they were starting to build. But her relationship with the male, notwithstanding, he was evil. He was a torturer and a killer. He trapped people and took their souls. Why should she ever put her faith in such barbarity?

Nainaur, in contrast, was the God of The Heavens. The Almighty God of Forgiveness and Mercy spoke of the importance of helping people. That’s what she wanted—to help people. The decisions should be so easy, yet somehow…

“Perhaps I should show you, Renata. I know that your time in The Hells has been difficult. It is almost impossible, even for the most devout creatures, to resist its temptations. I was able to capture some memories of yours, and I can give them to you.”

Ren stared, confused.

“How can you have my memories?”

His eyes sparkled kindly. “To be more precise, they are another’s memories. But they’re shared. You’ll be able to see them as if you were remembering them yourself.”

Perhaps Nainaur thought she would jump at this chance. But she couldn’t. She was terrified. Now that it came down to it, by living through Renata’s memories, she would have to admit they were one and the same. Before, she could pretend Renata was some severed appendage—painfully cut but no longer relevant to her current, albeit at times more complicated, life.

At the same time, she couldn’t deny the temptation for a glimpse. As the god had said, resisting temptation was not something she was currently succeeding at.

“Take my hand, Renata. I will show you.”

Letting her body lead, she obeyed and took his hand. It was soft, like landing on a safe cloud, before she looked intothose ethereal blue eyes.

“This might be a bit disorienting at first,” he said right as her body was flung across time.

She saw flashes—images of different moments—blurs of colors blended together in a cacophony of unintelligible scenes. She tried to focus—to capture any single time to identify. Then she saw him—

Nephele.

His face was bright, blue eyes shining. He tilted his head back in unabashed laughter and threaded his fingers through hers. She saw herself—Renata—beaming at him, blissful. Her face looked almost unrecognizable with so much joy painted upon it. They were sitting together under a bright yellow sun, talking and smiling—unable to look away from the other lest they lose even one second of time together.

The image melted into another, this time in the lively bar in her hometown of Vergessen. She was standing on a table playing her piccolo, and Nephele was next to her, singing and dancing. They circled each other playfully as the patrons clapped and cheered. She saw him nudge her teasingly, making them almost topple off the table. They both had to stop their performance to laugh at their clumsiness, and the crowd joined in their laughter and toasted the two musicians. Nephele wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulled her in, and kissed her. It was a beautiful kiss. Tender but passionate.

Another scene appeared.

“Nephele, I have to go,” she heard herself say.

“Why, though, Renata? Why does it have to be you? Stay here, stay with me. You don’t have to fight! This isn’t our battle.”

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