Page 5 of I Will Always Find You
“Fear not, witch of the Roma, for no one here means you harm. This tavern, this village, is a safe place for all, strangers included. I make it so.While your intricate spellwork is impressive, it is unnecessary. And though I have no desire for conflict or violence, do not mistake my amiable demeanour for softness. I will kill you without hesitation should you attempt to use your witchcraft or any form of magic to harm anyone under my protection. Understand—you cannot match my power.”
Startled by the mental intrusion and threat, the Romani witch instinctively opened his mind to connect with the still-smiling tavern owner, linking their thoughts to extract any information that could give him an advantage over his brawny host. This ability was not spellwork; this wasmind-walking, an innate power he had always possessed, inherited from his grandmother, along with his ability to move objects through sheer will and intention.
But try as he might, he could not penetrate Gian’s mind, the man’s mental defences like forged iron. As a secondary attempt to gather information, he read Gian’s aura, which immediately told him that this was no ordinary tavern owner, let alone a man! And he was no witch or druid, either.
The Romani witch realized Gian was an immortal, perhaps even a god from ancient times. He had never experienced power like this or seen such vibrant colours in an aura, except when he was once in the presence of the goddess Hecate, though her aura had felt far more potent.
“I mean no one harm or ill-will, immortal,” the Romani witch whispered trepidatiously, his lips scarcely parting as he spoke. He was acutely aware that a god—if that was what Gian was—could easily catch his hushed words. “I am on a quest driven by love, a mission of the heart. For three long years, I have searched tirelessly for my beloved, and I will not rest until I find him.
“I cannot properly explain how my intuition functions, for it is a power drawn from my very blood, but I felt an inexplicable pull toward this region. And here, on this foul-tempered night, I find your village. If he is not here, I will discover that soon enough. Then, I shall savour a warm meal, enjoy the pleasure of some fine ale, and continue on my journey. Time is both my ally and my enemy.”
“I sense no treachery in your words, traveller. Please, stay as long as you like. And though I doubt you need it, child of Hecate, you are under my protection here. I hope you find what you are looking for. I know what it is to have your great love be absent from your life. It is a terrible, soul-crushing thing.”
With that final, soundless statement, the pitch-black darkness surrounding Gian’s eyes receded, quickly restoring the orbs to their previous radiant copper hue.
The Romani witch immediately noticed that those deep, rich eyes were now accompanied by a few escaped tears, reflecting the palpable sadness emanating from the immortal’s heart.By Hecate! They are tears of blood!
Unaware—or unconcerned by his notice, which the Romani witch believed was the more probable action—the immortal moved with inhuman swiftness, brushing away the shimmering scarlet tears from his cheeks. In seconds, their glistening trails vanished beneath his touch. As the last remnants of sorrow evaporated, he seamlessly transformed back into the charming, amiable figure everyone knew and loved.
As the ale flowed and the conversations in the room remained lively, the Romani witch noted that no one appeared to have caught the tavern owner’s uncanny speed or his tears made of blood.It was evident to him that the immortal had skillfully crafted this disguise of mortality to blend in, using his abilities to aid him in the endeavour.
Sensing that his intense scrutiny of Gian could draw unwanted attention, the Romani witch turned back to the warmth of the fire, where he could dry his clothes and retreat to his private thoughts.
Where are you, beloved?
“Your ale, sir,” Rufus announced cheerfully as he set the libation on the side table. He did not recall the stranger giving out his name. “On the house, as father said, and I hope you enjoy it.” Rufus was almost hovering over his guest, eager to provide excellent service. He set down a stack of clean, dry linens beside the wooden flagon.
“I am sure it will be fine,” the Romani witch said, though his tone lacked enthusiasm.
As he turned to thank the young man directly, the Romani witch locked eyes with him. A rush of excitement surged through his body, causing his heart to race. In that exhilarating moment, which felt as if it would last forever, he realized that his long and tireless search had finally come to an end.
There, in the face of the young man named Rufus, the Romani witch saw the undeniable, haunting flicker of his beloved—his beautiful Aeneas. He felt the connection down to his soul, a bond that resonated deep within, an intensity that defied the passage of time, weaving together memories of laughter, love, and undesired endings.
It had been so long since they last met—not just in a different place but another lifetime. Such was their destiny, a tapestry of fate that the Romani witch had risked everything to weave together and create.
“Aen—”No, you cannot say his true name, you fool! You must never forget the rules.“Rufus, is it?”
The young man swept a hand through his wild, fiery red hair, trying to manage the disarray that often obscured his eyesight. As he peered down at his patron, a look of confusion etched across his freckled brow. “Um, yes, sir, that is indeed my name,” he replied. His voice was breathy, tinged with a hint of arousal.
“Do I—I—”Stab your eyes! Get a hold of yourself, man.The Romani witch knew he needed to control his emotions and curb his excitement lest he frighten the man who held the soul of his beloved. He quickly removed his wet, hooded cloak. “Do I look at all familiar to you, Rufus?”
He asked this question every time they met again. He feared the answer would be the same as always, but he hoped it would be different this time.
Rufus took a step back, surprised by the unexpected question. Intrigued by this stranger, who seemed to believe they might know each other, he stared intently at the mysterious man. He supposed an association was not impossible; he had only vague memories of his life before Gian found him. The stranger appeared to be around the same age as him. As Rufus marvelled at theman’s rich, dark ebon hair, long and single-braided down his back, he wondered if perhaps they had been childhood friends.
As he continued to observe the now-silent man, Rufus noticed his sun-kissed skin, its surface bearing distinct creases and lines that told tales of long days spent under the relentless sun. Each weathered mark seemed to whisper stories of arduous journeys through desolate landscapes and diverse climates, marking thisfellow as someone who had ventured far and experienced much. The harsh elements had etched their imprint on him, transforming his skin into a canvas of resilience and survival.
What are you searching for, stranger?
Rufus could not know that it was not awhat, but awho.
And it washim.
Seeing the puzzlement upon Rufus’ face, the Romani witch, with all his will, heart, and soul, projected his eternal love outward as an invisible force. He wove a simple yet powerful spell in a voice as quiet as a baby’s breath, speaking words in ancient Latin imbued with profound emotion.
“Scire me. [Know me.]” “Nosce te ipsum. [Know thyself.]”
His goal with his magic was not to awaken memories of Rufus’ past lives, primarily as Aeneas. That would only confuse the young man, and, as the Romani witch had been warned at the beginning of all this, it would inevitably lead to a devastating outcome.
