Page 64 of Obsidian Dream
He stared at the fields and the markets behind him, almost swept away by the sheer beauty.But where was he?
Unbelievable pain racked his body as he stumbled forward.Khalida moved to the side, watching him intently, like a predator stalking its prey.The hairs on the back of his neck rose.He looked at the mark on his wrist.It was a dull yellow.
He grabbed her wrists, turning her around so her back was to him, and he wouldn’t be tempted to ignore the warning signs he was getting.“What is my name?”
She looked at him over her shoulder, confusion flashing across her features as her eyes widened.Tears threatened to spill.“My beloved.”
Talik closed his eyes.It was a fucking dream.No matter how much he wanted it, this wasn’t his life.It wasn’t Khalida.There had never been this much innocence surrounding her, even when they had first met.Khalida’s fighting spirit had been what had drawn him to her, the defiance that dripped from every word and action, as if she wanted the world to accept her as she was and not what they wanted her to be.He had understood that desire like no one else could have.The pretender in front of him didn’t hold a candle to the real Atlantean.It was just a figment of his imagination.This time, the memory slammed into him, making him suck in a breath.
Khalida’s eyes changed from yellow to reptilian green before they quickly changed back.But it was enough for him to know.
“Ninhursag, I assume,” he whispered.He pulled out one of the doppelgänger’s hairpins, the sharp silver edge as deadly as any blade Khalida normally carried.The thing had gotten that correct about Khalida—right down to her obsession with knives and the fact that everything she wore and owned could be used as a weapon.
This place wasn’t real, just a cage to entrap him and tempt him into giving up what he didn’t own—his soul.
It was already owned by someone else.
He held the knife at her throat and slowly dragged it across, pressing hard against her neck but unable to pierce her flesh.The god still looked like Khalida.
Ninhursag grabbed him by the neck, talons pressing into him as the hint of pain he had felt came back in full force.
He flew, petals thrown into the air as he hit the ground with a thud that vibrated through his body, before he rolled into a kneeling position.The knife was still in his hand.He licked his lips.The metallic taste of his blood tinged his mouth.
The world around them transformed.
Ninhursag stood over him, a sword at his throat.Blood dripped down his neck, but he didn’t give her the benefit of reacting.The dirt beneath him was warm.In his periphery, he could see the stone walls and the chains.It was the dungeon in House Azaes—or how the dungeon had looked when he had been thrown in it the first time he had unofficially met Khalida.He had spied her through the bars when she had taken over one of the guard’s shifts.In this version, the dungeon was resplendent with the rats that used to scurry through the walls...goose bumps exploded over him.
He knew they were not real, but his body didn’t.His mind conjured the old, forgotten memories—how the rats used to crawl over him at night, scurrying beneath his clothes as they searched for heat during the desert’s chilly nights.The days and nights he had spent listening to them through the walls until all he had to do was close his eyes and be transported back to the dungeons.He didn’t hate many things, but he despised rats.
And the Anki.
A little girl’s giggle flowed through the room.His heart thumped as the laughter grew louder until it was directly behind him.Soft and sweet.
Sidra.
He closed his eyes, willing the laughter to disappear.Anything but that.The numbness that had taken centuries to develop threatened to fall down and disappear within a heartbeat.The laugh was close enough that if he turned, he would see Sidra behind him, and he could not bear to watch the dream shatter again.He refused to look, unsure if he would want to go back to reality if he laid eyes on his daughter.The onslaught of guilt was never far away when he thought of her.
It was his fault that she had died, his fault that her genetics had been human and not Atlantean.There was no one else who could be blamed.And it was his fault that her death had torn Khalida apart.
“You could have anything you want?”
The question was in the tongue of his childhood, a dialect he hadn’t heard since he left his village and long before he’d realized he was Atlantean.
Ninhursag was still using Khalida’s voice.Talik forced himself to close his eyes before he slowly opened them.She hadn’t moved and still wore the face, body, and arrogance of Khalida.
He shook the chains.The metal bit into his skin, bruising him.Talik gulped and hoped this nightmare was going to end.“Who are you really?”
“Whatever you want me to be.”
“Is dead an option?”
Ninhursag laughed, but it sounded nothing like the real Khalida.This laughter rolled through him as if the god was searching for a weakness.Older than time itself, the laughter wanted to burrow itself into his flesh.
“Papa.”
His hold almost broke at the whispered words.
Ninhursag lowered herself to Talik, her eyes changing back to the reptilian green that had flashed before.The black slits dilated for a second.
