Page 188 of Lost in the Dark

My heart bleeds at those faintly spoken two words, reminiscent of my earliest entreaties to her to come with me. I do not know if that is some part of her remembering, but I do recognize the power within them and I cannot help but to walk back to her. Her eyes lift at my approach, and I do not know how much, if at all, she can see me, but there is an awareness in the shadow of her eyes. Uncurling my fingers, I stretch out my hand to her and her eyes shift to it, gladdening my heart though there is no recognition in her eyes.

“I feel like I’m lost,” she whispers sadly.

“All will be well,” I assure her. “Come with me,” I whisper for the final time.

Her power pulses again and I am certain now that, this time, she is aware of my words even if she does not entirely hear me. She swallows and slowly lifts her hand from her side. It trembles like a fallen leaf caught in an autumn wind, but she feels around blindly until she finally slips her hand into mine, her energetic body brightening just a little more as I curl my fingers around hers.

“Where are we going?” she asks softly, confusion in her eyes as I draw her toward the door.

“Home,” I respond, squeezing her hand comfortingly as she glances around the house in confusion.

Though her confusion makes her afraid, she does not pull her hand from mine nor balk as we walk together toward the open door, Wilox bursting through just ahead of us with a happy chitter. The mists of the veil waft up as we near the boundary, and for a moment it appears as if they will not permit us to depart. But as we step through the door, my hand rising as an ethereal torch appears in its grasp to light the way, they thin and part, leaving a path with a low fog drifting around our feet as we leave her home behind.

We walk for an insurmountable time, traveling down the paths that part before us without error. I know instinctively where to go just as the mist responds to my presence, the shadow of the flittering familiar riding the air just above us. The mist parts and then reaches toward us with wispy fingers, as much a welcome to me as it is a reminder of that which is hidden among it. I can hear them out there, their bodies sliding among the shadow trees that have gradually sprung up and thickened around us. The soft cries of souls lost among it echo and beseech us for help. Though Naomi slows a few times in response we do not stop, and she trustingly follows my lead though she trembles often with fear as the shadows press close and the haunting voices wail and screech after us.

She has nothing to fear though, and I squeeze her hand again to communicate this and her fingers tighten gratefully around mine in response. No predator that lurks among the mists will harm her, nor the jealous souls who would deny her passage and force her to remain behind as they would have had she become separated from me as often happens with human souls who, for whatever reason, become mired here. But there is no chance of this happening to Naomi. I cling to her as tightly as she does to me, determined that they will not have her, nor should the predators that slink with whispered movements among the fog feast repeatedly upon her shade as they were wont to do.

The Forest of Laments holds no power over me, and therefore no power over my mate either.

I slant an approving look at my brave mate. She made this choice to rescue herself. To rescue both of us, and because of that soon we will be home. There would have been no home without her. I know that with all certainty, and so, as the mist brightens and Naomi gradually begins to solidify as her energetic body repairs itself, I find myself looking forward to a future I had not dared to hope for until this moment.

And so we walk as the shadows lighten, and there is a brightness that suffuses the shade. Though there is no true sense of time amid the mists of the veil, and our walking seems to continue on and on without respite, I smile. Soon we will arrive at the gate of the worlds. Soon I will be able to make her mine as long as we continue forward and do not turn back.

I run my thumb over the hand that I can feel possessing a silken heat and know that there is no looking back for me. Not with Naomi. There is only what lies ahead.

Naomi

Idon’t know who is leading me through this dark place or why I trust him enough to leave my home to follow him. I only know that I had sensed him leaving and my heart could not bear to be left behind without risking shattering forever. It makes no sense. I couldn’t even hear him beyond the faintest psychic touches that somehow communicated more than words, yet I had known. It was only by trusting this knowing that I had found the courage to take what I presumed to be his hand though I couldn’t see more than a psychic imprint of him and could barely feel his touch.

As we walk through this strange, unknown place, I am grateful when he increasingly becomes real to me. The more I see and feel him, the more I know, deep down, that I know him and that I can’t bear to be parted from him. My guide’s silver eyes turn toward me frequently—I can see them as clearly as my own hand now—an expression of concern in them but also a warmth that is like a beacon in this horrible place. Though he is the one who has brought me to this forest of shadows and haunting nightmares, he is everything that represents safety to me, and I cling to that and to him. I even swear I can sometimes see the flutter of a bat above us in the light shed by the torch that he carries to light our way as we walk along a path carved among the dark trees pressing in all around us.

The woods, however, echo with screams and the sound of tires squealing like a track on repeat playing over and over again. It crawls through me, dragging on my memories. Blood so much blood and pain. Cries of those injured amid frantic shouts. It echoes here, teasing at me, bidding me to go back to where it was safe. But I don’t want to go back. I want to remain with the strangely familiar male holding my hand. And I cling even tighter to him no matter how the trees seem to whisper because, as the woods lighten, he becomes more distinct and real to me.

I know him. I love him. I just don’t remember him.

My hand tightens around his, and he glances back at me again, his pale lips inching in a sweet, reassuring smile.

“Not much farther,” he rasps, the raw sound of his voice sliding through me with a memory of pleasure.

A memory of him whispering my name as hands and a mouth slide over me. Words of love rise to the fore, words frantically breathed into my ear as we make love beneath a tree, cherry blossoms raining down all around us. A voice that laughed with me, argued with me, and consoled me in my darkest terrors. My mind tries to shy away from the latter, but his presence draws me back to it because he was all that was good in those moments.

I whimper as my heart clenches, my entire body trembling with the memories slipping through my mind’s eye as if rewinding through a script. His love and passion, his tenderness and protectiveness, his wings shielding me one moment and holding me close to him in the next. My initial fear of him because of the way he watched me and reached for me when no one else could through that darkness, drawn into my dreams. I see his face in a hundred angles and expressions, his silver eyes softened with emotion and peering sharply as if to cut through all illusions.

I remember it then, the accident. Walking along the busy sidewalk and the truck that swerved drunkenly off the road into the pedestrians. The screams of pain and the blood. I know then that I am dead. It drags at me, clawing at me with the memories of my last moments of agony, trying to drown me, but like a shining torch in the dark, he is there in my memory, drawing his wings lovingly around me, banishing the pain and shadows.

My love.

“Gralius,” I whisper, the name falling from my tongue from some deep well of memory, and I nearly sob with the vast tide of emotion rolling over me as the male leading me freezes, his wings stiffening behind him.

The soft light ahead of us catches on his hair and horns as he slowly turns, his silver eyes brighter than I ever recall seeing them as he releases the torch. It falls, fading into the ether, as he reaches for me. A luminous pearl of moisture slips from his eyes, and this time I can’t hold back, my own tears flowing as I am drawn into his arms, dark wings folding around me. The mist clings to us, the faint light ahead shimmering as it dances along the quaking leaves of the trees. It enfolds us as we cling to each other, our power weaving together once more, our bond as the frightening sounds of the woods withdraws in defeat.

I smile against his mouth, happiness filling me, but laugh when I’m suddenly lifted off my feet and joyous laughter breaks from him. Never have I heard such a sound of complete happiness from him, and it is that moment that truly sets my heart free, banishing all the sorrow and pain of the past. Another squealing laugh leaves me as he spins me around in celebration, his mouth capturing mine in a dizzying kiss as wings carry us into the air in a whirling spin before we descend, and he reverently sets me on my feet.

He grins down at me, the broken, skull-like scars on half of his face winking merrily as he takes my hand once more in his and leads me toward the pale light shimmering just ahead in greeting, the darkness of the forest slowly unraveling around us until the deep shadows split and shatter in a burst of pale, silvery light, leaving us in a world of unspeakable beauty just as he promised.

“We are here,” he murmurs, his voice, despite its rasp, lighter than I’ve ever heard it. “Welcome home, Naomi. Welcome to my realm.”

The soft light reveals a landscape of soft pastel hues and shadow, in a spectrum dominated by purples, silvers, and blues beyond what my eyes have ever seen before, beyond what I have any hope of being able to describe. Trees twist into the sky in ways that seem to defy nature with their artistry amid flowering fields. In the distance, I can see what appears to be marble stonework of structures rising, and my eyes tear at the sight as a breeze stirs a burst of pale flower petals across the sky.

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