Two Thousand Years

by M. Dalto

  “I was wondering when you were going to show your face, Treyan. Unfortunately, you’re too late. My Key is in place, and come the next moon cycle, the Empress will rightfully be mine.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Reylor, but my Key has been in place for years.” Treyan walked forward, outstretched his right hand where again blue flames sprung from it, this time engulfing the red orb. Not a moment later, it was extinguished. Without delay, he turned towards her and began to approach her. “I am sorry about all of this, Alex—”

  “You!” She raised her knife between them, the point hitting his chest before he could move another inch. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Sighing, he brought his hand to the blade, his blue flames warming the metal to the point of nearly burning Alex’s hand, forcing her to drop the knife. She moved to run, but he grabbed hold of her forearm and he pulled her face to him.

  Alex caught herself getting lost in his blue eyes again and he watched her with an enthusiasm that was unwarranted given their sudden meeting. It was a feeling of intense warmth throughout her body, akin to the comfort of a lover’s embrace. A feeling she had met him before but knew their paths had never crossed before in her life. And yet, some part of her knew him, or knew of him, and that terrified her.

  Who are you?

  Unfortunately, the question never left her. Before she could break his intense stare and begin to protest further, he brought a hand to her face, gently cupping her cheek, and after a few murmured words, Alex’s world fell to darkness.

  2

  Alex’s head hurt.

  A lot.

  She felt as though an entire troupe of Irish step dancers were performing behind her eyelids and she couldn’t close them tight enough to make the throbbing stop.

  A light appeared above her, but whether it was natural or artificial—she couldn’t say. She tried to open her eyes, but discovered the light was too harsh for their precarious state and let them close again.

  Her head was the heaviest it had felt, and worse than any hangover she could remember. Her body ached with more than a week’s worth of effort at the gym. As Alex attempted to push herself up into a sitting position and lift her head, a blinding pain came crashing through her skull all over her again and she fell back onto the bed she was lying on, clenching her eyes shut and praying this torture would go away.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, helping her steady herself back onto the bed, and a comforting lilt cut through the raging migraine behind her.

  “Easy there. Traveling via Keys can be difficult for newcomers. You’ll get used to it as time goes on.”

  Keys?

  The memory of the confrontation within her living room flooded back to her and slowly Alex opened her eyes in the direction of the voice. As her vision adjusted, she remembered why. The same stranger from earlier stood before her. Or was it yesterday? She had lost track of time. He was standing over her, a candleholder in his hand. He looked down at her as she lay on the pillow, his blue eyes reflecting concern, pity and perhaps even amusement.

  His eyes.

  Then she remembered how she got into her current situation in the first place.

  She wasn’t sure how long it had been since he abducted her, but before she could ask him, even at the thought of moving to sit up, the pain within her increased even at the slightest movement.

  He hushed softly. “You are only going to make it worse. Just try to sleep it off, and we will talk when you wake…”

  She stopped listening when the pounding behind her eyes and overall exhaustion overcame her and she let her eyes fall.

  The room was dark when Alex woke, illuminated now only by low-lit candles in sconces along the walls. She stared at the ceiling for a moment to collect her bearings before painfully swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, the muscles of her body still aching with the motion, no better than the remnants of the pounding in her head.

  However, she could not tell how long she had been in her current situation. She remembered little since the confrontation at her apartment, where that familiar stranger kidnapped her, brought her to this place, knocked her out.

  Knocked out—she made it sound as though she was assaulted, and by the way she was feeling, perhaps she was. And far worse than any morning after she’d experienced in the past. No, this was something else entirely. If she didn’t know any better, she would assume there was some sort of drug involved, but Alex’s experience with the same were non-existent. She was only certain she had passed out.

  Once Alex could gather enough strength, she braced her arms alongside her body and attempted to push herself out of bed again. She felt woozy and unbalanced once standing, but she managed to steady her feet underneath her as she used the edge of the bed to regain her balance.

  The floor beneath her was unnaturally warm, grey and smooth, like marble but still comfortable against the bottoms of her feet. Peering through the room’s dim candlelight, the furniture around her left much to be desired. From what she could see, the room appeared to be more of an infirmary than sleeping quarters. There was the simple bed she was in with a plain bedside table next to it. In one corner rested an empty armchair, and in another there stood a three-paneled changing screen. The walls were bare other than a shelf of medical implements— jars of ointments, stacks of bandages— and the only way out of the drab room was a slightly opened door.

  Taking this as a subtle cue, she approached the door quietly, uncertain about what waited for her. She tried familiarizing herself with her new surroundings before venturing out further, but from the crack through the door all she could see was a dimly-lit hallway, much like her room. Taking a deep breath, Alex slowly pushed the door open, praying that it didn't make any noise. Lucky for her, the door swung open quietly and without resistance, allowing her to step out into the dark hallway.

  Her heart banged against her ribcage as she slowly made her way down the unknown corridor, and she rubbed her palms against the skirt of her wrinkled, stained dress. A shiver ran down her spine as she drew her gaze towards the smooth, stone walls that matched the warm floor of which she walked upon, and nothing seemed to want to give away where the hell she was.

  The only remarkable thing she could defer was, on either side of the hallway, were closed doors, similar to hers, with no inkling of what awaited behind them. She would have assumed she was the only one within their proximity, until Alex swore she heard hushed voices coming from the end of the hallway. Hoping to find answers as to where she was, why she was there, and how she could get home, she crept towards the whispers, finding them in the last door on her left-hand side. Stilling her approach against the wall, the warmth now pressing against her back, she angled her head just enough to peer towards the room’s slightly-opened door. A dim blue light streamed into the hallway, and she was close enough to confirm she wasn’t hearing things— there were people talking, and she was no longer alone.

  “Reylor was overseeing the attack. I would know his presence anywhere.” She recognized that voice as the savior yet also the kidnapper from before, though now he was speaking in that same odd language, and still she found that she knew every word being spoken.

  “Do we know how did he was able to do so? He couldn’t have had a Key in place.” The second voice sounded older, and distant.

  “He wasn’t there. He communicated via orb only. As for the Key, apparently his mage had just placed it, or so he said. I assumed it was somewhere in her apartment. I tried to find it after he broke into the residence, but she was too close to home. If I didn’t take Alexstrayna when I did, she’d be recuperating in the Borderlands rather than here.”

  “What does she know, Treyan?”

  Treyan. She had heard him called so back at her apartment. Alex locked that bit of information away for later as she continued to listen.

  “Nothing—yet... Perhaps that’s for the better at the moment, until she has time to get her bearings.”

  “You’ll need to work on
that, my Prince, and the sooner all the better. As for now, we must focus on the Empress, and getting her acclimated to the Empire.”

  At that, the voices quieted. Alex crept closer in an attempt to hear more of what was said, but the door opened before she could hear anymore, and she was face to face with the same man from her apartment, as if he was waiting for her.

  “We have got to stop meeting like this,” the man from the street said with the same accented intonation as before. His blue eyes glimmered in the candlelight as he watched her, his familiar smile quickly becoming more of a psychological annoyance than a curiosity. Without further delay, she took a step away from him, finding a wall to hug, uncertain as to what she should say or do with this unknown man who always seemed to be there.

  She stared at him, remembering that she knew nothing about him, and that sudden recollection led to her the much-needed realization about her whereabouts. She still didn’t know where she was—was she even in Massachusetts anymore? There was no way anyone in the city could, let alone the suburbs, had an underground labyrinth of candle-lit hallways beneath their homes. As the panic of the unknown began to take root, her breathing became short and her head began to spin, the migraine from earlier beginning to resurface. How long had I been asleep? Alex thought to herself. She didn’t feel physically assaulted other than the pounding headache, but then again, she didn’t remember how, exactly, she passed out in the first place, and—

  “Alexstrayna? Are you alright?”

  Hearing that variation of her name, she looked up to him. Gathering herself together, she took another step away from him, around him, and into the new room, hoping to situate herself anywhere but close to him while she regained her thoughts.

  She remembered the voices from not moments ago, but as she looked around now, there was no one.

  She made herself stop her panic to observe her surroundings. The room was similar to the one she just left—simple, oddly warm, with candles in sconces along the bare walls. There was a bed, a bedside table, an empty chair in the corner and a wall lined with shelves and cabinets. Nothing out of the ordinary, as rooms go, and nothing to give her any idea as to where the hell she was.

  She turned to her captor, anger and anxiety swelling simultaneously within her chest. “Where am I?” she breathed.

  “You’re safe,” he offered calmly, and she felt a flicker of rage grow within her at the very non-specific answer.

  “Who were you talking to?” she pressed. “Where did he go? If you’re not going to give me the answers I need, maybe he will.”

  “Please, Alexstrayna, calm down,” he said smoothly, as though in an attempt to calm her nerves, but her anger was steadily growing as she began walking towards him, her hands clenching into fists as her frustration grew.

  “You’ll tell me now, or the next call I make will be to the authorities.”

  He put his hands up before him defensively, but there was a look in his eyes seemed almost challenging, as if he dared her to make that call. She didn’t want to mention that she didn’t even know where her phone was, but she’d find one if needed. “You’re only making yourself upset. You just need to listen—”

  “Upset?”

  She let out a sarcastic chuckle.

  “Of course, I’m upset. I don't even know where I am!” She motioned to her surroundings in a great sweeping motion. “You're in here, talking to someone that doesn't even exist. I don't even know who you are when you know way too much about me. Random guys with red eyes are breaking into my apartment and talking to floating things in my fireplace! Not to mention, I can understand a talking floating ball of fire.” She took a heaving breath. “And now I'm somewhere I never asked to be. You took me against my will. My head is pounding, I need a shower, and yet, I’m not allowed to be upset?”

  Her hands itched with uncontained destructiveness that made her want to grab the closest thing and break it. Her attention turned toward the bed, and she approached it with determination as the tore the bedclothes off, throwing them behind her, which in turn knocked the candleholder from the bedside table to the stone floor. She paused only to assess the damage she caused, and she realized didn’t care who they may have belonged to so long as she had at least something within the moment that she could control. This destructiveness was something that she could claim to be her own, even if it was a destructive energy that wanted to escape. It was hers to claim, hers to cherish. Hers at that moment, and no one else’s. As a final exclamation to her efforts, she picked up a water pitcher and threw it, full-force, against the wall just above the stranger’s shoulder.

  “Are you done now?” he inquired looking at the mess, unamused and unflinching with his arms across his chest while he watched her.

  “No!” she screamed. To emphasize her point, she moved towards the closest wall as if to kick it as hard as she could, but her rampage ended when sudden but inevitable pain erupted from her foot. Looking down, she saw the blood first before she realized she stepped upon the shattered bits of the pitcher she threw only moments ago. She knew she should care more, but instead allowed the agony to overtake her—the pain, the helplessness, the confusion; her legs gave way from underneath her and she crumpled to the floor.

  Only then, when she gave into everything—her surroundings, her emotions—did the burning of tears sting her eyes, their warmth running down her cheeks as the harsh sobs escaped, shaking her entire body. She lowered her head to her knees in an attempt to center herself, to hold herself together in a way. She forced herself to take a deep breath, followed by another before she was able to turn her head up toward the bleak ceiling, as if some unknown answer would come to her.

  No answer came to Alex as she sat there, tears still streaking their way down her cheeks. No divine intervention. Just a blank, white stone ceiling staring back down at her, akin to how she felt at that moment. Empty. Maybe it was because of that loneliness but once the rage began to dissipate, she felt the only thing she could control now were her tears, so she cried until she was able to cry no longer.

  Soon she felt very cold, though her skin began to heat with sweat. Her body shook uncontrollably as though ice flowed through her veins, but every gasping breath she took seared her lungs like a white-hot raging fire. The walls of the room began to close in on her, even though she clenched her eyes tight. Alex whimpered through her sobs, because he was next to her then as he always seemed to be.

  The stranger draped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, his body’s warmth a comfort, soothing her inner fire and warming her icy blood. She knew she needed to calm herself down, knew that she’d be no good to herself in trying to figure a way out if she couldn’t regain control. So instead of fighting or pushing him away, she leaned into him, using him for support not only of her body, but of her mentality as well. She closed her eyes and willed her breaths to slow and used the pounding of his heart within his chest to even out the beating of her own.

  Leaning against him still, she allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and consider who this individual was since he seemed to know her so well. Where did he come from, and why had he been so willing to help her back at her apartment? She didn't even know him, despite how well he seemed to know of her. She tried to place him—had he come into the coffee shop recently? Had their paths crossed somewhere before in the city? Or maybe she knew him from before, when she lived with her parents. A distant friend of a friend who felt the need to reconnect after all this time? But it didn’t explain any of this—where she was, what she saw… This was like a dream, and the harder she tried to consider, the further from an answer she seemed to drift, and the more frustrated she got with herself. For the moment, she decided she would stop trying. If she allowed him the opportunity to explain, answers would come…eventually anyway. She’d only have to bide her time while remaining on her guard, and until then perhaps the way out would reveal itself if she stopped trying to look for it.

  She lost track of how long they remained like
that, with her eyes clenched tight, and her head burying deeper into his shoulder. Eventually, she found her voice, but all she could get out was a weak whisper. “Why?”

  “Shh,” he murmured as he pet her hair. “It will be okay. This will all make sense soon enough.”

  She looked up at him then, and he was already watching her. The look he gave her was not one a stranger would give. As though he knew her better than he wanted to admit, that she should know him as well. She felt almost guilty, a tugging in her gut pulling her towards him in this unknown familiarity. That, for some reason, her instincts wanted her to remain with him rather than run away. That with him, she would be safe. That even if they had never met before, there was a reason they knew each other now. A truth in it, a purpose. Something more.

  Still, Alex tried to find him in her memory, daring to look over his features, trying her best not to stare but unable to help herself. Nothing surfaced, and yet, she felt safe with him. She felt as if the essence of their souls knew each other intimately, but nothing else about her did.

  It wasn’t until she noticed his grin that she realized how long she had been staring at him. She broke their gaze quickly as a blush heated her cheeks and forced her attention to take in the rest of the man who held her in his arms. He truly was flawless. He wore a loose-fitting shirt over jeans, his feet bare like hers, and his long hair now fell beyond his shoulders, dark strands sweeping across his forehead and tucked behind his ears. She was drawn back to his eyes again, those eyes that she couldn’t drag herself away from and his gaze still hadn’t strayed from hers.

  The words came out as a whisper as she finally turned away.

  “I don't know you. I shouldn't know you. I don't want to know you.” The doubt wouldn't escape her stubborn heart, insisting she did know him.