Two Thousand Years

by M. Dalto

  And that she wanted to know him.

  3

  Alex’s words hung in the air between them, and suddenly being so close to the stranger made her uneasy, uncertain, and incredibly uncomfortable.

  As the haze of her panic subsided, her defenses kicked back into high-gear. This was the same man who kidnapped her, took her from her home, and wasn’t telling her why. Regardless of what her heart may believe, despite how safe he may make her feel, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

  She gathered herself up off the floor and out of his arms, but forgot the searing pain within her injured foot, and managed to hobble herself away before collapsing on the edge of the bed. She looked down at her bare foot, where the blood began to pool and the skin bruise and swell, and she cringed as she tried to move her toes.

  “You really should let me look at it. You may still have pieces of ceramic in there.”

  She knew he was right, and soon he was kneeling in front of her at the bed.

  “May I?” He motioned to her injured foot. She nodded and gently lifted it out for him, resting her heel on his extended knee.

  His hands were soft as he gingerly handled her foot. She let out a sharp yelp here and there as his fingers tested pried at various spots along her sole and toes, and when he seemed satisfied with his examination, he gently placed the appendage back on the ground and stood up, walking over to the wall of cabinets and drawers across from the bed.

  Taking a breath to calm her nerves, she decided now was as good a time as any to open up a line of communication. “Okay...” she struggled to remember his name.

  “Treyan.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Treyan,” he reminded her from over his shoulder.

  “Treyan,” she sighed. “Please, tell me. I need to know what's going on.”

  He continued to rummage through the high cabinets along the wall. For a moment she wasn't sure if he had heard her on not.

  “Okay, never mind. You can just bring me back to my apartment now and we can pretend this whole encounter never happened. We can both go along our merry little ways and continue on with our mundane lives.”

  He turned back to her then, a small tweezer-like tool in one hand, a roll of gauze and bandages in the other, and he knelt back in front of her, gently lifting her foot to his knee again.

  “I can’t do that,” Treyan finally said softly, his focus wholly on her foot.

  She winced as he began to work, pulling the broken pieces of the pitcher from her foot. “Oh, yes, I think you can.”

  He shook his head and sighed, his eyes focused on her foot. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, Alex, I know you. Doesn’t that give you reason enough to want to remain and figure out why?”

  Alex bit her lip as she watched him. “Yes. Yes, it does. Of course, it does,” she said quickly. “So, tell me, and then I can go home.”

  “Do you truly think if you returned home, you could forget any of this ever happened?"”

  She peered at him. “Denial is a powerful force.”

  He snorted and continued. “The denial you mention would undoubtedly drive you insane. Of course, you could try to figure it all out on your own, but eventually you’d make yourself crazy because no matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to place my face.”

  He glanced up and her wide eyes met his careful gaze. There was no humor in those blue eyes. Not even as he spoke, “It would destroy your last bit of sanity to the point where you would begin to claw the skin away from your fingers while you worked at the bricks of that fireplace in your apartment, just hoping for the glimmer of a chance that I would again appear.”

  She stared at him, blinking, still trying to determine if he was joking or not. But he continued to work away on her foot, wrapping the bandage tightly to help quell the bleeding, not once looking up at her as he went on.

  “I would think you would have started with the easier question first. Where am I, Treyan? That would have been what I would have asked. I have brought you to a location totally unfamiliar to you. Do you not want to know where you are?”

  “I do.”

  He looked up to her then, his expression blank.

  “You say this, yet these are not the first questions out of your mouth.”

  “Technically, I didn't ask any questions.”

  He smirked as he returned to wrapping her bandaged foot. "Your logic is an excellent trait for an Empress."

  "Why do you keep calling me that?"

  "Because you, Alex, are the Queen Empress, especially if I have anything to say about it.”

  Her frustration at him avoiding to give answers began to rise, but the pain in her foot was a lesson she didn't need to be taught again. Cringing at the memory, she tried her best to remain calm, willing herself to take another deep breath in as she carefully tried to word what was to come next.

  “You’re in the Empire,” Treyan finally said before she could admonish him again.

  “What does that even mean? Which Empire?”

  “The Empire, and you are its Empress. The Queen Empress. One from a long line of those chosen from the Otherrealm thanks to the Prophecy.”

  Once again, Alex was almost at a loss for words. Treyan sighed. “You are Queen Empress Alexstrayna, the daughter of Fire and Light.”

  Alex swallowed. “That’s not my name,” she challenged, looking for something, anything she could say to reel in the conversation.

  “It is,” Treyan insisted. “You may have been Alexandra Ross within the Otherrealm, but within the Empire, you are Alexstrayna.” He smirked slightly. “Though I suppose either way, Alex still works.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “You may not, not for a long while. Just know that the Prophecy of the Fire and the Light determined your destiny long ago, Alex, even before you were born.”

  “So...?”

  “‘So’ what, Empress?” He smiled at her as he stood up, now finished with tending to her wound. Her foot still throbbed, but the tight bandage would help any swelling go down. He sat in the chair across the corner, crossing his legs and folding his hands across his lap while he sat back, looking her over as if he was about to hold court.

  “So, who are you?” She adjusted herself on the bed, situating herself on the edge of the bed as she prepared herself for a long, uneasy conversation.

  “I am Treyan, Crown Prince of the Empire. It is my sworn responsibility to oversee my lands, and more importantly, acclimate you to them.” He leaned back in the chair, strong arms folding over his solid chest. “Go ahead, ask another.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled as she sighed, bracing her arms on the bed. “Other than your Prophecy, why am I really here?”

  “You are here because I made the decision to bring you here—a split-second decision, mind you, that probably saved your life.”

  “From who? That guy who broke into my apartment?”

  Treyan nodded.

  “But you knew him.” She meant it as a question, but she was more focused on maintaining her breath.

  “Knew of him, yes. I did not catch his name, but he was an underling like all of the others. Not truly the real threat, but close.”

  “Underling?”

  “To Reylor.”

  Another name she assumed she was supposed to know. “And who is Reylor?”

  He smirked. “Now we're getting somewhere.”

  Treyan ran his hands through his hair as he leaned forward in the chair, his elbows rest on his knees, looking at her as he prepared himself. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited, ready to listen intently and hoping for answers to her questions.

  “Who is Reylor?” He repeated the question more to himself. “To answer your question, Reylor is my brother. My twin brother, if you want to get technical. Also, now, my estranged twin brother, but some things couldn’t be avoided, I suppose. I chose my path, and he chose his, and here we are.” He shrugged.

  “It was your brother who
was behind that ball of fire? The one in my apartment—he knew where I lived. And knew who I was. Does he know about me and this Prophecy too?”

  Treyan held her stare, and she wasn’t sure if she had asked too much or not enough. She swallowed, glancing down at the mattress where she sat, suddenly uncertain if she wanted to know any more answers. Maybe Treyan didn’t want to talk any more either, considering the silence that fell between them.

  When he stood from the chair a few moments later, she allowed herself to watch him as his moved towards the wall of cabinets and shelves, his hands moving over the various items and supplies resting there.

  “Reylor knows more about you than even I wish,” he said quietly, distracted.

  “Is he a threat?” she asked carefully.

  He glanced over his shoulder as he said, “Consider everything you once knew about the life you’ve lived until this very moment, and then ball it up and throw it out that door. That same world will now forever be changed because of who you are and what you were meant to be. And when you finally walk into that new world, you’ll discover it now possesses so much more meaning than the one I took you away from.” He turned to face her fully. “Once you realize what you are woven into, Alex, you will find that small apartment in Boston is nothing compared to this.”

  She sat there, staring at him, allowing herself to process everything she was hearing. Other than the intense dramatics, she felt like things were about to get much deeper than she expected. Yet, she wanted to know more.

  His blue eyes darkened as he watched her, and she settled herself back down and continued to listen, making herself remain patience until he was done.

  He let out a breath as though he could sense her unease, or the way his tone affected her. “When the suns rise tomorrow, you’ll see how things truly are here, Alex. Unfortunately, so will Reylor. From tomorrow forward, your life will become a bloody battlefield that will determine the outcome of existence... for all of us.”

  “How? How do I come into all of this? As far as I can tell, from what you’re saying, this seems like nothing more than you and your brother needing to learn how to play nice.”

  “You come into this because you have to, Alex,” he informed her, almost desperately. “Right now, the more I tell you the more I know you’ll try to figure it out, and it will do nothing but confuse you further. You just need to trust me—”

  “I don’t even know you!”

  “Trust that time will explain everything so long as you allow it.” He spoke calmly, slowly beginning to put the rest of the bandages away.

  “How much time do you think I have?” she blurted, standing from the bed. “I don’t have time to be in the middle of these games. I have to go home—I have a job, friends, rent to pay—a life there! Did I mention my father’s a cop? He’s going to be looking for me, and trust me, you do not want to be on the other end of that search.”

  “I’m not telling you this to upset you, but you have to know that whatever life you had before no longer means anything.”

  “What are you talking about?” she challenged. “Of course, it means something. And right now, it means a hell of a lot more than your damn Prophecy."

  His eyes lingered on her for a moment, studying her.

  “Alex, you are finally home. Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere else you need be because this is where you belong.”

  “That makes no sense!”

  “Yes, it does, you just need to trust me. Believe when I tell you that Boston was nothing more than a myth. A cover, a protection from the future that awaited you until the time was right. That time is now. This—right here, right now—is where you are meant to be.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don't even know where ‘here’ is! Maybe I don't want to walk out that door or wake up in the morning to see whatever it is you want me to see!” She was getting irritable, tired and extremely angry. “Maybe you should take me back to Boston, real or not, and leave me in peace!”

  He rolled his eyes and walked back towards her, this time with his arm extended to take her hand in his. “Would you rather spend another night in a recovery room?”

  She looked at him, then at his hand, then back up to him again. “What?” Was he threatening me now? She wondered, swallowing hard and trying not to show her fear.

  “It's getting late, and tomorrow will be another long day.”

  “I already told you, I'm not walking out that door.” She planted her feet on the floor for emphasis, despite the pain that coursed through her in doing so.

  He looked at her like a parent waiting for their rebellious child to learn that arguing was going to get them nowhere and sooner or later they were going to need to give in. Still, she refused to take his hand, so he took it for her and pulled her up.

  She stumbled as she tried to avoid putting weight on her injured foot, which in turn landed her exactly where she didn't want to be—in Treyan's supportive, welcoming arms. He was about a head taller than she was, so to look at him she needed to arch her head slightly. As their eyes met he again brought a gentle palm to her cheek, his skin warm to the touch, the hint of callouses on his fingers as if he used his hands to work on a daily basis. The caress against her skin, however, was more intimate than she would have expected, and her breath hitched when his thumb slowly ran over her cheekbone.

  That same nostalgic warmth that overcame her before was once again welcoming, but there was still the rational part of her mind that told her something about this connection wasn't right. His scent wanted to overwhelm her, like cloves and cinnamon in mulled apple cider on a crisp fall day. It was the epitome of comfort and warmth and she didn’t want to leave.

  “Treyan...?” she whispered.

  “Goodnight, Alex.”

  “Goodnight?”

  Instead of an answer, he leaned in, pressing his cheek against hers, his lips brushing against her ear as he once again whispered those unknown words. As her body went limp in his arms, her world, once again, dimmed to darkness.

  4

  Images from Alex’s life danced within her subconscious through flashes of color and light.

  Her parents’ home with its sprawling lawn, gravel driveway, orchards where she used to spend countless days running, hiding and climbing.

  Her days in school, growing up and discovering who she really was, and the friends who had come and gone because of how often she would rather lose herself in a book than play sports or join the drama club.

  The only boyfriend she ever had, what she gave him. What she lost to him. And what drove her to finally move into the city those years ago.

  Her life in Boston, with its small apartment and underpaid barista job.

  Her parents with their passive-aggressive comments and judgmental inquiries about her own life’s decisions.

  Crystal and her other friends made since relocating, singing and dancing for her birthday at Ned Devine’s in Faneuil Hall.

  She dreamed of the Crown Prince and she remembered his touch.

  She dreamed of the banished twin and she remembered his fear.

  She dreamed of the Queen Empress and she remembered her name.

  Alexstrayna.

  The Empress's gown was sewn in silver thread and inlaid with precious gemstones. On her head sat a crown of the finest gold and purest diamonds. Her feet were bare as she stepped out onto the sun-drenched terrace, her anklets jingling with every step. Her terrace had the best view of the whole of the Empire—her Empire. As she approached the railing to look out upon the gardens below her, she placed her left hand instinctively on her swollen belly, the sun sparkling over the diamond wedding ring comfortable on her finger, as her right hand grasped the railing. Before, this view would have made her stomach churn, but today she was calm, content, and glowing. As she looked out over her home, she finally felt as though there was a feeling of peace; a final, overlying peace she knew took centuries to settle. But they had finally done it—the victory was theirs. Taking a deep breath, she sm
iled and closed her eyes as she soaked in the sun, savoring this moment, enjoying it until the very end.

  In the distance, armies were gathering on the mountaintop that overlooked their valley. The mages were restless now that they were without true leadership, and she often wondered if they ever had spouses or lovers who yearned for them in their beds. But she knew they were aware as to what was happening—what was soon to happen—and this peace, too, would be just a distant memory.

  "Empress?" a voice beckoned from behind her. "It’s time."

  "Just a moment," she responded, a sad smile came to her face as she accepted her fate yet again. Giving her Empire one final glance, she gathered her skirts around her and let the terrace doors slam shut.

  With a flash and a shimmer, those closed doors reopened, and instead of looking over a field of green, she saw nothing but blackened and charred remains of a desolate civilization. Here she ached, felt beaten, as though all hope she had previously felt was as heavy of a weight as the dark tapestries that hung around her. She didn’t know this room, and there was something foreboding about it that made her not want to.

  Attempting to escape would be futile, a voice in the back of her psyche reminded her. Defeated, she limped away from the balcony, back through the doors towards the bed within, those heavy draperies, dark and depthless, swirling as the doors slammed shut behind her.

  Within, someone was waiting for her.

  An unseen power pulled on her, drawing her to the bed, and with no control of her own, ethereal chains lashed out, clamping down upon her limbs, pulling her with a force stronger than any she could fight, until she was secure to the bed.

  She couldn’t move. The harder she tried to fight against the force leashing her upon that foreign bed the tighter they held her extremities.

  The vulnerability and helplessness stole her breath, and she wanted to scream. Tried to as the panic struck her fiercely, but no words escape, no sound emitted from her. As though she was in a void as dark as those curtains.