"Pl…please d…d..don't leave me," his voice trembled, his hair falling over his face, as he stared down at a pale face staring back at him, his hands tightly wrapped around the body resting on his arms. "Please don't do this to me, I can't lose you again, Merix. I can't." He bent slightly, clinching her against his chest.
Merix's frail hand reached for his face gently, as it cupped his jaw, sending a chill down his spine at how cold her touch was. "You are not losing me, silly." A weak smile stretched on her lips. "I'll always be here, you know it. And we're going to meet again, so don't cry." Her hands were shaking violently as they tried to wipe down her side, but he held her palm against his face, leaning on it.
"No, I don't want that." He shook his head frantically. His eyes trailed down to her body lying on the ground, covered in her blood, her side bleeding profusely.
"L..lo..ok at me," she coughed out blood.
He did.
"We would meet again, okay. And when we do—" she coughed again, her chest heaving. "I'd never leave you, Zeenare."
Zeenare cried, sniffling, "I'll come find you again when that time comes."
Zeenare looked around to see if he could find help. But there was nothing but dead bodies everywhere and soldiers running around, bombs dropping in the far distance, everything covered with clouds of dust and the scent of sulfur.
Then suddenly everything went black.
"You can never save her. You will never be able to save her." The voice echoed from every angle, even within his head.
Zeenare stared, as his eyes snapped open. He placed his hands over his head. Then sat up in bed, pushing the thick quilt from his body.
"It's that damn dream again." He groaned, placing one hand over his forehead.
He walked over to the round table in the middle of the room, tying a robe around his body.
The room door opened softly as a slim young man, probably mid-twenty to early-thirty. "Mogxecheni," he greeted, extending his right hand forward and placing his left over his tummy, bowing down halfway.
"Mogxecheni, Aluna," Zeenare replied. "Allowing him in."
Then he walked in, rolling a trolley with food on the first tier, three glowing, strange, uniquely shaped bottles, each with its different colours—lilac, green and blue.
"Sir, you look extremely pale today," Aluna said, placing the items on the table where Zeenare was sitting.
He then proceeded to open the windows, as fresh air wove its way into the room, accompanied by the chirping of birds.
"It's nothing, Aluna." Zeenare picked up the three bottles, gulping them down slowly.
Aluna stood by the entrance, clenching his jaw tight. Then suddenly spoke, "Moxee, why do you make yourself suffer like this? She's nothing but a mere human." He muttered, his voice tight, not taking his eyes off Zeenare's tensed back. But continued, "You've been suffering for so long. You can't go back to the kingdom. You can't ease yourself from this damn curse. Just following the shadows of one woman over and over again." He tried to breathe steadily, "Why don't you—."
Suddenly, everything went still.
Aluna started grunting, gasping for air, as if suffocating, his eyes bulged out, bleeding, elevated high in the air. His body twitched, as he tried to claw at his throat, but his hands wouldn't move from his side.
Zeenare's eyes were glued to him intensely, veins popping at his head, his eyes bloodshot.
"Master, please!" A man dressed in all white, with a black tie, his hair tied in a ponytail running down his back, with slightly toned skin and gold eyes, rushed into the room, straight to his knees. "Master, please! Forgive! It was a slip of the tongue."
The sound of Aluna's breaking bones could be heard through the room. And his wincing, agonising screams.
"MASTER PLEASE!" The man bowed as if to kiss the ground. "PLEASE, MASTER!" He continued begging, since that's the only thing he could do.
Zeenare walked out of the room, as a sickening crashing sound of Aluna cut through, after him.
*
I wish I'd known this would happen. I wouldn't have missed class throughout that week, then maybe I wouldn't have anything to do with him. I hope he takes the assignment during class. If he doesn't, it won't matter; Tia could always accompany me to his office, so there's no need to be alarmed.
Rhea walked through the hallway into the classroom, then made her way down the aisle to a seat in the third row from the back.
For the first thing, she was not comfortable sitting in the front seats.
Minutes later, students started pouring into the hall.
Then Zeenare walked in. Followed by a sudden hush falling over the students' chatter. Not total silence, but a noticeable dip in the noise.
Rhea didn't need to look. She felt his presence, a cold ripple that raised goosebumps on her arms despite the warm classroom.
Rhea's stomach churned the moment he stepped into the lecture hall. Every chair felt too exposed; she even tried to duck, instinctively shrinking in her seat.
As Zeenare got to the podium he started to scan the room. His gaze was slow, deliberate, like a predator assessing its territory. And then, it stopped. Directly on her.
Smiling at someone. Her wavy black hair was tied in a bun, with some loose strands at the side of her face. Dressed in a black leather jacket over what seemed like a gown, but he couldn't tell since she was sitting.
Zeenare smiled inwardly, his gaze still lingering on her, as she continued chatting. He knew she was avoiding his gaze, because her neck looked stiff, and her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Then he heard his calm, deep voice at the podium. "Good morning, class."
Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't acknowledge him. Just... breathe.
She turned her gaze to him a little, taking a glance through the side of her eyes.
But then their eyes locked.
Her heart began to fight with her rib cage, echoing loudly enough that she could hear it. In a flash, Rhea immediately snapped her head down, praying the fluorescent lights would short-circuit, praying for an earthquake, anything to escape that piercing stare.
He looked away from her, back at his tablet.
Zeenare scoffed softly. Then returned his gaze to the general class. "Are you going to avoid me like last time, again, Rhea? But I wonder how you'd do that?" He muttered under his breath.
Rhea squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then forced herself to be calm. Get a grip, Rhea. It's just a lecture nothing else. You can survive this.
The lecture began. Zeenare's voice swept through the hall. It was so calm and authoritative, that no one dared to remove their eyes from him. His voice washed over the room, like a sedative.
But Rhea heard none of it. She scribbled meaningless lines in her notebook, her mind was a frantic loop of questions.
How? Why? What? How am I going to get through this semester?
She was in her world of words. A shadow fell over her desk, causing Rhea to freeze. She wouldn't even dare look up.
"Ms. George," Zeenare's voice, low and dangerously close, vibrated right next to her ear. "Perhaps you'd care to share your thoughts on the stare decisis principle?"
Rhea's head snapped up. Zeenare stood beside her desk, a tablet in his hand, his eyes locked onto hers with an unsettling glint.
Her mind went blank. Why didn't he call on anyone else? Why did he have to come directly to me? Stare... what? Oh God. I didn't hear anything!
"I... I apologise, Sir. I was... distracted." Her voice came out as a strained whisper.
A faint, almost tiny curve touched his lips. "Indeed. Distracted." He paused, letting the silence stretch, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her. "I trust you will be more attentive moving forward, Ms. George."
He moved away, and Rhea felt the tension drain from her body, leaving her weak.
"Since it's mid-semester, you'll be assigned to lecturers for your six-week moot court prep," Zeenare announced coolly, scrolling through the names on his tablet. "Twelve per group. You'll work under supervision until the exams."
He started calling names.
"Tiffany, Rose, and Joel, you are all assigned to me. Come to my office after your classes end for the day," Zeenare informed, after calling every other group.
Rhea waited as the long list was called. But her name never came. And she was confused.
"Excuse me, sir."
She stood. Her voice was clear but tight.
"Mr. Zeenare," she called out again, her brows furrowed. As the murmuring of students died down.
Zeenare didn't take his sight from his tablet. He answered, "What is it, Ms. George?"
"I wasn't assigned to any group, Sir," she said, frowning at him.
He lifted his head, slowly, his eyes drinking in every inch of her confusion.
Zeenare smiled. That even if a person were before him, they wouldn't notice.
But Rhea did. Even though it vanished in a flash.
I think I've bitten onto a devil's bait, I shouldn't have tried at all. And now I can't vomit it out, Rhea thought.
"Ms. George, you are assigned to me. Do come along with the assignment."
"Yes Sir." She replied in a whisper.
"Class adjourned." With that, he walked out.
While some students cheered, one was worried.