Just moments ago, before I stepped through the mirror, I had the luxury of control and morals. I carried restraint like a second skin, like a divine, unshaken armor, but the second I stepped through, all of my self control crumbled.
What remains is this beating drum in my chest, fever, blood rush, and a devastating pull toward the curve of this woman's lips. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to fist my hand in this raven-dark hair and tug at it, hard, until her head tilts back under the pressure.
To wake her up—not like a normal mundane who's reasonable would, but like an animal who's been in hibernation, and now awake, filled with inglorious thirst and hunger.
Adonai help me.
I hope I haven't slipped into the body of a mentally deranged pervert? Why can't I think of anything else? Is this how crazy mortals get when they come face to face with something beautiful? Or is it just this man whose skin I now wear as my own, whose eyes I now see from?
Her warm breath brushes against my face, and only then do I notice the narrow space between us. Just as the tip of my nose touches hers, her eyes open, freezing me in place.
Something inside my chest slams hard against my ribs, as if trying to claw its way out. She remains still and quiet, as though being kissed awake is not a surprise to her. Then her gaze lowers to my lips but doesn't return upward, instead, something steals her attention.
I follow the line of her sight.
A soft breeze drifts through the hut's open entrance, catching the edges of the curtain. The fabric billows inwards, granting us a sliver of the world outside—including vague moving shadows and their distant voices.
We're not alone.
A knot tightens in my gut—not quite panic, not quite fear, but something dangerously close to both. And then, as if she's plucked the thought straight from my mind, she jerks on the mat, the clatter of chains-on-chains shatters the silence.
My attention snaps back to her. Unlike in Aravoth, where it's forbidden to let your gaze stray below the collarbone of your brothers, there's no law here to shield me from the raw, brutal truth of her body.
I look—I truly look—only then do I finally see the truth of her situation; the stitched rags clinging to her body are stiff with dried mud and old blood. Her bare feet are split open from endless and unkind walking. Thick iron shackles bite deep into her wrists and ankles, leaving angry welts swollen and raw.
She's a prisoner. But what crime could a creature like her possibly have committed to earn such cruelty?
When I drag my gaze upward, those piercing gray eyes are already on me, startling and accusatory. I'd been so consumed by my own selfish hunger, that I didn't notice the exhaustion carved into her face. It looks as if she's spent too many nights without rest, and I... I'd just foolishly robbed her of what little rest she has.
A tired frown creases her brow, "What are you doing here?"
What am I doing here? That's another question I should have asked myself—no, asked Raziel—the second I got here. The first question is why he revealed her to me at all. And how do I get back—
"I'm asking you a question."
The sound of her voice slides down my spine like cold fingers. There is no rational reason for this fear I'm suddenly feeling, yet I lurch to my feet, compulsively dusting my knees before recoiling several steps away from her, like I'm following a voiceless order.
I should probably introduce myself, starting with my name. I clear my throat, almost instinctively. "I come in peace." I raise my hand to my mouth and give myself a light slap. You come in peace? That's not only absurd, it's foolish. You're Malak, Fury, so show her Malak, and not some frightened mortal. "I'm not here to hurt you, never fear." Again, the automatic words slip out before I can think. That's not what I intended to say. I want to apologise for waking her up, but why aren't I doing that?
She looks on, then lets out a dry, brittle laugh. "You're playing a dangerous game, Abel. I forgive you for what you did. I can almost say I deserved it. But... will Cain forgive you... when he finds out what you're doing here?"
Cain.
Cain?
My fists tighten before my mind can catch up. I have no memory of "Cain," no guide or a narrative explaining the "what you did" she just referenced. But the name—as powerful as it sounds, doesn't stir up any emotion in me. In fact, I feel eager for "Cain..." to find out.
"I don't care." Hmm, I think I just mentally shuddered at my own quiet growl. "I don't care if he finds out."
If he finds out about what, Fury? Do you even know what she's talking about? Have you even met the "he" you're speaking of? "I'm sorry I bothered you." I manage.
But unfortunately, my words and actions move in opposite directions. I might be apologizing for cutting her rest short, yet my hand is reaching for the cold weight of her shackles, and I'm tugging her gently behind me.
Where am I taking her?
We barely make it to the entrance when a shadow hardens into a man—a wall of muscles with eyes like burning embers.
"Brother?" His voice rumbles out, deep and heavy, heavier than the mountains. "What took you so long?" his gaze flickers between me and the still figure behind me.
I lift my head slowly, tilting just enough to meet his stare. Could he be Cain? Cain is my brother?
"Was she resisting?" he asks, almost idly, as if the answer won't change a thing.
An involuntary scoff leaves my throat. "She can try." I say.
What is going on? Cain walks in, and suddenly the softness I held just a second ago vanished, replaced by a chill that cuts sharper than any blade.
And I keep saying things I don't want to say, things I don't understand. All I'm in control of, are my thoughts,
"Come on, then," Cain says, already disappearing out the curtain like smoke. "If we're lucky, we'll reach Talva before nightfall."
My feet, however, remain heavy on the spot, almost as if I'm acting on someone else's silent wishes. I force my eyes away from the swaying curtain and zeroes it on the prisoner. Her eyes catch mine, locking my gaze with the same fierce intensity.
And... there goes that invisible thread again. Always pulling me towards her lips when no one else is watching.
But I can't let whatever this attraction is, escalate into something else. I shouldn't want her. She is not mine. Malak are not meant to feel, to love anyone else except Adonai. So the sooner the urge to kiss her goes away, the better for both of us.
So, look away from her lips, Fury. Look away... Why aren't you looking away from the temptation?
She looks away first, breaking the spell. I do to.
Phew... Finally.
I shake my head, then clamp my hand tight around her arm. The cold iron of her shackles bit into my own skin as I hauled her forward. She stumbles, catching herself without a sound.
As we cross the curtain, stepping outside, the rush of wind snatch the warmth from my body before the friendly daylight sun hits me. The bushes before me rustle together and bow as the wind sweeps over them. I look at my feet, then up, to the vast, clear sky.
I am so far away from home. I hope Adonai's love and mercy is vast enough to overlook my reckless act, and forgive my violation. I pray my brothers notice my absence soon and pull me back, before the damage I've done becomes permanent in someone else's history.
Wait...? If I've just slipped into this body, then where has the soul of this body gone?
I sigh again, my feet moving towards a waiting young man. He's also dressed in clothing made of fur but... with the look of it, mine has more quality than everyone else's, including Cain.
He straightens at our approach, and then gives a low bow. "Chief."
This head of mine dips too, and then I thrust the heavy shackles into his waiting hands. "See she keeps pace."
He bows his head again before taking the chains from my hand. "Yes, chief."
Hmm, my hand feels oddly empty now, as if something entirely different has been stripped away from it. Fighting the urge to watch her as she gets dragged away, I turn my gaze back toward the hut, next to it stands another hut. Cain's, I think.
I have never set foot here before, yet an uneasy familiarity stirs deep inside me. It feels as though I have travelled this way a hundred times. But when?
"We don't have all the time in the world, brother! Come on!"
I draw a sharp breath before breaking into a clumsy run, until I'm walking beside him, our shoulders nearly brushing.
"Why Talva?" I ask, almost carelessly.
Cain doesn't stop, but the disgusted look he throws at me is that of a man who's decided my question is too foolish to deserve the breath it costs to answer.
"It was your idea, and now you ask me?" he replies, each word clipped. "Our journey stretches longer every time we stop to breathe, and still you insisted we stop every nightfall to rest—as if we need it. Honestly, if it were just me and that filthy prisoner, we'd reach our destination in less than ten days."
Ten days?
I glance over my shoulder, looking at her. "It'll take more than ten days, that's for sure," I murmur. Her knees tremble slightly with every laboured step. How long can she keep moving with those heavy shackles? She can barely even walk.
"Fear not, brother," Cain's voice drifts over. "She's too weak to break free."
My eyes stay fixed on her limping form. "I'm not afraid," I whisper idly.
"Good!" He squeezes my shoulder lightly and shakes me. "You're a shepherd, after all. Why fear another bloodthirsty animal?" He chuckles.
Animal? I look at her again. But she's human.
"What's her name?" I ask, still watching her.
Cain snorts. "There's no name for these creatures, brother. And even if she has one... I wouldn't care to know it."
But I would. I feel so.
"She's yours, Cain," I say, letting the words roll off my tongue with a teasing lilt. "At least show her a little concern."
Cain chokes on a laugh, and the men behind us join in too. "That's rich, coming from you." He wheezes between in chuckles, eyes watering.
I tilt my head. "What? There's nothing wrong with what I said. She is your prisoner, isn't she?"
"Oh, yes," He stops suddenly. "she is indeed my prisoner. Very slick, very fast—and cunning too." he slings an arm over my shoulder and drags me in, grinning. "Do you want to know how we caught her?"
"Well… yes," I lean even closer.
The grin on his face fades out, just enough to let the seriousness in. "Did you hit your head on the wall or something?"
I pull back, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean... is that I didn't catch her, brother, you did. You put the menacles on her and brought her to me as a gift to cheer me up."
My breath catches in my throat. Because he's not joking.
I glance over my shoulder again, and this time, she's already watching me, so our eyes lock.
"You won't tell me where you found her," Cain drawls, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to yank my focus back on the road. "Or how you managed to put the menacles on her. But then again… I don't care." He waves a dismissive hand, chuckling.
My gaze flicks back to her for the hundredth times, but she looks away, hiding her disappointment.
Why, why did I do this? Why do I look at her like she matters, yet be so cruel in my actions?
She looks up again, locking eyes with mine. When she said she'd forgiven me, was this what she meant? I tear my gaze away, as if unable to hold her stare.
"Faster, witch!"
A growl tears from one of the men walking behind us, and just then, a whip cracks through the air. The harsh clink of shackles follows, then a heavy thud of something—or someone, dropping to the ground.
Cain doesn't turn, but Abel does. And my heart—Abel's heart—drops. But luckily, I'm not easily fooled. This man— Abel... if he's capable of betrayal, then he's capable of faking emotions too.
The captive girl crouches on the ground, her hand trembling as she tries to reach toward the fresh cut on her back. And as another whip latches at her again by the young lad who lad called me Chief moments ago, she screams.
My teeth clench tight against my jaw, hands curling at my sides as she gets flogged again and again.
"Get up, witch!" The young lad growls again, face hard as a rock.
She trembles, trying to push herself upright. And for a second, it almost feels as if I'm the one getting whipped. Every strike she takes lands somewhere deep inside my bone, as if her very pain... are my own.
I want to run to her. Haul her into my arms and never let them touch her again. But instead, I watch. I watch the whip connect with her back again and again, until she forces herself to her feet.
"Come on... Brother! Leave them!"