Sword and Shield | E. Lehnsherr

15. To Fix His Mistake

The best way to lay low, Ria has learned, is to hide in plain sight. She had tried to find a flight back to New York to meet with the others as quickly as possible, but none were available until nightfall, which just left her time to explore Paris. She had been there eons ago, but never truly took in the sights.

Her hand feels empty without Erik, as strange as it seems. He had left her almost instantly without a word once they escaped the public eye as if nothing had changed. Yet, everything is different. They revealed themselves to the world in a way that would gain international attention, and they caught not only her face but Erik's and Raven's as well on tape.

It's a waking nightmare.

She threw her sword and shield into the Seine and watched them sink to the bottom before she wandered around the museums. At first, she didn't know why her heart tugged her through the exhibits so quickly, but it quickly became clear.

Now, she cannot find the strength to move as she stands in a forgotten corner of the museum, staring at the ancient emerald ax and shield hidden behind glass. Dirt coats the surface from age and weather, but she knows better than to assume it to be fragile in the slightest. Her crystal never breaks.

To become the being Trask had known and that Shaw read about after spending so long denying it feels surreal. It is simply a terrible dream to imagine the well of her power springing to life in such a spectacular way, though it is her reality. The moment her crystal started to use its gifts to bend the light and the moment armor covered her body instead of cloth, the well of her power exploded, shattering everything in its path.

The small placard before the weapons brings tears to Ria's eyes. She keeps reading it and rereading it, the memories flashing in her mind like explosions. Her body refuses to move away. Even when she hears footsteps, heavy and calculated, she cannot bring herself to move.

A body comes up beside her with a wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his face. Blood still stains his neck from the multiple times she had slammed him into the concrete, and it almost makes her flinch away. The horror setting in keeps her from reacting.

For the longest time, Erik doesn't say a word, which she is grateful for. They both stare at the exhibit in silence.

"They don't know anything," she whispers when her eyes finally move away from the placard only to be trapped by the weapons in front of her. "These particular ones are not from the Trojan War."

She imagines he now glances at the placard. "Which war then?" He asks.

"One erased by time." The placard attributes time to the discolored edge of the ax, but she knows it is blood. "Why are you here, Erik?"

He does not respond.

"I doubt you're here to kill me as I asked, so what do you want from me?" She turns to face him, though his sunglasses obscure her view of his eyes. Through his eyes, she could always understand his intentions, but he's hidden now.