(MalexMale) The Crimson Immortal [Crimson Immortal Series: Book 4]

17: Memory Dreams

Zhil didn't dare to disturb Auran while he rested. There was something particularly cold about the Lich King's presence that caused him much unease. Maybe it was because of how silent Auran was or because he watched him closely. Whatever the cause, Zhil couldn't find the exact reason. They had barely spoken to each other after months of care. Zhil didn't know how to strike up a conversation with Auran either. Auran was too difficult to read and too unpleasant to want to get to know.

The two fell into a routine after some time. Zhil didn't press Auran for conversation, and neither did Auran. They kept each other at arm's length and merely ebbed and flowed along the gentle waves of a steady stream from day to day. There were times when Auran was supposed to help Zhil recuperate and he'd suddenly disappear. Zhil was left alone for days. However, other ghosts remained at the manor to assist him during those times. Zhil assumed Auran's disappearance to be personal because even the Immortals didn't know where he'd run off. Auran always returned in the same stoic and unemotional manner and pretended nothing happened. The more Zhil healed, the more he became independent, and Auran would turn from a caretaker into a guard.

Zhil sat on a cozy bed in the main bedroom of the manor staring out the window. The night sky was clear and shined bright, full of stars. Rima had told him to treat the place as a home. She hoped that by having Zhil around familiar surroundings, he would be able to recover his lost memories faster. However, Zhil only found it bizarre to be sleeping in someone else's room. Months had passed since, and Zhil recovered a little.

Zhil sat awake, having been roused from a nightmare. Within the nightmare memory, the woman, Mysia, forced him to do many things against his will. She violated his body and tortured him in multiple ways. It made his body feel foreign to him, revolting even though he could tell he didn't enjoy it. His stomach churned, understanding that it was all for her pleasure. He ended up with more plaguing questions. How could he have been deceived so easily? How did he fall for her manipulation to stay with her? Why would he choose to be abused by her?

Accompanying the nightmare was a phantom pain coursing through his right arm and the helplessness he felt while a curse weaved its way through him. He finally understood some of what happened to him. The Never Waking Curse, her curse, the curse that made his nightmare all the more real. He had been cursed but hadn't succumbed to it.

Zhil rested his head in his hands. A tightness grew in his chest the more he thought. Frustration, anxiety, apprehension, and dread quickly gained tread as his heart pumped faster. Fluttering and making his breathing shallow and short. He created two small fireballs in an attempt to illuminate his worry away. To let him know he wasn't imprisoned by the Lich Queen anymore.

Is this what he felt? Zhil asked himself and paused, gazing at the flickering green fire when a partial memory returned to him. Fear. He remembered the man was afraid of the dark. He twirled the same flames above their heads in a whirl of dancing fire. The man didn't seem particularly interested, but his expression was soft as if he appreciated the gesture.

"Who are you to me?" Zhil whispered.

Each time the man appeared in his recollections, he felt something burn within him. Sometimes, it was guilt, and it boiled sour in his gut and left him feeling nauseous. Other times, it was a longing passion of a fire from a billowing hearth. He felt warm and safe when the man was by his side. It was clear they had some sort of relationship.

Zhil sighed. He hated not remembering. He hated being confused. He really hated being teased with memories that revealed almost nothing. He wanted to clear the fog and learn who he was, learn who he was supposed to be and learn who the Immortals wanted him to be.

The moon dipped behind the horizon, allowing the sun to rise when Zhil finally fell asleep. In his dreams, a new memory unveiled itself. Not in the form of a nightmare but a pleasant dream of his childhood. He watched his father work on magical tools. His father was nearly a spitting image of the grown-up Zhil, with unruly hair tied up into a messy ponytail and built like the old Zhil. The only exception was that Zhil's father had an intact pair of blue eyes.