I Can Hear You: Two Worlds Apart

Chapter Six: Into the Abyss: Pain and Vision

The walk across the yard was agonizing, confusing, and the most excruciatingly painful experience Lydia had ever known. Emotional pain, yes, she was well acquainted with that. But this physical pain was on a whole different level. The internal musings of Ichimarou, the creature carrying her, kept flickering in her mind, accompanied by the astonished reflections of Adalyn.

"Master Ichimarou is holding someone! And a human at that!" Adalyn's thoughts ricocheted with disbelief. "When was the last time Master Ichimarou held anyone... or helped anyone?"

Each step the creature took seemed to jolt Lydia deeper into the abyss of her suffering. Her ribs screamed in protest, her entire body throbbing as she fought to keep conscious. Yet through the haze of her agony, she could still feel Ichimarou's gaze weighing on her, his thoughts scattered and confused, as if he too was unsure of what was happening.

"She has a very expressive face," Ichimarou mused, glancing down at her. "I can read every flicker of her pain. Why did I lift her up? Do I pity her? Why am I helping her? What am I supposed to do with her?"

Lydia whimpered as they climbed the steps, each one sending fresh waves of pain rippling through her fragile body. She could barely breathe, her vision blurring, her mind slipping between reality and dream.

"Did I hurt you?" Ichimarou asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. His eyes swept over her face, narrowing at her pale, drawn features as they ascended the final step. The pain was unbearable, yet there was something surreal in his tone—a flicker of concern?

But Lydia could barely comprehend it. The warmth, the light, and the surreal nature of the place they had entered tugged at her consciousness. It smelled of food—rich, savory scents that made her stomach twist in hunger despite the pain. Coffee, roasted meats, perhaps chicken or something she couldn't quite place. The pain momentarily dulled as her senses honed in on the delicious aromas.

And then, the sound hit her. Clashing metal, voices raised in argument, and, somewhere distant, a child crying. It was overwhelming. She struggled to stay present, her thoughts fractured, floating between hallucination and reality. The sudden whoosh of air near her made her flinch, and she turned her head just in time to see something that defied explanation—a floating flame, burning brightly in the air, as though gravity had no hold on it.

"Who is that Master Ichimarou is holding?" the flame's thoughts echoed through Lydia's mind. "Why is Master Ichimarou holding someone?"

The flame spun in circles as if unable to contain its confusion. Lydia wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all—being judged by a floating ball of fire, of all things. But her ribs were screaming, and she didn't have the strength for it.

"The gargoyles are here, Master Ichimarou," the flame said, its tone jittery. "They are not happy, and they've made Asa cry again."

"Not now. I will deal with it shortly," Ichimarou replied, his voice a growl. He turned toward Adalyn, his eyes hard. "Captain Adalyn, go see what's happening. I will join you momentarily."

"Yes, Master," Adalyn replied, though Lydia could feel the captain's bewilderment through the thick air.

Lydia winced as Ichimarou turned and began walking again. His long strides seemed effortless, but every jostle sent fresh spikes of agony through her body. She could barely keep her thoughts straight.

"Lumi," Ichimarou called out, his voice sharp. "Come out."

Lydia shifted her gaze just in time to see the wall ripple, revealing the dog-eared boy, Lumi. His pink hair shimmered in the low light as he emerged, his ears drooping slightly.

"Yes, Master Ichimarou," Lumi's voice was small and filled with sorrow.

"Go to the kitchen and prepare the bath in the Garden Room. Send the healer there immediately."

"Right away, Master," Lumi replied before scurrying off, his small figure quickly disappearing down the corridor.

They continued their ascent, and Lydia's head throbbed with every step. She glanced up at Ichimarou, her vision fading in and out. "How did you do that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Where am I?"

Ichimarou's grip tightened slightly, and she felt his gaze shift downward. His thoughts flickered—annoyance, curiosity, suspicion—but he said nothing.

"Silence, human," came a voice from somewhere nearby. The air itself seemed to vibrate with power, making it even harder for Lydia to breathe.

"You're hurting yourself," Ichimarou said quietly, though his tone was as commanding as ever. "Your questions will be answered soon enough... but first, you will answer mine. Who are you, and who sent you?"

Lydia's vision swam, and for a moment, she thought she would pass out. But then, something strange happened. She saw herself through Ichimarou's eyes. Pale skin, dark eyes, long hair that spilled over her shoulders like a shroud. She looked fragile, like a wisp of a person—a creature that didn't belong in this world. And alongside the image, she felt his emotions. Suspicion, yes, but something else too. Something she couldn't quite place.

What was happening? She had never experienced anything like this before. Was she seeing his thoughts? Feeling his emotions?

The air grew thicker as they ascended, until Lydia was gasping for breath, her lungs burning. A flash of a vision struck her—she saw herself standing on a cliff, the ocean crashing below, the wind whipping her hair. She was holding a bow, her fingers stained with blood. She was looking at someone—a figure she couldn't quite make out—but the love she felt for this person burned hotter than the sun.

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the vision was gone, leaving Lydia trembling and disoriented. Her chest ached, her mind spinning. What was that? A hallucination? A memory?

"You're slipping again," Ichimarou's voice was low, almost a whisper. His pace slowed as they reached a doorway that seemed to appear out of thin air. Vines of ivy, adorned with delicate blue-violet flowers, wrapped around the frame, pulsing with a soft light. The scent of the flowers was intoxicating—sweet and earthy, like rain-soaked earth in the spring.

Ichimarou reached out, his fingers brushing the vines aside as the door swung open. Light flooded the space, illuminating the room beyond. It was breathtaking—otherworldly, even. The walls were adorned with shimmering leaves and cascading flowers, glowing softly in the twilight. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, and the gentle sound of water trickling filled the room.

Lydia blinked, her breath catching in her throat as her vision swam again. For the first time, she caught a clear glimpse of Ichimarou's face—the sharp lines, the dark, predatory eyes that seemed to pierce through her. His features were harsh, yet there was something oddly mesmerizing about them. Something ancient and powerful.

But before she could process it, darkness swallowed her once more.