The Price We've Paid

Alone

"Zosime of Cyclades," the voices boomed in your head. You screwed your eyes shut as you tossed in your sheets.

People were lined all around the walls, screaming...chanting your name. The air was sweltering hot, but every now and then you could feel the light breeze of a fan palm that swung in your direction.

"Zosime of Cyclades," they called again. Your heart rate quickened and breathing suddenly became harder.

You watched the people from your balcony; practically throwing themselves over fellow villagers just to catch a glimpse of you. It made you sad for them; so ready and willing to devote their lives to please you and attempt to gain your favor. All the while you did nothing but live on; an ever burning flame for the torch they'd resurrected with their belief in a higher power.

"Zosime of Cyclades!"

You remembered all the horrible acts that were performed in your name. You could barely walk the streets without one of your appointed guards nearly beating a villager to death for simply wanting to touch you. Men, women, children...it didn't matter. Someone always tried, and unlike you, they would not survive if they died.

"Zosime of Cycla-"

"NO!" You screamed, as you shot up in bed, sweat dripping down your forehead, your sheets in disarray.

You looked around, realizing where you were, as the noise of the outside world flooded your ears. There was honking of the cars that passed your window, loud conversations of those just now leaving the bars, sizzling of the steam from the pothole they never seemed to fix, and sirens of police cars that always seemed to be going off in the distance no matter the time of day.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, placing your hand on your chest in an attempt to ease your heartbeat and breathing.

You're safe, you're not back there. You're right here, in your home, in New York City. You're safe Zo.

This was not the first time you'd had this nightmare. In fact, you were more than familiar with it, given that it was more of a memory than simply your imagination. You had lived it once, though that had been hundreds of years ago.

Once upon a time, you had been sacrificed to please ancient gods; chosen because of your immense beauty and unnatural allure. You couldn't remember much about the sacrifice itself; even now you barely remembered what the pain had felt like as the ceremonial blade had been plunged into your stomach. But you do remember waking up hours later, no wound in sight.

It had been the first time you'd given death false hope...but it most certainly would not be the last.

Traditionally, sacrifices were laid out for the gods for several days before burial. It had shocked everyone when not even 24 hours after you'd been sacrificed, you'd stood up and walked out of the chamber. They were convinced that your body had been reborn as a host to one of their gods. They spent the next several decades worshiping you; though you quite disliked it.

However, time was quite unkind to immortals. The days of worshiping you quickly transitioned into hunting you and persecuting you for something you hadn't even asked for.

Thankfully you hadn't had to go through that all on your own. Though it was times like these you wished you hadn't walked away from your team all those years ago.. You missed them...especially her.

When your heart rate finally slowed to its normal pace, you rose from your bed, moving toward your bathroom to splash some cold water on your face. The tile was cold on your feet and you could feel the soft silk fabric that draped your skin swaying as you walked.