The Pain in My Heart [Completed]

Chapter Twenty-Seven ~Crista

I had thought the silence would consume me, and drive me mad but the quietness is actually quite soothing. What other time do I get silence? Not in my sleep, that's for sure.

The questions spring through my mind. What am I supposed to do to stop this? Why do I keep having these dreams? Why are they changing ever so slightly? Is this something that's bigger than me, or am I just making this dark fantasy in my head? A way to cope?

If I indeed created these dreams to cope, I would surely be mad. I try to follow my dreams, but every time I try, I just get pulled away. And the fact that I know I'm dreaming in the first place is creepy enough. Never before was I able to dream lucidly, why now? What's changed? Although, that question is not specific enough. What has changed to cause me this personal hell? That's better.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Axil asks, and it's the first time he has spoken since this morning.

"I'm thinking, what changed? How did we get here? How did we get ourselves into this situation and how do we get out? And maybe we are just a tiny part of some elaborate plan. A pawn in a game of chess. We're brought out into the playing field first with no direction as to how the game will end." I pause to catch my breath. "And you owe me more than a copper for that."

This makes him chuckle and his voice sounds hoarse, like he slept with the window too open and the cold air caught his throat. He strides forward, in his common boots. We both sport the outfits Zaria had bought us when we ventured to the Common Realm. The flannel looks good on him, dare I say he fits being 'normal,' but his squirming around is a sure sign of his discomfort. His leather boots scuff as he trudges through the dirt path.

"So, what about you? What's going on in that big brain, Axil?"

"Honestly, not much." He breathes hard keeping his pace steady and strong. "There's really only one thing on my mind."

"That's a lie, and you know it," I tell him, breathlessly. I've somewhat adapted to his pace but there's not much that can fix our eight-inch height difference. My mom always told me I was a pocket puppy. A small bundle of energy. No wonder she's been disappointed in me.

"Alright," he says. "There's only one thing that I feel like sharing."

"And that's your hatred for Eden, I know," I answer for him. "But that's lame. When someone asks for your thoughts, you're supposed to say something deeper."

"How about this? My hatred for Eden is so deep that not even souls in hell could crawl to find it."

"O-kay," I say a little shocked, my voice cracking ever so slightly. "But," I try. "Is that any way for a future king to think about his people?"

"Eden," he laughs out the name. "She is not one of my people. She's the one taking everything away from my people." He throws his hands in the air. "What do you want me to do? Show mercy to the woman who killed your mother?"

I bite my lip, looking down. A cold wave flashes through the middle of my chest and I can feel the ache there.

You didn't even say goodbye to her before you left.

"No," I mumble. "Not at all."

His voice softens slightly. Tilting his head down to my level, he speaks. "I'm not going to turn into a monster. I'm not going to allow myself to stoop down to Eden's level." He fidgets his hands. "I don't want to have to do this," he says gripping the handle of his sword at his side. "But what other choice do I have?"

Again, all I can do is chew on the inside of my cheek.

"How can you do it?" I ask and my question seems to dance into the air because it keeps echoing in my head after saying it out loud.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Lead," I say throwing my hands up and rolling my head back. "And you can do it with such confidence, it's annoying."

"Wasn't it you, just yesterday, telling me that I needed to back off and take a break? Was I annoying you?" he says in a whiny voice.

"Shut up," I say shoving him. "There are no breaks... are there?"

"Nope," he says without hesitation.

"Every day is a new chance. What will I accomplish by taking it easy? Get a few hours of rest? That may be nice, but the work afterward will be double. Like boiling water, stand over it and the water will slowly come to temperature, but walk away and it will just boil over."

"I didn't know you cooked," I chuckle, dryly.

He laughs too, shaking his head and sighing. "This is why I didn't want you to come," he says, whining again.

"What?"

"Your spice, Crista. This is serious."

"Well, I know it's serious, but that doesn't mean we can't try to have a good time before we might die. But, if you want, I can leave you to your moping..."

"No..." he says. "No, I like it." He draws off and I can see the muscles of his face tense. "If it comes to life and death, you run. Crista." He stops and looks me in the eyes, his own squint pained and he swallows. "I mean it. I'm glad you came, but I will not tolerate recklessness." He grabs me by the shoulders and his grip is strong and tight. "I need you to understand this," he shakes me a bit, his grip tightening. "You will run."

I don't know what to say, so all I can do is nod. Nod to agree. Nod to make his grip loosen. Nod to make him stop looking at me as if he's saying goodbye. And I don't know if he believes it. His unblinking eyes stare into mine, and I stare back until I can't take it any longer.

He slowly lets go and places his hand back on the hilt of his sword. I look down at it and see the embossing on the handle. Courage.

And right then and there I made a promise to myself.

I will not run.