Fate

Chapter Forty Two

Word Count: 1594

~Zayla

Coming to was extremely difficult, like fighting a haze in front of my conscious, battling it with an iron sword.

The pain means I'm still alive. It means the magic I used didn't kill me.

Relief if my motive to open my eyes. Feeling floods into my limbs at the same time vision reaches me. Warmth encapsulates my hand, and I can tell someone is holding it. And by the memories from before I passed out, I can tell it's Fate. When I slowly turn my head lazily to the side, I can see I am right.

He's stressed, I can see it. It's all over his face, the distraught. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and all the blood seems to have drained from his face. He doesn't even look like he's been trying to keep himself tidy to any degree. His hair is messy and disturbed, and his clothes are in complete disarray.

He doesn't smile, but I can see he is relieved. "You're awake. You're alive."

Immediately I can tell he is still uneasy being in my presence, by the flat tone of his voice, and the way he lets go of my hand the moment consciousness greets me. I struggle to sit up, leaning my back against the arm rest. I'm on a very short couch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say dismissively, as he stands from where he had knelt on the floor beside me.

He walks past me, moving into the kitchen. This place is small, but despite the heat of the desert outside, it's cool on my skin. Magic, I assume. With only a couch, a kitchen and a table with chairs surrounding it, there isn't much in this place. Not even any decorations, or rugs to cover the wooden floor. I'm curious to know who this belonged to, or if this is Fate's sulking retreat.

I watch him fill a glass of water from the sink and bring it back to me. I sip it while I watch him over the rim of the glass.

"How did you find me?" he asks.

Before I respond, I wait for him to sit down on the chair opposite me. It gives me time to think, too. Clearly, he didn't want me to find him, nor did he help me at all. It makes me oddly mad, despite the fact that I insulted him to his face. I wouldn't want to see him if he had done that to me. No matter if he is my mate of not.

"Magic," I tell him. "You taught me how to find you months ago. I simply used the same magic to find you."

He sighs, sweeping his hand back through his hair. He should have suspected it, since he has spent all that time trying to build up my abilities. It's his fault, really. Although, had I not found his diary, I would have no came out here to see him.

I would have let him sulk.

"I'm sorry, by the way. You're not like the other immortals. I was just angry," I admit to him. I mean that, too. He isn't like Time. No one is as evil as Time is. "And I don't hate you, either. I just hate this situation."

Fate isn't looking at me, but instead stares blankly at the wall behind me. "I would understand if you hate me. After all these years, I still hate myself."

I frown at his admission. Being an immortal must be hard. I may be one myself, however, I have not been put through the years of life Fate has. Just thinking about my future makes me nervous, and to think of those who already have lived centuries, I can only imagine that metal toll it must take. Despite that, I do wonder why he hasn't figured out the key to his own happiness yet.

"Why are you so hard on yourself?" I ask him. "There are happy immortals who are truly despicable."

I say that remembering the arrogant smile of Cian, and the deceptive eyes of Time.