The historian’s gaze filled with decisiveness. His pale lips curled up with a confident smile, he raised his chin with misplaced pride as he took a deep breath, and motioned to walk past Midhir, into the chamber housing the broken altar, and the rift leading to the other side.
Alarm bells rang in his mind as Lonan brushed past him. Without even thinking, he caught the historian’s arm as he stepped into the chamber. “Wait-“
A sharp pain struck his eye. He winced, quickly pressing his palm against his eyelid. Blood slowly ran down his cheek. The melodic ringing sound he had been hearing all this time grew louder, blocking his thoughts.
The tear in the veil that had been open steadily for fifteen years until now fluctuated. The light it shed into the room grew brighter.
“Midhir!” Arwen exclaimed; her voice filled with worry as she stepped towards him.
“Let him be, Witch!” Lonan shrugged Midhir’s hand off his arm and backed into the chamber. His lips curled up with a twisted smile. “I can see though your enchantments, I can see past your spells that you use to hide among us!” His voice grew louder, overcoming the loud ring coming through the tear. “I will do what your kind refuses to! I will stop this plague once and for all!”
“You fool!” Arwen rushed past Midhir, reaching out to Lonan with both hands. Her fingers caught the air as the Historian stepped back. “There is nothing for you beyond the veil!” She shouted. “It’s not a place for mankind!” Her voice was more of a desperate plea.
Light gathered at the vortex that was the tear – particles of light spread out in a ring, blasting Arwen back violently. She fell far behind Midhir, disappearing in the smoke and mist still lingering in the air. A cold wind began to push it all away, originating from the tear.
Midhir braced himself for the blast. The ring of light passed through his body, leaving an odd, cold sensation. “Lonan!” He shouted, not giving himself the time to be surprised.
The historian raised his chin. The frigid wind blew his messy, unkempt hair from one side to the other. Seemingly bothered by it, he brushed his hair back.
The skin around his left eye was scarred beyond recognition. There was no eyebrow on that side of his face. His cheek was covered in old scars and new wounds – numerous small cuts that had bled and healed over and over again. But that wasn’t the most disturbing thing about the left side of his face. His eye glowed a bright blue. The entirety of his eye.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
There was no white, no pupil. It was a glowing bright blue.
“Ah,” His smile twisted as he noticed Midhir’s horrified expression. “I suppose the young witch wasn’t the only one keeping lies.” He chuckled as he calmly walked towards the tear.
He realised he was holding his breath when his lungs began to protest. He breathed in sharply. His mind raced – was this all a ruse to let Lonan come close to the tear? Was this all his plan? Since when had his eye been like that? He spoke before his thoughts could catch up to his mouth. “Who are you?” He hissed through gritted teeth, wishing he had his weapon in hand now.
Lonan tilted his head. “I’m me,” he said as if that clarified anything at all. “The same person you’ve known since we’ve met.” He gently touched the scars below his eye. “I don’t tend to show people these – it makes them react aggressively.”
“Since when have you been possessing him?” Midhir snapped. “Why-“
Lonan laughed out loud. “Possessing?” He shook his head, seeming almost disappointed. “No – I meant it, Midhir. I’ve always been me. And I will stop this.” He vaguely pointed at their surroundings. “An’Larion was meant to be our final bastion after Bareon fell – it was never meant to be breached by the other side. The veil here, it was supposed to be unbreakable.” He pointed at the altar. “We could have fixed it all, but it’s broken. We can’t repair it – so someone must fix it from the other side.”
Midhir bit his lips. “Why should I believe you?”
Lonan smiled. “I never lied to you.” He shrugged. “You don’t need to believe me though – there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He turned around and walked towards the tear. The vortex of light seemed to pulsate with each step he took.
“Don’t!” Arwen’s voice echoed. She ran past Midhir, extending both hands forward, her palms facing Lonan. “Stop!”
Her voice echoed loudly, both in the chamber and his mind. He felt his body freeze, and so did everything else for a split second. Then, everything resumed. Lonan stepped through the tear as Arwen’s fingers grasped at the air, and she fell on her knees.
The tear seemed to return to normal as soon as Lonan vanished. The lights gathering at its centre disappeared along with Lonan, the brighter glow reflecting off the stone walls dimmed, leaving the chamber in shadows. The frigid wind also began to calm, albeit slowly.
The back and the arms of Arwen’s uniform were somewhat torn and scratched. He could see blood slowly spreading through the cloth, turning it even darker. She was breathing heavily, holding her throat with one hand, and pressing her other hand against her chest. Her shoulders shook with each breath she took.
A part of him wanted to run up to her. To comfort her, to make sure she was alright. To pull her away from the still open tear that she had collapsed in front of. “Who are you?”