When she touches me, I lose all of my strength. Her warmth burns at me as if I’ve done something wrong, something terrible.

Because I am about to demand from her something that will hurt us both, and I deserve the pain that comes from it. I should have thought things through before now, to ensure that she would be safe, to ensure that my servants would not suffer for my mistakes.

I should have simply died back then. I should have run into the light of the sun, to let the gods do with my soul what they willed.

Syr’s warmth threatens to shatter me, the difference in our temperatures is so great. We are not meant to be this close.

Her grip is so tight that it hurts and the longer she holds me, her heat invading me, the weaker I become.

Her fingers sink into my cheeks, and she forces me to face her, but I cannot say anything. She’s asking me things, wanting answers, but if I answer her then this moment will be gone forever.

The moment I say the words that I must say, this moment will be erased as if it never happened.

If I close my eyes and hold my mouth closed, then I can steal a few more moments. I can delay.

I can pretend that all else in this world is gone and that nothing here can harm us. That there is no one hunting us.

Even if it’s a lie.

She’ll be gone.

I send all my frost into my head to freeze the thought before it can spread.

I’ll never remember her.

My mind turns to ice, expanding, cracking, fracturing, and healing. The frost does nothing to slow the thoughts raging inside.

I’m going to force her to make me forget.

The cold spreads through every part of me until I cannot move. I do not want to move. I do not want to think.

She’ll hate me for this, and she should.

Already deaf, I keep my eyes from seeing, and my skin from feeling, all to try and shut out these thoughts but still they consume me. They fill me with dread, leaving me lost and hopeless.

It will be like I never met her.

The one thing that I cannot ignore is her warm touch. It burns against my skin, searing my wounded heart and leaving me restless. She’s still trying to talk to me, trying to save me and help me.

She’s a good person, so much better a person than I. Just like Adlramodore, I’ve found excuses to permit the monster in me to act to its own whims and I’ve not been near as good a noble as I’ve intended. I was a fool to ever risk crossing paths with Aldramodore.

She will remember me. She will hate me forever.

Syr helped me to remember that these emotions inside my cold inhuman flesh are still mine, that I’m still a person even with all else that I am. That the monster is not all of me.

When I forget her, will I forget that too?

I’ll forget that I was given the nickname Rea and I’ll forget everything I dreamed I could be while here by her side.

I still hardly know Syr, but just crossing paths this briefly has helped me to find hope again. Hope that maybe there is a good future ahead of us.

Now, I need to ask her to take it all away. I’ll return to who I was, a cursed noble girl struggling to do her duties, even if it breaks her.

Without warning, I’m immersed in a raging, bubbling pot of boiling water. I crack from the sudden change in temperature, but the warmth just seeps in through those gaps, pulling more of the cold from me. I shudder, barely even moving, while trying to escape.

When I finally manage to squeeze open my eyes, all I see is darkness and something wet forced over my face. I try to move but my arms are all tangled up, and the more I struggle the harder it is to fight.

Syr grunts with effort above me, and I feel something finally giving way as the cloak is pulled from over my head. She’s standing over me, completely nude, as she tosses my torn cloak over my shoulder towards the door. Somewhere beyond reach.

Her tan covers most of her body, but it’s darker on her limbs and gradually turning lighter towards her waist and her chest. Even there she’s not as pale as the other elves. I can’t help but stare at her, but she has no shame at all for her nudity, instead staring at me with a deepening frown, poking at my dress.

What is she doing with me? Why am I in the bath, and why is she naked?

What has happened while I’ve been trapped in my own mind?

Still wearing a frown, she hops out of the bath, walking around behind me where I can’t see what she’s doing. I can’t hear a thing, I’ve been careful not to repair my ears, but without hearing her she could be doing anything back there.

I swallow down my thoughts and feelings, just trying to turn and get a look at what she’s doing, but every time I shift even slightly, more hot water floods into the cracks, burning into me from the inside before the wounds are healed. I’m moving slower than a statue as I am.

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Syr just tore apart an incredibly expensive enchanted cloak, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it. Instead, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was tearing it up even more behind me.

What did I do to upset her so badly?

When she returns with a knife, I’m so startled that I nearly jump out of my own skin.

She looks enraged, she slips the blade down into my dress, half cutting it and half tearing it off. She’s not overly gentle with her work, and her hands don’t linger for a moment longer than needed to shred the expensive silk as if it’s nothing important.

She throws me around to get the dress out from under me, before tossing it aside as if it’s nothing more than worthless rags. She looks down over me in my underclothes, ready to continue her work.

I want to stop her, but when I raise my hand she forces it aside to rip through my underwear as well, even throwing my own sheathed dagger into the pile of clothes behind me. Her amber eyes glow bright with frustration and anger as she looks me up and down, finally pulling me down by the shoulders to sink into the bubbling waters of the tub.

She settles down beside me, squeezing my hand as she relaxes back, opening her mouth in a sigh that I can’t hear.

Why is she so angry?

What did I do? Did someone else already tell her? But then why is she stripping me? Is she taking her frustrations out on me?

I would deserve it if she did.

I should never have even tried reaching out to her that very first time. I’m dead. I died a long while ago, and I’m just going to cause trouble for everyone that I’ve met since then. I’m going to hurt them all because I just can’t accept the fact that I’m dead, and I should remain dead.

I reach out again to that goddess, the one who was to help me before. She answers much easier now, and I don’t even shudder as warm faith burns away at my insides. The faith isn’t hers, though she is connected to it.

It is simply that I agree with the principles associated with this goddess. Shialla, the goddess who cradles broken souls, giving them peace from the terrible realities of the world. I too believe with all that I am that others like me deserve the mercy of a kind afterlife.

I curl up, closing myself to the world and centring myself on the burning pain sprouting from the faith inside of my chest.

It spreads through every part of me, and I know that if I just accept it, then I’ll be free from all the terrible things in this world. I won’t cause anyone any more trouble. No one else will need to die for my sake, and I can’t be used as a weapon against those that I should be protecting.

It will solve all my issues.

The faith in my chest burns painfully, and yet, the goddess whispers from a great distance. She promises a warm and safe life, she promises that she’ll care for me. It’s truly for the best.

My arms snap, torn aside by some great force and held apart. I sit up, kicking out as I lose my balance, and then Syr takes that chance to force herself onto my lap. Sitting on my legs and holding out my arms, I can’t hide from her anymore.

She presses her face right up against my own, her lips set into a deep and dark frown.

She’s angry.

Does she know what I was about to do?

Is that why she’s so furious?

“Rea,” I can’t hear her, but I read her lips and I just now that she’s calling me by that name.

She’s not going to let me go. Even when we were practising our fighting it never felt as if she was this violent with me, my shattered shoulders still hurt from the pain, and her fingernails are sinking into my wrists, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Why is she so focused on me?

Why does she care so much to be angry with me?

Am I worth this much emotion? Am I worth this much rage?

It doesn’t matter. She’s here and she wants something from me, and I’d be glad to give her my everything if she asks it of me. Just for a little while longer while I still know her name.

For just this one last night can I feel her emotions burning against me. Her affection, her frustration, and even this horrible anger that she’s pressing against me.

She lets go of my wrists and hugs me, never letting her eyes stray from mine. I slowly hold her the same, my fingers are trembling and my chest is heavy to the point that I could not breathe if I wanted to.

She asks something, but I don’t know what.

I open my mouth to reply, and I’m not entirely sure what babbling words slip through my lips. I just want to have this moment, to hold it tight. My mouth works madly, struggling to find a way to convey my feelings to her but instead, her anger burns brighter still.

My skin burns and her eyes glow bright with shifting fires inside, she bares her teeth at me like a growling hound, her fingers sinking into my arms deeper than before. Yet, her flickering eyes don’t direct their rage at me, instead, she looks past me as if to seek the villain behind me.

“He’s too strong,” I say, reaching up and gripping her face. Her jaw is tightly set, and hard as a rock, she’s not going to let this be. She’s not going to give up, and that only means that she’s going to get herself killed. I can’t let that fate befall her.

What do I do to save her from herself?

I open my mouth to find the right words, but they do not form.

Looking into her eyes, I drift closer to her. Words never worked against Syr. From the moment we first talked, she saw through my lies, so I must convey this another way.

If I’m going to forget this day, and if I’m going to forget her, then I want nothing left unsaid and nothing left undone. Perhaps, if I show her exactly what I feel, she’ll understand just how desperate I am. She’ll understand that there is no other choice, else I would have found it.

I push her until she slides back into the bath. Her warmth rushes over my skin like a fever, and if I push onwards just a little more then I’m sure that my heart will start to beat again, just for a little while.

Her hands reach up for me, gripping my shoulders and holding me at bay. She’s not acting at all excited, and instead, even naked beneath me, it feels like she’s ready to fight. Like she’ll toss me aside, draw her swords and start clashing with Aldramodore right here.

The idea of her fighting to protect me only melts my heart that much more, but when the fight ends with her lying dead, I know that I can’t let that be.

“I need you,” I whisper the words while staring into the future where she lies dead and desiccated. “I need you to make me forget that you exist.”

Her eyes, flickering with angry fires, freeze in place. She asks me a question, so I explain it to her.

“I can’t let him know about you, or he’ll kill you,” I tell her. “He can make me give up my every secret, so that means I can’t know about you.”

It only makes her angrier, I don’t know what she’s saying, but her rage isn’t something that I can pretend to ignore. I consider healing my ears just to hear her voice, but I know that I can’t take that risk. If there’s even the slightest chance that Aldramodore is near enough to hurt us, then it is not worth it.

I explain it all to her, hoping that she’ll understand, but her rage doesn’t quiet at all, and by the end, she’s breathing heavily and staring at the doors as if to go out there and slay the man. It breaks my heart, as much as it warms me knowing that she thinks me worthy of such passion.

I lean into her, speaking the words that come to mind without daring to think them through. If I think then I won’t say them at all.

Syr listens to me, her lips quivering as something else takes place of her rage. Not replacing it but mixing with it.

My chest squeezes tight as I feel her pain. She’s ranting, flames in her eyes, but her frown is twitching as she holds back her tears. She’s stronger than me.

I lean closer to her pressing my lips to hers. She shudders and almost falls, but she catches me, dragging us to the edge of the bath where we rest.