“Wait ...”
Suddenly, the skies shuddered as lightning cracked down from above. And then, for the first time, David heard the thoughts of the entire crowd surrounding him, a frenzied uproar of voices that seized control of his mind. He fell to his knees as the power of telepathy surged through him, frantically trying to push through the near deafening cacophony before the Christ’s voice cut through them all. My Father and I will take care of things on our end. We realize the fight between your pantheon is your own. But this is our gift to you, our aid in the Great Fight ahead. Use it wisely.
And then, with a final crack of thunder in the sky, the man took his last breath, and died.
“What does that mean?” David cried out, but it was too late to receive a response. He watched as the boundaries between realms fractured above them, angels descending from bright, heavenly skies to collect the soul of their king.
“Davius,” a voice broke through the memory.
Was it an angel? Coming to collect him, to take him to the heavenly realms? Or was it a daemon who arrived, prepared to drag his soul to the depths of Tartarus, where the abandoned gods and sinners go?
“Davius.”
His nose filled with jasmine.
“Gaia?”
The sun had now fully risen, reaching its crescendo, flooding the death yard with malignant light. The pain was unbearable, his skin bubbling as he choked on the smoke that rose from his blistering skin.
Suddenly a male voice reached his ears, one that tried to hide its alarm behind a facade of dry annoyance. “I see they did not hold back on you.”
David could not reply, his consciousness wavering.
He heard Danulf grunt as he pulled the chains from the wall with impossible strength, reminding David of what had transpired hours before his capture. He tried to speak, but his mouth was desiccated from the heat.
“Come, we have only minutes before true daylight and not even this cloak will shield us.” David felt himself being hoisted up on his friend’s shoulders and draped in fabric. Although it provided merciful shelter from the scorching sun, as soon as Danulf broke into a run, David found he could no longer fight off death, and he capitulated willingly to its call.
CHAPTER 7
THE GODS
He shivers.”
A voice broke through the void.
“They are tremors, signaling his return to consciousness. He is through the worst of it.”
The other voice was just as strong, but female, almost familiar… Was it Gaia? Had he crossed over?
A wave of heat washed over him in response, wrenching him back to life. Pain seared throughout his entire body and he immediately succumbed to unrestrained screaming.
The female voice shouted to be audible over his eruptions of agony. “Dragos, bring me more of my honey and milk serum from the cabinet and more belladonna from underneath the table,” she instructed. “Dan, please fetch the meat and blood. Now that he is conscious, he will be famished after he adjusts to the pain.”
David continued to shriek as his body involuntarily thrashed, his supernatural powers of healing ineffective against the intensity of his wounds. He had felt nothing before like the torment he now endured, oblivion pulling him back towards its sanctuary.
“Stay with me, David, it will end soon,” the woman soothed. His vision was blurred, but he could see her silhouette as she approached him, pushing him back towards the bed. He caught her scent as she shifted, realizing she was human.
He was now delirious with pain, unable to fight the overwhelming desire to devour her, his survival instincts dominating his rational mind. He twisted in her grasp, baring his fangs, until she finally jumped on top of him, using the weight of her body to keep him still.
“David, listen to me,” she ordered. “You almost burned to death, and had we not intervened, you would have. Drinking my blood will not help you with the pain, but I can if you let me.”
David forced himself to focus on her words. “Yes!” he croaked between charred lips.
“I know your powers have been stagnant for centuries, but they are still inside of you. They are connected to your humanity, the part of you that still thrives. You must find them again.”
He didn’t have time to ask how she could have possibly known these things. “How?” he managed. His throat, tongue, and chest all labored painfully with the effort.
“Be still. Imagine yourself back in your homeland. Feel the wind and the rustling of the forest,” her voice dropped to a soothing whisper. “Remember from where you came.”
After so many years, the memories of his past surfaced, enticing him like a lost lover. The emerald hills rolled against the crisp, cloudless sky, as birds flocked around the branches of ancient trees, while wolves roamed the forest floor and fish leapt from anarchic waters. The lines between realms began to blur, the nimble fingers of unconsciousness cementing their hold.
“Now see me in the forest,” her voice instructed him. “Allow me to heal you.”
He opened his eyes to see a falcon perched on the branch of an unusual looking tree, one he’d never seen before. It held his gaze with rich black eyes as he approached her with caution. He glanced down to see that he was his former self again, life coursing through young, supple hands.
She crooned at him, commanding his attention to return to her, whipping up the air with her giant wings. The breeze shifted something within him, lifting the small hairs of his flesh as it glided across his skin.
His eyes flew open.
The pain was gone.
The woman straddling him offered a smile. “Well done, David.”
He was finally able to make out her features, his eyesight shuddering as it came back into focus. Long mahogany hair framed an oval face with skin the color of warm earth. Bright green eyes that rivaled his own burst brilliantly against it in contrast, rimmed by heavy lashes. She wore a linen shirt, damp with sweat, open at the neckline to reveal dozens of beaded necklaces, some that looped down to her waist. Her red skirt was drawn up around her knees, revealing bare legs unrestricted by stockings or shoes. Thin hoop earrings hung brazenly from her ears.
He looked past her to take in their surroundings. It appeared they were in a commodious cellar, the dirt walls haphazardly covered in rows of uneven stone. Tree roots interrupted their shoddy pattern, a few tendrils sweeping the impossibly clean wood floor. Several modest torches smoldered against the walls next to bundles of drying herbs, bringing warmth and pleasant aromas into the dark atmosphere. He noted a large cabinet overflowing with glass bottles, all filled and neatly labeled, hanging over a desk covered with chopped herbs and apothecary tools. His bed was the only other furniture in the room, the stiff linen stuffed with bits of straw and wool.
