But the sound of footsteps echoing around the corner made me still. My hand snaked toward the hilt of my dagger. Heart pounding, I rushed forward, slipping out my blade, and pointing it at the intruder.
“Lyriana!” Auriel appeared from behind the shadows, his arms full of sticks and loose bramble. “By the realms. You’re awake.” His eyes dipped to the blade. His eyebrows creased together. “And … armed.”
Blinking, I stumbled back, and sheathed the dagger at my hip.
Auriel. Auriel was real. He was really here. I hadn’t imagined him. I hadn’t hallucinated. This was all happening. Even the parts of the night that had been a nightmare. My breath came short with the knowledge of it.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said quietly. “It’s just you and me here. I brought you inside the cave. After the … the waters settled, the rain began to fall. Pretty abruptly.”
I simply stared, dumbfounded. I’d dreamt of this man. I had memories of this God. I’d even loved him. In another life. Before I’d known Rhyan, before I’d loved Rhyan. I’d known and loved Auriel when I was Asherah. Loved him before I was me.
Ani janam ra.
But all I could manage to say in response was, “You carried me in here?”
The muscles in his jaw worked. “I did. And I found that blanket for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your side when you woke. I’ve been—well,” he lifted his shoulders, something sheepish in his expression, “gathering wood. I wanted to build you a fire. Keep you warm. You were … so cold when you fainted.”
“I fainted?”
He nodded slowly. “You did. Right after I—well, after I told you who I was. How are you—I mean, are you …” He made a frustrated face—like he was trying to remember how to act as a mortal. As a human. Alive. “Are you feeling any better now?” he asked at last.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You’re Auriel? Auriel the God. You’re my—” I shook my head. “You’re Rhyan’s …?”
“Yes. And yes. I am him. I share the same soul as Rhyan, the same memories. Except, I don’t havehismemories exactly—not yet, at least. But he has mine.” His lips quirked into a very Rhyan-like smile. Unsure, self-deprecating. It was like a blade through my heart. The opposite of what I’d expect from a God. He pushed the sticks out in front of him. “I haven’t had to make one of these in a thousand years.” He eyed the torches. “I kind of forgot how. Plus being in a physical body, I’m starting to remember all the limitations that come with it. More than I recalled.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “At least, it feels like more than last time. It’s harder to move.”
I blinked, not sure how to react or what to say.
He continued, “And it feels harder to think, too, and to remember everything I knew before. I know who I am,” he nodded, “and I remember where I was—before I came down. Here,” he specified. As if there was anywhere else. “But my memories of being here, of being alive last time … they feel like they’re almost locked away. Even the … the knowledge I know I had—right before I came to you. It’s so close, and so far away, the things I know that I knew before, things that were important … itfeels like I lost it.” He sighed, his aura flaring, emitting an almost cloudy, foggy sensation. “Luckily, these were easy to light.” He jerked his chin at the torches. “And I’ll figure out the rest. Come. Follow me. I’ll have you warmed up in no time.”
He brushed past me as he returned to the mouth of the cave, just beyond the blanket where I’d been sleeping.
Sleeping. Sleeping! Sleeping while Rhyan was—after he’d been?—
My chest tightened, and I clutched at my heart, reality sinking in.
“Lyriana?” Auriel asked, his face schooled with concern.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” I asked, my voice breaking.
Auriel dropped the sticks into a pile, and wiped his hands together, before nodding slowly. He frowned. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
For a moment, I felt a dizzying lightness, like I’d left my body. Like I was floating above myself, seeing everything from a great distance.
A laugh burst from me, slamming me back down, and then another laugh came, until I couldn’t stop. Tears were running down my face, so hot, so fast I couldn’t see in front of me. I couldn’t stop crying. And I couldn’t stop laughing.
Hysterical. That was the word for this, right? I was hysterical. Mad. Farther than fucking Lethea.
Because a God! An actual fucking God—my soulmate, the God that I had loved in a past life—was standing here before me, wearing golden armor, and wondering with great difficultly how to build a fire for me out of sticks.
And by the Gods if he didn’t fully look the part. If that didn’t make the whole thing even more absurd. Soft golden curls sat atop his head, and his eyes blazed, beautiful and green, otherworldly with light. His golden armor, too rich and fine to be from this world, was shaped the same way as Rhyan’s blackleathers, perfectly covering his muscular torso. He wore what appeared to be a new soturion cloak. It was wrapped around his waist, and flowed out from the shoulders of his armor like a cape. Elegant, freshly pressed, and fitted to perfection. Oddly, he had no weapons, but he was wearing a traditionally styled belt with seven leather straps, golden Valalumirs embedded at the bottom of each one. And laced up his thick, muscular legs, were soturion-issue sandals made of soft, worn leather.
An ancient God of the celestial realms. A Guardian of the Valalumir. Auriel, God of the Green Ray. And here he was, standing before me, a pile of old sticks between us.
I laughed even harder.
“Lyriana,” he said, his voice softened. “Are you—” He started forward, his hand lifted. Gold cuffs circled his wrists, gleaming in the torchlight. And his skin—tan. Too tan for Rhyan—for someone from the North. He was certainly not from the cold and snowy region of Glemaria. Then again, he wasn’t even originally from this world. “Can I—?” He stepped forward—both arms extended. Like he meant to hug me.
“Don’t! Don’t touch me!” I stumbled back, clutching my chest. My stomach twisted violently. I couldn’t take it. And at that moment, I couldn’t bear it to even look at Auriel. Look at his features that were all somehow Rhyan’s, but not-Rhyan’s. It was like the Guardian in my dreams, his head flickering in and out of existence. Looking at Auriel was like looking at Rhyan and then being immediately reminded that I wasn’t. He was Rhyan, and not Rhyan. Rhyan, but not-Rhyan. It was painful enough as it was. A cutting reminder of my new reality. I didn’t think I could take being touched on top of it.
