The Divine Odyssey

chapter one

              When I awoke, my body slowly acclimated to the serene atmosphere enveloping me. The agonizing pain from the fire that once seared my skin had vanished, replaced by a strange warmth. I lay on a bed, but I sensed I was not alone. A gentle caress brushed my cheek, eliciting a sheen of sweat across my brow. Was I perhaps dead? The thought lingered, heavy and unsettling, as I struggled to comprehend the reality of my surroundings.

“What a beautiful offering,”

a voice murmured, the light piercing my eyes and forcing me to shut them. The touch was gentle, enveloping me in an unexpected warmth, yet a creeping dread began to take hold. I felt suspended between solace and fear, the sweet scent of incense mingling with the chill of uncertainty.

“Those humans have done something finally pleasing in my eyes.”

The voice belonged to a man, and when I turned my head, I caught a fleeting glimpse of him. He continued to stroke my forehead tenderly, yet my trust issues flared. I wasn’t resisting; I sensed he was no ordinary being. His long orange hair, adorned with glimmering jewels, framed a face that was strikingly handsome. His skin was pale as porcelain, with a straight nose and siren-like golden eyes that pierced through me.

His long, slender fingers moved with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, and the shimmering white robes he wore gave him an ethereal quality. He appeared angelic, yet something primal in his presence sent chills down my spine. Despite the allure, I couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked beneath the surface of his captivating exterior.

My mouth felt dry, as if I had swallowed dust.

“W...Who…” I tried to speak, but my voice broke, raspier than ever.

He laughed softly, the sound cold and strange, like it didn’t belong in the air between us.

“You’ll need some tea for that, darling,” he advised.

I struggled to rise, but he pressed a firm hand right above my chest, sending a rush of heat to my face. We've just met. . . But, is this perhaps how this man acts to guests? 

“Lie down,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. “I’ll summon a servant.”

I obeyed, not out of fear, but rather out of sheer confusion. My body refused to comply with my will, heavy and languid as if still recovering from a harrowing ordeal. The man's presence was overwhelming, like a force that distorted the very air around him. I felt helpless, teetering on the precipice of an abyss that both beckoned and repelled me.

He took a step back, his robes flowing like mist around his form. With a flick of his wrist, a low hum filled the room, and a shadowy figure materialized near the entrance, bowing deeply.

“Prepare a rejuvenating tea for our guest,” he intoned, his voice carrying an authority that brooked no dissent. The servant, a figure draped in dark fabrics that obscured their features, bowed once more before retreating silently.

The man returned his gaze to me, eyes shimmering with a curious blend of amusement and something far darker. I swallowed hard, the sensation rough and abrasive, and he seemed to notice, his smile widening ever so slightly.

“There, there,” he crooned, leaning closer. “You’ve endured much, haven’t you?” His fingers brushed my temple, and a wave of memories surged forth—flashes of fire, smoke, and screams. My own screams. My chest tightened with the recollection, the fear threatening to resurface.

I forced myself to focus on his face, trying to ground myself in the present. “What… happened to me?” My voice was barely a whisper, weak and fragmented.