Crow felt his body lifting and could feel swaying movements all around him. There was no pain nor sorrow, only a deep void that yawned vastly all around. Peace filled his breast and he could not clearly recall what it was that he had been battling with. He gazed down and gasped with bewilderment, seeing to his astonishment, his own body resting in twisted angles of stillness atop Pentulla as if she slumbered.
Yearning suddenly filled his heart as he longed for their survival and how so many things had been left unsaid and undone… Then--
“Crow--” a raspy voice whispered his name close by.
Crow struggled to open his eyes, but felt hot pain, white and volatile, shooting through his head. He heard his own voice groaning with unfamiliar declaration.
“That’s it--Crow, listen to my voice…” again, the raspy voice pleaded. Crow could feel warmth pressing firmly on either side of his face. His face was then turned into another direction and again, felt a sharpening ache lighting his body. He grunted and gasped, feeling his body tensing. Delirium washed over his entire being. One moment he felt light and free, and the next, heavy and filled with nothing but anguish.
“Crow, you will be fine. You have, miraculously, survived--” the voice cracked upon itself as tears could now be heard. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I have used part of my magic to aid in your healing. I know that you have always been adamant as to regarding my usage of power reserves. But I truly felt it a need to utilize it this time, twice. Crow--can you hear me?” the voice was filled with quaking fear. (* does twice have a significance?)
Crow attempted to move, but felt stiff and achy all over. His throat felt as if he had swallowed masses of bloody sand, for it was dry and extremely painful.
“Here, drink this…”
Crow felt his head being lifted up very gently and his neck protested hotly, but he had no choice. Then cool, blessed liquid dribbled down his parched lips and he attempted to open his eyes once more.
“That’s it… Crow, you are doing it!”
The Turon listened with full intent the soothing and familiar voice as it coaxed him to consciousness. His eyes felt hot and sticky, but he forced himself to open them. Once accomplishing such a tedious task, he saw that the illumination of the chamber that he resided was dimmed to a tolerable pleasant ambiance.
“There now… Your wounds have healed quite nicely, however, the pain will take time to replenish to newness. I am sorry, I could only reach so far before it becomes me…”
Crow closed his eyes and opened them again, attempting to focus upon the hazy objects that surrounded him. It was very dark within the far reaches, but yet, it was softly illuminated. “Where--” he swallowed hard with a whimper, feeling the walls of his throat collapsing. His eyes began to well up with tears. “Where--” feeble coughs interrupted his attempts.
“Shhhh. You are safe, here, with me. I assure you that no harm can touch you. Even his magic is too weak to break through my barrier.” Her inflection was filled with brittle resentment as her soothing hands brushed through his lengthy hair.
Crow opened his eyes again, this time, feeling less agony. He surveyed the space enveloping him and found it strange. It was vast and empty, filled with nothing but deep blackness, however, the heavens shown brightly all around. Stars, many of them, softly glowed along with the twin moons. He turned his face and studied the shimmering that seemed to keep the heavens at bay. Magic. But whose?
A warm hand then placed itself kindly upon his forehead and soothed back his straying locks from his roving eyes. He followed it to an arm that connected to a body wearing shimmering clothing. Rippling hair of golden red trapped his attention and he found himself gazing deeply into the exquisite face of Zolata. Her oval-shaped lips smiled tearfully and she blinked her violet eyes, as if tears had stung them.
“Zolata?” he squinted as he pinched his brows together with confusion. He attempted to rise, but her hand stayed his body into stillness.
“Do not move. You are not ready.”
“But what of Pentulla? Were you able to save her?” hope and despair were obvious in his agonized voice.
Worry creased Zolata’s pretty forehead as she spoke softly, “Crow, try to get some rest now.”
It had been quite sometime, or so Crow thought, when he began to stir. His body was not nearly as riddled with pain as it was earlier, so he attempted to move every limb and appendage before endeavoring a stroll.
He saw that Zolata was not about, but that sentiment meant nothing at all. Since he was in the midst of one of her escapades of magic--the enchanted chamber in which the heavens saturated every fragment of the chamber he inhabited--she could be anywhere.
Almost at once, and to his full expectation as he knew her so very well, Zolata was at once by his side. A gentle breeze whispered softly through her undulating tresses and a soft light cast in a downward motion from somewhere overhead. She smiled.
“It has been long since I have seen you from the time we have last spoken, Crow,” her breathy voice was wistful, but her face did not show her emotion; something that she had successfully accomplished in reserving since he first came to know her.
Crow returned her smile with open admiration. “Yes, it has and many an event has occurred since our last meeting, Zolata.” He longed to stroke her chin with his knuckles, but he dared not break that barrier.
The sorceress closed her eyes against the deep velvety sounds of his entrancing voice and inhaled him as deeply as she could.
“What of Pentulla?” Crow’s voice quivered as he recalled her body lifeless in his arms. He looked up at his old companion and noted that the warmth she emanated stilled and grew cold, though he had no explanation for the strange change in sensation.
“Yes, of course. Follow me.” Zolata rose upon her feet in a simple fluidic movement and glided across the smooth ground to where a bed, deep in the shadows, sat.
Crow was at once kneeling by her side and without hesitation held Pentulla’s hand firmly in his own. Tears shimmered at the rims of his eyes and he swallowed hard, clearly recalling the image of her face, cold and lifeless before him. “Pentulla--” anguish racked his body as he cursed himself for breaking his vow.
“She sleeps,” Zolata reassured him as she sat quietly upon the lushness of the huge bed.
Crow felt the bed compressed, nearly forgetting of Zolata’s presence since Pentulla was so dominant upon his feeling. “Please forgive me, but I had promised her that I would be her champion.” He paused far longer than he cared, but pushed on to say, “I had failed in--”
“Crow,” Zolata spoke softly in her slumberous voice that he had come to adore, “you are the most valiant and honorable man I have ever known in my life. You have broken no vow. She is indeed blessed to have someone so valued to champion her cause, though I believe she hardly requires it.”
Crow parted his lips with an intake of breath as he was about to object to her near venomous air, but her curt nod halted his refute.
Almost forgetting her animosity towards Pentulla, he turned sharply over to Pentulla who stirred with a softly gasping yawn. Her eyes slowly opened and a pleasant smile spread slowly across her fragile face.
“Crow?” she whispered raggedly, feeling rather pleased to see him by her side.
“Pentulla!” Crow laughed happily as he gently reached over the bed and bent at the waist to engulf her within the circle of his embrace. Pentulla returned his gesture with her hands entangling themselves within his dark hair. Crow turned around and found Zolata nowhere. His smile was somewhat reserved as he spoke to her anyway, “Thank you, Zolata…”
“Zolata?” Pentulla turned to locate her as well, but did not. “Is this where she lives?” Pentulla tried to take everything in at once, but felt over-stimulated by the enchanted chamber she was in. “Did she create this chamber?”
Crow rested himself upon the ledge of the bed and slowly assisted Pentulla into a sitting position. His smile was easy and his eyes sparkled as he spoke with reflection, “She is a very powerful sorceress.”
“I would very much like to meet her…” Pentulla trailed off, feeling puzzled. “How did I get here?” Her brows lowered over stormy eyes as she lifted a hand and pressed it against her heart. She felt the weight of the pendant against her chest and absently began to caress it with her fingertips. “I thought we were battling against those demons… Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?”
Crow, feeling a rush of guilt, lowered his head. He felt his face flush hotly and tears of shame and remorse stung his eyes. “I had failed you, Pentulla.” Pentulla raised her brows and tilted her head to the side. “In what manner, pray tell? I live.”
“He has not failed anyone,” Zolata was suddenly standing beside Crow, her gown and hair flowing as if she stood upon the ocean floor. Her eyes were reserved and Crow noticed that she did not attempt to meet Pentulla’s. Pentulla lit up and straightened her curved shoulders with a smile, very anxious to speak with Zolata. “I have been waiting for this moment to meet you. Crow has said so much about you.”
Zolata bowed her head regally, acknowledging Pentulla’s salutation, still avoiding eye contact with her. Her eyes, however, observed Crow’s carefully as his face glowed with contentment.
“I thank you for your breath of life, Zolata, and for that, I am indebted to you.”
“Yes,” she allowed so much before turning around and sashaying to the furthest spot possible from the pair. Zolata felt her heart thunder with quiet rage and felt her breath staggering. She had hoped with all her might that Crow had not seen her antagonism towards Pentulla. She was sure that Pentulla was everything that Crow felt her to be, but a vein of silent warning was obvious, Zolata knew alone. Would she be reckless in divulging it to Crow? Was his oblivious companion aware to any extent her legacy?
Zolata felt her blood running cold and a shiver tore through her body. Though it was safe and warm within her magical realm of flight, she still felt vulnerable to the ominous presence that was all too near for her own comfort! It had been a lengthy while that Zolata stared with unblinking eyes at the heavens that sparkled with the immensity of a treasure trough. She felt a chill biting her skin and it rose into many tiny bumps that refused taming with the warming of her own rubbing hand. Then she felt Crow rise and saunter over to where she stood alone; a mysterious silhouette outlined by the floating of the many stars.
His warmth now was eminent and she closed her eyes slowly against it, inhaling his compelling scent that she had come to love.
“She sleeps,” Crow explained from behind Zolata. His hands twitched as he fought the impulse to bring her close against him. He longed to rub his chin against her soft hair and wrap his arms about her shoulders. He knew that profound thoughts played about and even troubled her mind. He dropped his hands down by his sides, resigning his urge to caress her. “What ails you, Zolata?”
The sorceress was pleased that he could not see the relish sweeping over her features when he spoke her name. Then she braced herself for the speech that she mentally prepared. With a simple toss of her head that sent her floating mane to the side with cascading ease, she turned her chin over her arched shoulder and watched Crow for a moment.
“Crow,” she began with a shuddering intake of breath. Zolata dropped her gaze to his sandaled feet and saw his calves involuntarily flex with the mere heat of her glance. “Tell me what you know of her.”
Crow raised his brows and felt the finger of anxiety tickling his senses. “Well, she was betrothed to the Great Shen’s son who had been brutally slain by one of Rolac’s guardians.”
Zolata nodded for him to continue, her violet eyes intense without so much as a blink.
“She has--” Crow shot Pentulla a worrisome glimpse, disturbed with the fact that she may overhear their conversation.
“She can not hear us, Crow. Do not fret.”
Feeling reassured with Zolata’s promise, he resumed, “She has no past that she can recollect. I rescued her from the clutches of a Sychra, deeply hidden within the heart of the goblin empire.”
Zolata broke eye-contact and turned so that Crow could only see the fragile outline of her pristine profile. “Interesting,” she cooed.
Crow knew better and found that a simple word or phrase from her meant worlds upon worlds. “Tell me what ails you, Zolata. I can tell that she holds some kind of significance with you.”
“Yes,” Zolata turned and delved deeply into the warmth of Crow’s brown eyes. “She does. What more do you know of her?”
Crow inhaled deeply and ran his tongue quickly over his lips. “She has no guile and is very trusting to the point of naivety. She is strong of heart. I do feel, however…” Crow hesitated, feeling as if divulging his conclusion of Pentulla would somehow betray her regard to Crow.
Zolata could not help but narrow her eyes, completely comprehending his faltering. “Your confidences are kept at heart, Crow. I shall never judge nor condemn her.” All her life that she had known Crow, he had shown devotion to her and her alone. His heart never strayed nor desired another, yet, she could not shake the stealing feeling that he held a distinctive space for Pentulla. This consideration struck her heard in the chest, as if Crow himself had harmed her.
“Zolata, what is the matter?” he was at once holding her, his arms strong and encouraging. He involuntarily caressed her skin where his fingertips touched and felt a deep connection with her at once.
Zolata’s smile abated when she gazed into his eyes. She did not want to lose resolve in this poignant discussion! “Crow--” she shook her head and gently pushed him back into place, “there is definitely something I must divulge--” a fleeting glimpse reassured Zolata that Pentulla remained in a slumberous state before she went on in low tones.
Crow smarted with her simple gesture, but deftly shoved it aside and focused upon her beauteous face of creamy smoothness. He could not help but admire the angular slant of her large liquid eyes brimming with violet pools of shimmer. Her lashes were very long and curled to the very tips, stretching longingly towards her smooth skin. Her cheeks were prominent as they cast seductive shadows across her slender jaw-line as her lips nearly resembled a single moon when not speaking.
Zolata parted her lips, but found it exceedingly difficult to tell him what battled within her mind. How should she reveal such a insightful yet imperative sentiment? “Oh, Crow…” she breathed out softly and crossed her arms over her chest protectively. She dropped her chin and frowned a little.
Crow swallowed hard and knew that she was not easily vexed. This was something terribly serious and his skin prickled with anticipation. Then a dark thought pounced upon him and he inhaled sharply. Could she be thinking the very same thing he had earlier? He shook his head, hoping against hope in regards to the portentous omen.
“Crow, I despise speaking what is ailing my very heart, but it is of utmost importance that I allow it its freedom. Please do not think less of me, for I never express anything that would be riddled with suspicion of cruel judgment.”
Crow nodded once, bracing himself for the verdict.
Zolata suddenly felt chilled inside and her skin attested her innermost emotion. Her mouth grew parched and her hands trembled. She shut her eyes and swallowed painfully against the dryness anyhow. “Crow, I know the reason why she has absolutely no recollection of her past.”
Crow arched a brow of incredulity, but he had never underestimated Zolata. She was a very powerful enchantress and was always right about circumstances such as this. He held his breath and remained motionless, his heart beating furiously against his chest.
“It was calculatingly taken from her because she was meant alone for death. She--” Zolata’s eyes instantly filled with unforeseen tears as she tore her gaze away from Crow’s penetrating one. She did not want him to see into her soul. It was more than she could bear. How would it affect his poor heart if he did love her?
“Zolata,” Crow’s rich timbre was supportive as he dared to touch her slender shoulders. When she made no move of resistance of any kind, he pulled her to him and pressed her against his body.
Finally! Crow thought with glee as he could feel joy leaping throughout his entire being. He rested his chin upon her fiery hair and inhaled deeply her perfume. Again, Zolata made no effort to challenge his gentle restraint upon her. In fact, and to his astonishment, she leaned into his embrace and rested her cheek upon the beating of his heart. “Oh, Zolata…” he wavered, as he soothingly ran his fingers through her silky hair.
“Crow, she is not who we think she is. She is much more. She is dangerous and must be kept at a distant in some respect. She is Elondra.” Zolata felt a heaviness melt away as her breath came easier, but she stiffened when Crow’s soothing motions upon her hair and back paused. Had she offended him? But it was nothing short of the truth! She felt foolish and yearned to tear herself away from his confining grip. She longed to evaporate herself from her magical chamber and weep to no end…
Crow reserved his facial expression, though he felt his insides bleed hotly. In truth, it came as no surprise, the confession. For that was the very dark thought that had pounced upon him that had led him into such stupor of thought.
Zolata suddenly tore herself from his embrace and avoided his gaze. He heard her sniffing softly as she turned her back on him and square her shoulders beneath her undulating hair of significant length. “I apologize to the be the bearer of such horrifying tidings, Crow.”
Crow pressed his lips together and found reason for her behavior. He quickly strode over to her, filling in the gap she had wedged between them. He rose his hands and hesitated to rest them upon her arched shoulders and he admired her gracefulness. Finally, once the debate within his own mind won out to administer a telling caress, he followed suit.
Not expecting such a bold gesture from Crow, Zolata spun around violently with her arms crossing over her chest and her hands cupping each of her own shoulders. Her eyes were wide and glittery as her scarlet lips trembled with an unknown secret upon them.
Crow brought his brows down harshly as he noted the single crystalline liquid take course down the creamy smoothness of her cheek and rest at her chin. He brought his hand up to it and caught its descent upon his upturned fingertip and brought it to his lips.
Zolata watched him beneath her sweeping lashes with rapt fascination that she hid with a practiced talent. She watched Crow gently draw the tear across his lips, his eyes closing in sincere serenity. He began to quake with effort and forced his eyes upon her.
“Zolata…” Crow soothed and she turned away once more, unused to seeing such passion playing deeply within the unfathomable brown of his eyes. A shiver raced in an upward motion as she felt his once-familiar touch upon her shoulders again. “Crow, she bears the omen to her destiny. She is the one.”
Crow nodded with clear comprehension. “I had a difficult time with the notion myself, but I was not ready for any admissions.”
Zolata whirled around liquidly within the grasp of his hold and lifted her chin to gain the advantage of meeting his gaze. “Crow, I can not possibly house her for too much longer. My power is limited and she will be found.” Crow thinned his lips and sent an involuntary peek to Pentulla who curled up in childlike position beneath the down covers of Zolata’s protective magic. His heart lurched hard and he swallowed hard against the lump that seemed to be fixed down his neck.
“I--I see that you bear feelings for her?” Zolata whispered tightly as she followed his gaze. Pentulla, Zolata admitted with open freedom, was as enchanting as the tales had depicted. Even more so with her lips so full and her eyes so large and innocent. Her hair of significant length swept from the nape of her neck down to the ground in shimmering colors of silver recessed with the color of night.
“She has suffered much, Zolata. My heart yearns for hers.” Crow delved deeply into Zolata’s searching violet expression. Her brows pinched slightly with moved concern.
“I know--” Zolata tore away from him, feeling it too painful to be so close to him while they spoke of the one whom had created so much havoc among her own people as well as others in her time.
“But she is not aware of it--” Crow intercepted Zolata before she could hide her weakness completely with her cold, glittering façade that he had come to resent.
“Yes, I am all too conscious of that fact.” Zolata began to feel vulnerable and despised her position.
“She must learn of it, now.”
Zolata froze and bit her lip. What repercussion would that beget? If she, at once, had her memory returned, would she slay them both within the walls of Zolata’s own enchanted chamber that was suspended well over the loam’s darkness that was riddled with calamity?
The Turon saw the tension displaying upon the lovely muscled back of his heart’s desire. What thoughts raced within Zolata’s weary mind? Crow wrinkled his brow with concern over her welfare, for she, too, had lived a life of despondency.
“I fear it is time,” Zolata hissed, her voice riddled with portent, and slowly turned over her shoulder.