The Heir that was promised?
Saviour?
Belladonna found those words confusing. In fact, she found many things that were happening here very confusing.
After she had stepped into that portal she had been jolted around by the force that transported her to another Realm. She felt weak and could barely stand. Also there were many flashes of different memories in her head, ones that she couldn't even remember right now.
But that wasn't what she found to be most confusing.
Upon entering into the Realm that Alaris had promised would help her bring Eli back, a war had welcomed her.
Not just that, a war Alaris had to intervene in.
Not just that too but one that the people called him “The Heir of the Lost Throne”, but still that wasn't all.
The most confusing part was the language they were speaking.
This wasn't the language they spoke in Ignas but yet she could perfectly understand them like she had been speaking this language her entire life. It reminded her of a time that Alaris had made a comment on her understanding of the language.
Wait, it must because she was connected to the Bearer of the Life Gem. Belladonna hoped that this connection would help even more with her search for the Life Gem. The earlier she could find it, the better it would be.
Eli…
She still couldn't believe that he was gone, along with the child they could have had together. The pendant of his necklace dug into the palm of her hands and tears welled up in her eyes. She felt empty inside.
Hope was the only thing keeping her alive. She was certain that when the tent would finally be quiet, she would cry herself to sleep. Her eyes were starting to ache from how much crying she was doing but she couldn't stop.
She missed him. By Ignas, she wanted her Eli back.
“Are you lying to them?” Belladonna asked, the moment the enthusiastic Priest left the tent and they were alone.
After Alaris had commanded that the Priest should take them to the “rest”, they burned their dead so that the White King wouldn’t be able to do anything degrading with their corpses.
Who was this White King? And why would he do such a thing?
After that, they had set out on a journey, mostly through underground tunnels. This was the first in many hours that they were on land.
They set out a couple of tents which they all squeezed themselves in; this one however was for the Saviour and his Female friend.
The people didn't try to interact with her, or maybe they did and she just didn't notice. Whatever it was, she felt too weak to speak to anyone to explain her purpose for being here to anyone. She just wanted to bring Eli back and return to Ignas with him.
For this reason she needed to know if Alaris was lying to them.
“It is not a lie. This is why I have returned.”
“They called you the Heir of the Lost Throne. They say there is a prophecy about you.”
“I told you about the attack on my parents. I am the rightful heir and the ones I fought for today are part of the people that stayed loyal to my House after we were betrayed. The White King is the one that led the attack on my parents and it is my aim to take the throne.” He turned to her, his eyes filled with rage and fueled vengeance. “I told you, I’ll take back everything they took from me. They will all pay, those houses and their families. Every last one of them will pay for what they did to my parents.”
Belladonna nodded.
“How do I get the Life Gem? All I care about is bringing Eli back.” She balled her fists against her stomach.
“We need the help of a Channeller to find the gem. There are no channellers here but I am hoping—”
“Hoping?” Belladonna furrowed her brows.
Alaris moved through the tent.
“Yes, hopefully if there is—”
“I can't rely on just hope. What if there are no Channellers? Would that be it? Isn't there another way.” Desperation consumed her voice. “The Spirit Realm is very tricky, our delay might cause more harm, and what if—” her hands began to tremble as she slipped her fingers into her hair. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m wasting so much time! Tell me another way, Alaris.”
“A Chaneller is the only way.” He held her trembling hands in his and freed her hair from her painful tug. “I’ll find us one.” Then he pulled her into an embrace. “Trust me.”
Grief was a tricky thing.
Triggered by little things, and possessive in its grip.