Chapter 40 Echoing Wails
The world outside her window blurred into a meaningless watercolor. Days bled into nights, marked only by the shifting shadows on her wall. Klishei lay curled on her bed, the scent of her own tears clinging to the sheets. Each breath felt like an effort, each beat of her heart a dull throb of betrayal. The image of Yeseus, his face devoid of recognition, his hands tenderly rubbing Suneia’s temples, played on an endless loop behind her eyelids.
The memory of his words, "You are everything to me," now felt like a cruel joke. Empty. Hollow. Just like her. He had said it with such raw pain, such conviction. Was it all a performance? A lie carefully crafted to keep her compliant? The Phoenix, usually a quiet hum of presence within her, felt distant, muted, perhaps even disgusted.
She remembered the chill of the night he came to her room, his eyes glowing with an unspoken hunger.
“I don’t want to stop,” he had whispered, his lips tracing the line of her jaw.
She had pushed him away, the doubts planted by Daevar twisting in her gut.
"Sorry, but please, not here."
His expression had been blank, a sudden, cold mask. "I can sense your hesitation."
Had he sensed her doubt then? Had he known she was questioning his intentions, his feelings? She recalled the warmth of his hand on her forehead, the strange, comforting coolness that had chased away her headaches. Had that been a manipulation too? Another trick to keep her tethered?
The silence in her room was thick, suffocating. She missed the soft murmur of her grandparents’ voices downstairs, the comforting aroma of their cooking. But she couldn't face them, couldn't explain the chasm that had opened inside her. How could she tell them the man who had promised to protect her, the one who had brought her back to their home, had shattered her with a single, blank stare?
A knock at the door, soft, tentative.
“Klishei, child? Are you awake?” It was La Meiphi.
Klishei didn’t answer. She pulled the blanket tighter, wishing she could disappear. She had not gone to school for a weak already. Her dean had notified her grandparents. They came rushing to her, providing her the comfort that she needed.
“Your Lo made your favorite soup,” her grandmother continued, her voice gentle, laced with concern. “It’s still warm.”
A whimper escaped Klishei’s throat. The thought of food, of anything, turned her stomach. She just wanted the aching emptiness to stop.
“Leave her, Meiphi,” Lo Garyan’s gruff voice, usually a comfort, now sounded distant. “She needs time.”
Time. That’s all everyone kept saying. But what was time, really? A slow-motion replay of every moment she had spent with Yeseus, twisting each happy memory into a barb of pain.
She remembered Yeseus' smiles when they were together. She could not help but spiral into her dark thoughts. Were those smiles fake, too? Was every touch, every protective gesture, every intense gaze, nothing more than a means to an end? What moments were real? And which version of Yeseus should she retain in her mind?
The Phoenix Bride. The mission. The duty.
He had never said he loved her. Not once. He had said, "You are everything to me." But what did that even mean to an immortal Alpha burdened by a curse? A source of power? A challenge? A convenient body to satiate his pheromones?
The thought made her stomach churn. Her body, which had once thrilled under his touch, now felt like a foreign entity, used and discarded.
A sudden, sharp pain flared in her chest, a familiar ache that had been dulled by the shock. What godd was that she was a goddess or that she had fused with one? For the past days, she realized that even if a woman was a deity, if she was not the girl of the man's dreams, she would never the the man's choice. Her self-pity was beyond comprehension. She didn't even have a proper meal or sleep in days.
The blight. The curse that tormented Yeseus when he was near her, affecting his immortality. She had thought her departure would free him from it. Instead, he had found solace in Suneia’s arms, her touch, her presence.
The memory of Suneia’s triumphant smirk, quickly masked, made a fresh wave of tears prick her eyes. The elf. Always there, watching. Had she orchestrated this? Had Angus, too, played a part in this cruel charade? The fairy, who had offered comfort, who had collected her tears.
She burrowed deeper into the pillows, pulling them over her head, trying to muffle the echoes of her broken heart. The pain was too raw, too consuming. She just wanted to disappear, to become as invisible as Yeseus had been in her classroom for all those years.