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nChapter 485 Bonus Content Worlds Collide – Part 1

n~ TARKYN ~

nTarkyn grunted, pain stabbing through his chest and arms as he swung the spear, but he pressed on. The dirt and gravel crunched under the dry soles of his feet, the dust and sharp stones cutting and splitting the skin. But he ignored the pain as he stood tall once again, brought the spear upright to the guard position and breathed deeply five times before widening his stance and beginning the forms again.

nThe blindfold he wore stopped his sweat running into his eyes, but covering his ears as it did, not only made his entire body warmer, but muffled his hearing in a deeply disturbing way. But that was the point. The ritual traditions were clear. When Tarkyn had entered the Hallowed Grounds the day before, he’d put himself in the Creator’s hands. He brought his plea to the feet of God, and he sacrificed himself for the answer.

nEither the Creator would reveal his mate, or Tarkyn would fall prey to the ends of his physical limits. After over a full day of the forms in the beating sun, even his warrior body was exhausted. He wondered if that was to be his fate.

nThere was a part of him that would be relieved.

nWhen he turned, his head spun and without his sight, without landmark or horizon to focus upon, his balance went with it. He stumbled sideways and had to catch his weight with a stutter-step to his right.

nThe blindfold hadn’t left his eyes since he found his place in the Hallowed Grounds the previous morning. He had no idea how much he’d travelled in the forms in the hours between. But his body was beginning to fail. He recognized the signs. n𝔒-𝗏𝑒𝐥𝓊𝗌𝔟,𝒸(𝐎,𝑚

nHe didn’t know the hour, only that his skin burned after two afternoons in the sun without food or water.

nHe didn’t know the answer to his plea, only that if he didn’t receive it soon, he likely would meet the Creator and be able to ask him face to face.

n“Please… I beg you…” he breathed. Then returned to the forms, though he knew his movements were slowing.

n“The blindfold because I am blind,” he panted as he stepped to the right and swung the spear as if clearing a path through enemies. “My ears blocked because I am deaf,” he mate.”

ngrunted, thrusting, then twisting it as if an enemy died under the blade of it. “Every ounce of breath and sweat because my efforts are for naught.”

nHe turned, swinging the spear back up to the defensive position, then thrust again, “I am nothing…” then turning his head as if to hear something behind him, yanked the butt of the spear sharply back as if to catch an ambusher.

n“I am nothing. I bleed myself dry. Please… show your plan. Show me the face of my mate.”

nTarkyn was the greatest living warrior in a people of warriors. The Captain of the Queen’s guard. Accomplished, strong and fit even among the Anima people. But he was still mortal. And for the first time in his life, his body was… dying.

n“Please…” he whispered as he drew himself upright again, but his foot dragged, the sharp gravel biting into the dry cracks in his skin. “Please… I…”

nHe what?

nHe sprawled in the dust, dirt and heat in his nostrils, the sunbaked pebbles under his cheek searing his dry skin.

nHe could not stop! The ritual demanded that he continue until his plea was answered, or he received his death. He had vowed to the Creator Himself…

nWas that the plan, though?

nThe niggling thought wouldn’t leave him. Had he reached the moment of his death? The moment he would stand before the Creator and answer for his life? Had it truly come?

nSpiraling fear twisted his guts. It couldn’t be…

nHe tried one more time to feel for his spear, but his arm flailed uselessly at his side. His body unable to follow his instructions.

nThe pain in his head increased, and yet he seemed to swim away from it. Darkness much deeper than the blindfold sank over him to grasp him in its claws.

nThe wind—usually so damp and full of life in the forest—rushed over him, shockingly dry, carrying with it what little sanity he had left. He tried to push up on his arms and failed. Tried to reach for the blindfold, but his fingers couldn’t grip.

nAnd so, Tarkyn the Warrior, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, the Protector of the Royal Family, and the male who had sought his mate with everything within him, gave up.

nAs the breath of wind rushed by leaving only the searing sun and barren earth of the Hallowed Ground beneath him, Tarkyn couldn’t even identify the scents in its tendrils as it faded.

nTerrified as he felt his death prowl towards him, he tried to call for his mate, the yearning in his heart given voice for the first time. But his throat was too dry, and his tongue was beginning to swell.

nSprawled in the dirt, unable to move more than his fingers, Tarkyn reached finally for his beast—the massive lion that lived within him. But even his beast had gone silent.

nHe would have wept if he had tears.

nTarkyn had remained faithful. He had tried. And he had failed. He was utterly alone—

neven without his Beast.

nHe hadn’t found his mate, and he was dying.

nThe Creator was going to have a lot to answer for when Tarkyn stepped into the next realm. But perhaps it was for the best.

nWhat life could he truly have without ever hearing the match for his soul’s song?

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