Chapter 19: Welcome HOME

*Ariel Levine* I practically stumbled off the ship, the wooden planks creaking beneath my feet like they were bidding me a relieved farewell. The salty air stung my senses, mixing with the distant scent of something sweet—maybe that obnoxious perfume Kalon favored? Honestly, I was too disoriented to care. All I knew was that another moment on that vessel would have me questioning my own sanity. I needed space, clarity, and most importantly, a strong drink. As I stepped into the motel, I felt like I was crossing a threshold into another world. The ambiance was bizarrely comforting, despite the oddities of my recent past. The walls were painted in deep purples and rich golds, reminiscent of a lavish fairy tale yet with a modern twist. Neon signs flickered in quirky designs, luminescent horns and wings providing a backdrop to a place that seemed to welcome just about any creature that stumbled in. It had that eclectic vibe, where every piece of mismatched furniture added a layer to the story waiting to unfold within those four walls. "C'mon, Ariel, focus," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples in an attempt to ease the pounding of my headache. The soreness between my thighs was a constant reminder of last night's... festivities. I winced at the thought of the finger-marked bruises that adorned my skin, a physical testament to something that felt delightfully sinful yet dangerously inexplicable. Was it just the aftershocks of overwhelming pleasure, or was there something more sinister lurking in the shadows of my memory? I had almost dared to ask Draven and Dimitar if someone else could access my cabin while I was... otherwise occupied, but their incredulous stares crushed that thought before it escaped my lips. They wouldn't understand; they never did. Not wanting to dwell on that darkness, I wandered over to the bar area, the promise of food and cold beer pulling me in. I ordered a hefty platter of meat and a frosty mug of the local brew, biting my lip in anticipation. I could already feel the cool glass against my skin, refreshing and bracing. I needed this; I deserved this. I sank into the plush, oversized chair that seemed to hug me in all the right places. The leather was soft and warm, inviting me to let go of my apprehensions, if only for a moment. As my fingers wrapped around the cold mug, I took a deep breath, savoring the moment before I allowed myself to think about Vador and everything that was about to go down. With my meal now in front of me, I let the delightful aroma envelop my senses, but I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice someone approach until a voice pierced through my haze. "Thank you for the meal." Kalon's deep chuckle made my belly twist in knots, and my blood freeze in my veins. I turned, and there he was, sitting right across from me as if the universe itself had conspired to deliver him at this particular moment. He radiated peril and allure, his presence as intoxicating as the beer warming my blood. I swallowed hard, a flush creeping up my cheeks as his words made me think back to a very different meal I offered to my imaginary Vador last night. Was he in my cabin last night? Were those marks on my thighs his? I was petrified thinking of Kalon not only seeing me in that vulnerable position but also taking advantage of me. Anger rose in my blood, and I grabbed one of my knives on my waist belt, but then something caught my eye, and I paused. His hands. They looked delicate, slim, and feminine, and above all, wrapped in some uncomfortable-looking cast. He took a massive bite of my dinner, completely unconcerned with the idea that he was intruding. "Didn't think you'd be here so soon," he said, eyebrows arched, a teasing glint in his eyes. Like the universe had been perfectly in sync with my thoughts, yet I was too awash with confusion to respond. "I mean, I figured you'd need time to recover after that 'serenade' of yours last night," he added with a wicked grin. I felt the heat rise like a tidal wave. "It wasn't a serenade, Kalon. You really know how to twist a knife," I shot back, trying to remain composed even as my heart raced in my chest. How could he be so carefree about it? Did he even realize what had happened? My cheeks burned hotter as memories flickered before me, sensations that clashed with a rational understanding that I couldn't quite reconcile. "Well, I enjoyed it," he smirked, waving my protests away like annoying gnats. "You should be proud of your talent. Not everyone can evoke such passion." I narrowed my eyes in acquiescence, though the beer only stoked the flames of my panic. Glancing at his hands again, I couldn't resist asking. "What happened to you?" I asked, a sliver of concern slicing through the anger. "Seriously, you don't remember?" His face twisted incredulously, eyebrows raised as if I'd just proclaimed I didn't know my own name. Panic welled up inside me, a swirling storm threatening to spill out. My chest tightened, and I squirmed in my seat as memories bubbled just beneath the surface of my consciousness, elusive and painful. Could it be that I didn't remember him in my cabin? Was it even possible for that kind of chaos to unfold, and for me to be blissfully ignorant? "You mean… you were in my cabin?" I felt a shiver run down my spine as the realization struck me, pulling me tight like a vice. "I would hardly call it blissful ignorance," Kalon muttered, shaking his head. "The wine and rum you consumed probably rendered you incapable of experiencing half of what went down. You couldn't see the struggle we went through during the crossing of the Strait of Shadows." His words sent waves of humiliation crashing over me, yet a cold wave of relief made me sigh, knowing Kalon wasn't seeing my vulnerability. The Strait of Shadows—the treacherous waterway that snaked between two realms: dangerous Dragonheim, where bloodthirsty dragons ruled unchecked, and Lycaonia, a land fabled for its wild beauty but fraught with ancient secrets––my previous home. So, we'd faced monsters, witnessed horror on the brink of death, while I had been blissfully slumped against the mattress, swaddled in a drunken stupor. "How bad was it?" I whispered, dropping my gaze to my beer. "And, more importantly, how are you even okay after that?" Kalon leaned back against the back of his chair, arms crossed, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "You want the truth? We didn't just encounter beasts; we came face-to-face with horrors from the whispers of the deep. Creatures once human—souls twisted by greed and despair into vile abominations, dredged from the depths of the sea." I swallowed hard, imagining the shadows of those wretched beings lurking beneath the surface, waiting for an unsuspecting ship to cross their path. "So, what happened?" I found myself asking, captivated against my better judgment, drawn into the darkness he described. "When the monsters attacked," he continued, a distant look clouding his eyes, "We fought them off—the twins helped, but we were overwhelmed. A few got smart and made their way below deck. That's when I found one right outside your door." He swallowed hard, a fleeting vulnerability cracking the surface of his usual bravado. "Trixi had escaped her cage and was… well, let's just say it wasn't a fair fight. She can be a fierce protector." "That sounds incredibly dangerous, but describes my brave Trixi to the letter," I said, my heart fluttering nervously. My thoughts drifted to my amazing lynx, the mischievous creature, and the sense of security she seemed to embody. But she was still an overgrown kitten, no matter how fierce. "Couldn't you have… I don't know, called for help or something?" Kalon rolled his eyes, a brief flash of annoyance crossing his face. "Help? Yes, because shouting for help in the face of monsters always ends well. Considering I'm not exactly welcome in my undersea home, none of the siren assholes would come to my rescue." He leaned forward, his expression shifting to something grimmer. "When the fog set in, everything changed. It was thick—suffocating—and it wrapped around us so tightly it made it hard to breathe. It burned, Ariel, as if the very essence of despair seeped into our lungs, turning the air around us into fire." "What?" I breathed, horror and fascination clashing within me. A heavy fog that could choke the life out of you? Vador's presence came to mind—he had always thrived in darkness, commanding it as if it were a loyal servant. But this fog was different. Kalon rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression hardening as he continued, "When it finally lifted, we were blinkered—the ship had been guided, almost as if by a phantom hand, to the end of the strait. When it vanished, it left us nothing but the wreckage of what had transpired." Fear curled in my stomach. Would Vador ever wield that kind of power? I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought. No, Vador was dark in his own way, but this felt different. "What if that mist doesn't just disappear?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "What if it comes back?" Kalon's brow furrowed, that cocksure demeanor slipping away as he absorbed my question. "Sometimes, Ariel, the darkness we encounter isn't something we can predict. All we can do is prepare ourselves for it and hope it doesn't consume us in the process." His words resonated deep within me, echoing through the caverns of my thoughts. I felt as if I was teetering on a precipice, a tightrope strung between lingering feelings of dread and the spark of anticipation ignited in my chest. "And what if we don't survive?" I challenged. He smiled softly, that infamous smirk returning, though this time it felt haunted by something else altogether. "Then we go down fighting. I'm not one for backing down from a challenge, and neither should you be." I didn't even notice when Kalon managed to devour my entire plate, not leaving a speck. His belch reverberated through the air, making me roar with laughter as I watched the creature, whose beauty would have charmed many a princess, slap his chest with his fist and pluck the remnants from between his teeth with his tongue. My beer had managed to warm, no longer tasting as good as it once did, but it still soothed my frayed nerves and the scattered thoughts of my strange fantasy, which felt as real as the ache in my hips—where that figment of my imagination caressed my skin, tightening its large, rough fingers. "Trixi should be on shore by now. Although I don't know if she's conscious, since Dimitar gave her a good chunk of sedatives when she stubbornly refused to budge from your door." Kalon interrupted my thoughts by placing two fresh mugs of cold beer on the counter, froth leaking over the rims. Trixi, how could I have escaped the ship without thinking about my brave little girl? "Boys?" I asked, not wanting to show him how ashamed I was for not caring for my companions. Kalon smirked, taking long gulps of beer and burping again in satisfaction, causing me to roll my eyes. "Man," I thought. "They'll be here soon," he replied, bringing the mug to his lips to drink, then quickly pushing it away, spilling a bit. "Oh, I almost forgot," he raised his mug in a toast and smiled, then said the words I no longer remember, "Welcome home."