Page 43 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“But you do, can’t you see? You don’t need to try, it comes so easily to you now. I cannot follow you down this path and watch you lose yourself! This is not you speaking! I offer freedom, but instead, you escape one set of chains only to gleefully take on a new master. I love you, Apattar. Do not ask me to bear witness to this madness.”
Ninann’s tears broke through. They ran over the soft curves of her full cheeks, down her chin, and onto a thick red cloak. Brownish-pink lips almost always pulled upwards into a smile now trembled with sorrow. A sharp pain like a white-hot knife cut through Apattar's mind, rending her psyche in two. Theharmonic resonance between the twins faltered, then ended with a piercing scream. Apattar’s ears rang with pain.
Jerking her eyes up, she found Ninann’s gaze but felt no connection between them. No comforting warmth as the raven-haired woman reached out with her thoughts. Cold, unwavering silence surrounded Apattar.
Ninann stood and smoothed her garments with an unsettling calmness. “Well.” She did not speak again for a long moment. “This is how things shall be. He was right, I’m sad to say. I’ll love you from afar, always, my black dove. But this,” she gestured to the two of them. “This…” Ninann’s voice faded.
Still dazed from the shrieking voice, Apattar could only mumble, “He was right?”
“Yes. That I would be chasing a lost cause. Your path is too far diverged, the discord between us too much for even the harmonics weaving us together to overcome. I didn’t want it to be true.” Ninann sighed.
With a final crack, Apattar’s heart so carefully pieced together over the years shattered. The finality of their broken bond sank in.
“You are like his brother in so many ways, turning to the dark and losing yourself.”
The void squirmed at the mention of Therat, for who else could Ninann speak of? Apattar could never forget the man. The way the shadows wrapped around his skin—dark brown, like burnt clay. How his stormy gray eyes turned dark with hunger, unable to look away from the woman used to being ignored. How vulnerable and soft he looked. A delectable meal ready to be devoured by the cursed Shadow-weave. A glimpse of the future awaiting Apattar?
He infuriated Apattar. Why could she not stop thinking about the man?
I must find Therat. For Laisha. I will claim him, take him by force if need be.
“You do not speak fact, sister.” A bitter taste crept into Apattar’s mouth, her skin prickling with the sudden chill in the room.
Leaving for Tír is Isneha was a mistake.
The thought burst and spread like wildfire through Apattar’s mind, the obviousness of it all smacking her across the face. The scholars and books there would not hold the answers she sought. Even the wise and learned feared theevranenith.What if they learned of her powers or birth? Why risk everything?
“No, Ninann. A fact is this: I should not have come with you. Tír is Isneha is your future, not mine. I must make my own way in life. I should have been slain, yet here I stand. I do love you, but you are right; this is not your path. You’ll find me again, I’m sure of it.” Apattar’s hands moved by her sides as she spoke, tracing a pattern in the air as she thought of her hidden desert refuge.
A portal opened behind her as the final words left Apattar’s lips. The shimmering opaque surface illuminated the woman with a warm red glow. Hot air billowed forth. Comfortable, welcoming. Apattar belonged in the desert. For now, at least.
“Atta!” Ninann shrieked. “Atta, what are you even talking about? Do you hear yourself right now? You can’t run away again! Where are you going, Apattar?” She lunged forward to grab Apattar’s hand; a wave against the ship sent her the other way.
“Don’t stop me, Ninann! This is what you told me to do all those years ago. You said to find a reason to live. I have one, even if I hate it. It’s the best I can ask for. I’m leaving, and that’s final.”
Flinging off the cloak and kicking off her thick-soled boots, Apattar looked more like a wraith draped in blood-red silks than the plump maiden who once fled Av Madhira. With a broadsmile, she stepped backwards through the portal, hot sands greeting her bare feet.
“Apattar, pl—” Apattar snapped the portal shut, cutting off Ninann’s plea.
twenty-two
The Nameless One
The amber glow onthe western horizon brought a sigh of relief to Apattar’s cracked lips. Night would soon fall. Shadows beckoned the woman outside of the four stuffy walls imprisoning her during the day. Soon, she could steal water from a well not far from the abandoned shack.
Apattar wandered into Av Madhira one cold night after starving for six torturous days in the desert. The winds of fallarrived with a vengeance, claiming the lingering days of summer as their own. The confidence surging through the woman when she left Ninann evaporated in the blink of an eye.
Instead of arriving outside the city, Apattar found herself in a tiny oasis, a crescent-shaped pool of clear water the only good to come of the miscalculation. Guided by the blistering sun and icy moon, the raven-haired woman eventually navigated her way back to Av Madhira. Yet, when she came at last to the Market, posters of her face hung from every stall. TheMakhaerenherself placed a bounty on Apattar, claiming her to be a runaway from the Temple.
Tonight would be Apattar’s last night here. Three weeks in the city already proved to be a great risk. Who knew what whispers had spread about the mysterious woman in the Slums. With her strength recovered enough to journey back to the rocky ruins of Andeshar, Apattar only needed to find a few more provisions before escaping.
Surveying the deepening shadows, Apattar opened the half-burnt front door of her refuge. A bony hand snaked out, followed by the rest of the woman. A thin shaft of moonlight illuminated her deep brown skin.
Time bested the once radiant, albeit scarred, black dove of House Isht’iri. Tiny braids of raven-black hair always maintained to perfection now frayed and tangled together. Long nails broke with ease, blood often gathering at the cuticle. Her once delicate crimson silk dress now hung in tatters from her thin frame.
Apattar decayed a little more each day. The few civilians who saw her creeping at night whispered of a wraith haunting the burnt-out section of the Slums. The only spark of life remained in her bright brown eyes.
The faintest movement of something dark across the small clearing caught her attention. She shrank into the shadows,thoughts running wild. The end came at last. Her father must have returned and tracked the woman’s presence.
