Chapter 16

“Grace.” Teal pokes my cheek, snorting at me. “What’s on your mind? You silently cleaned this wing twice.”

“Would it be weird if―” I sigh, leaning my back against the wall. “―if I want to see someone I never met before but I feel nostaglic whenever I see their face?”

“I don’t know how to answer that but if you feel drawn to them then don’t resist the pull of the connection between you two. Go see them and make the best of it. You’ll never know if it’ll be the last day you’ll ever meet them.”

“Funny that you mention that.” I look into Teal’s slitted eyes. “I feel like they’re dead already for some reason, but there’s also a feeling of solice as if they’re alive.”

“Sounds like they’re either undead like a walking corpse or a reincarnination. Spirits tend to linger inside bodies no matter the circumstance but the physical mind itself forgets naturally. So there’s a chance their old self has died but their soul is still alive. You won’t know where it drifted to until you give in to that magnetic pull guiding you to them.”

“You read enough books to live in the other world, Teal.”

“I know. My master told me that, but―” He shrugs. “―I just don’t want to go. I do somewhat want to explore the human society of mysterious beings that aren’t demons or snakes, but I’m not meant to go there. I don’t know why, but my core twists in protest whenever I think of caving into my curiosity.”

“It’s not dangerous. Plus if you want to get a peek in the world. Then just try to look around. There’s nothing once you walk up the mountain. No civilzation either. Just snow, white flowers, and water.”

“Oh yeah, you didn’t paint the white flowers.”

“I can paint them today if you want?”

“You don’t have to push yourself for my curosity―”

“Then, think of it as a trade. I’ll paint the white flowers if you let me explore more of this world.”

“There’s nothing to see. It’s just land and more land. Each continent is deserted or piled with lifeless beings.”

“I don’t mind.” I do mind but it’s better than being cooped up in here all day until I need to leave in a few days.

“Then,” he extends his hand to me, “it’s a trade.”

I don’t know what I was expecting when he agreed to ‘trade’ with me five hours ago, but now, he’s looming over me while I paint the portrait of the white flowers. Watching my every move carefully. The anticipation to paint again caused me to take my time harvesting the souls and exploring part of the land to see if I could stalk to my room quietly, but Teal didn’t let the opportunity pass him and waited for me the entire time by the entrance with a soft smirk, telling me that I couldn’t get out of the trade.

This subterranean, one of the vicious creatures in the world, or so I’ve heard, is hostile, stubborn, and persistent. He shows no fear when in front of the chimera and shows no judgment when in front of me. His inquisitive-filled gaze may seem trusting at the moment, but how will I know it’ll remain the same later on? I don’t accuse nor assume a being before knowing their character firstly, but Teal, he’s so filled with curiosity and determination; I wonder if he ever loathes his own species for its certain aspects and traits.

Or does he maybe embrace them with an open mind?

Once I finish the painting, I watch as Teal reaches around me, his fingers carefully picking it up by the sides, and lifting it above my head to carry it to his room wordlessly. I sit there, watching his form leave the room, and sigh.

He seems to like my paintings, and quite frankly, I’m relieved to know that he does, but does he not know manners well? Or does he choose not to use them with me because I’m human? Does he only respect his superiors and masters?

I have so many questions for this man. But I know that these questions will go unanswered.

With that thought lingering in my mind, I clean the slight mess I’ve made and return to my room silently, only to catch a millisecond glimpse of a head full of wavy, dark purple-red hair rounding the corner to exit the hallway. The hallway briefly reeks of acrid before it returns to the smell of flowers and warmth. I stare down the hallway, wondering if the hair will return but after two minutes of waiting, I enter my room and shut the door behind me quietly. I lean against it and look down at my feet, reimaging the hair in my mind until I wince at the sudden throbbing behind my eyes. I instinctively place a hand over my eye and walk to my bed to collapse on it and drift to sleep.

My dreams are the same. Mysterious and so convincingly surreal. I feel my consciousness slowly start to believe the scenarios being played inside of my mind and when I wake from my dreamland, I lightly touch my cheek to realize that I cried in my sleep. For the first time in my life, I’ve cried while sleeping and I don’t have the slightest clue of what to do.

I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to sleep, and I don’t want to think. I want to sink into a silence so soothing and so lonely that I can escape the pain throbbing in my head and my chest.

The shivers crawling up and down my spine each time I hear the stranger’s voice makes my eyes spill more tears, and the single thought of them swells the ache that’s beginning to increment into this inevitable sensation of pricking that’s agonizing my aptness with reality.

I can feel myself slip away from the world I just woke up in and drift back to the thought of me dancing sensually with that stranger. A stranger so inscrutable, I can feel the recondite warmth in my mind swarm and trail to my heart, burning into a flame so impenetrable that I believe this ache is trying to decipher who that stranger is. It’s trying so hard but ends miserably each time.

What is this? A torment to my mentality? Is an entity corrupting my sanity to mess with me for comical reasons? Is a sadist truly using me as a humor factor in their game of cruelty?

I see no end in this endless harrow. I want to sleep but the pain doesn’t cease. I want to dream not feel hollow with grieving. This hole that my dreams punctured into my chest is growing by each sun that rises into the sky, and by night, the moon shines on me, whispering words that I can’t hear but feel. So familiar, yet so unknown.

I want to breathe normally one day. When will that one day come?