CHAPTER TWENTY

“THE STORY BEGINS WITH THE moon high in the night sky, and below it was the sun warrior and moon priestess. The party continued on before them, but Leila was too curious about the masked man standing in front of her.

‘Thank me? What for?’

Shairk turned his head to the side, baffled and somewhat embarrassed to think she would recognize him. Especially not when he was dressed up like this. He damned the sun and stars. He cursed at Saadulah for not stopping him before he went too far.

Leila tipped her head to the side to get a better glimpse of his masked face. She found nothing but his blazing eyes. She brought her hand to his cheek and turned his face so he can look at her. ‘Who are you?’

The warrior put his hand over hers and pushed it down. ‘If you were to know me, you would never touch me the way you just did.’

The priestess frowned and removed her mask.

Sharik sucked in his breath. Her eyes gleamed silver just like the moon. Seeing her outside of the battlefields was a foreign, beautiful sight.

When the man said nothing, Leila stepped up the him. ‘Tell me who you are before thanking me.’

If this was going to kill him, so be it. Sharik opened his mouth. ‘I-’

‘Leila!’

They both turned at her name. Hasan beckoned to her, clearly drunk and out of his mind. He waved his hands around, wanting get her to approach him.

‘Leila, come!’

‘Go,’ Sharik told her, knowing very well that she couldn't disobey anything.

‘But-’

He shook his head, a brown strand of hair falling over his moon mask. ‘Go. Don't worry about me, I'm not important.’

She was conflicted, stuck between defying her brother and staying with this stranger she barely knew. Gods, what his gold eyes could do to her. ‘I want to see you again,’ she urged.

He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I already did what I came here to do. Forget about me and have fun tonight.’

‘Why thank me then? Why go through all the trouble if you refuse to give me an explanation?’ She searched his eyes, wanting to peel away that mask that covered his face. She wanted to know what was behind it.

‘Leila,’ he purred out, his voice with such smoothness the darkness would never be able to compare to it. ‘How do you know if I'm a cruel murderer? Sent here to kill you?’

‘Leila!’ Her brother called out again.

The priestess sighed. ‘You would have done so already. But something tells me to trust you.’

Gods, that was going to get her killed one day. He never trusted his guts; he trusted his mind and eyes, not his heart. ‘I refuse to see you again.’ Sharik was such a horrible liar, especially with his heart beginning to race.

‘I-’ she stammered out. ‘Of course, I can't force you. But just know that I will be waiting for you on the other side of this estate where the sun will rise.’

Leila fixed her mask back on her face, smiled, and turned to leave.

He grabbed her wrist.

She turned back, waiting to see if he would say anything. Nothing. They simply just stared, perhaps even memorizing, each other.

And then, without another word between the two, Sharik let go.

The priestess let a moment or two go before finally turning her back on him. She inhaled in from her nose and out her mouth, but in the end, she still found her heart pounding against her hardened chest.

She looked down at her wrist, still warm from his touch. An eyebrow rose up as she found her wrist smeared in heavy moon makeup. She wore none, so that could only mean the stranger did.

Leila looked up and searched the crowd. Her eyes were instantly trained to find a man in moon mask. She only found stares looking her way.

‘Leila!’

She turned back to Hasan, with Nakia by his side now. Taking one last glance back, Leila made her way to her brother.

MOVING SWIFTLY AND UNDETECTED WAS one of Leila's biggest flaws. She had been taught all her life to bring attention to herself and remain open, especially if she was to be a masterful moon priestess.

If she wanted to please her parents.

But she could manage to do it this once, this one time in order to see that stranger. She was willing to risk it.

Miles away on the other side of the estate, the party carried on without Leila. She was sure her brother was brewing up a storm without her help this year.

Right now though, she was too caught up in anticipating if that golden-eyed boy was where she told him to be. She rounded the corner and-

‘You came,’ she inhaled shakingly. The priestess slowly stalked to the balcony, taking off her mask once again.

Sharik turned. ‘Of course I did.’ He pulled on the thin material that barely covered his painted skin. After tugging up his sleeves and wiping is sweaty palms, he realised that he still had his mask on. He was afraid to take it off, afraid to show his true form to her, afraid that...it will not leave her running away in horror. Because underneath the mask was his true, raw, vulnerable self.

This was so much different than the battlefield. The battlefields was all adrenaline and power; to see which side would rise: the moon or the sun. It was a place to hold nothing back, to have no regrets, and to liberate thyself.

But here, at this very moment, it was everything and nothing like that. He felt as though he had to hold back, but as well as to free himself of these constraints. This was too intimate, too easy for him somehow. Nothing has ever been easy for him.

‘Did you wait long?’

He just stared at her, at her silver eyes, while hair, grey skin. And gods, her lips.

‘Did you wait long?’ she asked again.

His eyes snapped back up to hers. ‘No,’ he told her. He would wait again to see her just like last time.

She smirked then. ‘You lie.’

He made sure his face was passive as he said, ‘I do not.’

Her smirk turned into a sly smile. ‘You do. And you do again.’

Sharik raised a sharp brow. ‘How so?’

She took a calculative towards him; enough to keep him at ease, but enough to be as close to him as possible. ‘I have a feeling that you've been out since I've left. And you continue to lie when you refuse to tell me the least bit about you.’

He tipped tipped his chin up, looking at Leila from the bridge of his nose. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘Who are you?’

‘That's a broad question to shoot for answers.’

She crossed her arms. ‘Don't try to get smart on me now. Now answer the question, I know you have the answer.’

Her eyes followed his broad scarred hands as it travelled it's way to his face; his mask. Everything stopped; time, the sun, the moon, the war, it all stopped as he peeled off the lunar mask.

And all that was left was his painted face.

‘My name is Sharik,’ he enunciated each word, ‘and I am the sun warrior you saved that day on the battlefield.’

Leila felt paralyzed at the moment, a sudden rush of heat and ice colliding at the same time. ‘Oh,’ was all she could manage as she stepped up to him.

He watched her every move, waiting to see what she'll do.

‘Sharik.’ She tiptoed up so she could fully examine his horribly painted face. ‘Sharik, Sharik, Sharik,’ she repeated until her tongue became use to the foreign name. Placing a palm on his cheek, she swiped it across his face, smearing the paint off.

What she found was proud bronze skin that has seen better days. Saw the true color of his lips as her fingers wiped makeup away, of his cheeks, and scars. His eyes a never changing color of the sun itself.

‘It really is you, isn't it?’ Her voice was barely a whisper, the night taking it away. ‘The fallen warrior I helped that day.’

He simply nodded, letting Leila have her way.

‘I thought you were dead. I presumed an infection got the better of you, or a moon warrior killed you if they found you, or...or you did survive but died in a different battle in a different field where I weren't assigned to. I thought-’

He placed his hands over her trembling ones, trying his best to calm her down. ‘I'm here now, that must count for something.’

Leila removed her hands immediately and made her wait to the balcony, putting her weight on the cement railings. ‘That explains everything then. I-’ She held herself back, not wanting to admit the fact that she thought about him time from time.

‘Yes?’ he encouraged her, walking briskly to her, leaving back on the railing with his elbows.

She turned her head to look at him, clumps of the paint still on his face. She nearly snorted at how awful he looked. ‘You could get killed, being here.’

‘It was the only way to thank you. You saved my life when I was willing to die for the sun.’

The priestess furrowed her brows. ‘Do you wish to be dead? Wished that I didn't save you?’

He laughed coldly. ‘Gods no. I wouldn't be here now, in the flesh and blood, giving my life more meaning than it ever has. I...I wouldn't have been able to see you once more.’

Heat coursed through her and stayed on her cheeks, and Leila did not know if it was from his eyes or dawn breaking dusk. ‘Now that you've found me, what are you going to do next?’

He turned himself over so he could watch the flaming star rise with the woman who saved his life. ‘Continue on as before. Fight this war until one of us falls. Or until I die.’

Leila smiled at him. ‘I would like it very much if you stayed alive.’

‘Indeed, I too.’ He was never fond of sunrises, he knew every crack and flaw on it. Every power and strength it had. But he never knew what beauty the sun could possess. Sharik stole a glance at Leila and found her practically glowing in her opposite element. ‘I want to see you again.’

Her head snapped back to his. ‘Sharik, no. This is dangerous enough. I'm not even...we're not...our ancestors...I-I'm suppose to kill your kind.’

‘And so am I,’ he growled out. ‘And yet here we are, alive and diplomatic enough not to have more blood on our hands. My hand reeks the scent of your people, and here you are tolerating it. Our ancestors have started a war they knew they could never finish, it will live beyond our years to see which of us will dominate the Sky. And if that is the tragic case, then I want to see you again until I no longer can.’

‘It can't be done,’ she feared. Her head fell into her hands. Never have so many thoughts been confined in her mind.

‘There has never been rules that bound us not to.’

‘You rise with an arrogant sun,’ she spit out.

‘At least I don't rise with a naive moon.’

They glared at each others, none of them willing to break nor bend their pride. If they were to fall together, then so be it.

‘Meet me at the fallen temple down on the Lands in two weeks time. Do you know where that is?’ Sharik asked?

Leila nodded.

The warrior sighed. ‘Come or don't, that's all I ask of you. If I never show, then it means I've died.’

‘And if I do not come,’ she said quiet, ‘it means that I've decided to side with my people.’

‘I hope you do though,’ he told her flat out.

‘I do too.’

TWO WEEKS HAS NEVER BEEN so tortuous for Leila. Fourteen days has never felt so long. Each mission was murder itself, each battlefield a held breath for she was afraid to find Sharik's body in them.

For the warrior, each battle he went into had to be well thought out. He didn't want to die, not when he had Leila on the line.

But when fourteen turned into one, and when the sun fell for the moon to rise, they both knew it was time.

The priestess traveled lightly, her crooked dagger and cloak the only thing she brought with her. The Lands below was not foreign to her, so finding the fallen temple was easy to find.

The temple was in neutral land, hidden away from the world by bushes and overgrown vines.

Sharik traveled unarmed, a dangerous game he was playing at. No one goes down to the Lands unarmed. He knew every crack, corner, and flaw down below.

He pushed through the dense woods, his steps light, ears listening, eyes looking. When he saw the dome shaped temple, he knew he had made it. Walking up the cracked steps, he saw a silhouette.

Leila turned at the light steps, hand going to her prized dagger.

‘It's just me,’ Sharik said, hands up.

‘You scared me,’ she admitted. ‘Gods, Sharik, I'm scared. We could get caught.’ Her grip never loosened.

‘I know, so am I.’ He was breathless for some reason. ‘We are both here, that's all that matters.’

They both walked to the center of the temple, staring at each other, skeptical that they were really there.

‘This is a symbolic place,” Leila told the warrior. ‘But you know that already.’

He nodded.

‘It's where it all started. The place where your people killed my own because of a family rival.’

‘That's not true,’ he defended. ‘You moon people couldn't agree to a compromise and therefore shot my own down.’

‘Two different stories,’ the priestess realised, ‘which one is correct?’

‘The one who wins this war.’ Sharik's eyes never left hers, daring her to look away.

She only loosened her grip on her weapon to push back her hood. Her hair was pulled pack into a loose braid, silver eyes glistening in the night light.

‘We should leave soon, no need to stir any suspicion. Your brother might be looking for you.’

She shook her head. ‘Leave my brother to me. Let's just worry about us.’

‘Leila-’

‘I want to see you in your element.’

‘What?’

The healer stepped up to Sharik and tucked a strand of his hair away. ‘I want to see you when the sun rises. They say that a sun warrior is at its highest power when they're in their element.’

‘The same could be said about you as well.’

Leila huffed out a breath. ‘We'll lose the war, I know it. Our soldiers are few and weak, while yours continue to grow brightly. We will lose and you will have the Sky all to yourselves.’

‘Are you a seer?’ he questioned her.

‘No, but-’

‘Then there's no final answer yet. All I know is this: I want to see you again and again and again until this is over.’ He grabbed her trembling hands, but found them still and calm.

‘You want something that can't be done. Being here with you is shamed upon on both sides. Perhaps when this is all over, we can grow as friends.’

Sharik closed his eyes. ‘Don't you understand? You're friendship would be the end of me. Leila, I-’

The warrior pulled his healer down with him, covering her body with his. He listened closely, sure he heard a noise off in the distance.

‘What is it?’ Leila whisperer, weapon already in hand.

He shook his head, silencing her.

A moment passed, and then two before Sharik looked down at Leila, checking on her and found her gaze burning through him. ‘We have to be careful, someone might be here.’

‘Okay,’ she breathed out, feeling his heart hammer just as hard as her own. She put a steady hand on his chest.

Sharik stated at her unbashfully, eyes flickering down to her lips. ‘Leila-'”

Mazeeda gasped and opened her eyes.

There, in the flesh and blood, was Khai, wide awake and staring at her. His hand squeezed hers once again. “Love of my heart,” he croaked out.

The storyteller closed her eyes and inhaled, keeping her tears from falling out. “You bastard,” she whispered to him. “You selfish, foolish, bastard. Do you understand how afraid I was for you?”

“I'm sorry.”

“This better not be a dream, that would be too cruel. If it is, I don't want to wake up from it.”

“Love.” Khai caressed her cheek with a hand. “The best part is that it isn't and I'm right here. Open your eyes and I'll be right in front of you, Mazeeda.”

The Calipha did just that, and when she saw her husband weak and pale and alive, she wept.

And he was there to hold and soothe her as she cried out what her mouth couldn't.

|AUTHOR'S NOTE|

here is the first of the weekly updates for this book. sharik's and leila's story continues on, as well as, of course, my two baby's mazeeda and khai.

so glad to be back and functioning.