Dark Princess: Shadows (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance #89)

14. Morelle

14

MORELLE

I n the wake of her mother's departure, Morelle became aware once more of the voice that had become her constant companion in this twilight state. He was in the middle of a story, his words weaving a tale of star-crossed lovers that seemed to echo her parents' ill-fated relationship.

"...and though they knew their love was doomed, they couldn't bear to part. Each moment together was stolen, precious beyond measure. They lived a lifetime in those fleeting encounters, knowing that the world would soon tear them apart."

Morelle was moved by the beauty and tragedy of the tale. Was this a legend? A myth?

The stranger's storytelling was masterful, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the narrative. Morelle found herself completely entranced, picturing the scenes he described with vivid clarity. She could almost feel the desperate passion of the lovers and taste the bittersweet flavor of their stolen moments.

As the tale reached its poignant climax, Morelle felt an overwhelming urge to open her eyes and see the face of her storyteller. She willed her eyelids to lift, her fingers to twitch, anything to show that she was present, that she was listening. But her body remained stubbornly unresponsive, a prison of flesh and bone that kept her isolated from the world.

Frustration welled up within her. She was so close to the surface, so near to breaking through the barrier of unconsciousness. She could feel the world just beyond her reach—the bed beneath her, the cool air on her skin, the presence of the stranger at her bedside. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't breach the final barrier.

"Mother of All Life, please help me find a way out of this prison."

Morelle felt like a hypocrite for beseeching a deity she didn't believe in. Asking her own mother for help would make much more sense. After all, she had appeared in this dream state and demanded that Morelle wake up.

"Mother!" she called in her mind. "Come back and help me breach the surface. I'm locked inside."

No one answered her plea.

Her mother had not returned, and the Mother of All Life was not real.

Morelle focused all her will on lifting her eyelids, and when that did not work, she imagined her eyelids fluttering or her fingers twitching, but her body refused to obey.

She remained still, silent, by all appearances lost in the depths of unconsciousness, while on the inside, she was a storm of awareness and emotion.

The voice continued its tale, unaware of her internal struggle. "And so, my dear princess, the lovers were forced to part. But their love lived on, a ray of hope in a world that sought to extinguish it. Some say that even now, centuries later, their spirits seek each other out, destined to find one another in every lifetime."

Despite herself, Morelle felt a pang in her chest at the bittersweet ending. It was beautiful and tragic, even if it was just a myth.

Real life was never as poetic as legends and myths tried to make it. Real life was mostly devoted to the mundane task of maintaining one's physical body, producing the next generation of beings, and for the Kra-ell, dying honorably in battle to gain for their soul admittance to the Fields of the Brave.

As the story came to a close, Morelle sensed a shift in the atmosphere around her. The male sighed, and she imagined him running a hand through his hair.

"I wonder if you can hear me, Princess," he said. "I like to think you can. That somewhere in there, you're listening, maybe even enjoying my tales."

Oh, if only he knew.

Morelle wanted to reach out and grab his hand to assure him that, yes, she was listening, and yes, she was enjoying his stories.

Well, most of them. She preferred the ones about epic battles and great technological achievements. The silly myths and legends about lovers were entertaining, but they also made her angry for some reason.

Still, all his stories served to anchor her, keeping her from drifting too far into the abyss.

"You know," he continued with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I've never had such an attentive audience. It's rather addictive, I must say. I could get used to a captive listener who doesn't interrupt or check their communication device every so often."

He was joking, and Morelle liked that he could do that at his own expense. It took confidence to do so. She wondered what he looked like and what sort of expressions crossed his face as he spun his tales.

"I will step out for a little bit to stretch my legs, but I'll be back soon with more stories. You might think that I have exhausted my repertoire, but I have plenty more. I've lived for a long time and accumulated enough stories to keep talking for years without pause."

Morelle felt a surge of panic at the thought of him leaving. His voice had become her constant, her guide. Without it, she might drift back into the void and get lost again.

Redoubling her efforts to move, to give some sign that she was aware, she focused all her will on her hand, imagining her fingers moving.

For the briefest instant, she thought she felt something, a twitch, a spark of connection between mind and body, but as quickly as it came, it was gone.

She was trapped.

"Dream of happier endings than the one in my tale, Princess. When you wake up, we'll write a new story together, one of hope and new beginnings."

At the sound of retreating footsteps, Morelle felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The effort of trying to break free of her body's prison had drained her, leaving her mental landscape fuzzy and indistinct.

She drifted again, caught between the vivid memories of her mother's revelations and the lingering echoes of the storyteller's voice. In this hazy realm, past and present blurred, reality and myth intertwined.

Morelle saw flashes of her childhood, the dark corridors of the temple, the whispered conversations with Ell-rom, and the constant fear of discovery. They had felt so alone, ignored by their mother, but now, armed with new knowledge, she understood the depth of her mother's sacrifice and what it had taken for her to save their lives.