“I’m awake now, Sorinda,” Threydan says, pulling me out of the memory. “Everyone I’ve ever known is gone, save you. Do you know what it is to sleep for a thousand years, dreaming of the world passing you by? It was agony, but I held out hope that one day I would rise again. One day, I could claim vengeance on the sirens who did this to me, all because I wanted to help the less fortunate.”
His eyes bore into mine. “You are my only hope. If I get too close to the sirens, they will only put me back to sleep. But you? You are immune to their songs as a woman. You can get me my vengeance, and then we can rule these lands however we see fit. I had one life taken from me, but I will not lose another.”
My head buzzes with all the new information. Threydan waits for me to say something, but I have to tread carefully. I cannot anger this man past his point of tolerance. He holds all the power. The power to kill my crew. The power to help us off this place. The power to turn me into some deathless creature like him.
But anger simmers within me, an anger so fierce I can actually feel the heat of it within my changed body.
I say, “Bad things happened to you out of your control. I know what that is.”
“I know you do,” he says.
“But you are trying to take away my choices, and that is not something I can forgive.”
“I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I brought you here so you could learn the truth and make the right choice. We know naught except for what this bond has shown us of each other. Let us take the time to really get to know each other. Then you can decide what you want, but I’ve already seen enough of you to know exactly what I want.”
To his credit, he keeps his eyes on my face, but I still feel his eagerness to look me over.
I narrow my eyes. “And afterward, should I decide that I still do not want to be a part of your plans, am I to believe you will release me?”
He doesn’t even give the words consideration. “You will make the right choice. I have every confidence. Let us not dwell on the alternative. You must have questions for me. Let me answer them for you.”
He already did. The only answer that I needed. Threydan professes to be a good person who was wrongfully hurt. But he clearly thinks his own agenda is more important than anyone else’s. He doesn’t care about who he hurts. Maybe his initial intention was to save his sister and make the panaceum available to all. But he has no such motivation now. He has no one to look out for save himself.
And me. Because he needs me in order to achieve his plans.
And I need time to form a plan of my own.
“If the panaceum’s powers can be shared with whomever you choose, then surely you can put me back to normal? Choose a woman who would relish in eternity and being by your side. Surely that’s what you want. Someone who wants you, too?”
I don’t know what nonsense I’m spouting, only that I hope it will get through to him.
“The process has already begun, Sorinda. It can only be finished.”
“But you intended to use the panaceum to help lots of people. Can’t you make someone else immortal to be with you?”
Threydan looks at the ground beside his bare feet. He still hasn’t bothered with shoes or a shirt. Is that how the men during his time dressed? What place was he from that it was so hot he couldn’t be bothered to cover up? Or does he simply prefer to wear so little? To prove that he’s not afraid of anything? Not the elements and certainly not a blade.
“The full powers of the artifact could have been shared freely once. Before I had to make the difficult choice to fuse with it. It can still be used to heal whomever I wish. I’ve already done so with that nasty gash on your cheek.” My hand involuntarily flies up to my face. I had forgotten all about the injury. “But I can only make one person immortal as I am. I intended that person to be my sister. Now that she’s gone, I’ve chosen you. You are my savior. My resurrector. My equal. Together we can live forever and do whatever we wish.”
And yet, still he says nothing of his cause to cure the sick and heal the wounded. No, he healed me because he needs me. Or perhaps he did not want my face to scar. Either way, he speaks nothing of a cause to aid those who are in need. If that was ever truly his motivation, it clearly isn’t any longer.
My face doesn’t alter at each new realization he gives me. If anything, I try to soften my features. But I don’t know the first thing about that. I’m sure I look like I sat on something sharp.
“You said you fused with it?” I ask. “What exactly did you do? Swallow it?”
Threydan shrugs. “I knew I could not die, so I cut open my flesh and inserted the panaceum within.”
My eyes rove over his body, looking for some telltale lump to suggest where it might be. When I get up to his face, I notice he’s smiling at my inspection.
“Where is it?” I ask.
“If you are thinking of trying to cut it out of me, it will not work, fierce Sorinda. Many have tried and failed. I cannot be parted from it.”
If I was thinking of cutting it out of him? Certainly, I was.
“How big is it?”
He brings his thumb and forefinger together to make a circle. “Like this.”
“Sounds like it was painful.”
“It was at first, but I cannot feel pain anymore.”
No pain. What is that like?
“At all?” I question. “Not even the pain of losing your sister?”
At that, his smile drops. “No physical pain,” he amends.
Ah. “So you’re to live for eternity with the pain of loss. Doesn’t that frighten you?”
He shrugs. “Why should it? I will live forever. I will have plenty of time to make a new family. Make new friends. I will have more people to care for me than ever before.”
The more he talks, the more I realize how much my capacity for hate can grow. Everything is about him and how he feels. People are replaceable.
Has he always believed this? I felt his love and devotion to his sister when I saw his memories. Was she the exception? Or has time changed him? Or perhaps the panaceum, an item that changes you physically, is also capable of changing who you are on the inside. If so, what would long-term exposure to such a thing cause?
And since it’s already made changes to me, am I in danger of losing who I am, too?
The thought is more terrifying than anything else. I am deadly as is, but what if I had no conscience? What would the panaceum have me do for the rest of my days? A killer who is unkillable?
I can’t allow that to happen.
“But you will continue to lose everyone forever,” I say. “You will live while everything else grows old and passes on.”
“Except for you,” he says, his eyes heating. “Everything except for you.”