I Will Shred You Into Pieces

“The baby was locked in a wooden box and dropped in River Boltou an hour back,” Horme’s tone was nervous. “And there was another attack on the temple of Tesra. They haven’t found the elixir but we need to be cautious. This is the second attack.”

His stomach churned as his breath accelerated and anxiety hit him. Only a few knew what that baby meant to him. Born only a month back the child had brought hope in his life, hope to live, hope to love. He was leaning against the edge of the table, reading scrolls – a formula for the elixirs he had been assigned to prepare when Horme relayed his news. Prince Vargauz of Uzgolith gripped the table hard. Slowly, he turned to him. 

His fury was conveyed in one short word, “Who?” 

Horme’s gulped. 

“I don’t know about the child. But the temple of Tesra was looted. The tracks are the same, the weapons they left are the same and speak of Xikuth’s intrusion.” There was strained look on his face fearing the oncoming wrath. 

The rage inside Vargauz manifested into a loud growl. Those brutal, wide, beautiful brown wings susurrated and emerged from his back. Lined with streaks of golden feathers on the lower edges, they were darker than night on top and glimmered like sunlight on the bottom. 

“Leave.” 

His voice was too soft and controlled, almost lethally dangerous. 

The moment Horme’s left, Vargauz burst into shadow and smoke. Darkness gobbled him as he parthoned to River Boltou. He appeared just above the surface and after folding his wings, instantly dove into its deep waters. He had to save the baby. The light became dimmer as he swam deeper towards the riverbed. With a gesture of his fingers, he cast a spell—bright glowing light in the form of yellow orb sprung in his hand and guided him through the darkness. It wasn’t difficult to locate the box. The smooth undercurrent was pushing it towards the open sea and he hurried to reach it, before swimming up to the surface. Keeping a hold on the box, he went to the shore before opening it. 

She was alive, throwing her legs out of the green silk fabric that wrapped her. He looked into her deep blue eyes and brought his hand forward. She caught his finger in her tiny hands and gurgled, suffusing warmth through his otherwise dark soul. “Stay alive for me, Illaria. I will come to find you.” 

It was midnight by the time he left the box on Dibba’s doorstep and parthoned back to Uzgolith. 

Feeling weak with relief, he slumped his shoulders and walked into the antechamber of his house, when a cold voice stopped him. 

Maeb. 

She was standing with five guards.

“The Divinity Elixir was stolen from the temple of Tesra. Where were you?” Her voice was sharp like the blade of his sword. 

“Mother, I—” 

“Henceforth, you are banished from the Kingdom of Uzgolith and you will return only after you have found the elixir of faes.” 

“No!” Vargauz protested but the next moment he found himself in darkness again. 

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Sitting in the doctor’s room with her hands in her head, Amelia was brooding over her recent breakup. He wasn’t there. She opened her backpack and scrolled through the messages. There wasn’t anything new. She threw the phone back into the bag and stared at her coffee mug. Did he even miss her? He made her feel so low, so less worthy. Yet she thought about him. She was a hopeless case. 

She picked up the mug and sipped warm coffee. It was 4PM and her shift was about to end in two hours. The blue curtains of the room fluttered lightly in the cold breeze. She should have called him. Amelia got up from the sofa and walked up to the window. In distance she watched the umbrella pines as their leaves swayed gently. The soft, fresh scent of the lilacs wafted through her nostrils. She watched the wild roses of pink, red and blue shades in bloom near the river. River Boltou – whose fresh, misty smell embraced her, encased her as it used to in her dreams and wild fantasies. 

Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it from her bag hoping that Daniel had messaged him. She slid across the screen and looked at the message. It was a message from the emergency room, where she was posted for the month as a resident doctor. 

[Dr. Amelia Sullivan, please report to the emergency now.] 

She sighed, quickly drained her coffee and dashed out of the room after grabbing her lab coat from the sofa. As she rushed across the long, maze-like hallways of Springfield Hospital, she thought about the grey paint the walls were coated with. How dull? Like her life. Muffled cries of children could be heard from the pediatric department, which was the only bright spot of the hospital with brightly painted walls, and a room dedicated to children that was full of toys and a play center. The shiny tiles of the floor were reflecting the overhead fluorescent lighting. Amelia arrived at the emergency department within ten minutes. She used her key card to open the door and went to the nurse station. 

The nurse pointed towards the trauma room and said in a breathy voice, “There’s a patient with a cut on his upper left eye. He refuses to get it stitched and he is inebriated. There is a lot of blood loss.” 

Amelia wore her gloves on her way to the room. She hated such patients—patients who were a pain in the ass when they had had too much to drink. She would always request Daniel not to drink and go out of control but he never listened to her. Two nights back he had passed out on the side street ruining their rare date. As residents, she hardly got time to sleep and yet she managed to find time for a date with him.  With the help of a cab driver, she had brought him back to the flat, which they shared. They had an altercation the next day followed by her walking out bag and baggage. She landed at her friend, Sasha’s place. 

As soon as she pushed the door open, she found him sitting on the chair with his face to the other side. A male nurse tried to hold his hand but he jerked him away rudely and growled, “Stay away. If you will touch me, I will shred you into pieces.” 

The male nurse flinched. 

Her nostrils flared. She walked in front of him to face him. She glared at him with a tight expression on her face and said, “Don’t you disrespect those who are trying to help you.” However, just after she had blurted, she noticed him staring at her with his dreamy, sultry midnight-blue eyes that were heavy-lidded due to the alcohol he had had. Wearing a long coat over his black leather shirt and pants, he looked muscular, lean, massive with broad shoulders and beautiful beyond words and bloodied. 

Amelia gulped. 

There was blood splattered over his forehead, which caked over his thick eyebrows. Some of his wavy hair fell on the forehead and were stuck with the blood. For a moment she was speechless. When she found her voice, she croaked to the male nurse. “Clean him.” 

Without a word, the man got himself cleaned up trying his best to stay stiff in his place but failing as hell. 

The head nurse gave Amelia the stitching thread and the sterilized needle. Amelia stepped closer to examine his wound. As soon as she touched him, she could feel electricity pulsate through her body. The atmosphere charged. His Adam’s apple moved up and down. She gasped. She leaned and held his head and chin with her hands more firmly blaming her reaction to her pheromones and to the recent breakup. Her black locks slid on her shoulder. 

The wound was deep and needed to be tended immediately. Deftly, she stitched up the area and then attached gauze to it with a tape. “You are done,” she said and stepped back. 

He inclined his head. “Thank you Dr. Amelia,” he said in a low, soft velvety voice, which flowed like the mirror-like waters of Boltou, as he stared in her light blue eyes.

She held her breath and looked at her gloved hands. “You are welcome,” she said trying to sound normal. As she glanced at his face again she found that it was different – hard, angular, like it had been cut from marble. If he had been a statue, he would have been terrifyingly beautiful. 

Amelia removed her gloves and trashed them.  

The male nurse and the head nurse watched his with shock in their eyes. They stood stiffly. The man who had been creating havoc ever since he had entered the room acted like a cat and even got himself stitched so well. 

He got up from his chair and after picking his wallet and keys from the nearby table he walked towards the door. 

“Mr. Rotzwak, you have to sign papers before leaving,” the head nurse said and followed him. 

“Sure,” he replied.