Arcid, smoke, smell of campfire spearing through her nostrils.
Distant bellows of animals, crackling, popping, roaring sounds of flames with the rushing of wind...
Sweltering, a scorching heat on her body.
The weary body curled on the dirt.
Beads of sweat on her forehead, on her chest, covering her heated skin, the fabric sticking see through.
Her chest heavily rising and falling.
Suffocating from the lack of air...
Neva gasped. Rolling on her side.
She coughed, and coughed, clutching her tightened chest.
Writhing. Moaning as her skin charred.
Helpless and burning in contact with the ablazed ground.
Tears pricked from the stinging smoke in her eyes.
Her head muddled, looking through the yellow fire filtering through thick hazy clouds of smoke. Burning trees over her head, sparks flying with the wind, flaming bushes and nature everywhere.
A ghastly heat flayed her skin.
Neva crouched down, hands supporting her trembling form.
Her face dipped down. She coughed again.
Nails clawing the dirt...
Attempting to stand up, but the wobbly, weakened knees gave away.
Tears streamed down the reddened cheeks.
She was confused, clutching her head, a sharp ache slitting through her skull.
She felt mire all over her, and she tasted fume, debris of ashes in her mouth.
Then she heard a distant voice.
A familiar voice calling her.
She couldn't speak.
Neva choked on her breath.
She covered her airways with her hands, smearing dirt on her face.
It was a wildfire.
And she was in the middle of a burning forest.
Blurry eyes saw a silhouette of a lamb.
Faint and white appearing from the orange fumes and burning bushes.
The pure white lamb had fire ablazed eyes.
She knew, the glowing for a different elucidation and not of the burning forest reflecting in those deep coherent eyes.
The lamb sprinting through...
Through the smoke and flying sparks of fire...
And towards her.
Smoke filled her lungs.
Unconsciousness clawing for her.
She forced her eyelids to stay open.
And like an illusion... the white lamb had dissapeared in the smoke.
Eyes closing again.
A dry cough ached her chest.
The same familiar call.
Another dream...
She saw him running towards her.
His face she could discern flushed covered in a clothe.
She was falling into the void.
Hot...
Hot...
She was hot everywhere.
She needed water... A soothing breeze...
An open space within nature...
A bathe in the cold, fresh waterfall—with him again.
Strong arms wrapped around her body.
A call for her.
Again.
Still distant.
She was picked up.
Limp body being carried in his arms.
Arms and legs boneless.
And when she slit her lids and saw those pained eyes reflecting the fire inside.
Deep, dark brows contracted; she knew she was home.
She was safe and so she let the ripple of slumber gently caress her—gliding deep in the ocean.
But she heard the distant voice again.
Different voice.
Growing closer...
Somebody was shaking her.
"Neva," a gentle pat on her cheek.
She attempted to open her eyes.
The burst of brightness causing her to shut her lids.
She heard a sigh of relief.
The rustling of leaves and carooning of birds.
The serene silhouettes of trees rippling shadows on the cold ground.
The bitter smell of grass. A fresh breeze swirling...
No blister on her skin.
She slowly opened her eyes again.
Adjusting with the rays of light, the azure sky through the agape of trees.
She saw a familiar face hovering over.
A frown appeared on her face.
She reached to caress his face.
A shiver of delight ran through his eyes...
He was leaning into her.
A faint smile in his lips. "You're not him." She whispered.
His delight was betrayed. His face withered.
Ishmael shared the same features as him.
They were yet... so different.
Her soul saw through him clear and true.
Those eyes, this face did not mirror her own, her soul like she did with Rhett.
She made to remove her hand but he clutched it.
Forcing her to stay. Pleading gaze looking into her.
He was so plain. So unadorned.
He couldn't send ripples of waves in her core with just the rivet of their eyes.
Or overwhelm the heart with love at his mysterious familiarity. With the wonder; the beauty of the souls weaved sacredly one.
He wasn't the one she needed. Neva finally freed her hand with force.
"Love," Ishmael called.
Neva did not reply as she sat up and looked around in confusion.
The burning forest.
The wildfire was a dream. A warning.
She recognised the similarity of the outline. The tracing of swaying trees and green bushes and the dirt–ways of as parallel as the burning forest in her dream.
And she lay on the same place, a clear of space between bushes and agape of trees like she did in her dream.
Hands becoming clammy from sweat.
Her breathing was shallow and heavier.
"We were in Miraeth weren't we?" She glanced at him.
He stared at her for a pause of silence.
The wind blowing through the woods was louder. The singing of the birds, the quickening heartbeats in her ears reckoning to further test her patience.
Then finally he nodded with reluctance.
"How can it even be possible?" She held her forehead.
Him being here was proof of it all.
She was sure of it. The realism of the scenes she beheld urging, forcing to believe.
She had to find Rhett.
She immediately stood up, staring up at the two–floored courtyard house in the north, surrounded by high walls unveiled through the slit of the woods.
She felt a grip on her wrist.
Neva glanced down at her wrist, and then up to find a glossy eyed Ishmael.
"Please love."
He swallowed. "Come back to me. This time I'll make everything right."
Neva's eyes were cold.
"On what bearing? On what relation do we share a home?"
"You're my wife. I'm your husband."
"A marriage with no uphold or truth?
I don't accept it." She harshly rolled off her wrist.
Ishmael then saw her bare ring finger.
His own wedding band glinted on his ring finger.
It didn't have the pair anymore.
He felt a splinter, a tightness in his chest.
Neva started to find a way towards the courtyard house.
Ishmael stood still on the dirt where he woke up after the abstrucity of scene of Miraeth.
Miraeth...
An abrupt flicker of hope ignited inside him.
He looked at her faring back.
An ethereal frame glowing, walking through the shadows of the tall pine trees.
Crunching of dry fallen, moulding leaves beneath each of her step.
Long raven waves of hair bouncing, light brown lacy curls glowing copper under the flicker of sun rays, cascading down her waist, a gust of wind floating breezily along her thin white dress.
The floral scent, the silkiness through his fingers when he brushed through the strands, this feeling manifestly lingered.
The warmth, the feeling of heaven in Neva...
"I will take you to Miraeth."
Neva seized.
Ishmael jogged towards her. Light, quick thuds approaching, accentuated by dry aperiodic gnashing of leaves.
"I lived for fifteen years in Miraeth. I can help you."
Neva turned to him as he neared her with slow, careful strides now.
Her gaze laced in doubt and indifference.
"We'll find another way without bothering you." Neva turned on her heels again.
"That Island is a prison. The moment you step in trouble is all you'll face."
She didn't heed and continued on her path while he could only follow behind.
"I doubt you could even reach there without the ocean decaying your dedication."
He gripped her arm and made her face him.
Uncertainty and anxiousness was written all over Neva's face.
"You will bring dead upon yourselves and the twins." He spat through gritted teeth.
Neva frowned. "I'm not even sure if I want them along."
She broke out from his stiffened grip. She presumed a print of redness would be left in her skin.
He frowned. "So you won't take them?"
"I have family and friends whom I can entrust them to, Ishmael.
The truth is promising than you made me believe otherwise."
"And how long do you plan to burden them? Don't forget my adversaries remain. Revengeful and seeking to ruin all that I ever loved."
She lowered her eyes.
He was not wrong. She would be endangering them all.
God why does trouble never ceases for her!
"Surrender yourself." Neva mumbled. "I'm sorry?" Ishmael tilted his head tauntingly.
She glared at him. "Pay for your sins!"
Ishmael only sneered.
Neva gritted her teeth and turned.
Her strides long and rushing until she found the clearing, leading up to the pavement.
She huffed in anger as his footsteps neared.
"You'll be caught the moment you turn up with me." Neva seethed.
"Are you worried for me?" Ishmael teased lightly.
She faced him. "Never."
"I'm afraid about the strain my children would be exposed to." There could be violence. Blood even.
And she didn't want to imagine the danger that would put her children under.
His face darkened.
"I'm not going anywhere without seeing them." He missed them. Truly ached for the warmth and softness of his children.
Neva sighed, eyes dimming with despair.
Then her ears perked at the squealing noise of an engine.
She looked over across, ahead at the pavement along the lone house in the clearing within the woods.
The grey Aston Martin driving towards the courtyard house.
Her heart stimulated.
Heart–beats thumping fast inside her chest of who was to reveal beyond.
She made off on her feet. Lifting her dress up, as she climbed with difficulty the slippery, raised grassed land leading to the flattened street.
Her hands smeared in dirt as she made it to the pavement.
"Neva," Ishmael called but she only sprinted towards the Aston Martin.
The Aston Martin eventually slowed.
A smile bloomed on Neva's face as she waved at the car rumbling to a stop.
They had seen her. Whoever was to reveal behind the wheels.
And her heart thumped louder in anticipation as the door flung open.
She was almost stumbling on her reckless steps.
He stepped out.
A face of disbelief.
Solace, worry swirling in those warm eyes of her beloved.
"Rhett!" Neva cried out.
And Rhett's weak strides eventually turned to a run.
A fleeting race to get to her.
Tears steamed down Neva's face.
She thought she would never see him again.
His face peeling off the rest of the emotions.
Enraptured, trembling as he crumbled to just take her in his arms.
This distant long... and going on and on for forever.
And when she collapsed on him, strong arms immediately wrapped around her.
Her feet lifted above the earth.
He was squeezing her into his embrace.
A whimpering Neva tightened her arms around his neck.
And Rhett prayed gratitude with his shivering body.
Unbreathing and soaring heart as his face buried in her shoulder.
.
.
.
And Ishmael stood there.
His legs numb in a distant.
Bare and abscend in the middle of the road.
His eyes stung.
His chest stung.