Chapter 19

His heart refused to slow down from its constant quake. It beat against his chest, threatening to leave him out of breath. The knot strangling his throat had Nuada at the verge of tears. His skin began to burn. The small hours were ending. The shy sun rays of a new day were opening their way in the dark blue sky. He hugged Loreto tight under his arm and hurried his steps. Humans watched him as they passed by. Some stared at him as a ghostly manifestation while others shouted obscenities and insults typical of their ignorance. As they left Loreto's residence, there was no time to recite the spell to camouflage his real appearance. Time ran out through their fingers. The cancer was eating Loreto away. He felt it in the palm of his hands like a starving parasite consuming her organs. He swallowed through his tight throat. Loreto made a taxi to stop and ordered the driver to travel to the Brooklyn bridge. Nuada didn't know whether his druids could help her, but he couldn't remain crossed arms doing nothing as life abandoned her.

Something in his chest shook in horror at the mere idea of losing her. He had never wanted to involve himself with a human in this way. Their life expectancy, even in the best of scenarios, was but a breeze in his. He didn't remember when was the last time the warmth and light of love had touched his heart. The hatred and cynicism of eons had turned it into cold stone. Until today. Perhaps it was because there was nothing else left. He had murdered his father with his own hands and his twin sister had stabbed him in the back. If he knew his people well, he knew they wouldn't accept being ruled by him. He had killed, stole and pushed the Princess, his sister, into exile. All his life he believed without Bethmoora his existence had no sense. The once proud kingdom crumbled like the sandy stone corpse of his father. Maybe they were in fact destined to fade like the last millenary race on the planet. Nuada closed his eyes and shook his head. Loreto clung to his chest in the taxi's backseat. She sobbed. He kissed her head and took a deep breath with his nose buried into her hair.

They reached the access door of the Troll market when the lights of day had already left the moon silhouette behind in the sky. His exposed skin suffered from his brief contact with sun rays during the few meters they had to walk until the abandoned warehouse. He felt millions of tiny sharp needles piercing his body at the same time. He inhaled through his teeth in silence. Loreto didn't seem to notice. As soon as they entered underground a group of Bogarts went out to greet him as he walked by. The tooth fairies flew from one corner to the other, producing a general buzzing with their quick flapping. The stand owners were busy distributing, cutting, piling and storing their produce. Everything continued the same as always underground. Loreto walked, hugged to his waist. She looked at her surroundings with mistrust or fear. For him, all creatures of Bethmoora deserved to live on the surface of the planet as much as the ruling elves. To Loreto's eyes, perhaps all this underground world was a reason of repulsion. There was once a day in ancient time when these beings walked dignified the Earth as yet other members of the diversity of races of the planet. As much as the elves, those inhabitants of Bethmoora's underground cities had also suffered the evolution of their organs to adapt to the lack of flora and sunlight.

After crossing the market and entering his dwelling, the Prince guided the road to the studies and practice chamber of the Elven druids. The wise ones were surprised to see him arrive once again in human company. He updated them about Loreto's medical record. The druid extended both hands in her direction and with closed eyes perceived her energy from head to toes and back. Loreto had barely uttered a single word. There was dread in her eyes. And a silent plea for help.

"Eldar," he spoke to one of the druids, "I make you personally responsible for her."

The five wise ones took a bow at the same time. One of them faced Loreto and gestured towards the interior of the chamber. Nuada took her hand and kissed it. Don't leave me alone, she screamed in her thoughts. You'll be in good hands. I won't be far, he replied, looking into her eyes.

Reluctantly, he walked away from her and let loose of her hand. She seemed like a little girl among the druids. Even he had to look up to face them. He entered his shelter and collapsed on the armchair before the fireplace. Arasne arrived by his side, took a bow and asked whether he wished to eat or drink anything. The Prince barely shook his head and dismissed her. His stomach was closed tight. He didn't know how long he remained staring at the crackling flames. He went into a trance. He knew that if the druids couldn't help Loreto, he'd fall headfirst into the abyss and once there, nothing or nobody would save him. She was the last weak halo of light who through a thin crack in his heart was slipping through with all her strength. Strength was the one thing she was lacking in her weak human body. Why did such a kind soul exist in such a liable host? It made no sense. He saw himself hanging from the void, barely holding on with his exhausted fingers exerting such pressure. He was giving in into the infinite void at his feet, calling him like a magnet.

He woke up in the blink of an eye. He stood up and went to the druids chamber. How long had he been in the trance? Gaelin went to meet him. His countenance didn't bode good news. He informed him they had administered a forest demigod ichor treatment along an infusion based on extracts of different medicinal plants. Nuada walked in the section and gasped in shock as he saw Loreto unconscious on the platform in the middle. He shouldn't have been surprised, for it wasn't the first time she was under the spell to induce unconsciousness. Besides, both he and all elves went through the same procedure at the druids' hands. Just like she told him the human doctors had induced a state of coma to speed up her recovery, Elven druids made a similar process based on spells to ensure the inert body regenerates outside the consciousness influence.

"It's advisable His Royal Highness returns to his private chambers," Gaelin said in a gloomy voice and gestured with solemnity towards the exit, "this will take time."

"Why? Tell me what you need," Nuada insisted and didn't move from Loreto's side.

"We're not familiar with the human anatomy, Sir," the druid said and took a bow with the head. "This is differs from removing a bullet, Your Highness. Ideally, we'd consult with a human versed in the biology of his kind. Their bodies are polluted with the product of their toxicity and modernity. Perhaps our treatments do not make an effect where the human hand has closed the way to the power of nature."

Nuada frowned and fixed his gaze on Loreto. She was far gone sleeping as he had found her collapsed on the aisle floor of the Grand Theater. A chill attacked his spine and nested in his center with the coldness of desolation. A human versed in the biology of his kind. In a flash, the Prince turned around towards the exit and left the chamber running with wide traces. At his back he heard the druid asking where was he going. Quickly, he went to his dwelling and wore his protections. He embedded the lance to his back and adjusted the sword belt to his waist. Arasne consulted the clock and, worried, warned that the sun wasn't setting for another two hours.

"Time is what we don't have," the Prince mumbled as he laced his silk belt. "Think of me, Arasne. If the gods are with me, I'll get help for Loreto and I'll bring the Princess home."