40- UBI ITERUM INCIPIT*
*Where it all starts again
He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the thick, dark wooden beams in the ceiling. It took him a while to recognise them, and to realise they were not just a figment of his imagination. For endless seconds he dared not move, wondering if he was really awake and how he had come to be here. He turned his head to one side, then the other, rediscovering the bed and the room he was in. It was dark, but a golden light shone through the large windows that opened to the outside. He folded and unfolded his fingers, moved his legs. Although his head was seriously buzzing, he realised that he felt good, relatively serene and calm, as if after a long and restful night's sleep.
He sat up slowly. He recognised the furniture in the room, as well as the adjacent bathroom, the carpet, the few Indian decorations on the wall, the books in the library. Everything was there, just as he remembered it. Everything seemed real and there, but when he listened, he realised that the house was completely silent. Even outside, not a sound could be heard.
He finally pushed back the blankets and put his feet on the cold wooden floor. He took his time as he got to his feet, fearing to feel any discomfort, any pain, as if the lightness he felt could not be real. But it was not. He felt as good as he had ever felt before.
With a slow step, not knowing what to expect exactly, he naturally moved towards the large open window, through which the evening air was rushing in. He went out onto the terrace, glancing around, and leaned for a moment on the railing. He looked out over the vast expanse of nature and enjoyed the warm desert air, the one that had soothed him so many times. Below, a stream meandered between the orange-tinted rocks and the green of the desert plants.
A little further on, or more precisely, a little higher above the house, perched on a rock, he made out a shape, or rather, a silhouette. That of a person. He walked along the terrace, down the steps to the forecourt with a silent step. His bare feet made no sound either in the dry, rocky earth as he followed the little path that led away from the house and up into the rocks. After a while, when he finally reached the top of the plateau from which the rock literally emerged, he found a man sitting on the ground with his feet dangling in the void. And strangely enough, he was not surprised to find him there. This time, he knew this was really him, not like the shadow that had crossed his path in the sand storm.
Kurtis approached just as quietly, and took his place beside him. The man did not react. His blue eyes were fixed on the horizon, but he didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular. He was just standing there, waiting, or perhaps thinking. The young man realised that unlike the last time he had seen him, his once light blonde hair was now a beautiful silver colour. The features on his face were more marked, more visible, as if time had continued to have an effect on him.
A gust of wind whipped gently across his face. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, without moving. The high rocks and cliffs around them had taken on beautiful reds and oranges colours in harmony with the sky and the setting sun, which gradually descended and disappeared in the horizon. He couldn't tell if it was his imagination or an effect of the sunlight, but everything seemed blurred, or at least, imprecise, as if all these reliefs around them, the house, this man, were only a mirage.
He took a breath and let the cool evening air rush into his lungs and invigorate him. It did him a world of good. For a short moment the mercenary's gaze got lost in the distorted shapes of the steep canyon.
"Is this really you this time?"
The man, however, remained completely impassive and immobile, did not pay the slightest attention to him and did not bother to reply. Kurtis watched the surroundings with interest, turning from one side to the other, a little lost.
"So this is where you've been all this time?", he finally said in a whisper, not sure he understood exactly what was going on, or what he was supposed to say.
At the man's lack of response, his silence and his familiar cold and distant scowl, Kurtis couldn't hold back a nervous laugh.
"Why are you laughing?"
His deep voice took him by surprise, and awakened a whole host of sensations within him. The demon hunter shook his head gently, slightly disturbed by what was happening.
"For nothing. I just recognize you there, that's all. I was afraid my memories were kinda incorrect, but now I realise my mind wasn't really wandering that much after all."
Kurtis felt eyes as sharp and inquisitive as his own come to focus on him.
"I sense resentment deep inside you."
The mercenary sighed loudly, a little annoyed at the turn their conversation was suddenly taking whereas it had only started.
"That's not the point here."
"But that's true, right?"
Kurtis waved his hand impatiently, looking down at the landscapes, as if it would help him feel less bitter at this very moment.
"You can't ask me not to feel a little resentful," he retorted.
The man looked down, and absentmindedly stroked his fingertips over the tattoo on his inner arm, that of a V-shaped cross.
"You know, this was never easy for me...", he said softly.
"For me either."
The man sighed in turn.
"Sometimes life leaves us no choice, Kurtis."
"There's always a choice."
They stared at each other with a strange yet familiar animosity.
"You always had a choice."
"Being a Lux Veritatis is an enormous responsibility, one that involves being alone, no matter what you decide," the man explained in an oddly cold voice. "It is a constant struggle. That's the way it is. I made decisions to protect you and your mother. You would have done the same for your own family."
"That's where you're wrong," Kurtis corrected him. "I'd never sacrifice my own family for some ideals."
"But that's what you did when you went looking for those people, isn't it?"
An icy silence fell between the two men. The mercenary looked at his father, trying to interpret the emotions he saw in his eyes.
"So you knew all along, did you?", he asked incredulously.
Once again, his father remained silent and unresponsive in front of him, his bright blue eyes focused on his.
"You knew very well what was in store for me, and what was going to happen. You knew about that damn prophecy and those stupid Guardian stories..."
"I didn't know anything about it."
"Stop it."
"Do you honestly believe that everything would have been easier if you or I had known from the start?"
The mercenary suddenly felt anger rise within him. He shook his head again, annoyed.
"Dare to tell me that this is not why you put me through all this. That this is not why you trained me so hard, and tortured me..."
"I knew nothing of this prophecy..."
"But you knew that I had potential Nephili origins, didn't you? Just like the rest of our bloodline?", Kurtis hissed through clenched teeth.
"When you were born, and when we discovered your abilities, your mother and I realized it was likely that these powers were inherited from an ancient celestial lineage, just like your grandfather before you. But what does it matter? The Lux Veritatis knights had to stick to a specific mission, you were one of them anyway. It meant nothing to me."
"Or perhaps you were too ashamed to admit to yourself that the Order you were trying to set up, in all your tyranny and blindness, was perhaps not as powerful as you had hoped? What would you tell your knights if they realised your own son was the very thing they were supposed to be fighting? Did you consider me a threat?"
"Your role was to train as a Lux Veritatis, so that one day you too could take part in our fight. It was your destiny."
Kurtis looked away in dismay.
"I was always just cannon fodder for you, wasn't I? You recruited me, took me away from everything to train the perfect little soldier. You sent me off to fight without even caring about my own desires."
"I had no choice, son."
Exasperated, Kurtis suddenly stood up, but Konstantin held him back by the arm.
"After all these years, haven't you understand that I'm sick of all your lame excuses?"
He tried to wriggle out of his father's grip, but the man held him firmly, suddenly pleading with his eyes.
"I know your pain, I know your fears, I know your questions... I know what you've been through, because I went through it myself before you..."
"That's the problem, you know nothing."
"Believe me son, if I could have gone back in time and changed some things, I would have done it without hesitation."
"I'm not really sure about it," Kurtis retorted scathingly.
Konstantin's eyes finally met his. The American felt a strange sensation come over him, the kind that freezes the blood and tightens the heart, when he met eyes as clear as his own, and whose hardness he had forgotten.
"And you, if you had the chance, would you change things? Would you go back in time?"
Kurtis tugged at his arm again to pull away, but his father did not let go. He did not answer.
"Contrary to what the craziest of us may believe, we are not masters of anything in this world," his father told him. "Everything that has happened was bound to happen one way or another, and we can't change it."
"I'm just saying that some things could have been done differently. You made your choices."
"Please son, don't be so hard on me," the man interrupted in his deep, but much calmer voice.
"I am because you were hard on me," the young man replied coldly.
His father's icy gaze penetrated him a little more, more incisive and destabilising than ever. A strange glint flickered in the depths of those two large, remorseful pupils.
"Don't make the same mistake I did."
The mercenary watched the man facing him carefully, he could feel the blood pulsing against his temples, his jaw clenched. The touch of his skin on his gave him a strange feeling of warmth, but it didn't feel like appeasement or anger. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at that moment, actually.
They stayed like that for several long minutes, maybe more, Kurtis couldn't say, as everything seemed to be completely distended in this world - or maybe it was just a dream, but deep inside himself, he already knew it wasn't. Then finally, feeling that his son was gradually relaxing, Konstantin released the pressure on his arm, and let go of him. The young man stood there for a while before finally deciding to sit down again, keeping silence for another long, indeterminate moment. He felt his father's gaze upon him.
"I've dreamed of this moment so many times. And I must say I didn't exactly imagine our reunion like this," this latter finally said a little awkwardly.
Kurtis didn't know what to say. He was inwardly fighting against this strange feeling of being in the middle of a conversation with someone who was supposed to be dead for years, and who he understood, he didn't know anymore. It was like they had never left each other, although Konstantin was definitely not supposed to be here with him. And he had never thought about what their reunion would be like indeed, but he didn't think that so many conflicting feelings would battle within him in this way. It was a strange mixture of relief, joy, but also stress and a certain disappointment. But if he had been completely honest with himself, he would have answered that deep down, he had always hoped to be able to find that part of himself that had been lost forever, the part that Eckhardt had taken with him, like many of his victims. He had always fought for justice, not revenge. In this, he and his father were the same, he could not deny it. He had done what he had to do, just like his father before him.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, as if that would help him calm down.
"What exactly happened in Antarctica? Why wasn't the base destroyed?", he finally asked.
"We thought it was."
Kurtis made it clear with a look that he expected much more explanation. Konstantin sighed.
"I can say it now, the mission to Antarctica was a complete fiasco, yes. In many ways."
"Why, were there things you weren't supposed to find out there?"
His father shook his head thoughtfully.
"After what happened at Kriegler Castle, we'd been trying to track down Eckhardt, but that soon proved complicated. Through contacts around the world, we finally knew that strange activities were taking place in Argentina. People were disappearing... the worst rumours were circulating... Nazis were still hiding there even years after the end of the war. There was also talk of several bases, including one in Antarctica..."
He was silent for a short while.
"... it took several months, but one thing led to another and we were able to establish that Nazi scientists had survived, escaped and set up shop there, hoping to carry out some grotesque biology projects. Eckhardt was with them for some time..."
"But you arrived too late, didn't you?"
Konstantin nodded his head slightly.
"Eckhardt was already gone. Much of the base had been destroyed, no doubt because of the glove. There was almost nothing left of the equipment and guinea pigs used by those Nazi bastards... Did they try to betray him and get the glove, I never knew..."
"So you left everything as it was?"
"Technically speaking, nobody knew where this base was. So we took care of the few foolhardy ones who still wanted to protect what was left down there. And then we left, thinking that the elements, the snow, would do their work. In areas like this, it's not uncommon for things to disappear under the snow in just a few hours."
Kurtis seemed to ponder this answer and found some form of logic in it, indeed.
"If I'd known that one of these fucking morons' ancestors was going to use it again, I'd have thought twice," concluded the man next to him.
Unexpectedly, this remark drew a sly smile from his son. But it disappeared very quickly, replaced by a smile filled with sadness and bitterness.
"I know what they did to you."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father turn towards him.
"I saw what they did to you. I lived it, I felt it, just as if it had been me."
He heard his father take a long, deep breath, before looking away.
"That was the defense system around the shrine, wasn't it? That's what Eckhardt used to try to throw you off balance and manipulate you?"
"Karel."
His father looked at him without understanding. Kurtis then took the time to explain briefly to him what it was about. After some time, Konstantin shook his head, a bitter expression appeared on his face.
"We had assumed he would use a system such as this to defend himself. But since none of us ever found a trace of it, or knew what it was exactly..."
"They were alternate realities," Kurtis clarified.
"He used your own memories against you, right?"
"Kind of. Memories and remains of past events we both had to go through at some point, during some of our missions. Had to deal with a T Rex, among other… things. But in my case, it was not a personal memory or mission. He used your execution against me."
The words sounded rather strange as they came out of his mouth.
"Another one of his mental manipulations," the man concluded, still thoughtful.
"They had no intention of giving you a chance," the mercenary observed.
Beside him, his father did not seem to react, and took another breath.
"Eckhardt, and then Karel after him, would have done anything to destroy me anyway," he replied softly, his eyes now lost in the setting sun.
Kurtis gently shook his head at this evidence, which against all odds, brought a pang of sadness to his heart.
"Where was this shrine?", Konstantin asked to change the subject.
"Deep in a canyon, somewhere in Cappadocia."
The man nodded slowly, trying to imagine what the place might have looked like, so many different things he'd heard over the years, and so many leads had been made, without him ever being able to find a concrete one.
"I definitely don't like golems..."
A smirk, similar in every way to his son's formed on his lips.
"Ancestral stone guardians. Dreadful, except when you know how to disable them."
"You've told me that enough, I think."
They exchanged a knowing smile.
"And the Nephili sword?"
"We found it hidden in St. Petersburg," the mercenary replied, not without a certain pride.
"I'm curious, where exactly?"
"On a statue, in one of the staircases of the Ermitage's old palace."
"Hidden in plain sight?"
"It took some doing, but we finally found it. From now on, it will remain buried forever in the rubble of the ancient nephilim city."
Konstantin took the time to contemplate his son for a few moments.
"Which may not be a bad thing after all," he concluded.
"Now that it's really over, maybe it's for the best, yes."
Kurtis felt a violent feeling of bitterness come over him, as something slowly grew inside him. But it was almost impossible for him to define what it was exactly. Perhaps it was a scent of resentment, accumulated over the years. That feeling of helplessness, and fatalism that was finally fading. Or maybe it was simply the magnificent view that was offered to them, these expanses of nature as far as the eye could see, sublimated by the sunlight that was disappearing little by little, as if he suddenly understood what was waiting for him.
"I should have died in Cappadocia," he suddenly told his father. "I shouldn't have survived..."
"Are you sure about that?"
Kurtis seemed to think for a short while. Again, if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, then no, he didn't really know what should have been.
"Some Lux Veritatis apprentices talked about a self-defence system, but I always thought it was just a legend..."
"Yet, isn't it what was triggered when you were prisoners in St Petersburg?"
Kurtis thought about it for a short second, but did not respond.
"Maybe some things are worth not fully understanding, especially when they escape us too much."
Their eyes met. He saw a mischievous, mysterious gleam in his father's eyes. The young man shrugged a shoulder, considering this strange and to say the least unsettling answer.
Suddenly, he saw his father frown, thinking about something.
"You said T-Rex, right?"
The demon hunter laughed without even realizing it.
"Yes. Long story."
Konstantin tried to mentally visualize the monster, but couldn't seem to come to a satisfactory representation.
"I'm not sure under what kind of circumstances someone can come face to face with dinosaurs, to tell the truth..."
"It's best not to think about it."
The two men laughed again and looked at each other for a moment, unable to shake off their smiles and the feeling of lightness in this strange moment. Kurtis realised that for the first time in forever he could finally see his father's shadow in his eyes' blue reflections.
"You would have loved her," the young man said softly.
"I'm sure I would."
They suddenly looked away from each other, no doubt out of modesty. Silence fell between them. Gradually, the environment around them returned to normal, the wind began to whistle between the rocks, the plants undulated under the weight of the warm wind. Apart from that, there was not a sound. Far away on the horizon the steep towers formed by the stone columns of the canyon stood out against the orange-red sky. They savoured this moment of surreal calm.
"I'm sorry for you, son. I know you may have hoped for something else in this life. And I guess I was hoping it could offer you something other than what it had offered me."
Kurtis shrugged a shoulder. He didn't want to think about it, for it was not worth thinking about it anymore. He didn't want bitterness to come over him once again, not now.
"I guess that's not really what I had imagined," the young man suddenly whispered."Even though I dunno what to expect in the end."
Kurtis felt the weight of his father's warm hand rest gently on his shoulder. He felt no more emotion, except for a deep, yet liberating emptiness inside him. He took several breaths, savouring the air as it rushed into his lungs, his eyes still focused on the landscapes far away.
"I have never been able to keep my promises as a father, but this time believe me, I promise you everything will be fine."
A new gust of wind blew his hair out of his face. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He didn't bother to turn his head, for he already knew that his father was gone. Now there was nothing but emptiness beside him, he was alone on that rock. As if his father had never really been there. But he didn't ask himself any questions. In the end, he didn't want to think about it.
He just sat there. There was nothing but the vastness in front of him, and the red sun. The familiar desert wind blew continuously, as if to gently rock him. And there were those immense hypnotic rays, which faded one by one beyond the line of the sandy horizon. The light was gradually fading. He looked at the fading landscape and the shadows that stretched around him. But this time he knew they were not shadows of evil. These were shadows of incredible strength, a positive and comforting strength.
It was getting darker and darker. In a few moments now, the light would be completely gone, and the shadows would engulf him. He would return to everything he had ever known, in a sense. Where he had always belonged. And that thought made him smile one last time, for as he watched the last of the sun disappear, he knew that indeed everything would be alright now.
—
The haze that enveloped her mind gradually dissipated, and she gently awoke from her sleep. Her eyes opened slowly, and focused on the shapes that were slowly appearing all around her. She saw a tent, or perhaps a hut of some sort, with dried tree branches forming a simple framework. She was lying on a straw mattress on the ground, on the dry earth. There was a small wooden stool nearby, and a sort of bowl with what looked like a very fragrant mixture. The rest of the tent was completely empty and dark, but outside, through a slightly open piece of cloth, she could see daylight.
She stood there for a moment, concentrating on her slow, deep breathing and just staring at the light outside. She eye blinked several times to make sure she was really there, and awake. No more thoughts passed through her head, and she did not feel the slightest emotion, as if she had been suddenly emptied of all sensation. She was neither too cold nor too hot. She even thought she was fine. Her body did not seem to want to move, completely amorphous despite the hard and somewhat unpleasant contact of the straw under her.
Outside, she heard voices and laughter, and the sound of muffled footsteps in the earth. There was movement, perhaps other tents, and who knows, other people. There was also the strong smell of cattle and mixed grass. The more she concentrated, the more familiar all this suddenly seemed, as if she already knew this place, though she didn't know how this was possible.
She sat up slowly, leaning on her two hands. Her head turned slightly, as if still misty after a long, restful sleep. Her long, half-loose hair, adorned with a few elegantly braided pigtails slid over her shoulders. She folded her legs, and took her time to stand up. She felt hard tinglings running through her stiff limbs. It took her a few more moments to regain all the sensations in her body. Once she was fully on her feet, she finally moved towards the tent's entrance. When she pushed back the cloth, she was immediately dazzled by the sun's rays and had to put her hand in front of her to protect her eyes.
For the first few moments she could see absolutely nothing, too dazzled by the strangely bright light of the early morning. Then, little by little, she discovered, as she had suspected, a whole village, lost in the middle of an arid desert landscape. Sand dunes stretched as far as the eye could see all around them, except for a small oasis of exotic trees and green plants under which a few horses had found shelter. On the other side of the village she saw a small herd of goats, held back by outdated wooden fences. The children she had heard laughing were having fun throwing what looked like berries, or perhaps fresh dates at them. None of them paid any attention to the young woman as she took a step forward and stepped completely out of the hut, her hand still positioned in visor.
A shape appeared a few yards ahead, someone was approaching. Soon she recognised the figure of a woman, dressed in a simple dark cloth toga. The daylight made the huge jewels she wore glow, especially her bracelets, which clanked as the staff in her hand beat the rhythm of her steps. She also noticed the large necklace around her neck. Her braided hair was pulled up in a sort of bun and tucked under another thick, darkly patterned cloth. Seeing her hypnotic light eyes, which contrasted sharply with the colour of her skin, Lara could not help but smile.
"Could this be another trick of my mind?", the adventuress said softly as the shaman came to her level.
The woman smiled warmly at her.
"Maybe this is one, yes. It's up to you to decide, though," Putai replied in a voice full of mystery.
The Englishwoman watched her friend carefully, thinking for a moment about what had happened in the storm. But this time she felt absolutely no apprehension about her. She glanced around again. The children had moved away from the cattle pen and were now playing on the ground with improvised marbles. A little further on she saw two young men sitting on the ground talking. A woman was tending a camel, a young boy was giving it a drink while it dozed off. Gradually she recognised all these faces, and all these people who had taken such good care of her not so long ago. But everything seemed so far away now, more than a vague memory. And yet, everything was exactly as it had been the first time she had woken up here, though in a much worse state.
"If I had known we would end up here," the adventuress said softly.
"I've never been away anyway," Putai confirmed.
She seemed to guess at the adventuress' thoughts.
"You can never forget. It's all part of your past, and part of who you are. This place is yours, it carries your mark as you carry its within you. You have always been welcome here. We will always welcome you with open arms, woman of El Hawa."
"I know."
Lara nodded slowly, suddenly stung by all the memories that were slowly coming to the surface. With a wave of her hand, Putai invited her to follow and they began to walk at the same slow, quiet pace.
"So, that's where you were all this time."
"Where you wanted me to be, precisely," the shaman retorted in a calm voice.
"It seems that everything leads me back to you."
They walked to the outskirts of the village, where the flat, dry land gave way to hot sand and dunes. They stopped there, facing the vastness of the desert, and remained silent for a moment. Lara enjoyed the sun warming her face and body.
"Several years have passed, but it's as if nothing has changed," the adventuress said half-heartedly. "Everything looks so different, and yet everything is exactly as I remember it."
"Everything is as it always should have been," Putai corrected her in a mysterious voice.
Her words disappeared at once, carried away by the wind that suddenly rose. The warm air whistled against the huts behind them. For a moment, the adventuress simply enjoyed the moment, her eyes lost in the unreal colours of the warm sand mixed with the morning light. The sky, a beautiful azure blue, was shockingly pure and penetrating. Despite the slight twinge she felt at that very moment, a soothing smile played on her lips.
"I had forgotten this calm, and this silence. I had forgotten these landscapes, and how soothing they were."
Come to think of it, she hadn't felt so invigorated in ages, and ironically enough, so alive, as if every cell in her body had been regenerated. She savoured the new energy that vibrated in time with the slow, steady beat of her heart, then inhaled deeply. Her chest swelled gently. Another gust of warm wind caressed her face, and blew the long white dress she was wearing. She felt the grains of sand whip up her legs and slide across her skin.
"I guess the forces are not with me anymore. The fight is definitely lost this time," the young woman muttered bitterly as she slowly began to understand.
The shaman didn't move, still watching her protégée with a piercing but reassuring gaze.
"The fight is never lost, but more importantly, never over, Lara. The shadows will always be there, and will always threaten the world, no matter what we do."
"So it was all for nothing?"
"The forces simply carried you where they needed you to go."
She nodded briskly, unconvinced though.
"Guardians or not, it amounts to the same thing. It was all a facade, wasn't it?"
For a moment, the shaman simply stared her straight in the eye for all answer.
"You've done great things, Lara. Things you don't even know about. Things that have profoundly changed the world, for the better."
Behind them they heard the children's laughter again, and when Lara turned she recognised three other women in the distance who were watching them play. They gave her big smiles and hand gestures in greeting, obviously happy to see her here.
"You know that doesn't answer my question, Putai."
She turned around, and her brown gaze suddenly went back to her friend's clear eyes. The shaman gave her a powerful, somewhat reproving look.
"You sacrificed yourself for a just cause, Lara."
"It was our destiny, wasn't it? Was it all written in the prophecy?", the Englishwoman retorted.
"Nothing is ever written in advance. Only the strength you carry within you can decide the path."
Lara turned her head and gaze away, suddenly annoyed.
"I didn't need this to be who I am, and to accomplish what I had to accomplish," she replied dryly. "And I never needed anything or anyone to help me make choices."
The woman next to her nodded subtly, as if to underline the truth of her words and reflection.
"Let's just say that the ancestral force of your former lineage gave you a hand with some things. But in the end, it was your choice to make that force what you wanted."
The young woman did not answer, thoughtful.
"Contrary to what we believe, we all leave a trace, however small, on this earth. It is up to each of us to define what we want to leave behind, and to know how to use the time we have here. The path is never clear. It depends on each of our actions, and each of our choices. Power and strength are a gift, but they certainly do not define us as extraordinary beings. It is what we choose to do with them," the shaman replied softly.
The adventuress seemed to ponder her words for a few seconds. As she looked up at the sun, she felt its power and warmth sweep through her, warming every part of her body. Instinctively, she then looked down at her own body. She realised that where she was supposed to have no stomach, there was now smooth, almost unmarked skin. On closer inspection, there was almost no trace of her wound, and she was surprised to discover that the same was true of some of the other scars on other parts of her body. On her thigh, the two bullet holes had all but disappeared, as had the old blade mark from Gunderson's knife, a bad memory of their time in the secret Cabal fortress in St Petersburg. It was as if the traces of all her fights were slowly fading away, and the thought gave her a strange sensation. Lara took a deep breath.
"I've always done what I thought was right," she murmured.
Slowly, something settled inside her, and took place deep in her heart. Ideas gradually became clearer in her head.
"Saija, the glove? What happened there?", she finally asked after a long silence.
The shaman did not answer her immediately. After several long minutes, Lara realised that the woman next to her had closed her eyes, as if she was in meditation.
"Things you can't change."
"Did we at least succeed? Did we destroy the glove?"
"You did what you had to do, Lara."
There was wisdom in her voice, but an undefined sense of anger and bitterness came over the adventuress.
"I'd at least like to know if it was all for nothing."
"You've completed your mission. You are exactly where you need to be."
The Englishwoman crossed her arms against her chest. Although confused by these more than approximate explanations, she did not feel the need to insist. The hubbub of her thoughts became more and more distant, almost non-existent. There was no regret, even less remorse. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy, no fear. But as she looked again at the dunes and the unreal light, she suddenly realised that it was all a mirage. Everything suddenly appeared to her in a very clear and limpid way, as if everything had always been there, in front of her eyes. As if absolutely everything was undoubtedly connected, since the beginning, since she had left a part of herself here.
"That's why you helped me, isn't it? You helped me because you knew what I was getting into..."
Her words were but a pale whisper in the wind's breath.
"Sometimes we have to suffer the worst hardships to get to where we are, and become who we really are supposed to be."
"But I should have died in the collapse of the pyramid. If you hadn't helped me, none of this would have happened. Maybe even everything would have been different..."
"Things happened exactly as they were supposed to, Lara," Putai cut her off in a soft, but firm voice. "It was my duty to help you and help you survive. That was my mission."
"Perhaps you and your tribe would still be alive if I had not been there ... It was also the consequences of my inattention, which nearly unleashed the forces of Set and brought about the end of the world..."
"Without you, my uncle would have spread terror and the darkest forces over the earth, and the balance of the world would have been broken forever. The world of humans would have disappeared, and Set would have destroyed me and all the others."
Their eyes met. Faced with the shaman's equally impassive expression, which contrasted sharply with the sudden gleam in her eyes, Lara could not help but frown slightly. She looked down at the pendant around the shaman's neck: a falcon with spread wings, made of solid gold and set with several precious stones. All sorts of feelings mixed within her, though she was unable to know exactly what she was feeling at that moment.
"Are you-"
"By fighting for me and for the whole world, by trying to correct the mistake you made, you have proven your courage and loyalty. You have earned my protection. That was the least I could do for you."
For long seconds, Lara took the time to analyse carefully the features of her friend's face, as if something was suddenly going to appear there. Or maybe deep down, she expected her to transform back to her true form. But it was not to be.
"And to think I never believed in guardian angels."
The shaman gave her a discreet smile, but the young woman once again felt her benevolence. Without fear or apprehension, she understood that she had now reached a point of no return, and that there was no turning back.
She shook her head gently, understanding what lay ahead.
"So, here we are...", she murmured.
She felt the weight of the black woman's eyes watching her intently, and she remained in her natural reserve and didn't make a move.
"It's not really what I imagined. But I suppose it could have been worse."
Putai finally took a step towards her, and put a hand on her arm. The warmth of her skin radiated.
"Other, even greater horizons await you now."
The shaman stood in front of her, and rested her forehead against hers. With a slow and reassuring gesture, she placed her hand just above her chest, where her plexus was. The young woman felt all the powerful and almost overwhelming energy emanating from her. Her breathing became more and more jerky as she struggled for a moment against the flood of emotions that were rushing through her, and which suddenly resurfaced as she had never felt them before. And then, suddenly, this inner battle came to an end, and stopped. There was peace in her mind again. Her whole body became lighter, as if an invisible force were pulling her upwards. She let out a deep sigh of relief. The wind swirled violently around them, enveloping them in its warm cloak.
Don't forget that it's only a new beginning
The breath died down and there was a sudden silence. When she opened her eyes again, Lara realised that Putai was gone, as was the village and her tribe. Where the huts and the small oasis with the green plants had been, there was nothing but emptiness and the orange sand whipped by the wind. But she did not look for them. She did not try to understand, for everything was obvious now.
She slowly turned around and found herself facing the immense desert, now alone. The colours and landscapes had changed. The sun was no longer really there, replaced by this kind of uniform and extremely clear and hypnotizing light, which spread out wherever she looked. The dunes in the distance were gradually disappearing, drowned in this whiteness and infinity. She had to raise her hand to protect herself from the blinding light. The more she looked at it, the more it seemed to grow and spread to her. But she stared at it without blinking.
The adventuress took a breath, and savoured the warm, pure desert air for a last moment. She let herself be invaded by this newfound lightness. Then, without thinking, she began to walk without ever stopping.