Page 21 of Incarnate

“Let’s get you out and get some rest. The salt water should have helped.”

I glance up at the witch, or whatever she is, and see almost a sorrow in her eyes. I don’t ask about it though, as if some part of me knows why it exists. I just accept her company, the ring less heavy on my pinky as I stare into her eyes. There’s a chance they morph in their shape, and they become so familiar… but then it’s gone.

“We are friends,” I quietly state like it’s a truth finally decoded, but the admittance makes me so tired.

“We are,” she affirms, helping me dry off. My mind seems detached from my body. “And there’s a reason you left Kallúm all those years ago, so let me do you the favor of reminding you tomorrow before you take that ring off again.”

I wordlessly nod, accepting her words as truth.

Why did I leave him?

P E N E L O P E

Morning arrives without ceremony, light pressing against the shutters. I don't remember dreaming, or really the act of falling asleep. I apparently even slept in the nude.

It’s a slow process to get to my feet, staring at the wooden floor as I take in what I learned the night before. I have the desire to reach out to a trusted friend or family member, to talk to them about everything. How do I trust anyone here?

I don’t even have access to my own soul.

The facts are that Kallúm is clearly desperate to reach me, and Judica is persistent in concealing me. I also know that my soul triggered an alert upon arrival… so something is happening. And apparently salt water is akin to gripping the back of a cat’s neck for me.

From there… I simply just don’t know.

I slip into a simple dark dress Judica left folded on the bench, near a gilded mirror. My breath catches as I stare at the dark hair and at my face.

The hair is entirely wrong, but everything else… has a familiarity to it.

I shift my feet on the cold floor, realizing the sensation sticks. The air also smells of yeast and woodsmoke. My body even aches—yes, in my hips, particularly.

Judica was right; the sleep did something. The idea of my husband and my balcony feels like memories of another person, my senses rooting me in this dimension.

I descend the stairs when those realizations build far too intensely, and find Judica already at work, pulling a tray of pomegranate scones from the oven with unmarred bare hands that should be burning. Her composure is as severe as yesterday’s.

"You appear grounded," she says, raking her gaze over me.

"I do feel different.”

I sit at the small table where the stew bowl from last night has been cleared. I don’t know why I came down this fast, other than I just really didn’t want to be alone for now.

Judica sets the tray down and wipes her hands on her apron. She pours two cups of tea, places one in front of me, and sits on the other side with a dramatic scooting of her chair.

"Do you want eased into it, or the truth?"

I stare at her, my heart slightly racing. "The truth, of course."

"Alright, then let’s do it—no point in drawing it out. Your soul is not mortal. It's of a goddess."

I don't move, not for a while, until I start to laugh, shaking my head. "Come again?"

"They had a hard time understanding your soul at the Passing, I'm sure of it. The Quartus couldn't unlock it, could he?" She doesn't wait for my answer. "Your soul is an ocean goddess, of storms and seas. An old, forgotten pantheon from thousands of years ago. You are Naramere of the Tides." She watches me. "Although everyone called you Nara."

I hardly blink, as if waiting for something inside me to react. A memory. Even a flicker of recognition. "Nara," I repeat, testing it.

It doesn't feel wrong. It also doesn't feel right, either.

"Kallúm… and you… have a history," Judica continues.

My heart triples in its pace, the weight of the ring on my pinky more pronounced. "That sounds vague."