43. I will be a traitor to my heart

The hot cocoa burned my lips as I warmed my fingers on the mug.

There was a cool breeze blowing through the living room, we'd opened the window to let out the smell of burning logs and tar, so I grabbed some sofa cushions, made myself a cosy nest by the fireplace and sighed happily as I watched the orange flames caress the warmth and soft light.

Grant was lying on his stomach next to me, his elbows resting on the soft pile of the carpet, using a small ottoman as a book stand.

I watched him furtively from under my lashes, admiring the play of shadows on his pale, handsome face. The guy brushed his fringe from his eyes, lazily reached for the page and turned it. His pupils moved quickly, he read the lines eagerly.

Sometimes his eyebrows would rise in surprise, moving to the bridge of his nose when he frowned, but every now and then a slight smile would slip across his lips, causing a faint dimple to appear for a moment on his right cheek.

I put my book aside; I was more interested in the person next to me. I turned to Circul.

“What are you reading?”

“A hawk wheeled in the sky over their heads, a sign of warning at the beginning of a journey. Richard thought to himself that the sign was totally unnecessary,” Grant grinned as he read out the passage.

I immediately leaned forward.

“What, you're reading that story?” I looked over the guy's shoulder to make sure.

“I'm rereading,” he stretched, closed the book and rolled over onto his back, resting his head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling.

“It's one of my favourite fantasy series,” I informed him, once again amazed at our similar literary tastes.

“You have every fantasy book as a favourite,” the president's son said with a certain scepticism, focusing his gaze on me.

“Hmm... what's true is true,” I didn't even bother to deny it. “Who is your favourite character in the story?”

“Kahlan Amnell.”

“I thought it was Darken Rahl.”

He looked at me reproachfully, which made me want to smile guiltily.

“Okay, I won't do it again,” I said as I moved to a more comfortable position so I could see him better. “Why Kahlan?”

Grant raised his eyes to the ceiling again, pondering.

“She is very intelligent. She speaks all the languages of the many peoples of the three countries and most of the small settlements in the Midlands. Kahlan is independent, has a pure soul, a kind nature and is resilient. She is gentle, conscientious. And she's also brave and proud,” Circul smiled in a way that made my heart warm. “She has almost no family or friends because of her situation, but she never despaired. And she always believed in the Seeker and never doubted him.”

“Wow, you have so much to say about her,” I was truly amazed.

“She also hates cheese.”

“What's the point?”

“I hate it, too.”

I grinned. “At this rate, you'll love every character who doesn't like cheese?”

Grant shrugged and looked at me curiously. “What's your favourite character?”

“Shar.”

The young man raised an eyebrow. “Shar? I don't remember this one.”

“She was a night wisp – the kind of magical creature, like moths or fireflies, that lived in the magic forest and held important secrets.

Grant frowned and I rushed to clarify. “Shar died the first time she met Richard. She could not live long away from her home and others of her kind. The night wisp sacrificed her life to help Kahlan cross the boundary, saving her people in the process. Had Kahlan not met Richard, Darken Rahl would have succeeded in destroying not only her kind but all the living.”

“I remember,” Circul let out a soft breath, sadness glowing in his eyes. “The night wisps are something like the netlagas.”

I shuddered inwardly as I heard the familiar word. The familiar word from Virtul, a word that instantly hurt my weak heart.

Netlagas were demigod birds that lived in the most beautiful place in the game. They were tiny, their feathers glowed, and they always flew in flocks.

If you caught one, you would have 24 hours to use its feather to bring back a dead friend from the other side, or else his avatar would be lost from the game forever.

The netlaga feather had resurrection power, but it had to be plucked near the dead player, so separated netlagas often died of homesickness at the resurrection site.

One life in exchange for another.

I only caught the netlaga once, resurrecting my friend, but the bird's death brought bitterness. Even though I knew the creature was only a tool of the System, it was hard to watch its last breaths.

“I wish netlags existed in our world too... I'd resurrect my mother,” Grant's lips trembled and he quickly covered his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was only five when she left. How I wish the netlags would bring her back...”

The young man's free hand gripped the pillow so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A small sob broke the silence of the living room. Circul turned away.

“I was six when my mum died,” I said, just so I wouldn't hear his pain. Since then, you know, it's like I've been living a dream. I was scared, sad, uncomfortable, funny, happy... And I kept telling myself to calm down: ‘It's just a dream. It will end one day.’ Life is so much like a dream...”

‘And Di was also six years old when she lost me...’

I smiled awkwardly, banishing the grim thought.

“A dream where waking up is the worst thing that can happen,” Grant added.

I looked at his back. His shoulders slumped and his dark hair tousled.

“Perhaps. But if we don't wake up, we won't know if reality is beautiful. I want to know what's beyond the dream.”

Circul sighed, wiped his eyes and turned back to me.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered, acting as if nothing had happened.

I was silent, trying to forget this moment as quickly as possible.

“What was your nickname in the game?” Grant asked suddenly, snapping me out of my daze.

I replied, the sound of my own Virtul's name making my heart pound.

The guy grinned in surprise and squinted at me, a smile playing on his lips again. “You know, I think we've met before.”

I glanced at him in disbelief.

“About two years ago. The capital of Yonari. The Guild Council. The Garden of Nameless Flowers. Come on.” Stars shone into his black eyes from the flames of the fireplace.

And I remembered... remembered with vivid clarity our first meeting.