The Mystery Man - Mefan

Chapter 4

-Carter-

I sat with a pen in my hand and a sheet of paper before me, staring at its sandy color. What should I write? I should write something, anything... They needed to know I was alive, right? Anything would suffice, even a brief note stating: I am alive.

Yes, that would be better than nothing. How much time had passed? I had lost track. Time seemed to have flown by me while I remained stagnant, almost frozen. Yet, I had spent a lot of time pondering these past few days, during which Mefan had not made an appearance at all. I had no idea where he had gone, and I didn’t inquire. He couldn’t be that far away, since I hadn’t felt unwell or sick in any way.

Perhaps he simply preferred solitude from time to time. I did too. Yet when I was alone, I found myself reflecting on the day we had trained, and then, in the end, when had I felt a slight touch of his skin against mine, I sensed something new. There was no numbness when our skin had made contact, and I hadn’t harmed him with the darkness within me.

The thought troubled me. Why could I feel him but nothing else? Or had I imagined it? Was it related to the fact that I was worked up from training?

I groaned, leaning my elbows on the small table before me and letting my head fall into my hands, unsure of what to think or do. My mind and heart were in turmoil, and I had spent my days wandering the palace, occasionally encountering a few of the assassins who resided here. Like Mefan, they were all enigmatic figures, and even though I caught a fleeting glimpse of them, they vanished in the next moment.

They mostly kept to the shadows, and I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps, in order to become one of his assassins, you had to be brought back to life, as I had been. It wasn’t an implausible thought. I had changed too after being brought back, so maybe that was what it took to become part of this world.

I sighed, lifting my head again, and then crumpled the paper into a thick ball, throwing it somewhere in the room before I walked out of my bedroom and down the long hallways until I reached outside, where the sun still shone strongly down on the red sand.

I strolled through the expansive garden, then headed toward the gate leading outside. The gate opened, even though there appeared to be no one there to open it. It creaked a little, and then I stared at the road that I knew would eventually lead me home—my real home. The North, where I believed Laelia would be with my niece, or perhaps she was in the South?

She and Ashes traveled back and forth often, ensuring everything ran smoothly everywhere. Or maybe I should go to the West. Henry was living there now with his wife, Amoya, and Rathilion was now The Elf King.

“Running away again?” I looked over my shoulder. Mefan stood there in the middle of the open space and smiled a little, dressed in his usual dark red and black attire.

“No. Just observing,” I replied.

“All you have to do is say the word, and we will leave to visit your family.”

I remained silent, and eventually, he came to stand beside me.

“That is what you want to do, right? Visit them. Tell them you are alive.”

“I can write a letter,” I said.

“And have you?”

I glanced at him, noticing the knowing look in his eyes. He knew I hadn’t. He seemed to have insight into everything that transpired, yet I refrained from probing further. It felt like delving deeper into his world would only deepen our connection, and I was already tied to him enough. I didn’t need to become more entwined.

“I will,” I asserted.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That I am alive,” I said, as if it were self-evident.

“Yes, but how?”

“How?”

I met his gaze, and he offered that characteristic cruel smile, a glimpse of his white teeth visible against his skin.

“You can make it simple and cryptic, writing just the words ‘I am alive',” he suggested.

That was actually what I had almost decided to do, and I detested that he seemed to know.

“Or you can be more detailed, telling them how you are alive, how you are doing, and how much you wish to see them again, but the circumstances make that wish difficult.”

“I could,” I conceded.

He smiled, evidently pleased that I was now the one shrouded in mystery, keeping my emotions guarded.

“But will you?” he probed.

Once again, I fell silent and gazed at the seemingly endless expanse of red sand before us. Though it appeared boundless, I knew that beyond it lay cities.

“Will I?” I murmured, addressing the air in front of me.

Beside me, Mefan chuckled.

"Now, who’s evading a direct answer?” he teased.

We lapsed into silence, both gazing at the enigmatic landscape before us. I couldn’t discern whether he came from these deserts. It wouldn’t be beyond strange to think if he were born here, abandoned by some unknown woman and left to survive, morphing into the enigmatic and intimidating figure he was, raised by the barren land itself.

“Or perhaps you have no desire to reveal your existence to them,” he suggested.

I met his gaze once more, a peculiar energy crackling between us.

“Of course, I do,” I asserted.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I will,” I affirmed.

“When?”

“When I decide to…”

He chuckled again, shaking his head before resting his hand on my shoulder, causing me to nearly recoil. His touch, now capable of igniting a sensation akin to burning, was almost overwhelming.

He regarded me expressionlessly, making no comment on my peculiar behavior and instead simply observing me with those dark eyes that seemed to penetrate to the core. It was disconcerting in a way, but I had grown accustomed to it to some extent.

“Starting to feel something?” he inquired.

Once more, our gazes met, but I remained silent. What could I possibly say? How could I articulate that I only felt a stir when he touched me? The words themselves would feel as foreign on my lips as they sounded in my mind.

“Yes, I’m starting to find you irritating,” I replied.

His customary dark smile then surfaced, and he appeared almost content with having succeeded in provoking me.

“Wonderful, then at least you’re feeling something,” he remarked.

I sighed, shaking my head, and turned my attention back to the expanse of red sand. Did I truly even want to return home? Even for a brief visit?

I realized a part of me feared their judgment upon seeing me. I was not merely the know-it-all or the charmer. I was also the one who invariably seemed to maintain control over everything. Nothing appeared to faze me, and I navigated life effortlessly. Yet now, I felt adrift.

“I think it’s time you ventured beyond these walls,” Mefan suddenly interjected.

“I think I’m quite comfortable in here,” I countered, without meeting his gaze.

Nevertheless, he proceeded to exit through the gate, casting a glance back at me from the other side.

“Don’t be afraid, Prince. We aren’t journeying to The Great Blue Sea... not yet, at least.”

“I didn’t think you liked to leave your high walls,” I remarked.

“Why would you think that?” he teased.

With that, he strolled along the wall, soon vanishing from view.

“Enough with the games, Mefan,” I called out.

His laughter reached me from a distance, but he made no move to return, leaving me to make a choice. I sighed and then stepped out, the gate closing behind me. It felt almost surreal to witness it shutting, now standing on the opposite side. I glanced back at it before turning to Mefan, who walked calmly a short distance away, taking his time and showing no signs of haste.

“Are you coming, Prince?” he inquired.

As if I had any other option, I thought, and began to follow him.