The Source of All Evil

Chapter Twenty-One

Michaela Walker.

“Your future wife, my ass!”

She used a lot of effort to push away from him, and the Evil Master must’ve let her go, or else she would’ve been still in his grasp. The scale of the strength between her and the Evil Master was substantial. And she felt grateful that he didn’t force her to stay in his arms.

“I c-can’t be your wife,” she stammered, sweating bullets at seeing that smug look he showed on his face.

“You can’t?”

“Mn, I-I’m in a relationship. . . I think,” she whispered the last part, but of course, the Evil Master heard it, smirking down at her.

“In a relationship? With whom?”

The Evil Master sounded confident, unlike how she expected him to react, she noticed. For someone who was allegedly obsessed with her, he seemed to be taking it well. Or, perhaps, he was confident that she didn’t have anyone. But she had Rafe, she thought. Though she didn’t know how to label their relationship, something was happening between them.

“With. . . with. . .” She trailed off. Her eyes darted to Kirby in her arms, who was hiding its face in her chest. She then stared at the Princess, who looked dumbfounded by all of this, saying. “I’m in a relationship with the Celestial Master. . . Yes, that’s it. The Celestial Master.”

The latter was the safest choice, lest the Evil Master had Rafe imprisoned in his palace. She couldn’t answer vaguely, as she was certain he’d probe about the subject. The Celestial Master was someone well-known, and it’d be good if they decided to fight each other. It’d be as killing two birds with one stone.

The Evil Master didn’t say anything, but his dark eyes hardened, glowering at her. Michaela felt satisfied with this reaction, thinking that her words got to him as she went on. “The princess isn’t feeling well, and riding a Windhorse would worsen her condition. You carry her, and I’ll ride on it.”

“I’m fine with riding the Windhorse,” the Princess said evasively, and Michaela shot her a vengeful glare. You were the scapegoat; how could you turn my plan on me?! she thought.

The princess feared that she’d give her up to the Evil Master in her stead. She no more hesitated about following the latter, hurrying towards the mount. She raised an eyebrow at Michaela as if she was telling her that she was on to her.

Michaela yelped when the Evil Master quietly held her in his arms, flying in a certain direction. Due to her fear of heights, she unwillingly buried her face in his chest, holding his neck with one arm while keeping her tight grip on her pet with the other.

Being that her face was close to the Evil Master’s neck, a familiar scent filled her nose, making her raise her head to have a good look at the man holding her. Their eyes met, and those orbs she thought were black turned out to be gray and mesmerizing, compelling her as she retracted her arm from around his neck, lifting the mask that covered the Evil Master’s face.

The other allowed her to take it off, tightening his grip around her waist, staring at her in what looked like fear and uncertainty. Michaela clenched her jaw, her eyebrows wrinkled, her brown eyes showed the confusion she felt.

“Rafe?!”

Rafe sighed for getting found out, his arm tightened around her waist, bringing her even closer to his chest that Kirby let out a whine. His grip felt possessive, greedy, and shaken to Michaela, feeling his warm hand burning her side.

“I can explain,” he softly said, and his features hardened when Michaela shook her head.

“All this time,” she mumbled under her breath, recalling all the events that took place up to this point. She recalled how confident Rafe was when he said that the King wouldn’t know that she left the temple, how people at the Capital avoided him and were apprehensive about him. She remembered when he faced the Celestial Master’s attack straight on, coming out unharmed. Michaela remembered all those moments that left her perplexed, gulping as she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid you’d look at me the same way you are right now.”

She shook her head again, chuckling bitterly. “No, you’re lying again. You know damn well that I wouldn’t even have cared if you told me your character is the Evil Master.” She paused, her mind finally working, piecing everything together. “The stories you told me were all fabricated, right? You’re not a victim of that cursed book. You weren’t stuck here for years, and you were never an archaeologist.” With so much difficulty and heavy heart, tearful, she added. “You’re not from my world.”

Rafe stopped in the air, hovering above the vast forest, bringing his hand to her face to wipe her tears while holding her with the other. Michaela moved her face away, glaring at him as she said.

“Is Rafe Thomas even your name, huh?!” She chuckled bitterly when he didn’t reply. “I must’ve looked like a fool to you, all this time, believing your lies and following you like a damn lost puppy! From the beginning, I had a hunch that something was amiss, yet I believed you when you said that a damn book was in control over our fate. . . Did you have fun?! Was making a fool out of me that amusing to you?!”

“Would you have followed me if I said that I was from another universe and that your soul belonged to that of my beloved?! Would you have followed me if I, a stranger, told you that your world and this one are connected?!”

Michaela was boiling with anger and frustration, and if she weren’t up in the air, she would’ve pushed away from him and stormed off. She couldn't think of a way to vent out her frustration, so she settled on kicking his shin with her heavy boot, glaring at him when he didn’t even flinch.

“I’m so stupid. . . All this time, I believed that there was some damn seer who sent you to look for me. All this time, I’ve been thinking of how we could get out of here. . . Heck, is that book really charmed?! Is it part of your clever scheme?!”

Rafe’s throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes narrowing at her, saying. “You want to know why? Fine, I’ll show you.”

Rafe flew at a faster speed, forcing her to hold him. Michaela leaned the other way, feeling betrayed, trying to stop her tears. She didn’t know when she let go of her confidence and wits, becoming a dependent and silly woman who was crushing on some stranger. Being in an unfamiliar environment wasn’t a valid excuse for her to follow a stranger who twisted his words against her better judgment. She should’ve been more apprehensive, more intuitive. She should’ve been keener in trusting the alarms that went off inside her mind whenever Rafe evaded a certain subject.

And what did he mean by this world and hers were connected? She wondered. What did he mean by my soul belonged to his beloved? And what was the relation between that magical book and all of this?

She checked that book herself, once in her world and twice in this one. Rafe couldn’t have changed the story so accurately when she became the protagonist.

Michaela had millions of questions, feeling her head beginning to throb, hating being oblivious about everything.

She turned her head when she felt Rafe slowing down, staring at the large castle in the distance, admiring its appeal. She’s been to a few palaces that served as tourist attractions in her world, but she had never been to a castle. And this one looked particularly picturesque. It had vast gardens, massive courtyards, a huge golden gate, tall sturdy brick walls. The inside was just as scenic, spotting the lush orchards and vineyards, the large fishponds, and five large buildings with several windows.

If Michaela wasn’t in a foul mood, she would’ve enjoyed exploring this castle. But she wasn't in a merry mood, currently. She didn’t want to give Rafe the satisfaction. She didn't want him to think that she could get easily swayed by some ritzy place. She turned her head back, staring at the princess who rode the Windhorse. The other, as if she felt her glare, looked her way, a frown creased on her forehead.

Michaela didn’t know if Princess Nirvana heard their conversation or not, and she didn’t care. She wanted for this to end and for her to go back to her world. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t from here.

Rafe landed in front of the center building’s main door. A young man opened the heavy marbled door for them, bowing his head.

“Welcome back, my sire.”

Rafe hummed, looking haughty, glancing back at the princess who just landed behind them. “Take the princess to the Empress’s chamber and assign someone to look after her.”

“Come on,” he sounded mad as he dragged Michaela inside. She glanced back at the princess, who looked as if she wanted to follow them, reluctantly standing still. She stumbled as she looked around, trying to examine the place, but Rafe didn’t give her time, pulling her towards a flight of stairs.

Michaela looked down at their intertwined hands, frowning as she slipped hers away. Rafe stopped. His gray eyes looked fiery, scowling when she took a few steps back.

“I can walk on my own just fine.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, climbing up the spiral stairs as she slowly followed him. Michaela met several people on the way, dressed in maid outfits, bowing their heads to their master, yet discreetly casting a glance her way.

She ignored them, picking up her pace to catch up to Rafe, passing the several closed doors. Everything inside was white, from the walls, the stair’s railings to the doors, making her feel like she were in a mental institute. It would’ve been convenient given the madness she was in.

Many paintings of a man who resembled Rafe, wearing the same mask, bearing the same demeanor, hanging on the walls. Large, crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceilings, their sky-blue color contrasted well with the plain walls.

Rafe stopped in front of a large double door; a maid hastily opened it for him as he walked in. The said maid lifted her glare, sizing Michaela up and down, and the other heard her snickering as she walked past her.

The room she was now in had many bookshelves filled with books, looking like a large library. In one corner, a mahogany desk complimented the sophisticated room with its intricate carvings, and on top of it, she noticed the book she hated the most.

Rafe disappeared behind a row of bookshelves, returning later with several books in his hands. He just gave her a look, not saying anything as he carried them to the desk. She placed Kirby down on a chair while she sat on the other, not waiting for Rafe to elaborate. Her eyes got drawn already to one of the books with the title: The Source of All Evil.