A voice sweet enough to turn a man from a demonic entity to a fallen angel, pure enough to make the wandering souls crave life again, and Phoenix hoped he was mistaken to apologize for being so upfront until his eyes fell on her features. In that moment, Phoenix couldn't contain the way his body shook under the pressure of seeing her face again--rosy cheeks, lips painted to fit her skin instead of the pale, lifeless body he held in his arms until it went cold. "Why walk in the opposite direction if you didn't know me?" His voice was low, unusually shaky as he lifted an arm to reach out to her; just a touch, he thought, to feel the warmth he so desperately craved. "Why did you run?" Phoenix, who was careful about each play, one step ahead of everyone, was making a move. His thumb brushed against her polished cheeks, stepping close enough to hear her heartbeak and lungs expanding to make it clear to him that she was, whoever she was, alive. "You died." Soulless eyes now carrying the weight of seeing his wife again, the only woman he'd ever love effortlessly. Phoenix took a step back, attempting to collect himself, while he never broke eye contact with the stranger in front of him. "Who the hell are you?" Was this his punishment? The gods decided his reign among the humans was over by making him relive the day he lost everything. "Who the hell are you? How do you look exactly like her?" It was ironic that Phoenix was never in a position to ask questions because he always knew the answer. No soul could help him find the answer to this mystery. His humanity was shut off years ago, but today it was fighting back--taunting him like he did with his helpless victims. "Answer me."
“When a man comes charging at you, saying he’s not going to hurt you, it’s usually a reason to run.” The sharp edge in her voice had been charged with panic, a need to conceal her need to distance herself from him. A step back hindered once his hand rose, the spread of warmth from the tips of his fingers made her freeze. He had touched her many times, more than she would ever wish to count, and she had once basked in it. She had always felt powerful under his hands, flourishing and safe, replaced now by a wave of agony that she couldn’t ever sink into his touch again. A promise to a dead woman to never reveal the truth made her flinch away. “I have no idea who you seem to think I am or who you think I look like, but who I am is none of your business.” She was looking beyond him as the lie rolled off her tongue, her eyes locked on a market vendor who had taken an interest in them, evidently a slow day for sales. Alora had wanted to end the interaction there, to create distance that would never allow their paths to cross again, but regretfully, her gaze locked on his, and her frigid attitude had instantaneously started to thaw. Guilt gnawed at her as she stared into the face of a man she had fallen in love with, a man who was never truly hers. “Alora.” Her eyes squeezed shut, internally damning herself for not turning around and walking away from him. “I’m Alora Thorne.” The reveal of her last name the only option to untangle herself, placing all hope in him, waving it off as a simple family resemblance. “And if you don’t mind, I really need to go.” Relief that the group of girls that had hindered her previously had turned a corner and had disappeared from view. Her focus on Phoenix for a beat longer than it should have been before she attempted to turn and run from him a second time.Â











