MY SOULMATE

Within the fitting room of an upscale clothing boutique, I stood alongside Christian as he deliberated over outfit choices for me. Today, his attention was focused on selecting a dress. The dress I was presently trying on was a delicate shade of pink adorned with innumerable sequins and feathers cascading from its skirt. The price tag proclaimed a staggering sum of forty-six thousand dollars, but given the importance of the upcoming event, the cost was of no consequence.

Drawing back the curtain, I stepped out into the spacious store—a realm of opulence I had seldom encountered. Sunlight poured in from a skylight, illuminating the array of mirrors that enveloped me, granting me a comprehensive view of how I looked in the dress.

With a composed gait, Christian entered the room, carrying a white gown that could only be described as a wedding dress. For once, his countenance was stripped of any facade. His sharply pointed nose seemed emblematic of accumulated falsehoods, and his blond hair was styled in a spiky manner, reminiscent of Rogan's signature look. Sporting his characteristic nonchalant smile, he extended the dress to me, prompting me to try it on.

Accepting the gown from him, I found myself smiling involuntarily. "Are you really suggesting I try this on?" I inquired, my fingers tracing the elegant folds of the fabric. "Is this your way of proposing?"

His smirk emerged, daring me to defy convention. "I'm merely suggesting you give it a try," he replied, taking a step back and leaning against the doorway.

Turning away from him, I was about to retreat behind the curtain when his voice halted me in my tracks.

"No need to hide," he asserted.

"Pardon me?" I responded, perplexed.

"I said, there's no need to hide," he repeated, his gaze both patient and inquisitive, as though challenging my boundaries.

"I'd rather not be seen by the store attendants," I smoothly replied.

"Don't fret about them," he assured. "They've seen countless individuals without their garments. They're dressmakers, after all. Besides, they're engrossed in their tasks, unlikely to venture in here. We're alone. You can disrobe."

Though disconcerted, I was disinclined to back down. I desired to marry him—it was a declaration I had made sincerely. Averting my gaze, I discreetly undid the concealed zipper along the side of the pink gown, allowing it to cascade to the ground. Standing there in my bra and panties, I reached for the wedding dress.

Christian's smile bore an unfamiliar quality—a demeanor that I had never before witnessed.

What did that smile signify? It differed from the expression he wore when he provoked me to surpass my limitations or when we bade each other farewell. What emotions did that countenance encapsulate? Could it be pride?

My hands instinctively went to my chest, yet I perceived nothing as I attempted to slip my fingers between my ribs, seeking his heart within me—a heart akin to a captive star pulsating behind the bars of my ribcage.

A wave of panic surged, clouding my judgment. Christian's enigmatic grin intensified, an expression previously uncharted in my experience.

What intentions lay concealed behind that smile? It was not the same as the one he donned while urging me to transcend my confines. Nor was it akin to the smile he wore when bidding adieu. What did this expression entail? Could it signify a sense of accomplishment?

My hands reached for the expanse above my breasts, yet my fingertips encountered nothing but the hollow cavity where skin once resided—a sight of my bared ribcage enclosing a heart that throbbed, reminiscent of captive yearning.

At this juncture, my reverie transitioned beyond the realm of plausibility, yielding to the onset of wakefulness. The vivid imagery receded, replaced by the enveloping darkness. My surroundings became familiar—the chair positioned here, the bed oriented in this direction, and patches of soft light filtering through identifiable sources.

I found myself atop Tombstone Mountain within the castle designated to test the endurance of immortals. Amidst the darkness, I had envisioned a scenario wherein Christian's actions deviated from his true nature. He would never have subjected me to the provocation of undressing for his amusement or insisted that his heart within me equated to possession. This dream had metamorphosed into a nightmare, an inconceivable juxtaposition to my reality.

The metallic band that shackled me remained a constant presence, although its location had shifted. No longer clasped around my ankle as upon my initial arrival, it was now puncturing the skin amidst my Achilles tendon and ankle bones. I had managed to manipulate the band through skin, veins, and tendons with the aid of the Red Forest, but bypassing bone proved insurmountable. Thus, when a bullet had pierced my skull, my body had instinctively directed it away from bone, opting for alternative trajectories.

This inability to manipulate bone engendered a predicament—I had failed to heal completely the aperture in my skull through which the bullet had entered. Though all components were in their rightful places, the bone itself remained fragmented.

The question of why bone differed in behavior from the rest of my anatomy perplexed me. My efforts to fathom this distinction consumed considerable time within the Red Forest—an ethereal expanse resembling a bridge formed from bone. From this vantage point, I perceived the entirety of the silver band, suspended over terrain marked by crimson rivulets emblematic of my bloodstream. Alas, traversing bone proved elusive, thereby rendering me unable to manipulate the bullet-created aperture in my skull.

I puzzled over the inconsistency—why did bone elude my influence while other components yielded to my command? I contemplated the prospect of deliberately fracturing my ankle to extricate the band, yet I knew that Brandon, my captor, would intercede. His intervention would result in the band materializing around my alternate ankle, and my endeavor would necessitate commencing anew. Meanwhile, the initial fractured ankle and the bullet-engendered aperture in my skull would persist, unrepaired like fragments of an unresolved narrative.

Nightfall persisted beyond the castle's walls, its pervasive darkness a testament to the North's remote latitude. Unwilling to relinquish my captivity, Christian had yet to orchestrate my rescue. Akin to the duration of my wait at the hotel, when my aim was to attract his attention by fleeing the boarding school, my current circumstances, characterized by sporadic visitors, were bereft of amusement.

Occasionally, Brandon and Pricina materialized, their ethereal presence infused with the semblance of grandeur. Pricina would conjure panes of glass within the room, expanding them until they spanned the entire space, affording her and Brandon access. At times, their entry was seamless, accomplished via doorways; in other instances, they would reconfigure stone, fabricating entrances. These blocks of stone shifted fluidly and incongruously, much like my manipulation of cellular structures within the Red Forest. Seated at ease, they would await my interaction.

The ensuing dialogue maintained a predictable pattern, revolving around the Red Forest.

"Have you ventured into the Red Forest?" Brandon's question would invariably launch

the discourse.

"You've been monitoring me, hence you're already aware," my response remained steadfast.

In the sanctuary of the Red Forest, I allocated substantial time, situated atop my bone bridge. This vista encompassed the entirety of the silver band, spanning the crimson-hued landscape representing my bloodstream. The ring, interwoven within the bridge of bone, hovered above this terrain, symbolizing the access point to a realm imbued with mysteries.

The inquiries persisted, as Brandon sought to compel me towards a predetermined course of action.

"Why do you not explore Christian's heart within the Red Forest?" Brandon inquired, shedding the pretense of his erstwhile Scottish accent. His speech now bore an unfamiliar cadence, a feature more alienating than his prior muteness. In his novel vocalization, he persisted, "It holds the repository of Christian's knowledge."

My eyes rolled in response, my distaste for this subject a palpable undercurrent. This discourse proved taxing, for Brandon and Pricina coveted knowledge distinct from that which Christian possessed within his heart. Their pursuit transcended the confines of Christian himself; their objectives were of greater complexity and scope.

"If you enter his heart, you shall gain insights paramount to your objectives," Brandon postulated, endeavoring to exude persuasiveness.

Yet, this overture did not resonate with me. This discussion had recurred over months, prompting a concurrent dimming of the castle's illumination. My abduction had transpired during the waning days of summer, with autumn yielding to the equinox and my own birthday. Now, as the winter solstice drew nearer, night shrouded the landscape like the enigma of outer space.

Resentment welled within me. Brandon and Pricina were subjects of my disdain, their logic serving as a source of repugnance. Stubbornly, I withheld my consent, an unyielding refusal to capitulate to their designs.

My psyche emanated a vehement antipathy towards them—a sentiment directed towards both Brandon and Pricina. Despite their unprecedented abilities, Pricina remained an enigma—a tranquil observer devoid of allegiance. As for Brandon, his purpose was to preserve the integrity of the glass barrier. This metaphorical glass maintained its form regardless of the destructive endeavors I undertook—chairs hurled, lamps launched, and even my own body offered as an instrument of defiance.

Her presence, consistent and graceful, impelled me to recognize her function.

"Why her presence?" I inquired, my tone imbued with accusation. "Is she necessary to reinforce the glass?"

"She serves as an exemplar for you," Brandon responded, a veneer of reasonability gracing his words.

While skeptical of his explanation, I refrained from voicing disbelief, concealing my skepticism beneath the veneer of acceptance. To cultivate clarity, I questioned Brandon further.

"Must you rely on her to manipulate the glass? Can you not achieve this yourself?"

"Um," he answered, momentarily disarmed.

Indeed, my observation had unveiled a deficiency—I discerned that Brandon lacked the capacity to manipulate the glass or reshape the castle's stonework.

Her presence epitomized a lesson: that unity between two immortal entities necessitated the exchange of corporeal fragments. I resided as the tokenized vessel, a repository of Christian's heart and mysteries.

Yet, I remained steadfast in my defiance. The conversations with Brandon perpetuated, his discourse unceasing.

"You should not be averse to traversing Christian's heart within the Red Forest," he proposed, his accent accentuating his message. "It is a sacred realm to which you possess entitlement. You are his wife."

This declaration resurfaced consistently, stoking my anger. Unyielding, I contested his assertion.

"He never married me!" I retorted vehemently. "He proposed marriage, and had you allowed a few more hours to transpire, the union might have materialized. Alas, that was not the case!" My vehemence grew as I continued.

Brandon's endeavors to sway me persisted, employing logic that gnawed at my patience. Unyielding, I withheld any concessions, defending the sanctity of Christian's heart within the Red Forest.

"Bring Christian here," I challenged, the resentment in my voice palpable. "If he avows me as his wife and welcomes my presence within his heart, then I shall comply. However, his affirmation is absent; thus, I remain skeptical. Bring him forth, and let us enact a ceremony—conducted in a language I comprehend—affirming our union. Then, I shall acquiesce to your demands."

Brandon's demeanor shifted in response—discomfort evident in his countenance. If he and Pricina possessed knowledge of Christian's location, it remained undisclosed, for their objectives differed from my own. Their designs revolved around me, not him.

My resolve remained unyielding, for I would not relinquish any part of myself to their machinations.