Prologue
Prologue
Since the dawn of time, humanity has been consumed by a dual longing: not merely to leave a fleeting mark upon the flow of time, but to grasp the secret of infinity and dissolve into it. In every century, there have been those obsessed with unearthing the mystery of eternal life—minds that strove, and continue to strive, for an answer to the ultimate question: how does one become immortal?
But he, alone among all men, had received the divine gift of an incorruptible existence—simply, and without any quest at all. His mind was never tortured by philosophical inquiries into the meaning of life. He never sought the fabled formula for that elixir of youth so coveted by the human race. This immortal man led no ascetic life; he practiced no spiritual disciplines aimed at self-perfection. There were no fantastic reincarnations or transformations of his visage. Everything visible to the eye remained constant, an unyielding physical law.
Venerable gray never touched his dark, curly hair; over centuries of immortality, its length and color remained impossible to alter. His expressive brown eyes, set beneath thick, sharply defined brows, possessed a gaze so piercing it sent shivers down the skin of even those with nerves of steel. On his heavy, clean-shaven cheekbones—which lent him an air of arrogance and indomitable defiance—not even the lightest stubble ever broke through. His young, muscular body was perpetually bronzed by a golden tan. No matter how he struggled or what he desired, not a single cell of his flesh succumbed to the chemistry of aging.
Involuntary immortality had etched his image into its own memory. Consequently, he had long ago stopped placing mirrors in his many homes. His own reflection caused him acute spiritual suffering; the absence of change was a relentless reminder of the endless succession of days—a reminder that life was continuing like a waking nightmare he was powerless to interrupt. Tormented by a wearying eternity, he understood perfectly well that the blame for this unending misery lay with him alone. His precious gift was nothing more than a forced and indefinite punishment.
The harbinger of this personal, immortal hell had been the appearance of Her—the one who had changed his life for centuries to come.
And now, thousands of years later, she sat directly before him, blindfolded and bound. His men had brought her to his luxurious mansion in the dead of night. Unable to see through the tight fabric pressed against her eyes, the girl listened warily to every rustle, trying desperately to sense her surroundings. Every faint sound caused her nerves to snap with tension and her heart to hammer frantically. Striving to suppress her terror, she tried to steady her labored breathing and master the emotions flooding over her.
The Immortal watched in silence as his captive helplessly turned her head from side to side, trying to decide how to act. Looking at her, he too struggled to choose his demeanor, preferring to maintain a distance even though she was finally so close—and entirely in his power.
“Who’s there?” she asked, catching the sound of his breath and feeling his heavy gaze upon her skin.
She had almost succeeded in calming her heartbeat, but a treacherous tremor in her voice betrayed her profound fear. He wanted her fear least of all, yet he saw no other way. To settle her, the Immortal stepped close and slowly removed the blindfold.
Now, she could see where she was.
“Well, hello.”
“Who are you? Where am I?”
With the grace of a predator, the Immortal approached her chair and leaned against the armrests. He bent so low that she could feel his warm breath on her face. His attentive, searching gaze seemed to look straight into her soul; a jolt like an electric current surged down her spine, forcing her to sit bolt upright against the back of the chair.
“How long I have waited for you.”
“Do we know each other?”
“You know me better than anyone else on this earth.”
“You must be mistaken. I have no idea who you are.”
“No, I am not mistaken. And this time, I will not let you leave me...”
