Enoch turned toward him and exhaled. He sat down, cross-legged, and invited Uriel to do the same.
Seated across from one another, Enoch let silence settle for a moment. Uriel didn't mind, allowing him to proceed at his own pace.
Minutes passed. Enoch closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled.
When he reopened them, he didn't seem like the same person at all.
WHOOOSH!
Uriel's long hair was blown back by a fierce gust of air, his eyes widening as Enoch's presence bloomed in earnest, regal and holy, unfathomably deep and ancient.
It was like the ocean, stretching far beyond his comprehension, holding depths filled with monstrosities his mortal mind would collapse under the weight of if ever forced to witness them.
And yet, he could tell this was nothing more than a fraction of what truly lay within Enoch's depths.
'Unfathomable.'
That was the only word that fit.
"My name is Enoch Lothyn Thorne, son of Damian Thorne, Patriarch of the Thorne Mercury Clan, and Chairman of the Elemental Heaven Federation of our planet, Ithurial."
Uriel's eyes briefly widened at the mention of the Federation, their planet's unified governing force and greatest authority.
"Now, as I said, I am from the future, but it isn't so simple. Unlike most humans, you and I both possess more than one awakened ability. Among the few I have, there is one that helps in all matters related to time and memory."
"In other words, I am from the future, but I didn't purposefully come back, or anything of the sort. Someone else out there in the world has the ability to regress back in time, and whenever they do so, my soul and mind are pulled along with them, due to my abilities."
He paused.
The realization that other entities existed, others who retained memories of the future, hit Uriel hard. But not as hard as Enoch expected, and within moments, his breathing regulated.
"I… don't exactly know how old I am, or how many times I've been through this, to be entirely honest. But I remember, in perfect detail, the last ten regressions I've experienced."
"And I know this will be the last."
Uriel closed his eyes, massaging his forehead. "This… is the tenth time you've gone through this?"
He reopened his eyes.
"You died ten times?"
Enoch shook his head.
"No."
But he didn't elaborate.
Uriel pushed the matter aside. "I suppose we'll begin with the most simple question of all."
"What's the purpose of all this? Why did you mention matters of survival to me? What is the danger?"
Enoch had expected these questions, but that didn't make answering them any easier. "Quite the opening."
He licked his lips, deep in thought, searching for the right words.
"What's the purpose? To survive. In all my past lives, you always died before me. So, if that makes it any better, see this as your path toward not dying. And mine as well."
"And to be clear, your death was never of natural causes."
He frowned. "Or pleasant."
"Neither were mine."
Enoch shuddered, his pupils trembling with barely contained, maddened rage, his jaw tightening.
Uriel quietly observed him.
He pointed toward Enoch's chest. "Your wound."
Enoch glanced down. "What about it?"
"The person who killed you, or one of them, they did that to you during the trial, right?"
"There are traces of foreign Natal aether on it. I assume it's his. Or hers."
Enoch's expression darkened. The rage in his gaze simmered, cooling into something calmer, yet far more malicious.
It was so potent that the aether in the air around them nearly went into a frenzy, just as it had earlier with Uriel.
"Yeah." His jaw loosened. "Anyway."
"As for why I mentioned survival, it's very simple."
His back straightened, and his mood began to lighten, if only slightly.
"In no time at all, we'll be thrust into the forest out there, filled with creatures wielding inhuman power that none of us can match."
"But even if we survive that, and even I can't assure you we will, when we return home… another hell will be waiting for us."
He sighed. "Listen. Unfortunately, there are too many things I can't say out loud due to circumstances I also can't explain. But please, believe me."
"It will become treacherous in a way I can't really put into words."
Uriel hummed in understanding.
'So there's a chance the guides could be spying on us. Weird. Is he trying to tell me not to trust them? Not that I was going to, but that's interesting to note.'
His thoughts returned to the conversation. "Say,"
"You said I'd eventually become strong, yes? And then that I'd eventually die before you, famous or infamous, yes?"
Enoch nodded.
"How do I know you're not simply trying to take advantage of me, then? How do I know you're not just trying to stay ahead of the curve, or something of the like?"
"You've been vaguely implying that we were close, since your first life, I assume."
He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Prove to me that I once trusted you, that we were brothers in arms, or something similar."
"Since I was most likely famous, don't say anything related to any future ability I'll have, any hidden talent, or even my family, Arthur and Lilith included."
"I need something only a brother of mine would know."
Uriel's gaze blazed with an intensity utterly unlike his usual aloof, innocent self, burning with deep, scorching intent.
His presence nearly rivaled Enoch's.
They stared into each other's eyes, letting silence settle between them.
"Very well," Enoch said, his back straightening.
"She burned in your arms."
The words echoed like thunder in Uriel's mind.
Memories he thought he had buried surged forth, flooding his thoughts and shaking him to his core.
But Enoch didn't stop.
"You often have nightmares of a man dressed in yellow, wearing a crown of red, hanging you for thirty days and thirty nights."
Uriel's lips trembled. His breath hitched, hands shaking.
"The Old Lady would often light you on fire as she prayed to you, hoping it would burn the disease you were born with."
"She would also drown you, hoping the disease would be expunged through your brushes with death."
Uriel closed his eyes.