“Naomi!” Lash jolted up gasping for breath.
His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room. Sunlight streamed through the wall-length windows in the Room of Offerings. He was home.
Everything around him was the same—the marble floors, the circle of white furniture in the center of the room, the rich tapestries, and the walls lined with sculptures and paintings. It was perfect, it was beautiful—he hated it.
He dropped his head into his hands as raw pain surged through his chest. She was gone. The one person who had believed in him, had faith in him, had been torn away from his arms. His reward had become his punishment, and he’d been left to wander until the end of time without Naomi, half-alive—broken. Would he ever find a way to heal his soul?
He trudged to one of the glass cases and
