Page 27 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure (The Children Of The Gods #98)

TAMIRA

" T he multiple universes idea is too confusing," Tamira said. "I have enough trouble understanding what's going on in this one."

Rolenna nodded. "Like collective consciousness.

It doesn't make sense to me. If we're all connected on some level, why does communication require such effort?

Even the six of us, who have lived together for thousands of years, still have disagreements over silly misunderstandings and imagined slights.

Why don't we simply know each other's hearts?

" She turned to Elias. "Any thoughts on the subject? "

Tamira watched Elias as he considered Rolenna's question. He was so smart and so careful, neither rushing to answer nor deflecting with empty mysticism.

"Our brains function like sieves. They limit the amounts of information they allow into our conscious minds, and blocking the pain, fear, and longing of others is critically important. If you were exposed to all that, the weight would crush you."

That was such a good answer, and Tamira was proud of her shaman.

Well, he wasn't hers. Not yet anyway. But soon.

It was almost funny how her attraction to him was growing with every clever thing he said.

"We carry that weight just from reading about it," Beulah said quietly. "All the wars, the natural disasters, the endless suffering. And through it all, we are here, in perfect isolation."

"But you carry it with your boundaries intact," Elias said. "That distance allows compassion without drowning. Perhaps the effort required for true communication, the choice to bridge the gap, is what makes connection meaningful."

Tamira leaned toward him, drawn by his words. There was so much wisdom in them, so much understanding and compassion. He had an incredibly bright soul.

"So, you're saying that isolation is a gift?" Tony asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"I'm saying boundaries are sacred," Elias said. "They define where I end and you begin, which makes the choice to connect an act of will and courage."

His eyes met Tamira's as he spoke, and she felt heat bloom in her chest. Was he speaking of spiritual philosophy or something more personal? The knee that had brushed hers earlier remained close, not quite touching but near enough that she could feel his warmth through the silk of her dress.

"Courage," Liliat repeated. "That's an interesting word choice for connecting with others. Most would say that love and desire drive connection."

"Love requires courage," Elias said. "And so does desire. Without courage, both remain unrequited and unfulfilled. A true connection requires the bravery to be subjected to rejection, misunderstanding, or loss."

"Speaking from experience?" Raviki asked with characteristic directness.

A shadow crossed his face, there and gone so quickly that Tamira might have imagined it. "We all have our stories of connection and disconnection, and they shape how we approach new possibilities."

Tamira recognized deflection when she heard it. Whatever losses Elias had experienced, they still carried weight. It made her want to know more, to understand what had created the shadows of sorrow in his eyes.

"Well, I for one am grateful for new possibilities," she said, letting warmth seep into her voice. "The courage to engage with a new acquaintance has brought us a fascinating dinner conversation."

"Hear, hear." Tony lifted his wine glass. "To new perspectives and the courage to share them."

They toasted, crystal chiming against crystal with pure, clear notes. Tamira let her fingers brush Elias's as they lowered their glasses, a touch so brief it could have been accidental, but the slight widening of his eyes suggested he knew it wasn't.

"You said that you traveled a lot," Sarah said as servants silently cleared the dessert plates. "Which famous locations have you visited?"

Tamira watched Elias choose his words carefully. Whatever his full story, he wasn't ready to share it completely.

"I've been to many places," he said. "From the mountains of the Caucasus to the markets of Constantinople. I've walked the Silk Road and sailed the Mediterranean. Each place taught me something different."

"Constantinople?" Beulah repeated. "Isn't it called Istanbul these days? They changed the name in 1930."

Tamira frowned. It was the kind of mistake that very old humans or immortals made, but Elias was a young man.

He smiled. "It depends on where you come from. Those who dislike the Turks often refer to the city as Constantinople. It annoys Turks to no end."

"Are you Armenian?" Sarah asked.

"Good guess," he said. "There is no love lost between Turks and Armenians."

It was a good explanation, but Tamira suspected that there was more to it. She had known Elias for a very short time, but she'd paid attention and learned to tell when he was being completely open and when he hid behind half-truths.

"I still think of Myanmar as Burma, and Zimbabwe as Rhodesia," Rolenna said. "Change happens faster than my memory adjusts."

"What did you do in Constantinople?" Tamira asked Elias.

"A little bit of commerce. Empires rise and fall, but trade endures, and the merchants in the Grand Bazaar still sell the same goods their ancestors did—spices, silk, stories. The names and languages change, but the human need for connection through exchange remains constant."

"You are reducing human connection to commerce," Liliat said. "That's rather cynical for a shaman."

"I'm not reducing. I'm recognizing that trade drives progress," Elias corrected. "Before we could speak each other's languages, we could point at goods and negotiate value. It's connection at its most basic and honest."

"I never thought of it that way," Tony said. "Though it makes sense. DNA shows trade routes almost as clearly as migration patterns. Genetic markers follow the Silk Road like breadcrumbs."

Tamira wasn't sure if he said that seriously or meant it as a joke, and given the looks the others directed his way, they weren't sure of his meaning either. Tony must have realized that and launched into one of his lectures.

Tamira didn't pay attention. She was focused on studying Elias and reading his subtle tells.

When the conversation returned to his travels, she watched the way his hands moved when he spoke of places he'd been.

The subtle tension in his shoulders that never quite eased, as if he were ready to flee on a moment's notice.

The way his voice softened when speaking of beauty he'd witnessed, like a sunrise over the Sahara or storms rolling across the Black Sea.

She envied him for seeing the world, for having traveled and mingled with so many people, but she also wondered what he wasn't saying.

When her friends shifted to debate whether modern technology helped or hindered genuine human connection, Elias had gone quiet.

"Are you tired?" she asked quietly.

He turned to her, and for a moment, his careful control slipped. She saw loneliness there, deep and aching, before he smiled. "A little. I don't remember talking so much in years. Besides, sometimes it's better to listen. You can learn more that way."

She smiled. "The only one who's been quiet throughout dinner was Tula, so I guess she learned a lot this evening."

"There were many small silences in between your words."

Was he trying to give her a compliment? She never said no to those.

"And what did they tell you?"

"That you're not only stunningly beautiful but also smart and knowledgeable, and you are bravely making the best of a difficult situation.

You've found ways to maintain sanity and dignity despite your circumstances, and that you're hungry for something indefinable—not just novelty but also meaning. "

His perception was unsettling and accurate, but then she should have expected that from a shaman.

Tamira felt exposed, as if he'd peered directly into her soul. "And what do you hunger for, Elias?"

The question hung between them, loaded with possibilities. Around them, the dinner conversation continued, but Tamira felt caught in a bubble of intimacy with this incredibly compelling man.

"Fulfillment," he said after a long moment. "The knowledge that I have fulfilled my duties and haven't failed those who depend on me."

Tamira felt her heart constrict.

Did Elias have a wife and children somewhere that Navuh had torn him away from?

"Who are those people who depend on you?" she asked.

He swallowed hard. "They are no longer on this plane of existence, and my sacred duty is to carry the torch and not let them be forgotten." He closed his eyes. "Hard to do from this place."

She felt his pain. Her people were dead as well, long gone, but not forgotten.

"You can write about them," she suggested. "Perhaps Lady Areana can arrange the publishing of your memoir. As long as you don't mention this place, it might be possible."

He took her hand, and she was surprised at how smooth his skin was for someone who gardened as much as he did. "You are very sweet, Tamira, but writing about my lost people will not count toward fulfilling my duty to them."

"Then what will?"

His eyes clouded. "When you've touched the infinite, ordinary existence feels hollow. But the infinite can't be grasped, only glimpsed. So, we return to the mundane world carrying echoes of transcendence that make normal life feel like exile."

She had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded too profound to be a mere deflection.

Perhaps she just wasn't smart enough to understand what he was trying to say.

She understood the sentiment, though. The sense of being forever displaced, of belonging neither to the world left behind nor the one currently inhabited.

"Perhaps exile shared becomes homecoming," she said.

"Perhaps it does," he whispered.

"What are you and Elias whispering about over there?" Rolenna asked, piercing their bubble of intimacy.