Once Khalid had forced the young man who had murdered his precious Charun to pay with his life,  the young man’s entrails now coating the street before the temple of Goddess Durga, he wandered aimlessly into the streets of West India. He did not care where his feet carried him. The pain of his loss was again so incredible, that he cursed Aset once more for giving him this life. 

A month after Charun’s untimely death, Khalid felt his birth again. He was sitting on the street of Mumbai, drinking Chai, when he began to cry at the image of Charun’s rebirth. His beloved was somewhere in Europe. It felt so very far away. Khalid wanted to get moving, to find him as soon as possible, but he realized that Charun, or rather, his precious Asim, was just a baby. What good would it do to come across a baby? How strange to raise him, and care for him, and love him, only to be with him when he was grown enough. 

The fact that he was alive again gave Khalid the hope he needed to keep going. He decided he would go in search of Asim when he was old enough. For now, Khalid began to travel. He headed north, spending time in the freezing Himalayas, getting away from the terrible and often overwhelming minds of so many people. For a time, just because he was bored, he began to scale the mountains. When his body parts would inevitably freeze to the point where he could no longer use them, he would hole up in a cave long enough for them to heal, then continue along. 

One day, he found himself scaling the tallest mountain, Chomolungma, the Goddess Mother of the Earth. As he stood at the top, frigid wind biting at his extremities, he cast his mind out for his Goddess. 

“Goddess Aset, I have cursed your name. I have felt pain that no other men have, and suffered as none have suffered. I stand here now, ready to apologize to you. To offer my deepest, most sincere and humble self to you. Goddess, you have given me such a rare and precious gift, and I did not truly appreciate it. But standing here, now, where no man has stood before, I understand. Aset, I owe you everything, and you owe me nothing. I will spend eternity making it up to you.” He meant every word. 

Khalid stared out from the top of that mountain, and felt truly at peace. It was almost the complete opposite of the underground prison he had been in for years. The view was exquisite, and he hoped one day to share it with Asim.

Khalid finally began his journey to Europe. It had been seventeen years, and he felt he had gone long enough without his love. He focused on the village where he knew Asim had been born. With Asim’s birthplace strong in his mind, he headed there, happening on the mid-wife who had assisted in the birth. He looked into her mind, and saw the new baby Louis come screaming into the world. He also saw Louis’ mother, and the small home where she had lived with him. 

Louis. That was his name. It was simple, sweet, and fitting. Khalid traveled to the home of Louis’ mother, and soon discovered that she lived alone. She had been living alone since Louis was enlisted to fight, to bring the grand idea of France to the rest of the world. Louis’ father had died before he was even born. Now, the young man was off to make his mother proud. 

Khalid thanked his mother for her hospitality, and used what he knew to head out to find the young man. It took some time, but he managed to find Louis’ regimen by scanning a number of different minds. On the day of Louis’ 18th birthday, Khalid finally found him, but he was moments too late. 

Khalid looked at the body of the young man who lay lifeless on the battlefield, his blood seeping into the ground below him. He had been run-through with a blade, a fate which seemed to follow Asim in several lives. 

It was Asim. Khalid knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, even though his soul had already left his body. There was a remnant, a recognition of his beloved in Louis’ eyes, which were now blank.

Khalid kneeled on that battlefield, letting his anger and frustration wash over him. 

Lost. Again. 

He picked up Louis’ body, and began the process of carrying it all the way back to his mother. She sobbed when she saw her son, a desperate wailing cry that Khalid had only ever heard once before, when he had killed his nieces and nephews, and their mothers had screamed in agony at the loss.

Khalid considered wiping the pain from poor Louis’ mother, but he felt there was something important about it. She had earned it, and who was he to remove such exquisite pain from her life. He left her to tend Louis’ body, knowing she would take the utmost care of him, then Khalid continued along his journey. 

*****

Asim was born again, in West Africa. In Angola.

Khalid wept at the image of a girl, held lovingly in her mother’s arms. 

A little girl. 

The second time that Asim had not been born a boy.

Khalid began to wonder if his presence was merely a curse. If he should leave this version of Asim alone to grow and become the beautiful young woman that she was destined to be. The urge to find her was strong, but the fear of watching her die was just as strong. 

So, Khalid traveled the world. He crossed as much of Europe as he dared, delving into numerous lives. When he saw someone that was being abused, he would often attack the abuser, attempting his best to keep his promise to his Goddess that he would be a better person. That he would make the world a better place. He once saw a child whipped mercilessly by his father, and took it upon himself to force the father to walk straight into the woods, and never return to his family. The family would be better off without him, Khalid reasoned. The child looked to Khalid in awe, and Khalid gave the child happy memories, and a plausible story to tell his family about his father’s disappearance, along with some gold. 

Despite his best judgment, after many years, he found himself traveling down the African countryside. He was drawn as ever toward his love. It had been almost two and a half decades since Asim’s new birth, and Khalid found himself in the somber village, where there was a horrified gathering of mourners.

A number of people had been kidnapped from the village. Among them was her. 

He searched every distraught pair of eyes until he found her story, and sure enough, she had been grabbed by men who were taking the prisoners far away. 

Her name was Sim. She was beautiful. And she was currently on a ship, sailing to the New World. 

Khalid wandered the coastline until he spotted another ship that was capturing prisoners for the voyage west. He quickly made eye contact with the crew, and soon enough, they had released all of their prisoners, and brought Khalid with them onto their ship to make haste and attempt to intercept Sim’s ship.

It took some time, moving quickly, almost recklessly, but they reached her ship about halfway through its journey to the colonies. Khalid forced his ship to take over and board hers, quickly gaining control of all the slavers on Sim’s ship. He made his way down to the hold, horrified at the stench and circumstances of those being held down there shackled together, lying in fetid filth.

Khalid walked along the rows of chained prisoners, forcing the slavers to unlock them as he went. For some, it was too late. They had died down in the hold, the conditions beyond torturous. 

Khalid finally spotted her. 

Sim was lying on a slat of wood, her eyes closed, her naked chest barely lifting and falling. He rushed over to her, forcing a slaver to unchain her, and pulled her into his arms. 

“My love,” Khalid whispered in her language, brushing his fingers gently over the dark skin of her cheek. “My precious love.”

Her eyes fluttered open briefly, and she looked at him, first with confusion, then almost with a sense of recognition. It was clear that she was at Death’s door.

Khalid carried her out of the hold and up to the deck, so that she could breathe in the fresh air, and feel the sun on her face. 

She barely managed to look around as many of the young men and women who had been released slowly made their way up to the deck.

“Take them home.” Sim begged, her eyes leaking tears as she looked imploringly at Khalid. “Please, take them home.”

“I will.” Khalid swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I promise.”

Sim looked out at the sun, which had begun to set. Her body slowly relaxed in Khalid’s arms, until it was clear her breathing was slowing down, becoming a sort of death rattle. Khalid held her as her heart stopped beating, and her eyes gently closed. He hugged her close to him, tears falling onto her bare shoulders as he said goodbye to his love once again. 

Khalid was adamant about fulfilling Sim’s final wish. He forced all the slavers to return the ship to Angola. The day they reached land, Sim was born again. This time, far north, in the frozen tundra of Russia. 

As Khalid forced each slaver to burn himself alive, and made sure each poor Khoikhoi tribe member was heading back to their home with a full belly, plenty of food, and if necessary, the bodies of loved ones to be tended to as they saw fit, he considered his next course of action. 

He wanted to see more than just the end of Asim’s life now. 

He was desperate to get to know him for longer than the tragic moment of his death. He started immediately north, on the lookout for baby Asim. If he had to stand in as a beloved family member until it came time to reveal the truth, he would. 

Of course, it would not be that easy. 

When he reached the freezing cold village where Asim had been reborn, there was no sign of him. A woman had died in childbirth. The baby had gone missing. That was all that Khalid was able to glean from the situation. 

He knew that Asim was alive, as he had not yet felt his death. But he had no idea where he had gone, or who had taken him. Khalid spent years roaming the cold countryside of Russia. He marveled at the frozen tundra of Siberia. He broke through the ice, and dived deep deep down into the seemingly endless waters of Lake Baikal, sitting for a time at the very bottom. 

Khalid relished at the pressure of the water on his body. He reached out his mind, hoping to catch a glimpse of where Asim was now. It had been almost three decades, and he had not yet been able to find him. There, at the bottom of the lake, he was still out of luck. 

He traveled West, until one day he saw a young man running down the road. Khalid caught the young man’s eye, and immediately saw what he was looking for. The young man knew his Asim, or rather, Sasha. 

Lovely Sasha had helped the young man, Misha, to escape the horrors of the battlefield. Khalid sent Misha on his way, and picked up the pace, rushing toward the battlefield where he knew Sasha was fighting against the Prussians in Kunersdorf.

Khalid did not slow down, did not stop until he reached the battlefield. There he saw him. He found Sasha, fighting valiantly, struggling to protect his fellow soldiers. Khalid reached him, looking into his eyes. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the almost 30-year-old man standing before him was his Asim.

Khalid was so caught up in the moment of finding him again, that he was not paying attention. Sasha’s eyes widened, and he called for Khalid to look out, but it was too late. Someone ran Khalid through the throat with a sword, and the world went dark. 

When Khalid awoke, buried in a shallow grave, he could sense that Sasha was dead. He slowly dug himself out of the grave, pulling himself along the ground until he could stand, and then stumbled along until he reached the nearest lake. He jumped into the water, washing off the blood and dirt of his latest death, feeling bitter once more. 

He had headed south again, wanting to go home, back to Egypt, when he felt Sasha’s rebirth in Western Europe. In England. 

Khalid continued on his journey home instead. The thought of seeing Asim die one more time was too much. So his feet carried him back to Egypt, but it was nothing like it had been when he had left. He spent years attempting to build a life for himself, to make himself believe that he did not need Asim. As the years passed, he waited to feel Asim’s death, but it never came. After thirty years, where Khalid had made a decent if rather unfulfilled life for himself, he found his feet carrying him north. He was lonely. He desperately missed Asim.

He went to England, to London, where he found a nurse who had been there when Asim was born. The baby had been given the name Cody, and his mother had not wanted anything to do with him. So, to an orphanage he went. Khalid followed the trail. The orphanage revealed a rather strict nun who had watched Cody fall in with a dodgy crowd on the street. Khalid looked for that crowd, and discovered one of their members, who had been instrumental in making Cody a successful pickpocket and charmer of rich women. 

Eventually, Khalid learned that Cody had been arrested, and shipped to Australia to pay for petty his crimes. 

The journey to Australia felt like forever, but one day, Khalid stumbled into the village where Cody lived, and found him and Colin working on building houses. 

Cody was stunning, just as he had been in every former life. He was about six-feet-tall, with curly brown hair, and ice-blue eyes that reminded Khalid of Lake Baikal.

Khalid fell in with Cody and Colin immediately, and for a time, everything was blissful. It felt like they were a family. Khalid was not sure why he did not bother leaving a pebble in Colin’s mind after initially reading him. He was so at peace, perhaps, that he did not feel the need to. If he had, he would have noticed Colin’s distrust of him, which culminated in that strange and awful night when Colin confronted him in an alleyway. 

“What are your designs on Cody?” Colin asked, catching Khalid off-guard.

“I have no designs.” Khalid insisted. “Cody is a friend. We work together, paying our debt to society.”

“I see how you look at him. Not natural like.” Said Colin. “I know you is up to something. I just can’t figure what.”

Khalid shook his head, “I am up to nothing untoward. I merely care about him a great deal.”

“Whatever you are planning, I ain’t gonna let you hurt him.” Insisted Colin. “I can see you for what ya are. There is something dark in ya.”

Khalid felt his stomach drop. It was clear that he had slipped up by not controlling Colin from the start. 

“Colin, I am not going to do anything bad to him, or to you. I am a good person. I just want to help.”

Colin shook his head, and his voice got loud now, “No, no! I can see it in youse, even if he cannot. Something dark and sick. A sick man, you are!”

Khalid put a hand up to calm Colin, who had turned and was walking out of the alley, speaking at the top of his lungs. 

“I’m gonna tell him! I’m gonna tell him what you are!” Colin said. 

Something snapped in Khalid, and he ran up and spun Colin around to face him. He looked into Colin’s eyes, and pressed a singular thought into his mind. 

Dash your brains out on the wall. 

Colin proceeded to do so, violently, collapsing to the ground in a pool of his own blood before Khalid had a chance to realize that he had fucked it all up. 

Colin lay dead on the ground, and Khalid made a run for it, unaware that someone had been watching him from the window. 

Many days later, when he came to in the grave that Cody had dug for him, he found it was too late. Cody had paused in the process of tossing dirt into the grave in order to set the pine box on fire. Khalid burned alive, a new and unpleasant sensation for him. He vaguely wondered if this was it, if this was the way he would finally die, at the hands of his devastated lover. 

All his flesh melted away, leaving only the bones. From these bones, Khalid slowly grew back. It took months. When he woke up, buried underground in the grave that Cody had made just for him, he decided that he was done. 

Finished. 

No more. 

Khalid slowly dug himself out of the grave, emerging dirty, exhausted, and angry. 

He soon discovered that Cody had been hanged for the murder of McConnell, and because Khalid had been gone so long this last time, he did not sense where Cody was reborn.

He did not care anyway. 

He was livid. 

He was done chasing a love he could never have. 

Chapter 34 – Not Enough Time