13. Nyssa
Nyssa
A deep clang rang through the woods, and with it, the chilling realisation that I was dangerously close to failure.
Just one hour remained in the third trial.
One hour before I got my ass hauled back to the Underworld and doomed the realms as we knew them. I panicked, for the second time in as many hours. A cold vice clamped around my ribcage, my heart thundering within its confines. It was too loud, too fast, drowning out all logical thought.
With no one here to drag me out of the darkness this time, my mind spiralled.
Who was I to think I could bond a beast?
Who would want to be tethered to death?
Why did I have to sit on this throne?
Couldn’t someone else take the burden, just once?
A chorus of shrill screeches and snarls pierced the air, loud enough, unnerving enough, to give me pause. I froze, silently deliberating my options. There weren’t many. I was quickly running out of time.
Whatever had made that sound was surely monstrous — and therefore, a formidable ally. A good bondmate.
I took a deep breath, hardening my resolve. Dagger in hand, I crept towards the sound, my footsteps silent through the underbrush.
The copse of elms thinned as I neared the source of the cacophony. Foolishly, I had crept into a small clearing, realising far too late that it was already occupied. I’d walked right into a gigantic slaughterhouse in the form of a cornered hydra.
It was a horrifying creature with the enormous, scaled form of a dragon. At six feet tall, I barely reached its shoulders, and its tail was at least twice that in length. However, where a dragon possessed only one long, serpent-like neck, a hydra owned five.
And even more unfortunately, all five of its ugly heads were now viciously snapping at me.
Well, fuck.
Alright, beasty — let’s dance.
I’d have to bond with the hydra before it killed me. And it would certainly try.
“Care to tether yourself to death?” I called.
The creature screeched its defiance, and I wondered if I’d made a grievous mistake.
“Guess not.”
I cracked my neck and conjured a second shadow dagger — one now in each hand. The beast lunged immediately, swooping in with its two outermost heads. They swung in from either side in graceful arcs, attempting to catch me in the middle.
Instinct kicked in. I leapt backwards with no time to spare — just quick enough to avoid the snapping teeth aimed at my torso. I’d need to move faster than that. Charon would chew me out if he knew.
Bone cracked against bone with a sickening crunch as the heads collided right where I’d just stood.
The hydra hissed, a combination of pain and fury.
But I was nothing if not resourceful— while the heads were dazed and within reach, I drove both blades directly into each skull, straight down to the hilt.
A piercing roar ricocheted through my ears, but Charon himself had trained me. And my father had trained him — it would take more than ringing eardrums to make me falter.
Shadows coiled around my fingers as I twisted the knives in deeper. The hydra reared back, screeching, and I relinquished my weapons.
Thankfully, I was never without options.
Darkness once again stirred to my will, slithering over my pale skin like ink in water.
It gathered in my right palm, swirling and melding until it solidified into a cold, black hilt.
Shadows stretched higher, hardening into a slim metal blade about the length of my arm.
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of a sword.
It was as sharp as midnight and hummed with the power of death.
The creature retaliated quickly. While I had conjured another weapon, it had struck out with a swipe of its powerful tail.
I jumped over the limb easily — only to be struck by its taloned paw.
Pain slashed down my shredded torso, and I felt a gush of warm blood pouring from the wound.
I had no time to stop and assess the injury, so I shoved it forcibly from my mind.
Compartmentalisation had always been one of my strengths.
This was no longer a demonstration of ferocity in an attempt to bond.
This had become a battle for survival.
The hydra snapped again, but this time I sank my blade deep into the neck of its attacking head.
Dodging the remaining four, I cleaved my sword straight through the sinewy tissue.
Hot blood sprayed across my face and the taste of acid filled my mouth.
I retched until the severed head finally dropped to the earth with a dull thud, rolling several paces away.
Howls of agony pierced the air as the headless stump waved and swayed. It reminded me of the way the amphisbaena’s body continued to slither even after being cut in two.
To my horror, the gory appendage began to bubble and hiss like an over-boiled pot.
The creature’s murky scales rippled and twitched, glistening with black blood.
My eyes widened as the wound split in two.
Flesh unravelled, like blooming petals, twisting and writhing as two new heads emerged — slightly smaller than the others, but no less ferocious.
On the contrary, the hydra now seemed even more determined to rip me apart.
I tightened my grip on the sword.
Wonderful.
It lunged, heads striking from all directions, jaws crunching with bone-shattering force.
I dodged the first, spun past another, heart hammering as I fought for an opening.
I needed to avoid its fangs at all costs.
Hydra venom had been known to kill demigods.
I didn’t want to find out what it could do to a full-blooded one.
Countering each snap of its jaws with a strike of my own, I sliced into its thick, scaly hide. But the damage was minimal and I was doing more to enrage the beast than to maim it.
As our deadly dance continued — blow and counterblow — the hydra sidestepped revealing a flicker of violet weaving through the shadows behind it. Curiosity split my focus, and I paid the price in flesh.
Once again, the beast struck true.
I stumbled backwards, glancing down. It had taken a good chunk from my right thigh. My femur was visible through the gilded gore, and the searing pain threatened to undo me.
Suddenly, a tiny shriek sounded from close by. So at odds with the hydra’s deep bellow, I knew it hadn’t come from the enormous beast before me. The small sound, thankfully, had stolen the hydra’s attention too. All six heads whipped around, snapping at something to its rear.
A flash of shimmering purple scales darted between the hydra’s hind legs, drawing its gaze from my battered body.
Duck, twist, pivot —
The tiny creature evaded every crunch of a jaw, every stomp of a paw. Until it didn’t.
The hydra’s tail whipped around, impossibly fast, and swatted the small, violet-hued body of a dragon into the trunk of an elm. The dragon crumpled to the dirt and did not move again.
The hydra lunged to swallow her whole, but I launched my broken frame between them, startling the beast into a pause.
“No,” I snarled.
I would not — could not — let the tiny dragon pay my price. I would not be the cause of another soul sent prematurely into the afterlife.
Never again.
“You will not eat her.”
Rage surged through me like an avalanche. Darkness erupted.
With half a thought, I wove shadows through the air and slashed into the beast. A deep gash appeared across its chest. Another tore through its tail.
The heads reared back in an agonised howl, in a rare moment of synchronicity.
I dove beneath its belly, groaning as I landed on my ruined leg.
Roaring, I stabbed upwards, driving my sword deep into the softer flesh.
The impact jolted my arms and rattled my teeth, but still I forced the blade deeper.
Blackened blood gushed over my face, stinging my eyes. I blinked but could not see.
Luckily, I was born to darkness. I thrived in it.
So, I cast my awareness into my remaining senses.
I heard the beast howling, the wet squelch of its flesh being carved apart.
I felt the warmth of its blood running down my fingers, sharply contrasted by the icy bite of the metal hilt clenched in my fists — and finally, the satisfying give of the hydra’s heart.
My blade struck true. One last, deafening chorus of screeches rent the air and the hydra convulsed around my sword.
Its many heads wailed and thrashed until it collapsed beside me with an echoing boom.
The forest fell silent.
Breathless, I sat up and wiped at my eyes, gagging at the acrid stench. With my vision hazy but manageable, I stood slowly and limped over to the still form of the dragon.
Profound sadness washed over me as I bowed over the tiny creature. Scooping her up, I placed her gently in my lap and wept.
The trial was surely almost at its end. I had failed. Failed my parents, failed myself, failed the realms, and now I had failed this beautiful, broken thing. Tears splashed onto her amethyst scales, shimmering where they fell.
“I’m so sorry, little one,” I sobbed.
Grief is never truly gone. It lingers in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, waiting for an unguarded moment to slip back in. This was one of those moments.
I cried for all I had lost, and all I still had yet to lose.
I cried for the tiny dragon cradled in my lap.
I cried for every one of my failures, past and present.
I allowed myself to sit there, just a moment longer.
My tears vanished into the gaps beneath her scales.
And just as I resolved to knit my soul back together, a whisper of warmth danced across my skin, so fleeting I thought I had imagined it.
It felt like coming home. Like a colourful living room where my mother had so vibrantly lived .
I looked down at the dragon, wanting to commit her form to memory. Instead, I witnessed a faint glow shimmer around her body —an aura.
Is this what happens to dragons when they die?
I didn’t know. But I had not felt the telltale pull of a soul departing, nor seen the shiny orb of her soul leaving her body.
Without warning, her lids snapped open, revealing glowing golden eyes.
Shock widened my own into saucers. A strangled gasp left my throat as her small body jolted.
Her wings flared outward, and her tail latched onto my wrist. She twisted to peer up at me, humming softly, before leaning in to press her tiny nose against my chest.
A gentle current of power brushed against my skin, cooling the sting of my wounds. It flowed from my sternum outward, dancing over each of my collarbones. Startled, I tugged at the collar of my shirt and saw dainty purple swirls peeking through. Mouth agape, I turned back to the dragon.
Something clicked deep inside my chest when our eyes met — something intangible. Something permanent.
A bond, unseen yet unbreakable, tightened behind my sternum, like a thread spun by the Fates themselves.
Her tail coiled tighter around my wrist, like a living bracelet. I swallowed roughly, emotion clawing back up my throat. I had never cried so much in a single day.
My fingertips grazed along her warm, shining scales in awe.
“You’re mine now, aren’t you?” I whispered.
She let out a quiet hum of contentment, nuzzling closer. And I knew, without a single doubt in all the realms, that she was mine, just as I was hers. And that she would never allow me to feel alone again.
I stood, summoning my shadows and willing them to form a gate.
Fuck waiting on Hermes.
He’d purposefully ensure I didn’t arrive in time.
The final toll began to ring, slow and solemn, marking the end of the third trial. Once more, I stepped into the comforting embrace of my power, the echo of the bell fading behind me.