30. Cin
Cin
I stand at the edge of the cave, watching Willow sleep tangled up between Rhune and Nyx. Noox curls tight around my feet, hissing low and straining toward her, begging to move closer to the slumbering serafyn.
I don’t let him. I don’t trust myself to get any closer either.
I’ve been keeping my distance from her these past few cycles, and it’s taken more restraint than I care to admit. Every time she’s near, I feel that same pull. It’s demanding, insistent, whispering always about how I should take her, claim her, make her mine the way my brothers already have.
But I am not the monster I was born of.
I will never take her against her will. I will never use her. I will never harm her. These things, and a hundred others I’ve never said out loud, have become my new vow. I will keep her safe. I will keep her well.
I will keep her.
Quietly, I cross the cave and kneel beside her, pressing the comb into her palm, curling her slender fingers around it one by one. She doesn’t stir, and I let myself watch her a moment longer, memorizing the slow rise and fall of her chest and the faint furrow between her brows.
Forcing myself to turn away, I head back out into the storm.
The wind hits me the moment I exit the cave mouth. It’s sharp and biting, though I barely feel it as I spread my wings and fly to the top of the cliff.
Sitting at the edge, I allow the snow and sleet to batter me until my skin goes numb and I have some sense of calm deep within my soul.
Still, I cannot get her to leave my mind.
I grab a chunk of ice from the ground beside me and start working my magic into it, shaping it without any real plan. I don’t have anything specific in mind. I just need somewhere to put the energy that’s been building under my skin.
When I can finally breathe past the crushing weight of it, I glance down and find a carved welwig flower sitting in the center of my palm. Its delicate, alien petals are like something out of a dream, closer to a human orchid than anything that should grow in this frigid climate.
Welwig flowers are exceedingly rare. As far as I know, the trees have bloomed exactly once in all the recorded history of The Far Place.
I’ve never seen one in real life. Only in pictures in some of the old tomes Nyx keeps.
Kept, I mean.
My chest aches at the thought of our ruined home, and before I can stop it, my mind drags me back to the ice wyrm attack. The sensation of being trapped behind my own eyes is something I’ll never get used to, and it was made so much worse by the fact I couldn’t protect my brothers or Willow.
It made me abandon them without so much as a backward glance. I had no choice. I never do when it decides to take over.
It’s not the first time the parasite has stolen control of my body. I doubt it will be the last, but I wish there was a way for me to fight against it. So far, though, there doesn’t seem to be a way to part from it other than death.
The Other has been with me since the moment I was first brought to life. At first I thought I was only dreaming, because that’s what it feels like every time. Just a vivid dream that I can’t wake from until it’s decided it’s finished with me.
It took years before I understood that my body was being worn like a coat and used to do its bidding. Even now, it’s hard to believe. But it’s happened so often that I’ve come to get used to it.
“Why can’t I be rid of you?” I wonder aloud.
There is no answer.
I hear the sweep of wings beating the air just behind my shoulder, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
Dravik.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, not taking my gaze off the horizon.
“Same reason as you, I guess. Can’t sleep.” Dravik takes a seat next to me on the cliff, his massive orange wings spreading out on the ice at his back. “How are you feeling? Since… you know?”
Since it went to sleep and gave me control of my body again? Not great.
If I was being honest, that’s what I’d say.
“Feeling fine,” I mutter, gazing out at the rainbow light dancing across the darkened sky. “Thank you for bringing me back and healing my wing.”
Dravik gazes at me from the corner of his eye, his mouth tipping in the barest of smiles. “You never have to do that, you know. I’m just glad you didn’t take a bite out of my forearm this time.”
“The brooding Dravik making a lighthearted joke? I think I may die from shock.”
He barks a laugh, slapping my knee as he doubles forward. “It’s not that shocking.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m not possessed by an evil parasitic being that wants to kill you all.”
He snaps straight, all the laughter dying from his expression. “Fuck, Cin. I hate when you joke about it like that.”
I shrug, trailing the dancing light across the horizon. “What’s that human saying? If you’re not laughing, you’re crying? I feel like that one is particularly useful here.”
He shakes his head softly. “We’ll find a way to fix you, Cin. You know we will.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My hope has died long ago, but Dravik still clings to the idea that we can carve the evil thing out of my head and make me whole again.
I’ve stopped trying to talk him out of it. Some things aren’t worth the fight.
He clears his throat, and I can tell by the shift in his voice that whatever’s coming next is important. “I need to speak with you about Willow.”
“What of her?” I ask, my heart thudding wildly against its cage.
“She is not human.”
I bark out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “I am surprised how long it took you to realize. What gave it away?”
“When I gave her breath, I felt… something. Like she was… feasting on my power. My magic.” He shudders. “It was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt. And also the most terrifying.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever been so open, Dravik.”
He shakes his head, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m all messed up. It’s her. She’s… I’m not thinking straight.” He lifts his head, his gaze sharp, almost desperate. “What is she? Some kind of rare demon hybrid?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Probably not, though.”
He steps closer, looming. “Do you know what she is?”
“I have a theory.” I turn my gaze to him, weighing whether I actually want to say it out loud. “Should we see if ours are the same?”
Something akin to dread creeps into his gaze. “Her eyes… the stories…”
“It seems they were not just stories.”
Dravik goes still, and for a moment he just stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “How… how is this even possible?”
“I do not know.” I let my gaze drift to the welwig forest in the distance, taking in the faint red light pulsing from beneath the canopy. Worrisome. Dangerous. I don’t like what it might mean.
I look back at Dravik, my mouth pressed in a tight line of worry. “If she is one… it changes everything.”