Chapter 30
Everything
Iawoke to find myself lying on the cool marble tile of the ballroom curled up in the fetal position. Tears stained the ground, reminding me of that day I’d cried myself to sleep on the floor of my room in Thaddeus’ palace.
My eyes were open, but I saw nothing. Felt nothing. I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. My cheeks were wet. My throat was raw. My body ached to the bone.
I was faintly aware of muffled voices around me. Though they sounded so far away.
Movement pulled my attention, and I could just to focus enough to see Artton laying on the ground, mirroring me. He looked strange. Distorted in a way.
He offered me a small smile which did nothing to hide the truths his eyes held. His mouth moved, but I just stared at him, unable to understand his words.
The commander reached a hand toward me. Then stopped.
It took me longer than it should to realize that stopping hadn’t been of his own volition. No, there was a barrier in place.
Dragging my gaze upward as high as I could without moving my head, I realized that my magic had encased me in a glittering dome of safety. Exhaustion took over again, and I closed my eyes to follow its summons only to be brought back by muffled sounds that wouldn’t relent.
When I cracked open my tired eyes, it was clear Artton had to yell for me to hear him at all. Blinking sleepily at him, his eyes shifted from deep concern to something else, as if they were begging me to stay with him.
“My hand” he mouthed, looking down to emphasize his simple words, and I followed his gaze.
Understanding he wanted me to reach for his hand, I tried, but the most I could muster was pointing my index finger in his direction.
He glanced over his shoulder and spoke to someone. Plastered on that fake smile of his when he returned his focus to me, he propped his head on his hand and mouthed, “Sleep. I’ll stay.”
With that, I slipped back into the Realm of Dreams.
Time was a lost construct and gave no indication as to how much of it had slipped me by before a soft taptaptap pulled me awake.
Artton still mirrored my position on the floor, his finger continually tapping against the dome. I found it soothing, as it anchored me back to reality.
Over time, I began reaching for his fingers, wanting to join in the rhythmic sound he continued to make. Inch by inch, I crept closer until our fingers finally met.
The instant they did, my ears popped as the barrier slid away, leaving Artton and me in silence, pointer finger to pointer finger. He didn’t move or make a sound as his eyes searched for something in mine.
“Hi,” I croaked, and the simple word cracking something in him before a genuine smile lit his features.
“Hey, Spark,” he said, softer than I thought him capable.
A half-chuckle escaped me. “Spark? A little on the nose, no?” I said, every gravelly word bringing me back to myself.
“Well,” he started as he took my outstretched hand and held it in his, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand, “no one said I was a literary genius.”
That pulled a full smile from me, and I let his comforting touch ground me some more. “So what, we’re friends now?” I asked, brow raised; a part of me wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me.
“If you’ll accept my apology and my truce, then yes,” he said, stifling the fragile levity between us.
Pulling my hand back, I braced myself on the warm marble tile and winced as I tried to push myself into a seated position.
“Careful,” Artton prompted, offering me a hand. Taking it, I managed to sit up, though it took a few breaths for the vertigo to dissipate. “Water?” he asked, handing me a glass before I could answer.
Kneeling beside me, the commander watched over me as I greedily drank it.
The glass made a tiny clink against the hard ground as I placed it down.
Shaking the rest of the fog from my mind, I noted that I was in the same spot I’d been in when we’d entered the shared memory; Artton was the only one left.
Narrowing my eyes a fraction, I said, “What changed, Artton? Why offer me an apology now?”
He sagged out of his kneeling position to sit on the floor, one leg bent like an L in front of him, his other foot planted on the ground, knee up, forearm resting on it with ease.
“There’s a saying in the ancient tongue that roughly translates to, only a fool would offer to trade their problems for another’s. It means—”
“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t,” I finished for him.
He nodded as his expression darkened. “I understand now why Endymion trusts you implicitly. I don’t think there’s a soul out there that could witness what you went through and not be on your side; or in my case, realize how much of an ass I’ve been. I am sorry, Nyleeria.”
Eyes burning, I sat on my heels so we were closer to eye level. Giving him the best smirk I could muster, I said, “I’ll accept your apology, under two conditions.”
He rolled his eyes, then smiled as he said, “Because the last time you had conditions, it went so well, hum?”
I raised a brow, sidestepping the bait. “First, you have to show me how to use the daggers Endymion gave me.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “And the second condition?”
“You can’t call me Spark.”
He laughed in earnest. “No can do, Spark,” he said with a wink, “but I will agree to teach you how to imbue.”
Holding my features as best I could from the victory I’d just won, I rolled my eyes and said, “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous? You’re the one that decided to camp out on the floor for the past two days.”
I cringed at that but refused to give him the upper hand. “Yeah, well, someone had to save your sorry ass.”
“True enough.”
My smile faded as I braced myself to ask the question I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to, but needed it nonetheless. “Artton?”
“Spark.”
I shook my head at the ridiculous nickname, then forged on. “Do you know what happened?”
“Unvarnished truth?” he asked, brow raised.
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I’ll start from the beginning.
Everything was fine,” he started, “until after the first vision finished. And know when I say fine, I mean relatively. Because by the stars, Spark, there’s nothing fine about what we witnessed.
” Rage simmered in his eyes, and he forced in a calming breath before continuing.
“Then, everything went black, and Myron explained that you’d offered up a second memory, only that’s not what came into focus next. ”
“It looped,” I said.
He nodded. “It sure fucken did. Caius was the first to be pulled in. Luckily, as the one whose magic was at play, Myron didn’t have to endure it.”
“But he had to witness all of you go through it. Gods, watching Fiora…” I trailed off, her phantom screams already haunting me.
“I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t pretty. Myron was a wreck. Still is, according to Kaelun, though Myron hides it well.”
“Stars, that must chew Kaelun up inside knowing the truth.”
Artton nodded. “It does. It’s why no one else is here with you. The vision was hard on everyone—of course—but seeing you…” he swallowed the rest of the thought. “I’m capable of shielding Kaelun’s unara from reading my emotions.”
“Wait. That’s possible?”
“It is. Magic always has a balance.”
Gods above and Mother below, I hoped that was a misnomer, because it would mean the spark had a counterforce; and none of us would be prepared for that.
Refocusing, I said, “So, it started to loop. Then what?”
“Myron tried to pull us out, but it only made it worse.”
My brows pulled together. “How?”
“The memory began looping incrementally faster every time we tried to leave. Myron thinks it’s because there was a second memory, so instead of releasing us to the next vision, it tried to show what we’ve already witnessed faster to oblige him.”
“Oh,” I said, stomach dropping. “So, this was my fault?”
“No.” Artton said the word so forcefully it filled the massive ballroom and traveled out the archway, startling a few birds from their perch on the opulent railings keeping guests from falling off of the elevated veranda.
“No?” I said cautiously.
“No,” he said firmly. “This was no one’s fault. Because you didn’t enter the vision with us, we triggered some sort of failsafe. Like your magic knew there were intruders, but it couldn’t kick us out, so it held us in.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
“It’s a good thing, Spark. Hopefully it means no one can steal your memories.”
I scoffed. Until that moment, I hadn’t even worried about that. I guess it was another thing I could add to my growing list of hell nos.
“Then what happened once I arrived and finally kicked us out of the first vision and into the second?” I asked.
Artton’s jaw worked as if swallowing the words he wanted to say before answering me “You took over the vision somehow, and because you hadn’t plucked what memories you wanted to share as the anchor and host of the vision, the shared memories triggered each successive memory, pulling us through them faster than Myron could rip us out. ”
“Until the first one started again… in slow motion.”
The commander’s look was grave as he nodded his confirmation.
“He was finally able to disentangle us from the vision, only he couldn’t get a strong enough hold on you before he pulled out completely, trapping you inside.
When we all came to, you were on the ground shrouded in a shield.
No matter what we tried, we couldn’t get past it.
You were…” He swallowed. “You were screaming for it to stop. Thrashing. You…”
I looked away from him, unable to see the swirling emotions the memory conjured for him. “I couldn’t get out,” I whispered. “I must have relived that moment a thousand times.”
“I know.”
His words sat heavy between us for a long moment before I asked, “How did Myron get me out?”
Artton paused long enough that I looked up at him again to find him frowning.
“He didn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “There was nothing we could do except wait it out. Kaelun informed us that either your body would give out from exhaustion, or you’d tap your powers.
Either way, those were the only two options. ”
“Which came first?” I asked, the choked words holding more emotion than I’d intended.
“Your body. It couldn’t sustain the emotional torture, which meant it couldn’t harness enough power to maintain the vision and your shield.”
“How long did it take?”
He winced but didn’t answer.
“How long, Artton?”
“Seventeen hours.”
A tear fell down my check, followed by another, until they were in free fall, and I did nothing to wipe them away.
I became disembodied as that truth sunk in.
“Seventeen hours,” I heard myself whispering.
I wasn’t even sure why I was surprised. Seventeen hours.
Seventeen minutes. Seventeen lifetimes. What did it matter when it had felt like an eternity?
“How much of my life did you see?” I croaked, not feeling the tears soak through my top.
Deep concern etched his features again as he took me in, eyes tracking the tears rolling down my face.
“Artton.” His name on my lips was so quiet it would have been silent to human ears.
“Honestly,” he said in a low, comforting tone, “if I had to guess, I’d say every formative memory you have.”
I gasped, the sound swallowed by the massive room.
I wished then that I’d never agreed to show them in the first place.
Eithan and Mrs. E were no longer shrouded by my silence.
My mind raced, pulling up the tiniest fragments of memories, knowing that everyone that flashed before my mind was no longer mine alone, and although I’d agreed—fucken stepped into it to save them—it was a violation that went deeper than anything else I’d experienced before.
“Everything,” I said into my hands before lowering them to my chest as if I could stop my heart from shattering. Artton’s eyes tracked mine with a pained expression, like he’d give anything to step into my thoughts for me. Only, he already had. They all had.
“Please leave me,” I said, voice low.
“Spar—”
And like a spent bowstring, my sanity snapped.
“Leave,” I screamed, slamming a palm on the ground.
He hesitated as I sucked in ragged breaths, and just before I was about to lose a grip on the tenuous threads of my composure, his footsteps echoed away until he’d reached the veranda. I turned my head in his direction just in time to see him wink out of existence.
And then, I fell apart.