Chapter 2
Nate
The water’s heavy, dense, like jelly that hasn’t yet set, so when the stranger pulls, the river releases me with a wet smack.
The man trying to climb up my body falls off, but when I open my eyes, I see more hands clawing at legs in thigh-high boots.
Hair, wavy and as red as blood, falls around me, and when I look up to see my savior, I find myself face-to-face with a man who can only be an angel ready for battle.
His dark pauldrons make his shoulders seem even broader than they already are. There’s a sword at his hip, and his golden eyes smile at me as I utter a pathetic whine.
It’s so cold.
“You are safe now,” he tells me in a smooth baritone, and we rise higher with the flap of demon wings that seem to be made out of smoke.
Is this… heaven?
I always imagined it as a golden land of light and fluffy clouds, not a rocky landscape illuminated by a moon so large I fear it’s about to crush us, but I’ll take it if it comes with a hot guy in armor.
He puts one arm under my knees, the other settles behind my back, and I’m cradled against the crab artistically rendered on the front of his cuirass.
I wrap my arms around his neck as we glide through the air.
I can’t even force myself to look down and assess where I am, because all my attention is on his insanely handsome face.
He’s moonlight-pale, with a chiseled jaw, perfectly kissable lips, and a nose that slopes so beautifully it could feature in a plastic surgeon’s office as the best example of his work.
Oh God, and the way he smells? A few strands of his red hair slip over my face and their scent is intoxicating.
Sea salt, leather, and something smoky but…
herby? I’ve never experienced anything like it.
And his eyes. Like crystalized honey catching the light of the moon under dark red eyelashes. When I get a glimpse of his ear and notice it’s pointy, I do a double take, right back to his eyes, and he… winks at me.
That’s it. I’m dead, and because I was murdered trying to do a good deed, I’m in my personal heaven, crafted by the universe just for me.
A dark garden sprouts on both sides of the river, full of columns and statues. They don’t look maintained, but there’s a sense of romance to this landscape, as if I’m about to stand in the lost city of Pompeii.
A second silhouette emerges from behind a fountain in measured steps.
This man has no wings, but his long hair cascades down his chest like gilded fabric.
He stands tall. His eyes shine like twin sapphires.
His navy cloak is fastened at the front with a brooch reminiscent of a large gate covered in thorns.
When I nod at him, unsure about the proper way to greet angels, his gaze narrows.
“He won’t do.”
My lips open, but what am I supposed to say to that? Should I unzip my hoodie and show them the trembling puppy so they see me as worthy of… whatever this incredible place is?
Once we settle on the ground, the red-haired man’s wings lose their shape and turn into a dark fog.
He clears his throat, still holding me as if I weigh nothing.
“With all due respect, Captain… what am I supposed to do? Throw him back in? We’ve been here all night, and you have almost drowned four times—”
“Look at his shadow, Tristan! It’s barely darker than a moth’s wing. So yes, throw him back in.”
I peek at the river, see the hands clawing at air, and the sense of doom I’ve felt in its waters comes back like a punch to the stomach.
I grab my savior’s neck harder and press the top of my head to his throat.
I feel like that puppy trembling inside my hoodie, at the mercy of the person holding me.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but please don’t take me back there!”
Tristan nods, soft eyes meeting mine with a sense of calm that soothes the trembling sensation inside.
And I believe him. He will protect me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.
” He then looks back at his superior with determination.
“Captain, this isn’t a fishing trip. This is destiny at work.
The Lord of the Nocturne Court wouldn’t stand for meddling with the threads of fate. ”
“Oh, and because he’s your cousin, I’m supposed to feel threatened?” The man’s eyes narrow as he approaches us.
Tristan shakes his head. “You do say yourself that I can be loose-lipped. I can’t vouch that my tongue won’t slip.”
“Fine. I guess this is it then. I’ll work with this… subpar material.”
I don’t understand. My throat closes as the golden-haired stranger leans down in something reminiscent of a courtly bow. I have so, so many questions, but then he picks at the shadow I’m casting and pulls up a single thread.
With his other hand, he peels a dark strand straight off his own scalp and brings the two together. I’m trembling, and a cold sensation crawls up my throat when the beautiful man rubs his hands together in an elegant gesture reminiscent of wiping dust off one’s skin.
I heave the moment his palms part, revealing that the two threads have now merged, but Tristan gently pulls my head to his shoulder, shushing me.
“It’s all right. This shall pass.”
It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it to me, but what do I know? This must be a strange dream. My body shakes from the cold stabbing every bit of my wet skin by the time the stranger seems content enough with his strange ritual. I don’t dare complain and just keep trembling in Tristan’s sturdy arms.
The blue eyes settle on me once more, and I’m desperate to say something, anything that would turn the scowl on the man’s lips into a smile, but he’s right back to focusing on his subordinate. “You will fetch him for me.”
“Would you not like to stay to—”
“Just make sure he drinks the potion.” The ‘captain’ walks off with a swish of his cloak so dramatic I get to see some of silver stars embroidered on the underside.
“Yes, sir,” Tristan says, putting me down. We watch his superior mount a horse in the distance, and the moment he rides out of our sight, Tristan gives me an honest grin. “I can’t wait. I barely ever get to see the human realm.”
I frown, shaking more and more. Even my teeth are starting to rattle now, and the world sways as if I have no energy to keep standing. “What?”
Tristan stares at me for a moment, then makes a deep bow.
“Where are my manners? Welcome to the Nightmare Realm. I am Prince Tristan Bloodweed, Knight of Grief Ocean, Warden of the Realm, First Lieutenant of the Nightcloaks.” He straightens and winks at me.
“I also happen to hold the title of the fastest rider in last year’s kelpie race, both on land and in the sea. ”
It’s overwhelming, but my grandparents raised me right, so I offer him my hand, cringing when I see how violently it trembles. “N-nathan Kekoa. Nate. Winner of Wilson Elementary's spelling bee? That was years ago though… What is happening?”
“Nathan! Like my nephew. Come with me, let’s sit. In my excitement, I forgot how little you know right now.” Tristan strokes my shoulder. “You’re freezing. It won’t be too long now, but let me provide some comfort.”
He unpins the same thorned gate brooch that his captain wore and takes off his cloak with a swish. It’s warm and heavy when it settles on my shoulders, providing relief I didn’t quite expect. It smells of him too, like leather and smoky herbs, and I can’t help but pull it closer around my head.
This might just be the final dream of a dying man, but at least in this surreal moment, someone is actually standing by me instead of leaving me behind. “Thank you. It’s— so soft.”
He leads me to a bench among dark bushes. The clearing gives us the perfect view of the giant moon, and in its light, Tristan is even more breathtaking. I’m an average-sized guy, but I feel so tiny when he settles his heavy arm on my shoulders as if it’s the most natural gesture in the world.
“You are not fully yourself right now, Nate. Only your soul and shadow are here. You… died. But fret not!” he adds quickly, even though I instantly ‘fret’.
“I have a potion for you, concocted by our royal alchemist. Its powerful properties will help heal your body and bond your soul back to it. This miracle does come at a price. Your shadow. But a new life is a life, and not… death. Right?”
I tighten my hands on the cloak. “What does this mean?”
Tristan passes me a tiny bottle with a strange green liquid as he ponders my question.
“It means… You will become a Dark Companion to a shadow wielder on the next full moon. It will be a new life for you here, in the Nightmare Realm. In your role, you will be respected at the Nocturne Court, as your human shadow is a precious commodity.”
I give a soft laugh and unzip my hoodie. The puppy is still scared, I can feel it in the rigidness of its small body, but when it looks out, I pour a few droplets of the potion into my palm and offer it to him. “Your friend didn’t seem to think much of mine.”
Tristan stares at the puppy, suddenly rigid.
“Hmm… probably can’t hurt…” he mumbles with a frown.
“That was Lorsen Gloombane, also known as the bane of my existence. He’s the captain of the Nightcloaks and normally acts with more grace.
He was tired after a whole day of fighting the current and barely had a look at your lovely shadow. ”
Something inside me gleams, because did he just call something about me lovely? People as gorgeous as Tristan don’t really exist, and even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t give me the time of day. But Tristan talks on, unaware of my frantic thoughts.
“More importantly, why do you have a wolf cub?”
“That’s… what?” I mumble, looking down when the sticky, warm tongue laps the potion from my hand. “That’s just a dog.”
“Hm. Dog.” All of a sudden, his frown turns into a giant grin.
“I’ve heard of dogs!” He’s wary when he reaches for the puppy, as if he expects it to have razors for teeth.
When the tiny muzzle pushes at his fingers, he goes all stiff, only to laugh in delight.
“Oh, this beastie couldn’t hurt a fly!” he exclaims, rubbing his thumb over the puppy’s canines.
I choose not to correct him, because the interaction is delightful. I’m about to chug the rest of the bottle when an alarm goes on at the back of my head. “Wait… is this vegan?”
Tristan’s lips part, and he stares at me in a way that suggests he doesn’t understand what I mean.
“Is it made out of plants? Does it contain animal products?”
“Hmm… As far as I know there’s algae, and… things. Maybe… rocks? Shells? Mushrooms? Soul… particles…? Alchemy isn’t really my forte. Please drink it.”
My hands start to sweat, because this is exactly like that time my grandma claimed she made a vegan soup, only to later disclose it was prepared with chicken stock and butter.
“I— can’t we find out what’s inside before I drink it?
” I ask, hating that I’m making this difficult for him while also desperate to hold on to my principles. I’m such a people pleaser.
Tristan reaches for my hand, and my heart skips a beat when we touch.
He has beautiful hands. Large, with long fingers and black polish on his perfectly manicured nails.
“Look. Your form is already becoming translucent. It won’t be long now until your soul goes back to your body, and you are dying.
Unless you drink this, you might not survive.
What happened to you? Did its mother get to you?
” He points at the puppy with a knowing frown, but the truth is he doesn’t understand anything.
I shake my head. “No. I was saving it from bad people, and then— then—”
An echo of pain radiates through my chest, and I hunch over, pressing his palm to my breastbone, struggling to breathe. Did they… shoot me?
Am I hallucinating all of this in my dying moments? I probably am.
“Oh God, I’m dying… I don’t want to die.”
Tristan pulls me closer and presses the bottle with the potion to my lips. “You won’t. But whether it’s vegan or not, you need to drink this. I don’t know how much time we have.”
I don’t hesitate. I’m not ready to go yet, and if there is the slightest chance this mystery potion could help, I’ll take it.
It’s sweet on my tongue, almost like candy, but with a tart aftertaste I appreciate as my body sinks into Tristan’s. He’s looking at me. So close. So darn beautiful.
And for once, I want to just say it, whether he’s gay or not.
“I didn’t expect anyone would bother saving me. Especially not someone so handsome.”
Tristan’s lips stretch into a smile as he takes away the empty bottle and settles with his arm around me, thigh to thigh with me. He’s wearing tall leather boots with an insane number of buckles, and I try to envision what a life in a fantasy world like this would mean for me.
I’m still pretty sure I’m dying, but I choose to enjoy these last moments as my body becomes weightless.
“I bet this little guy didn’t expect a handsome savior either.” Tristan strokes the puppy between the ears, and it takes me a second to realize he means me. I guess it’s my dying fantasy. Might as well accept a compliment.
I relax into the embrace of my very own romantasy knight, complete with wild red hair and a cloak wrapped protectively around me. I have never felt safer in my life. As I stroke the puppy, watching the giant moon, the glasses sitting on my nose start feeling oddly foreign in these surroundings.
“If I’m a soul, why do I need glasses?”
Tristan chuckles. “You probably don’t, but your body must have imprinted them onto your soul. Otherwise, you’d be naked, right?”
Can a soul blush? Because I feel heat in my cheeks when I imagine being naked under his warm cloak.
“Let’s check if you need them,” he says and leans closer, then takes them off me.
He’s right. I don’t have any vision problems whatsoever. My whole body—soul?—heats up when he leans in, hand on my jaw. There is no doubt in my mind that he wants to kiss me.
Oh God, I want it too. I want it so much.
But then my vision blurs, and my perfect elven knight is gone.