Chapter 26
twenty-six
CIELO
In the cave, Dante sleeps while I lie beside him. The xinhar cradles us both, formed against our bodies as Dante sways gently in its ever-moving grasp. It has been so long since I have felt settled, though I cannot feel entirely at peace knowing that my actions have hurt my village.
Dante is safe now, but what must come next?
With Sabik gone, I have put out the fire, and a collection of githyn have entered the cave, lighting up the space above us like so many human stars. We do not have those on Erethar—a view of many stars. What lies beyond us is only accessible through the portals.
What the humans call their universe is vast and overflowing with so much light and planets and life. But I do not know if that exists in our realm.
We have several different species living here. So many that I cannot name them all. But after stepping through the portal and seeing Earth and what lies beyond its skies, this place feels very lonely and small.
Like we were an experiment gone wrong, and now we are being left to slowly fade into nothingness.
The ache plagues me as I sit up, and Dante groans, his small human hands reaching for me. His eyes open, the light from the githyn glinting off the white parts on the sides, and he sits up halfway.
“Pain?” I ask.
He shakes his head, wobbling a bit from the unsteady ground beneath him. The xinhar keeps him from falling, though, and aids him as he lifts up and climbs onto my thighs, cradling himself in my arms.
His body feels sweet against mine. I never want to give this up. His head tilted to the side is tempting me again, and my fangs ache to taste him. To seal our bond.
To make him truly VySytheh.
But I do not believe he understands this concept, and right now, I cannot make him the promise my VySytheh would deserve.
“What are those things?” he murmurs, pointing upward.
It is novel that I can share parts of my world with him. As terrified as I am of being caught, the fear is not greater than my need to keep him here as long as I am able.
“Githyn,” I tell him, speaking somewhere between English and Eretharian. He attempts to repeat it, his voice failing to reach the proper harmony, his tongue too thick and stiff to get the sounds right.
And yet, his attempt is still beautiful.
‘Insects,’ I sign. I don’t trust myself yet to try the word aloud. ‘Lights.’
He nods, then reaches down beside my thigh and touches the moving ground. “This?”
“Xinhar.”
He does not attempt that word, and even that makes me smile. His face turns up to mine, and I can no longer resist him. Leaning down, I kiss him deeply, tasting myself and the fresh-grown zitha on his tongue.
He hums and arches into me, though I can feel through our connection that he is not looking for more. He does not wish for climax. He simply wishes to touch, and that is something I will always give him.
It is something I will always crave.
“Do we have to stay in this cave, or is it safe to go out?”
“Not safe,” I say. “But…we can waaalk. Leettl bit.”
“Okay.” He stands, and I watch with careful eyes, looking for any sign of discomfort. But the Dante I feared was dying in my arms is gone. He is strong again. Bright again.
He turns and offers me a hand, not doing much to assist me, but I can tell the illusion makes him feel good. I will always ensure he feels this way. He must always know that, although he is weak, fragile, and short-lived, he will be the only thing that keeps me upright.
“Don’t say it like that,” Dante says. He must have been able to hear those thoughts. They were powerful. He swallows heavily and steps off the xinhar onto stone and puts his hands at my hips. “Will you really outlive me?”
I bow my head. I cannot answer that. I believe if he is truly VySytheh, when he expires, so shall I. His life will shorten mine. When he is no longer with me, there will be nothing worth living for, so it is not something for me to grieve.
I attempt to send that through my thoughts in a way he can understand.
He sucks in a breath, and I feel him protesting against the thought of me dying, but I pull him tight against me and kiss him until his mind is full of soft want.
“You can’t keep doing that just to distract me,” he says.
“Can,” I say back.
He looks startled, then rolls his eyes and shoves at me. Of course, I do not move, but when he takes my hand and pulls me toward the entrance to the cave, I allow him to lead the way.
It is still moon time, and with only three moons out, the forest is darker than usual. Dante seems to have no trouble finding a path, and we walk carefully through the trees before he comes to a stop, a gasp stuttering in the back of his throat.
It takes me a moment, but then I see a Seymosi ahead on the path. It is a young one—perhaps not six third moon cycles past its hatch. It observes us, then licks its claws.
“What is that?” he whispers. “I remember seeing them earlier.”
I offer him the name, then add, “Harmmlsss.”
“Really?” He does not believe me.
It can, of course, harm. But only when it’s young is threatened, and that will not happen for one of its age. It has at least twenty more third moon cycles before it can breed.
Stepping ahead of him, I reach into the brush and pull out a few pieces of ripe fruit from the fyran bush and click my tongue. The Seymosi stares at me for a long moment, then stretches its back and ambles over.
Dante is stiff beside me, but he does not run. My human is so very brave. He clings as I hold out my hand, and the Seymosi’s long tongue darts out, collecting the fruit before it steps closer.
It rumbles deep in its chest, then knocks its head into my hand. Dante lets out a laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth, but the Seymosi is not startled by the sound of a human voice.
I hum to it as it continues to take affection, and then I nod for Dante to do the same. His fingers tremble as he extends them. The Seymosi stares, uncertain of the pink, clawless flesh. But after a moment, it knocks its snout into Dante’s hand, and he scratches his blunt nails along the feathers.
“It looks like a dragon,” he whispers.
I do not know this word, but an image appears in my head from Dante. The thing he shows me is a large beast with scales and leathery wings. It breathes fire and kills many humans.
“No,” I insist.
“No, it’s…” Dante pulls his hand back as the Seymosi backs up and disappears into the brush. He swipes his hands on his pants as he stands. “Dragons are mythical. I think they were based on dinosaurs, and…” He trails off, studying my face. “We’ll look them up on your phone when we get home.”
Home.
For the first time, the word home evokes images of Dante’s apartment. Of his small couch and comfortable bed. Of the kitchen and my latte machine, and my own special room where Niaus waits for me.
Home is not really Erethar anymore. I will never give this place up, but I don’t know that it will ever be mine again. Not the same way as it once was.
The thought brings grief, but not the overwhelming amount I felt when I was first sent to the human world. I have comfort now.
Safety.
Family.
The only thing I have left to do is find a way to save my brothers from a fate worse than the one I have now.
Dante is still healing, so once we return to Earth, I insist he be put in bed before I find Luca in his apartment on the other side of Gia and Amara.
It is early, but he does not look tired. He looks alive, his eyes bright, his cheeks red.
‘What’s up?’ he asks me.
‘Need you to work at shop,’ I explain. ‘Dante needs rest.’
He looks immediately concerned, his face paling. ‘Bad flare? Need hospital?’
I don’t want to tell him that I have taken him to Erethar against orders. That I have borrowed an illegal portal device and have worked with the Tarek to heal him. All of those, I’d assume, would be punishable by death.
I do not wish to die. Not when I’ve just discovered something as sweet as Dante. I want to live with him for as long as I can. I do not want it to end early.
‘Better soon.’
Luca seems confused, but he simply nods. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the shop.’
I do not think Dante will need rest for long, but the zitha and my cum need time to work on healing his system.
Sabik seemed very certain that he would be fully healed and would not need such treatments forever, but a small part of me hopes that Dante will still want to drink from me as I drink from him. I wish this very much.
I enjoy it.
And I want it to be something he does for pleasure, not just for healing.
My phone beeps on the kitchen island where I left it as I rushed out. I pick it up and see that Everest is messaging me. There are many missed calls from many people.
I feel loved and also concerned.
Why are humans so interested in being in contact at all times? On Erethar, it is not like this. There may be days when we are hunting or working the mines, unable to contact one another. It does not lead to distress.
It does offer us much happiness when we see each other again.
I stare down at the phone screen and then see the background change slightly, with a big green button at the bottom. Green means go, or at least that’s what Brody told me. He said red means stop and yellow means to slow down. I do not know why. This is not what it means on Erethar.
Green means something sick, something diseased. Yellow is fertility, and red is death.
But I am no longer on Erethar, so I click the green button, and Everest appears, his face large on the screen, his eyes wide.
“Oh my god. You’re back. I kept calling.” His voice is slightly panicked and breathless.
Rathyn appears over his shoulder, squinting slightly. “I told him to leave you alone, but my Everest has no ability to wait. He does not have patience, which is valued here and on Erethar.”
Everest ignores him, pushing him aside, and asks, “Can we come by? I want to see you both. I was so fucking worried.”