17. Thalia’s POV
Chapter 17
Thalia’s POV
T he sound of a voice—unfamiliar, yet gentle, as soft as a warm breeze—brought me back to reality. My eyes blinked open, the world around me blurred and hazy. Slowly, the shapes began to solidify, the colors to deepen, and the first thing I saw was a young man I didn't recognize, his face filled with concern, his brow furrowed with worry. "How do you feel?" he asked, almost tentative, as if he feared the answer.
Suddenly, like a dam bursting within my mind, everything came rushing back. The chilling shriek that echoed through the forest, the horrifying sight of the grotesque creature lunging towards me, the sharp sting of pain as its claws tore through my flesh. And the majestic form of the panther, its powerful body shielding me, its fierce growl echoing in my ears. My heart lurched in my chest, a wave of panic flooding me as I shot upright, my senses on high alert. My eyes darted around, searching frantically for something—someone—anything familiar to anchor me in this swirling vortex of fear and confusion. My heart raced as the adrenaline pushed away the lingering grogginess that still clung to me. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps, as if I'd just run a marathon. And then I saw him.
Nox
He was standing just a few feet away, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and relief, a look of raw, utter relief washing over his face. He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing, the tension visibly draining from his body as he rubbed his hands over his face, as if trying to compose himself. I could see the tension slowly fading away from him, replaced by a cautious hope that flickered in his emerald-green eyes.
The unfamiliar guy beside me shifted nervously, his eyes flicking between Nox and me, his gaze darting back and forth like a trapped bird. He looked terrified, his face pale and drawn, his lips trembling slightly as he spoke. "She's good for now," he said, his voice shaky and uncertain, "but you really need to get her to a proper healer. I-I only know so much. I did what I could, but her injuries are beyond my limited skills."
I tried to focus, to ground myself in the present, but everything felt strange—disconnected, like I was only half here, adrift in a hazy fog. Pain throbbed through my arm, a dull, persistent ache that pulsed a constant reminder of the severity of my injuries. The dried blood, a gruesome crimson stain, stuck to my skin, the coppery scent still lingering in the air, thick and metallic. The stranger's words barely registered, lost somewhere in the swirling whirlpool of my disorientation. My eyes locked onto Nox, searching his expression, desperate for an anchor in this bewildering reality. There was something different there—something deeper than just relief. Concern, fear, and something else I couldn't quite place flickered in his emerald depths, a complex tapestry of emotions I couldn't decipher.
"Where am I?" I managed to croak, my voice barely a whisper, raspy and raw from disuse. My throat felt dry and scratchy, each word a painful rasp as it passed my lips. My head spun, a dizzying carousel of fragmented memories and unanswered questions, as I tried to piece together the events that led me here.
The guy shifted again, wringing his hands nervously, looking hesitant before answering, "You’re safe for now. At least… as safe as you can be in this place." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "I-I found you and did what I could to stabilize you, patched you up as best I could, but you really need more help than I can give. Your injuries are... extensive." His gaze flickered back to Nox—a silent plea for reassurance—who nodded curtly, his jaw clenched tight, the tension still obvious in his posture.
Nox took a step forward, closing the distance between us, his eyes softening as they met mine. "Thalia, you're going to be okay," he said, his voice steady and reassuring against the rising wave of panic, though I could hear the underlying strain beneath it, the tight control he was maintaining over his own emotions. He knelt beside me, his hand reaching out to rest gently on my uninjured arm, a light touch that radiated warmth. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of comfort through me, a grounding presence amidst the chaos, a lifeline in the swirling storm. "We’re going to get you to someone who can help. You just need to hold on a bit longer. Just stay with me."
I swallowed hard, the pain a searing brand in my throat, making it difficult to think, the world around me blurring in and out of focus like a poorly adjusted lens. My gaze flicked to the unfamiliar guy, who looked out of his depth, clearly trying his best but overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. He shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands, his eyes darting between me and Nox.
Nox turned to him, his eyes darkening slightly, a mask of control slipping over his features. "I’ll take it from here," he said, his tone firm, a subtle dismissal in his voice.
The guy nodded quickly, relief flashing in his eyes as he stepped back, giving us space. He mumbled something that sounded like, "Of course," before practically sprinting away, eager to escape the unsettling scene. I could feel my body growing weaker, the exhaustion creeping back in, threatening to drag me under once more into the oblivion of unconsciousness. My vision wavered, the edges darkening, the vibrant colors of the world fading into muted shades of gray, but I fought to stay awake, my gaze fixed on Nox as if he were the only thing tethering me to reality.
His hand squeezed mine, a reassuring pressure, grounding me in the present. "Just stay with me, Thalia," he whispered, his voice softer now, almost pleading, a hint of desperation threading through his words. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."
I managed a small nod, a flicker of movement against the overwhelming tide of exhaustion. My eyes still locked on his, searching for why he was here—why he was helping me—as my eyelids grew heavier, lead weights dragging them down. I could feel myself slipping away, losing the battle against the darkness pulling me back under into its silent embrace, but this time, I wasn't afraid. I knew I wasn't alone. The warmth of his hand in mine, the sincerity in his voice, was a shield against the fear.
* * *
The nightmare came swiftly, pulling me deeper into the shadows of my mind
I stood alone in the middle of a dark forest, aged trees looming over me. The air was cold, biting into my skin. An unnatural silence hung in the air. There was no sound—no crickets, no distant animal calls, not even the whisper of wind through the branches. Just silence.
I heard it then—that low, guttural growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My eyes started scanning the shadowy depths of the forest, but there was nothing there. Just the oppressive darkness and the lingering echo of the growl. Panic clawed at my insides, a cold dread spreading through me, the darkness pressing in on me like a suffocating blanket, making it hard to breathe. I started to run—blindly, desperately—my feet pounding against the cold, unforgiving earth, my lungs burning with each frantic breath.
The growl grew louder, closer, and I could feel it—something was chasing me, something malevolent, something hungry. My legs felt heavy, as if the earth itself was trying to drag me down, roots and vines snaking up from the ground like grasping claws, trying to ensnare my ankles. I stumbled, my hands hitting the ground hard, the impact jarring my bones, dirt and leaves clinging to my skin like desperate pleas. The growl turned into a roar—a terrifying sound that seemed to come from everywhere at once, reverberating through the forest.
I pushed myself up, my hands scraped and bleeding, trying to run again, but the forest seemed endless, a labyrinth of shadows and fear, designed to trap me in its suffocating embrace. The darkness shifted, swirling and mingling, and I saw them—glowing eyes—piercing, evil eyes—staring at me from the shadows, burning with an unholy light. The creature emerged, its twisted horns like jagged blades against the darkness, its dark red fur matted and thick, the stench of decay clinging to it filled my nose. It was the same beast from before. But here, in this twisted version of reality, it seemed even larger, even more menacing—its power amplified by the fear that pulsed through me.
I backed away as it stalked towards me, each step slow—as if it knew there was no escape. My back hit a tree, the rough bark digging into my skin. I could see the hatred in the creatures eyes, the pure hunger, a reflection of the darkness that was here to consume me. It lunged, its massive claws swiping, sharp and deadly, but not at me—at Nox.
Nox appeared out of nowhere, a sudden, unexpected presence, throwing himself between me and the creature, a shield against the impending violence. I screamed—a raw, painful sound that echoed through the empty forest, a desperate cry as I watched the beast's claws tear into him, ripping through flesh and bone. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his eyes dulling, losing their vibrant green, as they met mine for one heartbreaking moment, a silent farewell. The shock of it paralyzed me, my heart shattering into a million pieces, the pain taking over every inch of my body as I watched him fall.
I screamed again, my voice breaking—raw and ragged—my vision blurring with tears as the world around me dissolved into a hazy, distorted mess. The creature turned its eyes back to me, a cruel satisfaction in its gaze, a twisted mockery of my grief, as if it took pleasure in my despair. It moved towards me, its massive form blocking out all light, and I could feel the suffocating helplessness, the chilling inevitability of my fate closing in.
The ground gave way beneath me, I was falling into an endless abyss, watching as the darkness swallowed me whole. My stomach lurched, my body weightless, as I plummeted into nothingness. The creature's roar followed me, echoing in my ears, a final, conquering sound, its glowing eyes the last thing I saw before everything went black, leaving me lost in the embrace of the void.
My eyes snapped open, my body drenched in a clammy sweat. I struggled to control my ragged breathing and focused on steadying my trembling hands. The terror, the panic, clung to me like a second skin. I had watched Nox die—seen him fall, helpless against the creature that had hunted me through the twisting corridors of my nightmare. The vivid image replayed in my mind, a cruel, relentless loop, each time twisting the knife deeper into my chest.
"It was just a dream," I murmured. The room around me slowly swam into focus—a large, unfamiliar room made of dark stone glowing in the flickering light of a crackling fire to my right. Heavy, dark curtains were drawn over a large window, obscuring the world outside. The bed beneath me was massive, the kind that seemed to swallow you whole, with soft, luxurious linens that felt like heaven against my aching body.
I blinked, disoriented, trying to piece together the pieces of my scattered memory. The room was elegant, almost regal, with delicate carvings on the dark wooden furniture. A plush ivory rug, thick and soft, covered the cold stone floor. A tall bookshelf stood against the wall to my left, filled with old, worn books, their spines cracked and faded. A few candles flickered on a nearby table, their soft light illuminating the otherwise dark space, casting dancing shadows that seemed to shift and writhe in the periphery of my vision.
Where was I? The question echoed in my mind, a desperate plea for understanding. The fear from the attack—the lingering chill of the nightmare—still gripped me, its icy fingers tightening around my throat. My body ached with every small movement, a dull throb resonating through my limbs. My arm, grazed during the attack, pulsed with a sharp, insistent pain as I shifted. I had no idea how I ended up here, and the unfamiliarity of the room—the heavy silence—only heightened my anxiety, a knot tightening in my stomach. My gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of familiarity, any clue to my whereabouts, but there was nothing—no one. I was alone.
My head pounded, and I struggled to calm my breathing, each inhale a shaky gasp. My hands clenched the soft sheets beneath me, the fabric bunching between my fingers as I tried to make sense of everything. The last thing I remembered was Nox, his strong arms around me, his reassuring presence as I slipped into the darkness.
Panic bubbled up in my chest, a suffocating wave, the vivid memory of Nox's lifeless body, pale and still, flashing before my eyes. The image seared itself onto my eyelids, a horrifying reminder of my dream. I had no idea where I was, who had brought me here, or what had happened after I'd lost consciousness. It had to be Nox—right? No one else knew where we were.
I forced myself to calm down. Whoever had brought me here had taken care of me—that much was clear. My wounds were tended to and expertly bandaged. The fire crackled merrily, still alive, suggesting someone had been here recently, stoking the flames to keep the room warm. I was dressed in a clean, oversized t-shirt, soft and comforting against my skin, and it carried a familiar scent of cedarwood and fresh rain that made me pause, my breath catching in my throat—Nox.
The realization sent a shiver down my spine. I was still wearing my pants from the Wonders of Nexara, but my socks and shoes were missing. Despite the care someone had taken with me, the fear lingered, a cold, unshakable shadow clinging to me as I struggled to piece together what was happening, to fill in the blanks of my lost memory.
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult, pushing myself to sit up, wincing as a sharp pain flared through my body, a searing reminder of my injuries. Every movement seemed to take twice the effort it should have, my muscles protesting with each shift. I took another deep breath—a slow inhale and exhale—swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The soft rug on the cool stone floor felt like clouds against my bare feet, a comforting sensation, and I wiggled my toes, enjoying the brief distraction from the fear and confusion that gnawed at me.
Slowly, I rose to my feet. My legs were shaky beneath me, threatening to buckle. I paused, steadying myself against the sturdy bedpost, my gaze flicking around the room once more, searching for any clue—any hint of where I was—before landing on the heavy wooden door. One step at a time, I moved towards the door, my bare feet silent on the soft rug, my fingers brushing against the cool, carved wood of the door frame before wrapping around the smooth metal of the handle. With a deep breath, a silent prayer for answers, I turned it and pulled the door open, stepping out into a hallway.
The hallway beyond was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of the moon from the window at the far end. My heart skipped a beat—a sudden flutter in my chest—as I took in the familiar surroundings: the long corridor, the dark, rough stone, the ornate tapestries on the walls. Recognition washed over me as I let out a shaky breath, a mixture of relief and disbelief bubbling up inside me.
The realization made me laugh—a soft, manic sound that escaped my lips before I could stop it. It was the hallway I had run into Zarek in before. I never thought I'd be happy to be here, in the home of the Shadow Brothers.
I leaned against the doorframe for a moment, letting the feeling wash over me, a wave of relief that threatened to knock me off my feet. I straightened, pushing myself away from the door, taking another deep breath, the pain flaring up the more I moved.
I moved cautiously toward the wide, curving staircase, listening for any signs of them, straining my ears against the quiet hum of the house. There was muffled talking coming from somewhere downstairs—voices low and serious—a murmur of words I couldn't quite hear, before a door slammed somewhere in the house, making me jump. I froze as loud footsteps approached the stairs, each one echoing through the hallway like a warning.
Gripping the smooth wood of the banister as I looked down the long, winding staircase, my body tense and unsure, a tremor running through me. My head swam slightly from the effort of standing—a dizzying wave of lightheadedness—but I ignored it, forcing myself to focus on the figure emerging from the shadows below. Nox appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. I could see the tension in his broad shoulders, the way his jaw clenched, the subtle shift in his stance that spoke of a readiness to act.
"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" he snapped, his voice sharper than I expected, laced with a raw edge of concern, the worry beneath it barely masked by the irritation. He took the stairs two at a time, his long legs eating up the distance, closing the gap between us faster than I could react.
I swallowed, leaning more heavily against the banister, my body trembling from both exhaustion and the intensity of his gaze. "I... I just needed to see where I was," I whispered, hating how small and vulnerable I sounded, but unable to change it. The nightmare lingered, the memory of his death vivid, making my voice waver. The metallic scent of blood still clung to the air, a phantom reminder of the terror I'd experienced.
Nox stopped a few steps below me, his eyes searching my face, the frustration slowly melting into something softer—something that made my chest tighten. He let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You're hurt, Thalia. You need to rest."
I attempted a shaky smile. "I'm fine, feeling much better."
Nox stared, his face unreadable, then raised an eyebrow, silently calling me out on my lie. "Fine? Really?" he said, his tone dripping with disbelief. He took a step closer, his eyes locking on mine, their weight piercing through every flimsy excuse. "You're pale as a ghost, shaking just from standing, and you think you're 'fine'?"
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to insist I was okay, that I didn't need coddling, but the exhaustion dragging at my limbs and the fear still clinging to me betrayed me. I looked away, my grip tightening on the banister as I tried to steady myself. The floor seemed to sway beneath my feet.
"Thalia," Nox's voice softened, almost pleading. He reached out, his hand resting gently on my arm—his touch warm and steady—sending a strange shiver through me. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know you're not fine. You went through hell. Just... let me help you."
His words unleashed a torrent of emotions. Memories of a childhood spent fending for myself in Nyvorthia—where trust was a fragile illusion—rose to the surface. I'd learned early that people always left, that I'd always disappointed. Relying on anyone had only ever brought pain; a pain so sharp that it had become the cornerstone of my existence. I hated feeling weak. Hated the vulnerability that now clung to me like a second skin. Hated needing anyone. It went against every carefully constructed wall, every defense mechanism I had built around myself, brick by painful brick. But looking up at him, seeing the genuine concern etched into his features, made something inside me falter.
I let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "Okay," I sighed, my voice barely audible. "I'm trying here." I added a touch of defensiveness clinging to the words.
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Nox's lips. He moved closer, his arm wrapping around my waist, supporting me as I leaned into him. "I know you are," he murmured, his voice filled with a surprising warmth.
I stared at him, bewildered by his sudden shift in demeanor. "I don't get you," I sighed, shaking my head as he began guiding me back towards the room, his arm securely around me. One minute he was practically snarling at me, the next he was gentle and caring. My head hurt even more from trying to understand him than from my actual injuries.
He chuckled softly at my words, the sound almost comforting in the dim hallway. Each step was slow and careful, his presence a steadying force against the inner turmoil that still raged within me. "Yeah, I don't get me either sometimes," he replied, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. There was a genuine quality to his confession, an openness that surprised me. His guard was down, and for a fleeting moment, I felt like I was glimpsing the real Nox.
As we reached the doorway, I glanced up at him. There was something in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. It made my chest ache.
"Thank you," I whispered as we reached the bed, my legs giving out beneath me as I sank onto the mattress. He leaned in, adjusting the blankets around my shoulders, his gaze holding mine.
"Get some rest, Thalia," he said, his voice low and calm, the undertone of worry still present. "I'll be here if you need anything."
I nodded, my eyes growing heavy as exhaustion threatened to pull me under yet again. I watched him add more wood to the fire, the flames casting more shadows on the walls, before he turned towards the door, his silhouette framed by the flickering glow.
A wave of fear washed over me at the thought of being alone. The darkness still lingered—the nightmare too recent, too real. "Stay," I mumbled, the word barely audible as sleep tugged at my consciousness.
Nox paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering my request. Then he nodded, walking back towards the bed. I felt the mattress shift as he sat on the other side, his back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames.
I let my eyes drift shut, the warmth of the fire and Nox's steady presence lulling me into a sense of security. The last thing I saw was Nox—his features soft in the glow of the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames.