42. Midnight-Black Petals
Midnight-Black Petals
SYORAN
Tendrils of the early morning sun lapped at the decks, devouring the salt water that had splashed aboard. Overhead, birds sang, their tune carrying an undercurrent of promise. It was a valiant hymn, one that spoke of a better future where freedom reigned, and autonomy was preserved.
One we were sailing toward.
As the sea glistened in a sheet of shattered gold, every swell threw flecks of light back into my eyes.
The warm breeze filled each taut canvas, carrying us onward with little complaint from the ship.
Alongside its gentle caress, tar, sea, and timber mingled in the air, familiar scents that clung to every plank beneath my boots.
Crossing the deck with a coil of rope over one shoulder, I lent a hand wherever it was needed—hauling a stubborn line, securing loose rigging, helping scrub away the salt that forever crusted the gunwale.
But most of all, I admired our crew, a group of individuals who moved with an easy rhythm born from years together, their laughter painting the air with a peacefulness I knew we all craved.
Having been ordered by them to take a break, I planted myself on the sterncastle deck. Forearms rested on the railing beside the stairs leading down to the quarter deck, I loosed an exhale before glancing over my shoulder at Lionel.
Lips drawn tight in concentration, the scar cutting across his bottom lip became more pronounced. Steering the ship with his mahogany gaze cast at the horizon, my stare didn’t go unnoticed. “Yes, captain?”
“Nothing of pertinence. Though I do want to apologize for my outburst, it was not—”
“There is no need to do anything of the sort.”
“Yes, there is,” I insisted, shoving myself from the wooden banister.
“In my disarray, I treated you poorly. Less than, honestly, and there is no excuse, nor will I accept that it is allotted because of my stand-in role as captain. Our positions on this ship do not indicate a hierarchy of respect. We are family.”
The corners of his mouth curled upward, and he dipped his chin. “Then I suppose I accept your apology,” he teased.
With the roll of my eyes, I matched his smile with one of my own. Peeling the band from my wrist, I worked my fingers through my hair, combing it back into submission before beginning to tie it back. “Would you like me to take the helm?”
“No. I’ve rather enjoyed my time here.”
I offered him a look indicative of challenge, to which he met with a cock of his brow. “Alright,” I put my hands up in mock surrender, “but if you change your mind, just let me know.”
“Will do, Cap.” Gesturing to the main deck with his chin, he grinned. “Now get down there; I know you have a man awaiting your presence. It would be a shame if he—”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, not granting him the chance to finish.
“You’re adorable when you blush—”
“Okay!” My face heated further, the sudden warmth climbing to my ears. Clearing my throat, I jutted a finger in his direction. “Heard. I’m leaving.”
As I padded down the stairs, Lionel’s laughter flowed through the air, steady and hearty. “Go get ‘em, Kao.”
I counted my footfalls before greeting the lower deck. As the repetitive drum of my boots continued against the wooden planks, every noise vanished. And with Lionel’s words fresh on my mind, my thoughts settled on the man he had referenced.
The mourning prince I knew I stood no chance with.
My heel greeted the main deck, and I pivoted toward the cabins, only to be halted by a strong frame. Chest slamming into another, the air nearly evaporated from my lungs at the force of our collision. Instinctively, I backpeddled with an apology on my tongue, and met all-white eyes.
Ignis blinked in partial shock and intrigue. “In a hurry, captain?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, holding his analyzing stare. “No. You just happen to navigate this ship with far too little warning.”
“Was I supposed to do so? Warn of my presence, I mean.” When I didn’t answer, his black lips lifted in amusement. “Ohhh. That’s what it is. You’re flustered.”
“I am not—”
“Who’s flustered?” The thick voice asked, belonging to none other than the one who had planted himself in my subconscious and waltzed through my dreams every night.
I had never seen a man wear confidence as effortlessly as Kael did.
The deep navy vest hugged his broad chest and narrowed perfectly at his waist, its high collar framing the open neck of a cream linen shirt.
Sleeves rolled, dark bracers wrapped around his strong forearms. Three weathered buckles brought the parted fabric on his abdomen together, the paired gold buttons just above them catching the sun’s rays.
A broad belt rested low on his hips, layered with worn straps and polished brass.
Trousers dark and fitted, clung to his lower half, seeming to be tailored to emphasize the effortless strength behind each step he took.
Everything about him was extravagant, and I stared at him far longer than I should have.
Each peak and valley, and every glimpse at his open collar only deepened the ache growing inside my chest. I wanted to look away, to spare myself, but I couldn’t.
My eyes kept returning to him as though they had forgotten every other place they belonged.
I had fallen, and the sight of him standing there, dressed so simply and yet so devastatingly well, had ignited my yearning to cross the space between us and feel the warmth hidden beneath the layers of his attire.
Swallowing the list of compliments I wished to utter, I met his seafoam gaze. “No one is,” I drove the heel of my boot into Ignis’ toe, “the two of us just ran into each other unexpectedly. Isn’t that right?”
With his back turned to Kael, the Fae offered me a smug expression, but I didn’t miss the slew of curses he mouthed before replying, “Yep.”
I moved back, granting Ignis’ foot what would be only a momentary reprieve if he elected to open his mouth again.
As I went to step around him and toward Kael, the brush of something familiar, yet not, caressed the back of my mind.
And, before I knew it, my knees hit the deck, everything around me fading until only a white sheen remained.
For a long, suspended moment, I simply stood there, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
It was as though I had wandered into a dream too magnificent for mortal minds to imagine.
Ivory pillars stretched impossibly high, vanishing into vaulted ceilings that resembled the ribs of some slumbering celestial beast. Every surface shimmered with pearlescent marble, polished until it reflected light like the still sea beneath the dawn.
Golden chandeliers floated overhead in graceful tears, each bearing hundreds of flickering candles whose flames danced without heat or smoke. Their warm glow bathed the hall in a honeyed hue, softening the impossible grandeur of the space into something far more… welcoming.
A crimson carpet trailed toward a refined throne like flowing blood. Rich scarlet banners hung from towering columns, their silken folds swaying gently despite the utter stillness clinging to the room.
Then I noticed the roses.
Thousands of them.
Soft crimson, blush, and midnight-black petals blanketed the floor, drifting lazily through the air as though gravity itself had forgotten its purpose.
They spiraled around me in slow, hypnotic currents, brushing against my skin with featherlight caresses.
Their scent was intoxicating, not overpowering, but subtle enough to awaken forgotten longings buried somewhere deep within my soul.
Every breath drew me further into the illusion.
Somewhere beyond the pillars came the faint sound of distant laughter—soft, melodic, and undeniably feminine. It echoed off the walls, impossible to place, and vanished the instant I turned toward it.
For the briefest moment, I swore I saw a figure standing between the columns, but just as fast as it had been there, it vanished.
I pivoted, half-expecting whoever or whatever it was to be behind me, but only the vastness of the hall greeted me.
Loosening a sigh, the relief that briefly flooded me evaporated entirely as a hand closed around my shoulder.
As a blanket of warmth curled around me, a caressing sense of motherhood flooded every ounce of doubt, fear, and self-loathing I harbored, replacing them with insurmountable acceptance.
“Hello, Syoran Kao.”
With the prompt of her touch, I turned to meet a stare blanketed by black thorns that traversed to settle on her head in the shape of a crown.
Their branches withdrew, rose gold irises peering through the shield they provided to pair with her blush-colored hair that billowed just as the petals did.
Their vibrancy clashed with the shadows that wrapped around her like fierce protectors, but one slipped forward to brush against my arm as if testing all I was.
“H-How do you know who I am?”
Her lips curled into an infectious grin. “I have known who you are for as long as you have lived, for I am the Goddess of Seduction, Illusion, and Delusion.”
One of the five Damned.
“I am… How am I here?” I breathed, glancing around at the space that slowly began dissolving from the edges of my vision.
“As much as I wish to delve into details, our time is rather minimal, so I need you to listen to me.” Seirdra cupped my cheeks, drawing me toward her monolidded stare.
“All five Divari sail together, but the ticking seconds are pushing them toward an irreversible danger. One that will split them in two and swallow two halves to a whole. Travels must be expedited to recover the artifacts, or there will not be a chance to—”
A gasp tore free from my lips, and I flattened my palms against wood in an attempt to level myself.
Unable to avoid it, I coughed, struggling to draw in an ounce of untainted breath.
It was as if I had just broken the water’s surface, oxygen assaulting my lungs with searing intensity.
Blinking through a filmy haze, I lifted my chin weakly to find two sets of widened eyes—Kael and Ignis.
“Fuck, Syoran,” Kael exhaled, his hand rubbing generous circles on my back. “What the fuck happened?”
What happened?
Racking my mind, I struggled to piece together the events between my shift away from Ignis and coming to breathless, on my hands and knees. Prodding the edges of my conscience, a deep ache settled at the base of my skull, and I hissed at its presence.
Ignis’ touch found my shoulder. “Hey, tell me what you are feeling.”
“Pain…” I groaned, struggling to point at where it resided. “I can’t… I can’t remember what happened…”
“You just… collapsed,” Kael practically whispered.
“We followed you to the floor, and only a second passed before you were struggling to gather air. Maybe that’s on me for not clarifying, as there wasn’t really time for anything to happen in between, and it was more so me asking what could have prompted a blackout.
” There was only a brief pause before he prompted, “Have you eaten?”
“Yes… I ate.” Slowly pushing myself up, I let them guide me into a seated position.
Back settled against the dark wood, a lengthened exhale fled me as I closed my eyes to fight against the assault the sun was battering my mind with.
“I have this weird sense that something did happen, but I’m not sure what… ”
Words trailing, a single thought bloomed to life—all five Divari sail together, but the ticking seconds are pushing them toward an irreversible danger.
“A warning,” I breathed.
“Warning?” Kael and Ignis questioned simultaneously.
“Perhaps a deep-seated gut feeling?” Blinking languidly, I glanced between them. “I don’t know, but I just have this sense that, while we know all five Divari are together. Or well, among us, I suppose… There’s a danger we are on the precipice of facing.”
“That danger being Sorva?” Kael’s seafoam irises gleamed with a mix of confusion and unease. “We’re aware of that danger—”
“Not necessarily just Sorva. It’s bigger than that.”
Ignis studied me. “In what way?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
Something buried in me shifted with the utterance, but the shadows of my existence remained far too potent for it to reveal itself. One thing was certain: the simmering dread that twisted my gut hadn’t been there when we all acknowledged the risks of returning to Serevalen.
No. This… This was different.