Chapter 37 DRAVOK
The chamber was quiet in the way only Nox Eternum could be, alive without noise, aware without intrusion.
The walls held a soft, ambient glow, neither light nor shadow, as if the Abyss itself had decided to give us privacy.
Nadine stood on the balcony overlooking what was left of a world whose name nobody remembered.
Her arms were loosely folded, and a faint light from nowhere highlighted her Starmap.
She looked smaller here than she ever had on Cronack or aboard the Pandraxian ship. Human. Fragile. Mine.
I crossed the distance between us without thinking, drawn by something that no longer frightened me. When she felt me near, she turned, and the relief that crossed her face still struck me like a blow to the chest.
"You're real," she said softly.
I smiled. It felt strange how natural that was now. "Last I checked."
She stepped into me without hesitation, pressing her forehead against my chest, arms sliding around my waist. I wrapped myself around her, carefully at first, as if afraid I might still be capable of harm. I wasn't. I knew that now.
Her fingers curled into the fabric at my back. "Do you still feel it?" she asked quietly.
I didn't pretend not to understand. "Yes. It's still there." She stiffened slightly, and I tightened my hold, grounding both of us. "But it's quieter than it's ever been," I continued. "Distant. Like an echo that no longer knows where it came from."
She pulled back just enough to look at me. "And it won't happen again?"
I didn't hesitate. "No."
The certainty in my voice surprised even me. "What happened before," I brushed my thumb along her jaw, "will never happen again. I know the shape of that darkness now. I know it's lies. And I am not alone anymore."
Her eyes shone, but she didn't cry. Nadine rarely did.
Instead, she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed me, soft at first, tentative, as if confirming that I was still here.
I answered her without restraint. The kiss deepened quickly, not desperate, not frantic, but full.
Anchored. When I finally pulled back, her breath was uneven, her forehead resting against mine.
"I love you," I said. The words felt simple. Absolute.
She smiled, the kind of smile that rewired my entire existence. "I love you too."
I exhaled slowly, as if I'd been holding that breath for centuries. We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, letting the universe exist without demanding anything from us. The darkness inside me shifted, restless but contained, like a storm that had finally learned its boundaries.
Nadine eventually tilted her head, practical even now. "When are we leaving?"
A soft laugh escaped me. "Zapharos and Ella are already preparing their departure. Ozyrael too. He insists on coordinating with the Pandraxians himself."
She grimaced faintly. "That sounds exhausting."
"For him," I agreed. "Not for us. Thyros has decided to accompany us too.
He thinks there might be things that need to be…
reckoned with." I had told Thyros about my suspicions that one of us was helping the Dark Abyss release Mmuhr'Rhong into Auris Prime.
He had agreed with my theory and decided the best way to find who would be to untangle the web hidden on Earth.
She grew thoughtful, her gaze drifted back toward the dark trees standing sentinel, having survived what buildings hadn't. "I suppose he's right."
"Are you scared?" I asked her quietly.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned back to me, studied my face as if committing it to memory all over again. "Of what?"
The honesty in her question took me off balance. But that was her. Fearless. "Of going back. Of what we might find there."
She considered that. I felt the familiar hum of her mind, the way it worked through uncertainty, not by denial, but by integration.
"I would have been. Once."
"And now?"
She reached up, cupping my cheek with her hand. "Not with you at my side."
Something in me loosened, something ancient, tight, and painful. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes briefly, allowing myself something I had never permitted before: rest. "I used to think strength meant control. Isolation. Carrying everything alone."
She smiled faintly. "You're allowed to revise your hypotheses."
I snorted. "I'm learning."
She laughed softly and leaned into me again, and this time there was no hesitation left in either of us.
Just certainty. Whatever waited on Earth—whatever truths had been buried, whatever sins had been forgotten—we would face it together.
The Harrowed One had tried to take me. It had failed.
Because love, I had learned, was not weakness.
It was balance. I would choose it—choose her—again and again, until the universe finally learned to rest.