Twenty-One #2
“Acheron is on our side, and he was the one who brought me to you, right? If he wasn’t, he would’ve taken me back to Neil when Neil ordered him to.
Instead, he brought me here, didn’t he? His alliance isn’t with Neil but with us, and the betterment of his Realm.
Acheron is very kind, and I know that he doesn’t approve of Neil’s agenda.
If anyone could voice to the people of the Clouds that Neil isn’t who they think he is, it’s him…
They would believe him, too, as the Right Hand, wouldn’t they? ” I questioned.
Zathrian looked proud, and a smile crept across his face. He seemed impressed by my idea. I wished he would smile like that more.
“That might actually work.” Zathrian nodded.
“With his people against him, it would be harder for him to make any advancement toward bringing the Wall down. And far easier to bring him to the Gods for trial,” Viotto added in agreement.
Mateo seemed apprehensive. Rightfully so, given that it was his Mate we were discussing. Acheron would be committing treason even though he was doing the right thing.
“See if you can summon him tonight,” Zathrian ordered.
Mateo held his tongue for a moment. “It’s risky.”
“We don’t have any other choice.” Reaching out, I placed my hand on his with a soft expression. “We won’t let any harm come to him, but we need his help if we are to do what needs to be done.”
Mateo hesitated. His eyes softened, and a sigh left his lips. “I will see what I can do.”
I wanted to know what they were discussing in that meeting room.
They had been in there for hours now since Acheron had arrived.
I wanted to know their plans. The ones they purposely kept me out of.
I didn’t like being kept in the dark like this.
It reminded me too much of—never mind. Their voices were muffled by the door, and even with my ear pressed against the door, I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
The door wasn’t too thick, which made me more irritated knowing they must have put a barrier up to prevent me from listening. How rude.
I didn’t need saving. I wasn’t helpless. They acted like I was, but I wasn’t.
Weak and breakable. Cracked glass on the verge of shattering. They saw me as a porcelain doll they had to protect from falling off the metaphorical shelf they placed me on in the first place.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.
Pacing back and forth within the hallway, I was riddled with anxiety and worry.
Unable to wrap my head around the thoughts that filled my mind.
How did I fall in love with someone as terrible and cruel as Neil?
Part of me hated myself for it, but the other part of me knew it wasn’t my fault.
I was too na?ve. Gullible. Blinded by false promises that I wanted so desperately to be true that the rose-colored glasses did not come off until they were forcefully torn from my face.
I missed him sometimes, the version I knew before he did what he did.
The version of him that saved me. The version that, in hindsight, I wondered ever existed in the first place.
I wondered how much of the time we shared together was tainted with lies.
Leaning my back against the wall, I peered across the hall and toward the open window. I loved the stars and how they shined so bright. The curtains billowed in the gentle breeze, making the hallway feel warmer than it did most nights.
How did things even end up like this?
Tilting my head, my palms slid to the wall behind me. Pushing myself off, I made my way toward the window. A shadowy figure with vibrant pink, glowing eyes appeared, standing face to face with me. How do I know those eyes?
“Open your eyes… Bringer of Peace,” the shadowy figure whispered.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You know who I am,” it replied. “We have met many times.”
I stood there, staring into those eyes that stared right back at me. Blinking, I tried to recall where I had seen this shadowy figure before. My eyes widened.
“Deus?” I asked, unsure of how that name came to mind.
An eerie yet warm smile formed on its face, affirming that I was right. I was speaking not to a spirit, but a God.
My mom spoke often of Deus, whose name quite literally translated to the word ‘god’. The bedtime stories she told me were ones her mother once told her. A God, Deus was more so a messenger to the Gods themselves. A spirit who could take on many forms and even grant wishes, if it wanted to.
“Open your eyes… Bringer of Peace,” it whispered in the wind. In a single movement, it rushed toward me, a gust of icy cold crashed through my chest. My eyes abruptly opened wide, seeing what I believed to be a vision of the future:
I was no longer in the hallway of Zathrian’s Estate, but somewhere else, somewhere familiar, yet I had never been before.
Tall pillars and stone tables. Blood splattered everywhere.
Not just my own, but I could see Zathrian and Neil, Mateo, too.
A sword pierced through my chest. Acheron on the floor in the arms of Mateo, blood pooling around him, and—
“AERILYN! AERILYN, PLEASE!” Zathrian’s voice filled my ears with sheer panic. His voice cracked, shaking as much as his hands did as he held me tightly.
I blinked rapidly, my vision coming back into focus. My brow furrowed, confused as to what was going on. Zathrian was on his knees, cradling me in his arms. Mateo and Viotto both hovered around me, and Nevan stood at the door. They all looked pale as if they’d seen a ghost.
Zathrian had never looked at me that way before, with eyes filled with desperation, almost as if he was afraid of losing me.
“What… happened?” I lifted my hand to my now bleeding nose. “Where did it go?” Turning my head, I attempted to look toward the window. “It was at the window?”
Zathrian slid his hand to my cheek, cupping it carefully with his palm. His eyes searched mine the moment he gently turned my face back toward his.
“It?” Mateo asked softly.
“Deus.” Nodding, I broke my gaze from Zathrian.
Mateo’s eyes widened. Lips parting, he was about to say something, but Viotto placed his hand on his shoulder and shook his head, stopping Mateo from whatever he wanted to say. They shared a knowing look, privy to something I wasn’t. What is that look about?
They must have known that name, otherwise, why would they react that way? Once again, I found myself having more questions than I did answers.
I felt dizzy.
Zathrian pulled me closer in his embrace, picking me up and carefully cradling me in his arms against his chest.
“It told me to open my eyes and called me the Bringer of Peace. And said I knew them, but I don’t remember them… and then I saw…” I hesitated. “I don’t know what I saw. It felt like a dream, but…”
“Let’s get you to bed,” Zathrian said, diverting the conversation. “You’re tired, it’s late, and it’s been a long day. We can discuss it in the morning after you have had some time to rest.” Not giving me much of a choice, Zathrian carried me down the hall.
“But—” Attempting to protest, I stopped myself the moment Zathrian’s eyes glared in my direction.
He was always so stubborn. Absolutely infuriating.
My eyes fell back onto Mateo and the others, watching them retreat into the meeting room, whispering amongst themselves.
A sigh parted from my lips. My head remained against his chest while Zathrian carried me, the familiar scent of vanilla bean and bourbon filling my nose from the closeness.
I would never admit it, but I was beginning to be rather fond of that scent.
“I can walk, you know,” I muttered.
Zathrian’s lips formed a line. “I know you can, but your nose is bleeding, and I would rather prevent any further mishaps given you just fainted in my hallway. Or would you rather have that bloody nose turn into a broken nose, hm?” he quipped.
Ha. Ha. Very funny. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m okay,” I insisted.
“You gave us quite the scare,” he admitted, his tone softening.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I’m just glad you’re alright.” We rounded the corner and made it into my room. Carefully, he eased me down into my bed, kneeling to my level and taking both my hands in his.
“Please, get some rest.” With pleading eyes, Zathrian lifted his left hand to wipe away the bit of blood that stained my upper lip.
Absent-mindedly, he reached for a handkerchief from the nightstand.
Taking it between his fingers he carefully dabbed the rest of the blood from my nose.
When he was done, Zathrian lowered his hand.
“And if you need anything, anything at all, please call for me, okay?”
I observed him, not understanding why he suddenly seemed so concerned.
Slowly, I nodded. Biting down on my bottom lip, I hesitated.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding relieved. “Goodnight, Airhead.” Zathrian reached for the door.
“I—” I struggled to find the words and the courage for what I wanted to ask of him.
Zathrian paused, turning to face me. Silent, his hand hovered over the doorknob.
“Will you… stay, please?” I asked, slowly sitting up. “I, uhm, was wondering if we could… talk?”
Zathrian’s eyes softened. Pulling away from the door, he nodded.
Slowly, he approached my bed, taking a seat beside me.
I swallowed hard, nervous to speak my mind.
Zathrian reached for my hand, cupping it in his as his thumb rubbed soft, slow circles.
He was silent and patient, his attention entirely devoted to me, and it struck me that he was far kinder than I ever thought him to be.
Zathrian was never cruel. At least, not truly.
“I’m here,” he whispered.
Taking a deep breath, I finally mustered up the courage to speak.