4. Nahomie
Nahomie
I couldn’t believe my words even as they left my mouth.
Something like curious excitement flitted across my chest as I shuffled to a better sitting position, watching the Gargorètti with fresh eyes.
I looked at the creature with rapt fascination.
To my pleasant surprise, with the same curiosity, he looked back at me.
Frigid air made me shiver as I searched my mind, remembering the shreds of knowledge I’d been taught about this species.
Papi had sparsely told me the legends surrounding the Gargorètti when I was a youngling.
They lived in such obscurity that it was rare to spot them.
Rarer still to study them. The researchers of the Chronophim rank had few tomes about the species, which made them more myth than anything, though they were real.
When I was small, I loved snuggling deep into my comforter, curling up on my bedcloud, as Papi told me the tales of the Gargorètti migrating from distant worlds across the Sorellien Islands.
Several of them had settled across Mortevain, Sainterrain and Toussaint.
I almost snorted at the irony. All of those islands were in outright rebellion against the Empyrean.
The gargoyles had made homes among the opposing islands and hidden themselves away after the Farasee Order had them hunted to near extinction.
Edenael housed no Gargorètti. So how did this creature end up here?
“Awoui, Madame.”
The Gargorètti bowed his head. The gesture looked almost silly because of his gargantuan size. I bit back my childishness and refused to laugh, tickled as I was.
“I am a...” He scrunched his stony nose, stumbling over the word. “Gargoyle.”
I tried to smile. Our circumstances only afforded me a warm grimace.
“There’s no need to call me Madame. Nahomie will do just fine.”
The gargoyle smiled at me.
Burning stars, if that wasn’t the most terrifying sight I had ever seen in my life.
Still though. The beast was kind of... cute. In a dreadful way.
“What should I call you?”
I tilted my head to keep from hitting it against the bars as the cage jostled from side to side.
Wherever we were flying, the ride was bumpy and turbulent.
The gargoyle looked at me for a long time.
His expression became neutral, but his eyes blazed.
As if I’d committed a great offense. There wasn’t anything I could do to express my innocent intentions, so I kept my mouth shut and waited.
After some time had passed, he seemed to judge me worthy.
The gargoyle finally blinked. And he smiled again.
“I am Obsidian,” he said plainly.
“Obsidian,” I echoed. “It’s nice to meet you. Even if we’re both shackled like dewlambs being led to their slaughter.”
Obsidian chuckled, low and quiet, but the sound still rumbled the cage.
Several of the Ivory Rain turned their heads, gilded faceplates tilting in our direction.
I pressed a dirty finger to my lips. Obsidian blinked in response, an insignificant gesture of understanding.
I looked closer at him in the dark as the cage continued its flight through the clouds.
Wherever we were, I was positive Edenael was long behind us.
My hearts withered at the thought. Distracting myself, I looked at the Gargorètti’s body.
“The Ivory Rain hurt you,” I whispered to him.
Obsidian’s face crumpled. He dropped his head. I silently cursed myself for being so forward. I opened my mouth to apologize when I noticed his head moving. The gargoyle was nodding.
“They captured you?”
More nodding.
“From where?”
“My home,” he responded without lifting his head. “On Mortevain Island.”
My eyes widened.
Stars.
Mortevain.
Stars only knew the stories I had heard about that wretched island.
How they used the Hallowed from Empyrean Loyalist islands as bait to appease the Fallen Angels.
They often let the accursed angels cross through the Trumpet Gate.
How they allowed them to use the Realm Portal and trespass into the Sorellien Islands.
Mortevain, Sainterrain, Toussaint and other islands had a sort of peace treaty with the Fallen.
Except, the angels who were given chaos for their peace, were us.
The innocents on Loyalist islands whose blood maintained the freedom of these traitors.
I could feel bile rising in the back of my throat. If Mortevain was Obsidian’s home, that meant... My brain nearly exploded when it all made sense.
“Mortevain.”
The tremor in my shoulders had nothing to do with the cold in this cage.
It had everything to do with my growing rage.
“As in, ruled by the Horn of Everthorn, Mortevain.”
Obsidian watched me with a funny look in his eyes.
He said nothing, letting my mind spiral.
Of all the islands that were against Empràr Zadkias and the rule of the Farasee Order, Manmi and Papi hated Mortevain the most. The island was pretty distant from Edenael, located north of Barrenrock, while we were south of the colossal, central island.
But according to Papi, King Everthorn’s actions in the Fifth Age were the reason many of us had become overtaxed, overworked, and over-controlled throughout the Sixth Age by the Ouanaviel Empyrean.
I burned with the fury of my Papi, my villagers, my island, when I thought of the Everthorn name. Obsidian remained silent, as if he could visibly read all my thoughts. His curious expression hadn’t changed as he let me sit in my discomfort.
After some time, the Gargorètti shifted from one side to another.
A twinge of pain across his face was my only hint at the agony he endured quietly.
Trickles of dark blood oozed from his open wounds.
My hearts wrenched with pity for the creature.
I was shackled, and in my misery, but I couldn’t just sit here and watch him suffer. Not when I knew I could help him.
“Obsidian.”
I looked up at the Gargorètti keeping my voice low.
“If you let me, I can help with your wounds.”
The gargoyle blinked at me. That curious gaze seized me up before he nodded once, those amber eyes watching my every move. Elated at his permission, I scooted forward, careful not to disturb Bones.
“I’m going to put my fingers on you. You’re going to see a small trickle of blackfire seep out of my hand and into your skin. It will burn. A lot. That’s normal. It will help close your wounds even if they don’t heal completely. Okay?”
“Awoui, Madame.”
I thought about correcting him, but I ignored his politeness and got to work.
I leaned forward and pressed my palm into the frozen stone of his skin.
Reaching within my ethèr, I battled the power, fighting like hèls to draw out the tiniest measure.
These rotting chains were doing their job well.
Praying to the Infinite that this would work, I siphoned the power into my palm, then released it into the gargoyle’s skin.
Obsidian gasped. Jerked.
Then he sighed.
Profoundly.
Seeing his relief, I grew emboldened. I released a small measure of blackfire on my shackles.
The power instantly turned on me, burning me with a scalding heat that actually hurt.
I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
When the sensation of pain passed, I scooted back from the gargoyle and returned to my corner.
Stars. This infernal cage was grating on my nerves.
My back hurt terribly from being bent over for so long.
My wings itched to spread open and breathe.
I looked at Obsidian and gasped.
“What the...”
I hadn’t just healed the gargoyle.
Somehow my powers had made him brand new.
As if he’d never been wounded. Never lost a twinight of sleep. Had never aged or been worn down by battle. As if his powers had never been weakened. Ever. It occurred to me that such a tiny drop of blackfire resulting in such a miracle was precisely why I was in this infuriating cage.
Obsidian grinned from ear to ear.
Menacing. Blood-curdling.
Petrifying.
The Gargorètti stared at me for a long time.
“You made me whole.”
His amber eyes gleamed at me like molten jewels.
“Blackfire,” I shrugged. “I don’t fully understand it. But I do a lot with it. Mend things. Protect. Disappear. Undo.”
“Undo,” the gargoyle repeated.
I tilted my head.
“Yes. Blackfire can undo many things. Strange power it is.”
Obsidian stared at me.
“What about curses?”
It was my turn to stare back.
“What about curses?”
The Gargorètti remained silent. His curious gaze returned.
Then he seemed to decide on something.
“You’re coming home with me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me...”
Obsidian grinned so wide I quivered at the sight of his long fangs.
He opened his maw to its full extent. His breath filled the small cage with the stench of sulfur and brimstone.
I gagged, choking. I ducked my head, my entire body trembling, as Obsidian let out a roar so fierce that the sound pierced and rattled my bones.
He flexed his biceps and snapped open his arms, breaking through his chains.
Then he freed his wings. The gargoyle swung to the right, then to the left, pounding against the bars of the cage.
I watched the Gargorètti in rapt horror and utter astonishment.
“The Gargorètti has awoken!”
“Get the spears!”
“The Dragontails, you fool. Grab an everburning Dragontail!”
“Dyabèssa, the Gargorètti!”
“Put him down!”
The screams grew louder, but I was too lost in my marveling at the gargoyle.
Obsidian raged with passionate red fury.
The beast tore the cage apart, shredding through the bars with its claws.
He swung his tail, narrowly missing my head, tearing through the steel as if shredding feathers.
He leaned forward, ripping through my shackles with his claws.
Immediately the freezing air warmed, humid heat flooding my bones.
Then, with a gentleness I would never guess such a creature could possess, the Gargorètti scooped me into his arms, grabbed hold of Bones and dropped him into my lap, and shot into the open sky.
Obsidian roared, and the starless sky bowed in reverence.
The clouds parted as if making way.
The Ivory Rain rallied to fight, but Obsidian tucked me into his chest, snapped open his wings, and raced through the plumes of the clouds, disappearing swiftly into the twinight with me cuddled in his arms.