5. Nahomie
Nahomie
“Where in the stars are you taking me?”
“The only place you’ll be safe.”
I pressed my lips together.
Safe.
For how long?
Nahomie Manor was supposed to be safe. Papi built it from nothing. Manmi taught me how to shield it. I was protected on every side. I was gifted my cinderwolf by Granpapi as a companion to face the loneliness and not lose heart. Not lose hope.
Then the Farasees arrived. They brought the Ivory Rain. They brought the rotting Dyabèssa.
And now my safe place was nothing but a pile of heaping ashes that would soon float on the waves of the Ouanaviel Sea.
Safe.
Where would I ever find safety in this accursed empyrean? Who existed, lived with enough strength, power to give me safety? Whose hands were made for war, so mine could live on in bliss and rest?
I was an angel with blackfire. With a power so cataclysmically destructive, I wasn’t ever fully allowed to explore it to its greatest capabilities. Use it? Sure. Learn it, study it, understand it? Never. Such a thing was too dangerous. Such a thing would get me killed.
No.
The Gargorètti was wrong.
There was nowhere that existed in the Ouanaviel Empyrean where I would ever, truly, be safe.
I shifted in the Gargorètti’s arms. I looked up at him.
The billows shrouded his grotesque face as we flew through the darkened clouds.
“Safe.”
I rolled the word around in my mouth.
It tasted like a sour pack of lies.
“And where would that be, exactly?”
I leaned into his chest, utterly exhausted. Conversation alone was an effort. My wings still throbbed from being bent over in the cage. My body ached from what the Dyabèssa had done to me with bloodfire.
Bones lay curled in my arms like deadweight, making this journey even more insufferable.
He snored peacefully, as if we weren’t fleeing for our lives.
I couldn’t tell if Obsidian wanted to drop us into the Ouanaviel Sea below.
He carried us as if we weighed only a few feathers, but I had an inkling this flight wasn’t as easy as he was making it seem.
“Back in Mortevain.”
I bristled, tension making my shoulders taut.
“Mortevain.”
I spat the name, brushing my tongue across my teeth.
“The place where you were captured, am I correct?”
Obsidian looked down, his glowing eyes devouring me whole. He looked amused, as if he knew something I didn’t. His pointed ears twitched. His horns gleamed under the moonlight. He was the epitome of strength, a hideous marvel, yet so gentle. So kind.
“I was taken from Mortevain Island, yes.” He looked out at the clouds, remaining tucked in the folds. His membranous wings flapped in the wind, gently pressing us forward through the billows. “But only because I was foolish enough to leave the safety of Everthorn Manor.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Then my jaw cracked open in a loud yawn.
I arched my back, popping several joints, before settling back down. Rubbing my eyes, I was weighed down by the cinderwolf and increasing fatigue. I needed a hot bath. A fresh meal. A warm bed.
Hèls.
I needed Manmi and Papi.
How would they know what happened to me?
What if I couldn’t reach them by tèlscroll? By creeowl? I couldn’t assume Mortevain had long distanced communication devices or messenger owls. If their archiware—angelic technology—was dated, there’d be no way to tell my family what happened. Where I was.
I needed a distraction.
“What is Everthorn Manor like?”
“Hmm,” Obsidian hummed. “What is it like?”
The gargoyle continued his flight, relaxed, as if we weren’t trapped in a chariot cage, headed for Prizon Noir, only a few short hours ago.
“How do I adequately describe the feeling of a long, chilly embrace while relishing the deepest winter? The kiss of snow as the flakes enliven your deadened hearts? A long gaze of a lover whose eyes brand your soul with their touch? The giddiness of dawn upon its arrival with the fresh gift of goodness and mercy?”
Obsidian sighed. His eyes were on the clouds, but his gaze was far, far away. He looked lost in a dream. He seemed eager for his home of magic. I envied his joy. Tasted regret on my lips as I listened to him reminisce.
“Everthorn Manor, Mortevain Island as a whole, is the imperfectly perfect home for me. For my... our kind.” His breath hitched with emotion. “It’s opening and welcoming. Eery and marvelous. It is enchanting. Alluring. It is the only place that could ever compare to...”
The gargoyle trailed off.
I wanted to ask him what he was going to say, but it felt like prying, and I didn’t want to be rude.
If he wasn’t ready to share... if he didn’t want to share, it was his right.
After all, I was just a stranger who had helped him once.
He didn’t owe me the truth about his past. I hadn’t earned that right just yet.
Obsidian fell quiet, abruptly ending his pondering, and I let him be. Maybe speaking of Everthorn Manor, while still so far away, was too troublesome. He’d been captured from Mortevain, but how long ago? How long had it been since he was home? Since he was truly free like he’d just described?
Stars.
While I had the privilege of living in Nahomie Manor, I don’t think I’d ever felt what he just said.
Certainly not alongside anyone else. Most of my life was spent alone, isolated, with the visits of Manmi and Papi.
There was no real freedom to roam the island.
To go back to the market in the center of the village.
To frolic with my fellow angels. I had to stay in the manor.
Stay within the boundaries of the Anshantmants.
As I thought about what the gargoyle said, I yearned for what I never had.
An imperfectly perfect home.
Then another thought crossed my mind.
“And what of the king? King Everthorn. What is he like? How does he rule? I’ll admit I am no fan of Mortevain.
We suffer the grief of the Ouanaviel Empyrean because of you.
But the king. Is he still an ugly old ogre, stuck in the elder ways of the Fifth Age?
Or boring and useless, wearing an empty crown? Is he still the thorn of the Empyrean?”
Obsidian’s eyes twinkled.
“You’ll see.”
Now what in the rot was that supposed to mean?
Obsidian dipped his body, dropping out of the cloudy cover of the billows.
I was about to protest when I saw just how far we’d gone.
I looked down and marveled. Below us was nothing but endless miles of Ouanaviel Sea.
The gargoyle had flown so fast that we’d left Barrenrock Island far behind us.
There was nothing but endless ocean for miles.
At this rate, we’d reach Mortevain in no time.
I looked down at the sea, watching shrarks and dolfini swim in and out of the water, both hunting the same prey. My stomach rumbled as I looked down. I hadn’t eaten since firstfast and I’d lost a lot of blood. I was positively famished.
“You need food,” Obsidian observed.
“I do. I’m so hungry. My last meal was firstfast.”
“Firstfast,” he scoffed. “Weaklings, you angels are. Gargorètti can go weeks without a meal. The strongest can last months.”
“Months?” My eyes widened like saucers. My stomach flipped at the thought. “Angels certainly could never do that.”
“Angels can’t do a lot.”
I turned a burning gaze on him. Obsidian remained unbothered.
“You may be the dominant species. But it doesn’t make you the most powerful.”
He wasn’t wrong.
But I would not tell him that out loud.
“Our power is debatable. Our conquest and sovereignty are not.”
The gargoyle kissed his teeth. I bit my lip, trying not to explode with laughter.
“You are simply strategic opportunists. That is all.”
“I never knew Gargorètti were so spicy.”
“I never knew angels were so puny and petty.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Then I burst out laughing.
Obsidian’s chest rumbled as he joined me, gripping me more securely.
I looked out into the distance, yawning as Obsidian continued our flight over the Ouanaviel Sea.
Far away, towards the very end of my line of sight, I could just make out the shape of another island.
Trepidation leaked into my gut. I bit my lip. Even from here, I knew what it was.
Mortevain Island.
I opted to rest before I arrived. I was tired.
Overwhelmed. Had lost everything, been captured, then freed by a creature of myth, all in the same dawn.
My brain was exhausted. I yawned, snuggling deeper into Obsidian’s arms. Bones shifted in mine, continuing his sleep.
A small smile curled my lips when I noticed his gashes from the Dyabèssa were slowly stitching themselves back together.
Thank the almighty lights for the cinderwolf’s self-healing abilities.
I leaned my head on Obsidian’s chest and closed my eyes. It wasn’t until I was nearly unconscious in the throes of sleep, when I heard Obsidian whisper in the quiet dark of the ocean twilight.
“I’m coming home, mi Roi.”
A tightened grip around my body.
“I found the one who will break your curse. Finally.“
A low, rumbling snarl that quaked my shoulders.
“I found the Phantimèssa.”