Chapter Seven #3
“Play dead,” Ozias whispers to me. I hesitate and he gives me a firm squeeze. I relent, my face going slack, my body heavy in his arms.
“Are you going to stop me?” Ozias asks, angling his body towards the sound of Thrace’s voice.
“You know that’s not possible,” Thrace replies, and I wonder at that. Surely he could alert the Sar Dyēus. “But I hope you will stop. Think, Ozias.”
“I am thinking. I’m doing an awful lot of thinking right now and I like what I’m thinking.” Could Thrace help with the mess I’ve made? Even if only for the sake of my sister? My mind spins in sluggish circles, trying to find another way out.
“She killed Alixor with dragonsbane. The others are coming, are they not?” I know the answer when Thrace remains quiet.
Even if he would help, there’s not enough time for it.
Ozias goes on. “When they find out what she’s done, they’ll call for her death.
Tell me, how will you explain that to her sister? ”
Thrace’s answering growl is threaded with menace. “What are you planning?”
“You and Zhoric have your designs, and I have mine.”
“Ozias, that’s not fucking fair and you know it.”
Ozias laughs, the sound vibrating from his chest into my muscles.
“Fair would be if my people could shift at will. Fair would be if we could change form at night outside of the Realm. Fair hasn’t exactly been the name of this game, but perhaps this is the beginning of fairness around here,” he says, hefting me up higher and I try not to squirm at his firm, unrelenting hold.
Ozias’s words grate against my mind. I don’t know what he means. I don’t know what any of this exchange means and I’m wondering if I’ve made yet another grave mistake in asking him to take me. But I can’t stay here. Here, there is only death for me now.
“Don’t get her killed,” Thrace says.
Ozias huffs a laugh. “I intend to give her a life worth living.”
Then Ozias is walking again, my mind swaying with his easy movements.
The air around me is cool with the rapidly approaching night.
Ozias’s hand tightens where he holds me, then he’s shifting, my body held close to his.
I tumble down into the cradle of his claws, tucked against his chest, much like my little nephew was only days ago in Thrace’s.
There’s the telltale moment where I feel weightless, and I know we’re in the sky.
I open my eyes, catching sight of the sun, a tiny ember dipping below the horizon.
Panic grips me. Savage. That’s the word he used if he was caught outside the Realm at night.
He’s not going to make it. The night will turn him into a bloodthirsty beast. He’s going to kill me and I have no one to blame but myself.
I should have relented to Alixor when I had the chance.
Even the very thought churns my stomach in protest.
I hold onto consciousness, though I feel it slipping from me as my injuries settle and my adrenaline fades.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when the ground meets us, solid and jarring.
Ozias transforms and I’m in his human arms once more.
The swift cadence of his steps pounds in time with the ache in my skull.
I hear what sounds like a hundred voices.
I pry open my eyes and the shadow of Dyēus looms in the distance, outside the boundary of the Realm.
Too many people clamor around for me to make out much of my surroundings, to hear anything beyond their buzzing words, but I see iron.
Pale brown stones. Creeping vines in a color only found in Dyēus—green.
Ozias twists one way, then another, perhaps seeking someone out, but the action blurs my vision and nauseates me, so I close my eyes to shut it out.
“Chain her. Now,” Ozias orders. I feel myself passed off to other hands.
I want to scream. I want people to stop touching me.
I’m desperate to fight the hands that grip me, but my movements only dizzy me.
I’m moved again and I think I hear Ninon call my name.
Ninon. Ninon is here. Relief floods me. Perhaps this reckless decision was worth it.
I think I hear Ozias tell her to be quiet; I’m sure I hear her when she tells him to fuck off.
I want to call out to her, but all I can do is sob with the reassurance of knowing she’s alive.
That she’s here. The hands lay me down on my stomach, carefully adjusting my head.
A net of cold, heavy weights are cast over my prone form, and I’m suddenly back in my room in Dyēus, trapped under Alixor.
No. I blink my eyes open.
“No. No, stop. Please,” I beg, my voice scratchy and pathetic.
“It’s for your own good,” Ozias says, kneeling up by my head.
My pulse flutters frantically and I feel the moment night settles in.
My vision sharpens and my eyes feel like a dagger slices clean through each orb.
“No, take me back,” I whine, my breaths coming in short, painful pants.
I can’t become this thing I’ve killed most of my life.
I have a fleeting moment where I realize Ozias was telling the truth.
Hands, human hands, handle me. This place isn’t full of monsters.
Ninon isn’t a monster. The rogue, Ozias, isn’t an outlier.
Horror cuts through me. Just what have I done by shooting those creatures out of the sky all this time?
Pain like I’ve never felt before lances through my core, like I’m ripping at the seams. It’s so sudden the terror of it grips me and refuses to loosen its hold.
“Don’t fight it,” Ozias says.
I don’t listen. I scream as the transformation tears like a wind across the grassy plains, swift and unforgiving and powerful. I push against it as hard as I can, trying to hold onto my frail human frame. Try as I might, teeth grinding hard, I contort and reshape.
My bones crack and bend.
My skin twists and splits as scales and soft fur replace my flesh.
My jaw unhinges, opening wide, accommodating my elongating teeth. The razor sharp edges slice my lips.
My fingers splinter, talons curving from the nail bed, my hands unrecognizable as they slide into the ground, as if it were the ripe silt of a riverbed instead of solid rock.
My back arches, muscles bunching, and my wings unfurl, but I’m held tight by the chains. It is torture. It is agony to be given these wings and not unleash them into the sky. I gnash my great teeth. I rear my mighty head. I scream and screech and bellow from the depths of my massive chest.
My eyes wheel upwards, towards the newly star speckled night, searching for the familiar away from the chains that bind me and my body that betrays me.
I roar and rage and rage. My heart pumps wildly. And finally my mind spins inward towards a deep unknown inside myself, and then I feel nothing else but the desire to destroy. The world goes dark, and my soul goes with it.