Nineteen #2
Above, a shadow flickers. The Mana Echo of a girl dangles lifelessly from a vine, her throat slit.
Phantom blood drips from the wound, falling towards Nyxen and me.
It feels invasive. Dirty, somehow. The blood passes through my arm.
Cold—not real, but my body doesn’t know that, and my bones shiver anyway.
My stomach drops. Marissa isn’t here.
I twist against the vine, searching the dark between the trees. Nothing. No pale uniform. No frightened brown eyes. No small shape curled somewhere safe.
Safe.
There are so few safe people left. If she woke beside the wrong one, if no one is watching, if one the Fireborn woke up with her—
I bite down hard on the thought, but it keeps moving anyway.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, releasing his grip on my chin and pointing to my forehead.
I must have hit something when I fell. I can’t find it in me to care.
“Better than dead,” I mutter.
He cocks his head. “Better for who?”
I don’t have an answer for that. Where is Marissa?
He seems to consider something, then shrugs. “Give me one good reason not to end you right now.”
“I’m not a threat to you,” I say, panic rising in my throat.
“I don’t matter, Luceris,” he snaps. “You are a threat to the Prince. Whether you mean to be or not. You make him reckless. That makes you a liability.”
“I’m just trying to survive,” I snap back. “I’m just trying to keep Marissa alive. And the longer we keep talking, the more likely she is to end up dead at the hands of one of those Fireborn psychopaths.”
The air is thick with movement, fluttering lights gathering overhead. The light sprites are not aimless. They are watching us, clustering above us like carrion birds.
Nyxen grabs a handful of moss and wipes the blood from my forehead. The gesture is so abrupt I flinch. “I find it hard to believe you. What gain is there in protecting another here?”
“Do you not protect Kael?” I retort.
“That is different. He is my Prince. It is my duty.”
“I choose my own duty,” I say.
He studies me for a long moment.
Then a decision settles behind his eyes.
He nods and pulls me to my feet. “Very well, then,” he says, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.
The world spins as I stand. Nyxen grabs my arms, holding me steady. His hands are cold, the grip strong enough to bruise. He studies my face as if weighing whether to regret it or not.
“If I’m to bring you to the Prince, you’ll stay close,” he says.
“I need to find Marissa. Kael will be fine,” I say, but the words lack conviction, and he can tell.
He smiles without warmth. “Whatever you say.”
We head into the forest, every step a negotiation with thick roots and stubborn undergrowth. The air hums with the promise of violence.
Roots and shadows pass between us before Nyxen speaks. “You’re not like other Lightborn,” he says.
“Is that a compliment?”
“No,” he says. “It’s a warning.”
I laugh, dry and broken.
“I’m willing to bet that’s why Kael is so drawn to you. He’s always had a weakness for the lost and the forgotten.”
I look away, pretending to study the trees. The comment stings for some reason. Which am I? Lost? Forgotten? Both?
We move in silence for a while, the light sprites following above, growing in number the deeper we go. Their little eyes stay on me, hungry.
The ground shifts underfoot, sometimes solid, sometimes giving way to slop and mud. I have no idea where we’re going. There are no landmarks, just endless trees and the soft glow of the sprites.
At some point, Nyxen stops. He presses a finger to his lips and crouches low. I copy him, hiding in his shadow.
From ahead, a sound. Soft, at first, but it gets louder as my ears catch the rhythm. It’s a thudding, like footsteps on stone, and my heart hammers in my chest.
Nyxen gestures for me to stay put as he melts into the dark, vanishing like a lost thought. I kneel in the cold, arms wrapped around my ribs, fighting the urge to run.
Thunder rends the air, rumbling high above. Bolts of lightning fork across the sky, filling every gap in the canopy with white brilliance. I’ve never seen lightning like this, even in the worst of the storms back in the Light Dominion.
Nyxen returns, and a sound catches in my throat. These Shadowborn. They’re like ghosts.
He has shadows at his fingertips, writhing and deadly. “No one ahead,” he says. “The noise is just branches. There’s a cave entrance just up ahead, but it looks like it heads underground.”
The earth trial. Of course.
I glance down at Nyxen’s shadows. He notices and grins, but it’s humourless.
“Force of habit,” he says, flicking his hand with careless ease, and the shadows disperse.
“I thought you’d changed your mind about killing me,” I say, running a hand through my hair.
He considers, then smirks, properly now. “Not yet,” he says.
“Not yet?” I grimace.
He stands, brushing the moss from his knees. “Kael would be upset, remember.”
“You don’t care about that,” I say.
He looks at me, something almost human crossing his eyes. “No. I don’t.”
He walks away, expecting me to follow, and I do.
After a while, he speaks. “If you die, I’m worried he will do something stupid.”
I swallow. “What if it’s an accident? Like the wave.”
He glances over his shoulder. “I don’t think that will change the outcome. Hence, my problem.”
He leads us a little further into a clearing, until we stand at the entrance to the cave. The tip of the Mother Shard is visible here, the death counter suspended on its face. The number ten glows like a wound.
The light sprites have descended, swirling so close it’s like walking through a cloud of embers. The mouth of the cave is black and wide, sprites drifting in and out of it as if the cave itself is breathing.
Nyxen wanders the edge of the clearing, scanning the trees. “I think we’re meant to go in,” he says.
Obviously. But I say nothing, just nod.
A chill runs up my spine as a beam of golden-red light shoots into the sky from somewhere far away, illuminating the clouds as it careens towards the Mother Shard.
It pulses, relishing its meal.
The zero flickers. Just once, blinking as it becomes a one.
Ten becomes eleven.
I drop to my knees, fists in the dirt. My breath hitches and my hands shake. A sob breaks out of me, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand again. “No. No, no—”
Please don’t let it be her.
Nyxen watches, unmoved. “The Mother Shard is not kind,” he says.
I look up at the number in the sky, wishing it would go back, wishing this was all a mistake.
But the number stays.
Nyxen extends a hand and helps me up. I take it, because what else can I do?
I need to know if it was her.
Together, we walk towards the cave, the light sprites dancing around us like the eyes of a thousand dead friends.
They lead us down into the depths of the world.
There is no turning back now. Only the dark below.
The cave is a mouth, and it never stops swallowing. We pass through its teeth and into a throat of darkness so thick it feels like a blanket over my eyes. The air is wet and stinks of fungus.
Behind me, Nyxen breathes with perfect control.
I am hyper-aware of him. Every footstep echoes off the walls and multiplies.
I can’t tell if he’s three paces ahead or if I’m breathing down his neck.
I press my hand to the wall, feeling my way forward.
The rock is clammy, slick with condensation, but the further we go, the warmer it gets.
Like the tunnel is alive, and we’re moving deeper into its gut.
“Stay close,” Nyxen says, his voice carrying as if from everywhere and nowhere.
“I am,” I answer, though I don’t like admitting it.
The light sprites seem to have abandoned us.
Some drifted down into the cave, but their glow is nowhere to be seen.
The rest hovered at the entrance, forming a quivering barrier, marking the line between outside and in.
I could use a little Mana to light the way, but I don’t want to drain myself.
Nyxen can surely see in the dark. Everything will be fine if I stay close.
The tunnel narrows until we are walking in single file, my shoulder brushing against the wall.
I reach out, and Nyxen is right there. It settles my panic a little.
Even if I’m painfully aware that he could kill me at any moment and no one would ever find me.
I shake off the thought. It’s not helpful.
“Can you see in the dark?” I ask, wishing to distract myself.
He huffs softly. “Well enough,” he says.
Without his eyes on me, I feel brave enough to ask another question. “Why didn’t you kill me earlier? You could have snapped my neck while I was hanging from that vine.”
He laughs—quiet, but not cruel. “You think I didn’t want to?”
“Why didn’t you then? If I’m such a problem.”
He is silent for a while, long enough that I start to think he won’t answer. Then: “You are Kael’s. That matters. That is why it is difficult.”
I stumble on a jutting piece of stone. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“You misunderstand,” he says. “In the Shadow Dominion, loyalty runs deeper than blood. Kael and I are…” he pauses, choosing his words. “I am sworn to him. I swore that oath when he was just a child. It is part of me, and I will not break it. That is the way.”
The way he says it sounds like magic. Like he has no choice. Maybe that’s true.
“And what about Vaelis? He seems loyal, too.”
Nyxen snorts. “Vaelis serves the Crown, but not out of love. It is all calculation for him. His family will be well rewarded for his sacrifice. For me, it’s simpler. I protect Kael, or I die.”
I can’t tell if that’s sad or terrifying. Maybe both.
The tunnel widens. Splits, I think, though my eyes still haven’t adjusted. Nyxen steps left, wordlessly, and I follow his lead.
The left passage tightens quickly, the ceiling so low we have to hunch. There is water running somewhere up ahead, a trickle at first, then a rushing torrent that gets louder with every step.
“Why does Kael trust you?” I ask. “Or is it not trust at all?”
Nyxen doesn’t answer straight away.