Chapter 2 Astraea—Present #2
“Your bond with Nyte was already forged when the curse took him,” he continued, “but what if it hadn’t been before he fell under? What if you tried to claim your bond with him now, so he would have to claim back? What if it would have been enough to awaken his consciousness?”
“As you said, our bond is forged, so that’s not an option anymore.”
“What if another bond could do the same?”
I pushed myself up, frowning and turning it over in my mind.
“A dragon?” I concluded. Drystan gave me a nod of confirmation before crossing the room to where stacks of books lay.
He spent most of his time studying in his own room, but occasionally he brought his books and journals here. We never spoke, but I had to admit the company was welcome sometimes. Even in silence, sharing the weight of the burden between us for a while was a reprieve from bearing it all alone.
“Eltanin doesn’t have a bonded rider. If we get him back by his second cycle, maybe with your persuasion he’ll choose Nyte. Forging that bond could reach a part of Nyte’s subconscious that might snap him out of his sleep,” Drystan went on, flipping through pages.
I leaned on my thighs at the edge of the bed, contemplating.
My hope began to spark as I dwelled on the possibility. There had always been something familiar between Nyte and Eltanin that made me believe the black celestial dragon might choose Nyte as his rider.
Drystan thumped his book shut when he found the enchanted map that seemed to have been haphazardly used as a reading placeholder at some point.
What I recalled about him, and what hadn’t changed, was how chaotic and disorganized he kept his things.
Yet he always remembered exactly where everything was when he needed it.
“You still haven’t learned the concept of a bookmark,” I mused.
It was an attempt at normality, kindness, but even that felt awkward between us. I despised the rift I didn’t know how to disperse.
Drystan slipped me a look, debating whether he wanted to reflect on the past with me. His jaw worked, then he busied himself with papers.
“Do you remember everything from the past?”
“Not really. Most of the time I recall things in the moment, like just now with your inability to organize a thing.”
“It’s organized my way.”
That twitched a smile onto my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Drystan’s shoulders locked. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“So don’t.” His sharp eyes cut to me. “Let the past die.”
“I can’t,” I said desperately, pushing up from the bed. “You were my friend. The first I had beyond my suffocated life around the High Celestials and my duty.”
“Then you left me. Both of you did, and I had no one. You can’t blame me for healing that wound over centuries and denying you the blade to do it again.”
That hurt so deeply, a physical wound would be easier to bear right now.
“I’m going to win this war. Nyte is going to wake up. Then we’re staying right here with you until the end of our age.”
Drystan held me with a cold stare, but his eyes flexed a fraction. He didn’t respond, turning his attention back to his journals.
He placed the enchanted map he’d loaned me in the Libertatem on the table and slipped a new overlay on top of it. I strolled closer to catch a glimpse.
“There’s sixteen more temples with dragon paintings across Solanis, which means sixteen dragons to free just like we did with Athebyne—I hope. You told Nyte to tell me your key is with the dragons. When you broke it, you sent the pieces to these temples, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Your father was granted the ability to wield it without harm by my creators—I think they want me dead as much as Auster does. I couldn’t risk the weapon in their hands, and they had us in that temple.
So I broke it, and I knew that if I didn’t escape Auster, you would understand what I meant and get it back without me. ”
“It was smart thinking. But do we really need the key back?”
“Being Lightsdeath is only half of what it will take to kill Dusk and Dawn. The key is the other.”
Sometimes as I slept I thought I felt the key’s pain.
Heard the cries of broken power like a violin off-key.
Grating, demanding someone to tend to the instrument to fix it back in tune.
I wondered if ignoring the key’s calls to be found and reforged would have any greater effect on me than a few headaches and restless nights.
“That could take months,” he said, itching with our mutual despair. “But at least if Eltanin doesn’t choose Nyte to bond with, we might have sixteen other dragons to try.”
My hope grew into a larger flame against my will.
“You really think it could work?” I whispered.
Drystan flicked a look up, and it was the most caring emotion he’d shared with me. I’d come to accept his cold shoulder over the weeks. With no solutions and hitting endless walls with suggestions, I couldn’t blame him for hardly being able to tolerate me.
“I really hope it can,” he amended before pivoting. “Since you mentioned my father, have you seen him at all during your scouting of the city?”
“No,” I said. In truth, I hadn’t thought of him at all while my vengeance was acutely set on Auster.
Drystan paused at the door, making to leave. “Perhaps Auster has already disposed of him. A shame; I’ve been looking forward to doing it myself.”
He said it so coldly and detached from any emotion. His indifference was a mask over his pain. Though he deserved to face his monstrous father and be the one to end him, as did Nyte, I thought it would also be the most difficult thing they’d ever have to do.
I was about to crawl back into bed when a familiar head of pink hair appeared in the doorway.
My mouth opened but no words formed on my tongue.
I’d never seen Rose look so tired and frightened than in these last weeks.
She hardly ate and had barely said a word.
In all the chaos of my own life, I hadn’t seen just how much she’d come to care for Zath.
Something was different about her now; there was a light in her eyes I hadn’t seen in too long, which straightened my spine and skipped a beat in my chest before she even spoke.
“He’s awake.”