Chapter Six #2
“Is the tonic not working?” Therion enquires.
Rubi pushes her hair out of her face, but it tumbles straight back down into her eyes. She swipes her hand against the dirt floor and slicks her hair back with grime, uncaring for hygiene or propriety, but that’s our Rubi.
“Obviously fucking not, Teddy,” she snaps through misty eyes and a dirt-streaked face, and I can hear the tears forming in her throat. “She’s lucid for all of thirty heartbeats before that cursed Mark flares to life again.”
“Well, maybe thirty seconds is all we need to get answers,” Therion strategizes, while placing a comforting hand on Rubi’s shoulder.
“I’ll take whatever we can get, Rubes. I need to know how to get into that castle, and how to break the connection to Maldrak and Morrathys,” I plead desperately.
She nods silently, wiping her sleeve under her nose, and quelling the emotions that threaten to spill out. “The tonic is almost ready. You’ll need to hold her down while I administer it, and then… move like a fucking duskprowler towards the gate.”
I risk a quick glance at Therion—but I wish I hadn’t.
His lips are pressed into a thin line and convey everything I’m feeling.
This is my fucking sister. The sister I protected at all costs.
Shielded from violence. Braided her hair.
Sang to sleep. Holding her down goes against everything I’ve ever known.
“Let’s do it,” I say, steeling my nerves.
Therion kneels in the grot of the cell and moves to grasp her ankles. I kneel next to her head, taking her too-thin wrists in my hands, pinning them against the grimy earth beneath her.
Rubi pours the elixir into a flask and approaches Nalya with hesitation.
“A flask, Rubi?” Therion asks, incredulous.
“She’s broken my tea cups, so yes, Teddy. A fucking flask,” she bites, though her face is still flushed with emotion.
Rubi passes a small vial of something potent under Nalya’s nose, and it only takes a couple of heartbeats before her eyes spring open. Bloodshot, fierce, and ready for violence. Nalya thrashes against my hands, kicking against Therion’s hold with a force that rivals that of a grown man.
“Hold on!” Rubi yells, as she pulls hard on Nalya’s chin to open her mouth, but Nalya bares her teeth like a wild animal, spittle forming in the corners of her mouth.
With force, Rubi pours the elixir into Nalya’s mouth, narrowly evading her gnashing teeth and manic head movements.
Nalya’s body is strong. Stronger than I thought possible and my grip weakens. I lash out with my shadows, pinning her arms and legs with tendrils of my magic that buy me time to breathe.
Therion eyes me with concern and surprise, as if to say what the fuck is happening?
I wish I knew.
“Step back!” Rubi commands, and we move back far enough that we’re out of range.
I slowly release my magic, and her limbs go wild.
Clawing, gnashing, gripping. Scratching at her own skin, punching at the wall behind her until her knuckles bleed—flesh split and ripped, blood dripping from her hands.
Her teeth still bared, ragged clothes hanging from her skeletal frame.
She looks… possessed. But behind her wildness, just for a moment, I think I can see…
her. A little glimpse into the sister I remember.
Her eyes soften, her shoulders drop, her mouth relaxes into neutrality.
And that’s when the crying begins.
“K— Kael?” she asks, uncertain, tentative, scared. It's as if, just for a heartbeat, the cloud lifts from her mind and she sees clearly.
“Nalya?” I ask, disbelieving.
She nods through tear-rimmed eyes, dirt covering every inch of her.
I run to her. How could I not?
I fold her into an embrace, just like I used to when she’d had a nightmare. Only this time, we’re both inside the nightmare, and it feels like we can’t wake up.
She crumbles into me, desperate, hurting, haunted, and my heart cleaves in two.
“Hurry, Kael,” Therion warns, knowing I won’t want to let her go. But he’s right.
“I want to stay like this, Nalya. I do. But I need your help so we can break this spell—get you out of here,” I say, voice pained.
“Wh— Where am I? Why am I here, Kael?” She looks up at my then, cupping my cheek in her hand, pressing her fingers into my stubble, as if analyzing my face.
“You grew up,” she observes, and a small smile plays on her lips, though the tears never stop falling.
“You’re not a child,” she whispers, voice fractured and hollow, and I can hear the words she didn’t say: and I missed seeing it.
“Little One, I need your help now, so we can be together again. What can you tell me about how to break into Kryntar Castle? How to break the Marked spell?” I say, keeping my voice gentle.
But she just keeps staring into my eyes. “Your eyes are just how I remember,” she says, her voice wistful and distant. “Exactly how they look in my dreams,” she breathes, and her voice cracks on the last word.
“Nalya, please. Help us, so we can save you.” I’m desperate now.
“We’re running out of time, Kael,” Rubi reminds urgently. “You need to get back.”
But I can’t. I can’t leave her.
Nalya squeezes her eyes shut, hissing through her teeth like she’s in pain.
“Kael, move back now!” Therion commands, but I ignore him.
Nalya's eyes fly open, and it looks like she’s fighting against whatever is pulling her under, “Wake him, brother. Wake him and find—”
She fights against whatever pulls at her—the Mark, the curse, Maldrak, maybe even Morrathys himself. “Find the Shield’s Apprentice,” she grits out. “Wake him!” she begs, voice turning strained and otherworldly.
“Wh— What does that m—”
She lashes out, fingernails dragging down my neck, teeth bared again.
I dart out of the way, just far enough that she can’t reach me.
“You’ll never win,” she taunts, a look of violence in her eyes.
“Prince of nothing, bound to no one, slayer of your own kin,” she rasps, spitting at my feet in disgust.
“Go, Kael,” Rubi suggests. “You don’t need to see her like this. I’ll get her to sleep and then let’s figure out who the fuck we’re waking.”