Chapter 30
Evangeline
Bravery is a strange thing. Books would have us believe it’s a fearless sensation, exploring the unknown and dangerous.
That even in the face of danger, the hero will valiantly face off with the enemy, risking their own personal safety.
However, in reality, I’ve never felt less valiant and more fearful in my life.
Bravery straddles the line of stupidity.
One wrong move and someone could get hurt.
Or worse.
But my mother taught me that bravery doesn’t mean fearlessness. In fact, fear is the very thing that makes a person brave. Pushing forward even when things look bleak. And right now? Things don’t look much grimmer than losing all the food and resources that keep our kingdom alive.
I haven’t been here for long, but these are my people. My home. My mama always told me we fight for our own. Our home and family are the only things we have at the end of the day, so we must protect them at all costs. That’s exactly what I plan on doing.
Even if I’m scared shitless.
Everything happened so fast after I agreed to speak with the Nephilim.
I’m not keen on seeing that monstrous creature again, but at least it will be chained and weak.
Zephyr hasn’t said anything to me since we’ve left the others in the small meeting room, but he’s looked back a few times, studying me.
Is he afraid I’ll run? That I’m too much of a coward to go through with this?
Niko hasn’t left my side. His hand is a gentle force on my back, leading me down a spiral staircase made of stone. Sconces light the path, but it does little to ease the tension in my chest. The further we go, the colder the air is until it’s downright frigid.
“Why is it so cold down here?” My teeth chatter as I ask, hugging my arms around myself as if that will warm me up.
“It’s to keep the prisoners docile.” Zephyr looks over his shoulder. I can’t help but notice he looks completely unaffected by the drastic change in temperature. “We should have insisted you bring a jacket.”
“I’ll be fine.” Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. “Why aren’t you freezing your ass off?” At least Niko looks like he’s suffering alongside me. Just a little less than me.
“I enjoy the cold,” he says simply.
“If it were up to Zephyr, our entire castle would feel like this,” Niko said.
“Let’s not leave it up to Zephyr, then,” I mutter.
I swear I hear Zephyr laugh.
When we finally reach the end of the staircase, the air grows colder and damper, like it’s been trapped down here for centuries.
Niko pulls me closer, his hand firm on my waist. It’s quiet, but not peaceful.
The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl, like something is watching from the shadows, ready to pounce the moment you let your guard down.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and I press into Niko’s side, craving the reassurance of his warmth.
Zephyr leads the way down a narrow corridor carved entirely from jagged stone.
The walls drip with moisture, the dim torchlight casting flickering shadows that dance like ghosts.
Iron bars line either side of the hallway, forming menacing jail cells with strong doors and iron chains bolted to the walls.
Most are empty, though traces of old blood stain the floors, and deep claw marks scar the stone—signs of past horrors long gone but not forgotten.
I don’t dare ask what type of creatures once took up residence here.
Then we reach the final cell.
Larger than the rest by at least double, it looms at the end of the hall like a beast waiting in the dark. The bars are thicker here. Something about this cell feels wrong. Ancient. Dangerous. My breath catches as I stare into the darkness beyond the bars, where something stirs.
That’s when I realize we’ve come to the cell of the Nephilim.
Zephyr grabs a torch hanging from the wall and shines the light into the cell.
A low warning growl greets us, followed by black soulless eyes assessing us.
The creature’s chest rises and falls sporadically, hinting at its weakened state.
The staggeringly large body barely fits within its confines.
Despite the fear coursing through my veins, I take a step forward toward the cage.
I don’t get very far before both Zephyr and Niko reach out for me, holding me in place.
The intensity in their eyes leaves me breathless.
They’re scared, just as much as I am, which only increases the worry bubbling inside me.
“Don’t stand much closer. This will do.” Zephyr keeps his body angled in front of me.
It’s a protective gesture, one that sends blood rushing to my cheeks.
It’s a completely inappropriate time to be swooning over a man who doesn’t want to mate me, but the way he’s willing to protect me sparks something inside of me.
“So, I just talk to it?” I’m still not certain on the logistics of it all. Doesn’t seem like a Nephilim would be willing to give up information.
“That’s what Oziel said.” Niko moves in front of me, joining Zephyr in a wall of protection. Their bodies tense, poised and ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. They both possess magic, but so does the Nephilim. I fear the outcome if it comes to a battle.
“He said you could speak with the Nephilim in a way we can’t. Maybe some sort of connection,” he continues.
“But how? He wasn’t specific.”
“No, he never is.”
Great. This may be harder than I originally thought. Not that it was going to be a walk in the park in the first place, but I had hoped to have some sense of direction coming into this. I feel ill-prepared for the task at hand, but since we’re here… I have to try.
“Uhm, hi,” I say lamely. Zephyr snorts, and I promptly elbow him in the side. “Well, what am I supposed to say?” I frown.
“Maybe skip the pleasantries?” The bastard smirks. How can he find amusement in a time like this? What’s even worse is he makes me smile because he’s just so damn hot when he’s not glaring at something or someone. I mean, he’s hot then too, but this is a different kind of hot.
Focus, Evangeline!
So, I do. I train my eyes on the creature with elongated limbs.
Its flesh looks charred, as if this creature crawled out of hell.
What I assume were once wings span the back wall, a few black feathers remaining.
The Nephilim’s dead stare meets mine, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the frigid cold in the air.
Its gaze bores into me. Pain. Anguish. Wrath.
It consumes me. I feel a tug, an inexplicable pull that I can’t ignore.
I move closer, and the creature screams. Zephyr and Niko both clasp their hands over their ears, but I push forward.
I can’t explain this feeling, but I feel connected to this creature.
And it doesn’t like it. The less I resist the pull, the angrier the creature gets.
Until all I know is unbridled indignation.
It’s not my own, but it pulls me down, down, down until…
Until everything around me shifts.
One moment, I’m surrounded by damp stone and the cold bite of underground air—and the next, it all disappears. The weight of the darkness lifts, replaced by the sudden brightness of open sky and the roar of crashing waves.
Golden sand sinks beneath my feet, warm and soft, as if it’s been sun-soaked for hours.
The scent of salt and something sweet—almost like wildflowers—rides the breeze, brushing against my skin.
In front of me, a vast ocean stretches to the horizon, its waves rolling in with a hypnotic rhythm.
The water glistens like scattered gemstones under the sun, hues of sapphire and jade blending and breaking in the tide.
I blink, trying to ground myself in this surreal scene. I’m on a beach. But not one I recognize.
I’m also not alone.
There are dozens upon dozens of Nephilim loitering on the beach, all focused on something ahead.
At first, my body locks up as panic fuels me, but it passes quickly when I realize none of the Nephilim pay me any mind.
They can’t see me. At least, I don’t think they can, but I still won’t go out of my way to make much noise to test that theory.
Like a ghost, I weave through the Nephilim.
I feel like I’m watching a movie as things become clearer around me.
In the back of my mind, I feel resistance, but it’s easy to ignore.
It’s like the Nephilim doesn’t want me to see the scene playing out before me, which only serves to pique my interest more.
What is this monster hiding that he doesn’t want me to see?
The pressure in my head thrums harder, becoming almost painful.
My vision gets blurry, and the scene around me starts to fade around the edges. “No…” I groan, not sure if I’m speaking out loud or just in my head. I’m losing the connection with the creature quickly, but not quick enough. Flashes of the vision come back to me.
A Nephilim stands at the center of the beach, and immediately, I can tell it’s different from the others.
It’s taller, with a more imposing build—muscles lean and defined like a soldier carved from stone.
An eye patch covers one of its eyes, and deep, jagged scars mar the side of its face, twisting his features into something cruel and battle-worn.
Beside it sits an old well.
Its weathered stones are cracked and covered in creeping moss, and it looks entirely out of place here—like it’s been torn from another world and dropped carelessly onto the sand. I may not be familiar with beaches, but even I know having an old, ancient-looking well near the shore is strange.
There’s a faint glow emanating from it, making me shiver. Something feels off about it. Evil, a sinister presence, lingers in its depth.
The eye-patched Nephilim is talking, but I don’t catch many of its words. Only snippets.
“Poison.”
“Destroy the fae…”
“…to Pixie Cove…”
“No survivors.”
My head throbs, threatening to split my skull in half. I need to hear more. Need to hear what is poisoned and how it happened. But the pain comes back tenfold, harder than before, and I scream. My vision blurs before the scene around me darkens, leaving me in shadows.
“Evangeline!” someone screams out.
I scream louder. It hurts. Everything hurts. It’s like a knife slicing through my skull agonizingly slowly.
There’s a loud, volatile roar. Chain clanks against stone. The salty smell of the beach is replaced by a mildew smell. And I’m cold. So cold.
“Deathhhh…” an inhuman voice snarls.
Then everything happens in slow motion.
My vision sharpens, and suddenly I’m back in the musty prison.
But something’s wrong.
I’m no longer standing safely behind the others.
I’m close now—far too close—to the Nephilim’s cage.
I don’t remember walking forward. The air is thick with damp rot and the sharp sting of magic.
My heart pounds as I take in the creature crouched just a few feet away, its body coiled like a predator ready to strike.
Shouts come from behind me, but they feel so far away, like they’re behind a wall.
The creature doesn’t look at me. Not yet.
But the energy in the room shifts—tense and volatile—as dark magic crackles around us, pulsing with a life of its own.
The Nephilim’s shoulders tremble as it lifts its arms, and I realize our grave mistake.
We underestimated the creature, thinking we had some semblance of control over it. But we don’t. Not even a little.
The Nephilim has simply been lying in wait for us to make the first move.
I watch in frozen horror as it summons a swirling orb of black, shadowy magic.
More screams come from behind me, only this time, they are louder.
Maybe moving closer? I don’t dare look, not wanting to take my eyes off the creature in front of me.
The magic seems to visibly drain it—its skin paling, chest heaving with effort, like it has been saving all of his energy for this moment. Then, with a scream that splits the air—high-pitched, guttural, inhuman—the creature hurls the orb straight at me, through the bars of its prison.
I don’t have time to scream. Only to brace for impact.
But then someone shoves me back hard. I hit a solid chest before arms wrap around me, pulling me against firm muscles.
“Niko!” someone—Zephyr?—screams, just as the blast of immense power combusts around us.
We’re thrown backward by the blast. He somehow keeps his arms around me as we crash to the ground in a tangled heap.
My body lands on top of his, and I see Zephyr for the first time.
His chest rises sharply with a grunt of pain as he takes the full impact against the unforgiving stone floor.
In front of us, the Nephilim staggers unsteadily, then collapses in a crumpled heap.
Dead? Unconscious? I can’t tell; only the eerie stillness follows.
I don’t even get a chance to breathe. Zephyr is already on his feet, dragging me up with him.
“Niko!” he shouts, only this time, his voice cracks.
It’s raw and desperate. A kind of anguish I’ve never heard from him before, and it cuts deep.
My body locks up, cold with dread. I don’t want to turn around.
I don’t want to see what’s behind me, knowing whatever happened to Niko is my fault. But I have to.
Swallowing the fear rising in my throat, I force myself to look and immediately wish I hadn’t.
I desperately want to go back to this morning with Niko and me tangled in bed.
I wish we never left, never came down here.
A strangled cry leaves my lips, and my legs give out.
I fall to the floor, eyes filling with tears.
Because lying on the ground, barely clinging to consciousness, is Niko.
His chest rises in shallow, ragged breaths, each one a struggle.
Inky black tendrils creep up his arms and neck like living shadows, curling over his skin as if trying to claim him.
The magic pulses with a sick, unnatural rhythm, spreading and consuming him rapidly.
Niko jumped in front of the blast, saving me. And now the curse is spreading rapidly through his body.