Chapter 9
Nymiria panted, legs aching as she widened her stride to keep up with him.
She’d spent months travelling on foot and should have been used to the strain, but given that she hadn’t slept very well for the last few nights, along with the fact that he had her carrying books, her body felt slow and heavy.
Aziel was a powerful force of a man. He seemed to never tire. Even though there were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was a few shades paler than it’d been the day before, she was starting to think that his lack of sleep had adverse effects on him.
“Where are we going?” She heaved, flicking her head to remove a stray strand of hair from her face.
The man in front of her glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “It’s not much further. We’re just visiting a friend of mine.”
Nymiria scoffed, hoisting the books further up her chest. “You have a lot of friends, don’t you?”
“As a prominent figure in society, it would be nearly criminal if I knew no one.”
That made sense, she supposed.
Earlier that morning, after she’d returned to her own rooms, dressed herself and eaten her breakfast, Aziel strode in and informed her that he was taking her somewhere for their lesson that day. He never specified where, but she was starting to think that he’d been rather vague on purpose.
They had been walking for over an hour by this point and her arms felt as if they were going to fall off.
She grunted, hands slipping on her books as she hopped over a fallen log that Aziel had merely glided over moments before.
He was carrying books, as well. More than her, in fact.
But it didn’t wear him down or affect how quickly he was able to handle the terrain.
Just when she was prepared to throw those damned books to the forest floor and turn back, Aziel paused.
When she looked up from her feet, Nymiria gasped.
In front of them, all of the trees in the forest were angled and arched in such a way that it gave the impression of being in a room.
The leaves were lush and green, seemingly unaffected by the winter that’d just passed.
The overhang shielded the blinding sun from the forest floor, with only small specks of light streaming in, giving light to what waited for them.
She continued forward with slow steps, her mouth wide.
In the center of the domed room, there was a labyrinth.
It was nearly identical to the one in Yaar, save for the fact that the runes that covered it were far more intelligible.
Behind the labyrinth was an altar of sorts, decorated with candles, shimmering stones, antlers, and various bouquets of flowers.
Some of the flowers were fresh, made from clippings of early spring gardens.
Others were dried and brown, with just remnants of their previous color remaining.
This part of the forest seemed to have been well-manicured. Whether it was by some unforeseen force or by hand, she couldn’t tell.
“What is this?” She asked, her voice just over a whisper.
“It’s an Anam altar.” Aziel joined her, slowly lowering his books to the ground. “I figured that having a visual for you would help with today’s lesson.”
She turned to him. “And what lesson is that?”
He extended a leather-clad finger to the podium at the center of the labyrinth.
“Runes. I believe that it is important that you know what they mean and how they look. When and if you offer your blood to the stones, I don’t want you doing it without the knowledge of those runes.
They’re sacred and they mean something. It’s not just a prayer, it’s a promise. ”
She hesitated, stammering. “A promise?”
He nodded. “Yes. To Cadaith, to yourself, and to the people you are going to protect.”
Nymiria nodded, teeth nibbling at a piece of skin on her lip.
She hadn’t intended on approaching the podium just yet, but it felt as if her feet were moving by themselves.
She walked the winding circle of stones to the center, the familiarity of it all coursing through her body, the power that lurked inside of her tingling the closer she got.
By the time she was standing in front of the podium, her core pulsed with power, those silver moonflowers that decorated her skin were fluttering to life.
Small, white blossoms with pink centers dancing as they bloomed along her skin.
She remembered having a dream similar to this, remembered that feeling, but it was so long ago that she couldn’t recall much else other than the stone and…
Aziel.
He’d been there.
Licking her lips, Nymiria glanced back at him. He still hovered at the edge of the clearing, his eyes focused solely on her and nothing else.
“What do you feel?” He asked.
Nymiria shook her head. She didn’t know what this was.
It was obviously her power, but how could she even begin to explain the calling inside of her without sounding mad?
It felt as if all of the blood in her body was pumping in a different direction, like her core was physically being pulled in the direction of the stone, begging for something.
And then, there it was.
That blinding, mind-altering fear that always seemed to creep in.
Flashes of blood, gore, blades against throats. Long nails digging into pale flesh. Aziel looking up at her from the floor of the throne room, his eyes filled with both determination and terror, pleading with her. Pleading. Her mother.
Vines.
Thorns.
Roots and shadows.
Nymiria staggered away from the podium, the books that were once in her hands now strewn across the forest floor. She clutched at her chest, lungs burning. It ached.
It ached so deeply that she felt as if she were going to die. Her heart was going to explode. And in that moment, she wanted it to. She wanted it to pop inside her body, ending the viciousness that was her bloodline. Ending it all before she could make it worse.
Worse…
She always made it worse.
Even if she wanted to do something good, even if she wanted to save everyone and fix everything, she always made it worse.
Warm hands cupped her cheeks, brushing away hot streaks of tears that had seeped from her eyes. She kept them closed tight, shaking her head back and forth as that melodic voice in her ears begged for her to breathe, to look.
She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see anything. She’d seen enough.
“Nymiria,” Aziel whispered. “Nymiria, open your eyes. Tell me what’s—”
He saw it then, too. He saw the flashes of her memories, the monsters in her nightmares. He saw it all. His whole body trembled when he saw himself on the throne room floor, going rigid with disgust when Inasha looked at her daughter and said.
“Is it because I had him first?”
The phantom pain on his back reappeared, biting through his spine, but he didn’t let go of her.
He held her, watching her convulse, watching as she tried to ward away those memories.
It had to have been longer than a few minutes.
It felt like an eternity. And Aziel could feel, hear, and see it all.
Every nightmare. Every moment she was cursed to carry with her for the rest of her life.
“Nymiria, please.” He leaned down, lips brushing over her temple.
A blast of energy sent him tumbling backwards, his hand shooting out to brace himself on one of the stones of the labyrinth. When the spots in his vision cleared, Aziel saw her curled in on herself, her whole body shaking furiously as she tugged and ripped at her hair.
“Take it away!” She screamed. “Take it away, please. Just make it go away.” Aziel slowly lifted himself to his feet, taking a soft step back in her direction.
He reached out his hand, only to jerk it back to his side when her head snapped up and her eyes settled on him.
“Tell me that you can make it stop. Give it back to me—your power. Erase it. Take it all.”
Aziel shook his head, breaths uneven as he moved closer. “I can’t do that to you again, Nymiria.”
“You did it before, you can do it again! Take it away! Please, Aziel, just take it. Take it. Take it.” Her hands flew, clawing at her own skin, as if it could rid her body of the horrid pain that crawled over her skin.
She wanted it off. She wanted it gone. She didn’t want to feel anything—not pain, not guilt, not remorse.
She didn’t want to be a failure. And if he refused to relinquish her of the terror that she carried, he could do it with Death.
He could drive those roots through her worthless body and end it all in one fell swoop.
“Please, make it go away.”
“No.”
“You can!”
“But I will not!” He exclaimed. His knees hit the floor, his hands drawing her body closer to his, peeling her fingers from her skin. “I’m not taking it away, Nymiria. This is you.”
“I don’t want to be me!” She sobbed. “I don’t want this—I never wanted any of this.
I don’t want to be me, Aziel. I don’t want to be me.
Please, please, make it stop.” Aziel rocked her back and forth, allowing her to scream, allowing her to tear at the skin on his arm, allowing her to release every ounce of hurt into his body. “You can do it. I give you permission—”