Chapter 9 #2
He shushed her gently, his lips brushing over her forehead, his hands still holding her as close to him as possible.
It ached so deep inside of him—watching her unravel, witnessing her undoing, it ripped him to pieces.
The pain was accompanied by a murderous rage, a desire to tear through time and space and find every person that ever inflicted this torment upon her and end them all before they ever got the chance.
Her mother and his father were the first on that list. And while Dorid Yaarborough’s sorry, cockless body still lived and breathed, Aziel was just biding his time.
Waiting for the moment he could tear that man to shreds.
Over and over again, he would do it. He would ensure that the man who sired him was punished for all eternity, that he would beg for relief that would never come.
And Inasha Celentas would be right there beside him.
“Do you want me to suffer with you?” Her voice was so small, so pitiful. She sounded nothing like the Nymiria he knew. But, perhaps, the woman with the smart mouth and snarky tone was just a version of her. One of many. “Are you doing this to hurt me back?”
And this… this was what she tried to hide underneath it all.
Aziel shook his head, trying his damndest to keep his Death reigned in.
“Why would you think that?” He asked, exasperated.
“Nymiria, I don’t want you to be like me.
” It was a confession that he’d been fumbling with for a long time, one that he’d struggled to even think about without hating himself.
“I have reworked my soul to the point where there is hardly a single ounce of emotion left. That is not you.”
“Why?” She whined. “I don’t want to feel anything anymore.”
“What makes you who you are, is your ability to feel things so deeply.” He smoothed her hair, watching as more color returned to her face. “I can’t take that away from you again. Not when it did nothing, but make it infinitely worse for you in the end.”
He remembered the moment he released her from the comfort of his death.
He’d seen the damage it did to her soul.
It had not completely rotted it, but the edges around his magic had started to bleed into her, mixing his darkness with her light.
It would have consumed her eventually, if he hadn’t taken it away the night that Phyona had removed the first rune from Nymiria’s back.
She stared up at him, her chin quivering. “How can I let anyone love me like this?” She asked. “The things I’ve done…”
“I’ve done them, too.” Aziel amended. “You and I are not very different from one another. No matter what you seem to believe. And if you look at yourself like this, how am I supposed to feel about the things I’ve done?”
“But, you—”
“No.” He shook his head stiffly, allowing her to sit up on her own.
“I am no better. In fact, I am so much worse than you could imagine.” There was a pause, his fingers curling in as rage flared in his chest. “We have to do better, Nymiria. We have to do better or all of that pain, everything we did, everything we didn’t do…
all of it will be for nothing. And if the best you can do is forgiving yourself, then that is just one step in the right direction. Make that be your focus for now.”
The “friend” that Aziel had initially taken her to meet never showed.
After Nymiria sat and calmed herself down, they waited for another hour before Aziel took it upon himself to best explain the runes and their importance.
Caddat, azul, gris. She repeated them over and over again, ruminating over their meanings and definitions until they were seared into her brain.
Caddat, for life. Azul, for balance. Gris, for justice.
There were more runes, some that Aziel did not have texts for, that he’d hoped his friend would be able to help them with, as his memory of them had become quite spotty. He could tell her a few of them, the ones that pertained to his own realm of power, but did not feel confident with the others.
Eventually, the sun started to set and what little light had been available in the cove at the altar was darkened by the evening’s shadows. They left the books beside the altar before they headed deeper into the forest, Aziel claiming that they would return for them the following day.
He led her closer to the mists, into that glamoured stretch of woods that looked like something out of a dream, The Twisted Willow and its spired arches stretching up into a magical, twinkling night sky.
“I figured you could use a drink.” Aziel said, turning to look at her when she paused and stared up at the establishment. “What is it?”
Nymiria shook her head, offering him a strained smile. “Nothing. I suppose it is all still very unfamiliar to me—returning to places like this. I still feel as if someone will pop out of the shadows and take me away.”
“Well,” he smirked. “The only person popping out of any shadows around here will be Trio. But I can assure you he will not take you away unless you ask him to.” He paused, humor crinkling his eyes. “Maybe. He can be quite unpredictable at times, so don’t hold me to that.”
The laugh that came out of her was real, but still quiet.
She followed him into the Twisted Willow, her eyes immediately darting around the front room in search of any familiar faces.
Much to her surprise, there were only two people in the entire room and one of them was behind the bar, the other was sweeping up broken glass in front of the counter.
Perhaps it’s been the glamour of the building when she was there before, or perhaps she’d just been too nervous about her mission to notice, but when she looked at the establishment now, she could see why it had been given its name.
The walls looked like the inside of a very large, hollowed-out tree.
Roots jutted out from the floorboards, making it nearly impossible to journey across without having to watch your step or being very familiar with the place.
To her right, twisted branches formed the banister of a staircase that led to the second floor, wide and knotted roots operating as the stairs, each individual root rising higher than the last, creating the incline.
The ceilings were hung with flowers and beads, all of them intricately woven with a shimmering thread that would be invisible if one did not look too closely.
The bar was made of a large log, glasses, tankards, and mugs sitting upon the branches that curved up into the air. Nymiria smiled. It’d definitely been the glamour that made this place look so different. She would have remembered something as charming as this.
The barkeep lifted his head, his dark skin rippling and peeling away to reveal a man with rough bark for skin, his stone-grey eyes appearing much more vibrant with the sudden shift. He smiled at Aziel, immediately reaching for a glass and a drink from the shelf behind him.
“I would say that I am surprised to see you here, but alas, I feel as if it has only been twelve hours.” The man chuckled.
Aziel strode forward, his hand resting between Nymiria’s shoulders and guiding her to follow. “It’s been a long day.” He sighed.
The barkeep snorted. “It’s been a long century.”
“This is Nymiria, Gorford.” Aziel said, his hand waving in her direction as they took their seats. “Nymiria, this is Gorford. My least favorite barkeep.”
The creature let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t let him fool you. If I was his least favorite, he wouldn’t keep showing up during my shifts.”
“Have you ever thought that I may be busy with things at some point in the day?”
Gorford snorted. “I’m surprised by the insinuation that I even think about you at all.”
Nymiria watched them bicker back and forth, her eyes trailing over Aziel’s face as he spoke.
It was astonishing how quickly his demeanor could change around certain people.
He had a tendency to be rather stiff and formal when it came to her, unless he was teasing or giving her some deep life-lesson.
She liked this side of him, the one that could laugh and make jokes with people.
The one that was light-hearted and not weighed down by years and years of trials.
She nursed her drink while Aziel downed three at a rapid pace, his hands moving more as he talked, his voice far more animated.
Tilting her head to one side, she wondered, just briefly, if it was all an act. He’d mentioned before that he’d been a performer once. And it left her to believe which version of him was real and which one was false. He seemed natural in this state. Free.
And it looked absolutely beautiful on him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, suddenly.
Nymiria blinked, her eyes darting around the room, only to realize that Gorford had vanished and they were alone.
A loud clap of thunder shook the floor, drawing her attention to the tiny circular windows on the left side of the room.
Rain was pouring down outside, the glass flickering silver from distant lightning.
“It’s raining.” She sighed, trying to convince herself that the heat in her cheeks was from her drink and not the fact that he was still staring at her.
“It’ll pass soon, I’m sure.” His voice was quiet, his expression smoothed back, revealing no emotion once again. She wanted to see him smile again. She wanted to know that it was possible for him to be happy, and not just while making jabs at one another. She wanted…
The door to the bar burst open with thunderous force, the sound of wood smacking against wood giving the impression that the door, itself, would be cracked down the middle.
Nymiria jumped, heart stalling as she looked at the entryway.
Aziel made a small gruff noise, a warning to the rain-slicked beast that loomed at the entrance. Once her eyes could pick apart key features hidden beneath a mop of long, dark hair and a thick beard, Nymiria drew in a small gasp.
“Oh, shit.” She whispered, eyes wide in sheer panic.
The figure extended a thick finger in her direction, his breathing ragged as he stepped in from the storm. “You.” He growled.