The Weight of Survival #2
Atlas stood beside me, his gaze fixed firmly on his brother, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, as if not fully trusting his brother was back. As if waiting for Demetrios’s influence to take hold once more.
As for me, I just wished I knew what was happening inside his head.
Wished I could untangle the thoughts chasing one another behind those handsome dark eyes of his.
As the expression on his face told me he was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
And it was no wonder, seeing as in the space of a few minutes, he had discovered his brother was alive, learned he had been possessed, nearly killed him with his own hand, and watched the battlefield transform before his eyes.
There had been no time for explanations yet, no opportunity to tell him everything that had happened since I left Earth, but I would. Somehow, I would make him understand.
Starting the moment I reached for him.
A connection that seemed to break whatever hold the battlefield had over his attention. He finally let go of his sword and turned towards me, his gaze searching my face as though he couldn’t quite believe I was actually here with him. He pulled me into a tight embrace.
“Alexandra,” he whispered, my name barely more than a breath.
His arms tightened around me, wrapping me against him with desperation that stole the air from my lungs.
For the first time since our reunion, I felt the tremor running through him, subtle but unmistakable, as the adrenaline that had sustained him finally began to fade.
It struck me then that he had been fighting almost constantly since entering the Rift, carrying the weight of a kingdom, a war, and the belief that I might be gone forever.
Because despite promises made, there had been no assurances that the Rift would allow him to come back through.
That he would ever make his way back to me, not when I had been the key he needed to open it in the first place.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest, breathing him in deeply.
He smelled of sweat, blood, ash, and battle, yet beneath it all was the familiar scent that belonged only to him.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed beneath my ear, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
Suddenly, the exhaustion, fear, and relief I had been holding back became impossible to contain.
Which was why I wasn’t surprised when the tears finally came and the dam came crashing down.
“There’s so much to tell you,” I sobbed as I looked into his eyes.
Atlas’s expression softened instantly. The hand resting against my cheek slid into my hair as though he couldn’t bear to let me go. His thumb brushing away the tears that escaped despite my efforts to stop them.
“You don’t have to tell me anything right now,” he murmured.
“You’re safe and that’s all that matters.” The tenderness in his voice only made the tears fall harder. Then a familiar voice cut through the moment and my head snapped up the second I heard my name,
“Alex!”
“Aster!”
Relief flooded through me as I pulled back and turned towards him, suddenly needing to see for myself that he was alive. After everything I had left him to face, I half expected him to be covered in injuries, barely able to stand.
Instead, apart from the ash coating his skin and clothes, there was little sign of the battle he had endured. Whatever wounds he had suffered appeared to have already healed, leaving him looking far less worse for wear than he had any right to.
The name rumbled through Atlas’s chest a heartbeat later as his attention finally shifted from me.
“Aster.”
I pulled away from Atlas and threw myself against Aster instead, relief flooding through me so suddenly that it almost made my knees buckle.
More tears slipped free as his arms immediately wrapped around me, holding me upright while they carved pale tracks through the ash coating his chest and stomach.
For a moment, I simply allowed myself to be held.
Aster had crossed the Rift with me, fought beside me, watched me at my best and my worst, and somewhere along the way he had become far more than the stranger I had first met.
He had become like a brother to me.
“Aster, what are you doing here?” Atlas asked.
The question came out sharper than intended, but it was nothing compared to the look that followed when his gaze shifted to me as I pulled away from Aster. “Actually,” he corrected, his jaw tightening. “What the hell is Alexandra doing here?”
The space seemed to still around us. I then watched the muscle jump in his jaw as his eyes swept over me again, taking in the dried blood at my throat and the cuts and bruises scattered across my skin. As though each one was a fresh reminder of just how close he had come to losing me.
Aster released a slow breath, his gaze shifting briefly to me before returning to Atlas.
“It wasn’t exactly my idea.”
“Aster,” Atlas warned, and the single word carried enough weight to make the air between them tighten.
Aster’s expression sobered, because there was no mistaking the accusation beneath it. Atlas wasn’t only asking how he had come to be here, or how I had crossed into The?kós at all. He was remembering the promise Aster had made before all of this began.
“You promised me she’d be safe,” Atlas said, his voice low and dangerous.
“I know,” Aster replied, and for once, there was no humor in him.
“No,” Atlas snapped, pulling me back toward him, his grip tightening slightly around me. “You promised me.”
The guilt that flashed across Aster’s face lasted only a second before he straightened, as though accepting the blame would have to wait until after the truth had been spoken. “And she saved every single one of us.”
Atlas’s gaze flicked back to him, sharp with disbelief.
“What?”
Aster shook his head, still sounding as though he could barely believe it himself.
“She won us the war, Atlas.”
I looked up at Atlas, waiting for some sort of reaction.
His gaze shifted from Aster to me and then back again.
For perhaps the first time since I had met him, he genuinely seemed at a loss for words.
Disbelief lingered in his eyes, tangled with confusion and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
As though he was trying to reconcile the woman he had left behind on Earth with the one now standing before him.
After everything we had endured, after the impossible journey through the Rift, the Labyrinth, the Badlands, and the battlefield, it was somehow that statement which left him speechless.
Eventually, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.
“I think there is a lot we need to discuss.”
Damn straight, as no truer words had ever been said, although that didn’t mean that I was looking forward to that conversation. In fact, I was flat out dreading it.
However, before either of us could respond, a dull thud sounded behind us.
Lazaros had faltered.
One hand struck the stone floor as he fought to keep himself upright, the other still pressed tightly against the wound at his throat.
Pain contorted his features, and whatever strength had been sustaining him finally seemed to give way.
Watching him, it became painfully clear that shock and adrenaline had carried him this far and no further.
The reality of what had happened was only just beginning to settle over him, and now that the possession was gone, his body was demanding payment for everything it had endured.
Atlas moved instantly.
“First, I need to tend to my brother, then we will talk.”
There was no hesitation in him as he dropped to Lazaros’s side.
Whatever anger remained between them had been pushed aside by the sight of his brother collapsing before him.
Aster moved to help, crouching beside them before carefully lifting Lazaros and taking part of his weight.
Together they guided him back towards the throne room, and I followed a few steps behind, but before the doors could close, I found myself turning back one last time.
The battlefield stretched before me beneath a sky that seemed impossibly bright after everything that had happened. Soldiers still celebrated amongst the ruins, their cheers drifting across the wind as life continued to reclaim the scars left behind by the darkness.
Yet instead of feeling their joy, unease settled heavily in my stomach.
This wasn’t my world. It was a world I barely understood, a world that had very nearly been lost, yet my thoughts drifted beyond it all, across realms and oceans, back towards Earth.
Had the darkness truly been destroyed, or had it simply retreated? Had it slipped back through the Rift to continue spreading where nobody could see it?
No matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unfinished. Demetrios had escaped. The darkness had proven itself patient.
Clever.
Persistent.
Even now, with sunlight spilling across the battlefield and celebration echoing through the air, I couldn’t rid myself of the certainty that this wasn’t the end.
No, if anything, this only felt more like the calm that came before another storm. The question was…
Would we all survive the darkness a second time?