Page 44 of The Fractured Veil

I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind, his words only deepening the mystery. "Part of what? Why would I need protection?" I pressed, needing more than just cryptic pronouncements. I needed concrete answers, something I could grasp onto. Nox pushed off the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly—a hint of impatience in his movements, as if my questions were wearing on him.

"Can you just trust me on this?" His voice was firm—a warning that the conversation was over, that I wouldn't get any more answers from him. At least, not now. He turned as if to leave, but paused at the doorway, glancing back at me, his gaze softening just a fraction, a flicker of warmth in the otherwise cool depths of his eyes. "Finish your food," he added, his voice a low murmur. And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the kitchen once more, the silence amplifying the questions echoing in my mind.

"Finish your food," I mocked under my breath, the words echoing in the empty kitchen. My appetite had disappeared along with Nox, replaced by a growing irritation. I pushed the bowl away, the metallic screech against the countertop a jarring counterpoint to the silence. My thoughts were a tangled mess of questions and half-truths, a chaotic swirl of confusion and suspicion. Part of what? Part of some grand scheme I hadn't been informed of? Why wasIinvolved in any of this?

I couldn't stand the non-answers, the constant deflection, the feeling of being deliberately kept in the dark. It was like trying to navigate a catacomb blindfolded, each step a gamble, each turn leading to another dead end. If I was truly part of this—whateverthiswas—I needed to know what was going on. I needed the full picture, the unvarnished truth, not the carefully curated fragments they deemed safe for me to know. Rinsing my bowl in the sink, I made a decision. I would head into the lion's den to confront Nox, Zarek, and even the infuriating Damon, and demand answers.

The main room was bright, the sun pouring in through the tall windows. Zarek and Damon were seated on the couches, close together as they spoke in hushed tones, their voices too low for me to decipher. They both looked up as I entered, their conversation stopping abruptly.

“Don't stop on my account,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, projecting a confidence I didn’t quite feel, as I walked over to them.

“How are you feeling after the bath and getting some food in ya?” Zarek asked, his voice warm and welcoming, gesturing for me to sit down, his concern evident in his amber eyes.

I opted for the furthest seat from them, wanting to maintain a certain distance, my eyes flickering between the two brothers, trying to gauge their moods, their intentions. “Much better,” I replied, my voice firmer now, the need for answers overriding my initial hesitation. “I need answers. Like can someone please tell me what the hell has been going on?”

Damon let out a small huff, leaning back in his seat—his posture radiating a casual indifference that I knew masked a deeper tension. “We were just discussing that, actually,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of any warmth or reassurance.

Zarek shot his brother a look, a silent reprimand, before turning back to me, his eyes softening with a mixture of apology and concern. “You’re right. You deserve to know what’s going on. But it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated?” I repeated, frustration bubbling in my chest, the word a dismissive brush-off that only fueled my anger. “I’ve been dragged into this, whatever this is, and no one’s bothered to tell me why. I deserve an explanation.”

Zarek nodded, his expression apologetic, acknowledging the validity of my frustration. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. There are things at play here that are dangerous, and we didn’t want to overwhelm you while you were still recovering.” His words were carefully chosen, a delicate balance between explanation and evasion.

Damon scoffed, his voice accusatory, cutting through the careful diplomacy of Zarek's words. “She’s part of it whether she likes it or not, maybe more than we know.” His words hung in the air, heavy with insinuation.

A chill ran down my spine at his words, his implication sending a shiver of unease through me. I swallowed, looking between them—the weight of their gazes pressing down on me. “Then explain it to me. All of it,” I demanded, my voice trembling slightly.

"Don't act like you are completely oblivious," Damon said, his words sharp, laced with a biting sarcasm, his eyes narrowing as they bore into mine, as if daring me to challenge him. "Or are you rea?—"

"Damon, stop," Zarek snapped, his voice edged with irritation, his patience clearly wearing thin with his brother's antagonistic attitude. He cast a warning glance at his brother before turning back to me, his eyes softening. “Alright. But you need to promise that you’ll hear us out, and that you won’t do anything reckless.” His words were a plea for cooperation, a request for me to trust him.

I frowned, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. “No promises," I retorted, "Just tell me.” I wasn't going to be manipulated or controlled—not by them, not by anyone.

Zarek took a deep breath, his gaze holding mine, a silent acknowledgment of my frustration. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Nexara, about what's coming," he began, his voice low and serious, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

I stared at him, my mind racing, trying to process the significance of his statement. "Okay," I prompted, my impatience growing, "And what's coming?"

Damon leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with barely concealed hatred, his words dripping with a venomous disdain. “There are forces at work that want to control Nexara, to use it for their own gain. Andyou, Thalia, are their focus. Why is that?” His question hung in the air, a pointed accusation, a challenge to my supposed innocence.

I clenched my jaw, feeling my frustration boil over at his tone, his words cutting into me like a blade. Add getting under my skin to the list of things Damon was good at. He seemed determined to see me as an enemy, and his constant suspicion was wearing me down.

"Oh, good gods, Damon, why do you assume I'm some strong evil force out to get you?" I snapped, the words flowing out before I could stop them. "You treat me like a threat when all I've done is try to survive here. I'm just as confused and lost as you."

His eyes remained cold, unwavering, fixed on me. “Things just don’t add up. You show up here with no real explanation, claimed to have no powers, and yet you’re somehow part of all this. It’s suspicious, to say the least.” His words were a carefully constructed argument—designed to undermine my credibility, to paint me as a deceptive intruder.

I could feel my temper rising higher, the shadows starting to flicker at my fingertips, a physical manifestation of my growing anger. I didn't understand what was happening, why I was suddenly capable of manipulating shadows, but I knew it was connected to my emotions, to the rising tide of frustration and fear within me. Damon’s constant suspicion, his unwillingness to see me as anything but a threat—it grated on me, and I was done with it.

“Damon, that’s enough,” Nox’s voice cut through the tension, a warning clear in his tone, his sudden appearance adding another layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere.

Damon huffed, leaning back into the couch, his eyes still locked on mine, a smoldering resentment in their depths. “Just don’t pretend like you’reinnocentin all of this,” he muttered, his voice dripping with distrust.

I took a deep breath, trying to rein myself in as the shadows danced more violently around my fingers, flickering like dark flames. I clenched my hands into fists, forcing the shadows to recede, trying to maintain control.

Zarek leaned forward, his voice softer as he addressed me. “Look, Thalia, I know this is a lot. But there are people who would use you—use all of us—for their own purposes. We’re on the same side here.” His words were a reassurance, an attempt to bridge the gap that Damon had so deliberately burned.

"Are we?" I asked, staring directly at Damon, whose jaw clenched so hard it looked like he may break a tooth. I couldn't ignore his blatant hostility towards me. “Why me?” I continued. "Why am I involved in this? I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Zarek hesitated, glancing at Damon and Nox before turning back to me. “We don’t know—not yet, at least. But there’s something about you. Something that's attracting it. We’re still trying to figure it out ourselves.” His words were honest, a frank admission of their own uncertainty.

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