Page 120 of Zayrik

Nyla

I NOTICED THE COLDfirst. Not the stinging bite of restraints. Not the suffocating weight of Vask’s ship.

Or the electric fire that had torn through my nerves.

Just... cold air. Clean. Controlled.

Safe.

Then, pain.

But not like before.

A dull, dragging ache beneath layers of numbness.

Not sharp. Not immediate.

Just enough to remind me I was breathing.

Still here.

I exhaled slowly. My ribs protested the movement.

But I was alive.

And through something that felt like connection, like belonging, I felt him.

Waiting.

Watching.

Mine.

My fingers curled against the sheets. Soft. Real. Not metal.

Not a cell floor.

I opened my eyes.

The lights were dim, the ceiling too bright, and sterile.

Then I saw him.

Zayrik. Sitting beside me. Watching. Waiting.

And for once in my life, I didn’t want to be alone.

His voice came low with a teasing edge. “Took you long enough.”

I huffed. Barely. Not a laugh. But something.

Something real.

My throat burned. “Where...”

He reached for something—a glass of water—and pressed it into my hand.

His fingers didn’t let go right away.

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