Page 87 of Nyx
“No,” he snaps, and turns his back to me. The action hurts, though I force myself not to react. This is a stressful place for him, filled with memories I can’t even begin to understand. He’s allowed to be angry.
“Okay,” I whisper, chewing on my lip as I give him space. My feet protest as I walk away, but I order them to move. Nothing positive ever comes of trying to coerce someone into a good mood. Too many heated words come from pushing a conversation that isn’t ready to happen.
I glance over my shoulder to where he stands with his arms crossed. Nyx could be angry for a lifetime, and it would still be righteous. After double-checking that Ronan and Xeni are close by, I step into the forest. The breeze is cooler here out of the direct sunlight, and it calms the sweat on my back and forehead. I retrace our steps towards the van, and finally spot what I’m looking for.
A cluster of purple irises grows in a patch of sun where the trees are sparse, and I duck under some limbs to get closer. I drop to my knees, a sad smile pulling at my lips as I remember Nyx’s attempt at the word. It was before he could speak much of our language at all, and the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I knew I loved him, even then, and that I’d go to the ends of the earth to protect him.
I lean forward to smell the petals when another memory flashes through my mind. Clarity hits me so hard I jerk back and scramble to my feet. Abandoning my plan to uproot a flower for Nyx, I turn and take off running. I burst into the sunlight, shielding my eyes from its harshness as I look towards the rift.
But Nyx isn’t there.
Ronan and Xeni stand almost shoulder to shoulder, scanning the main part of the camp with their heads ducked together in conversation. I search beside them, seeking that head of deep green hair, but he isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere. Panic creeps up my limbs, clenching my hands into fists as I force myself to breathe. Worst-case scenarios flash through my mind, visions of Nyx being taken from under my nose, or so frustrated he storms off into danger.
Or worse.
That the portal opened for him and returned him home.
Took him away from me.
I shouldn’t have left him… should’vetoldsomeone I was stepping away. If anything has happened to him, it’s my fault, and the realization twists my stomach until I’m close to vomiting. I run to the others, and Ronan turns towards me, eyes alarmed as they meet mine.
“Where is he?” I demand, grabbing him by his armor and yanking him forward. He’s so shocked he lets me pull him closer. “Where the fuck did he go?” He stands tall, surprise smoothing his face as he realizes Nyx is nowhere to be found.
And, gods above, he looksterrifiedas his eyes find mine again. “I didn’t hear a thing. He has to be here somewhere.”
I throw him off me with a growl, shouting Nyx’s name into the wind. Both my hands shove into my hair, yanking and pulling, palms pushing against my skull as I try to make myself focus. Something deeply instinctualcinches around my middle, and my eyes land on that lone tent beside the trees.
His prison.
Hishome, for so long.
My feet are moving before I’m conscious of it, kicking up dirt as I sprint to the lonely tent. Before I even see him, Ifeelhim. Feel his grief as I push the threadbare flap out of my way and find him standing there in the shadows of his former hell.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for this place.
It’s one thing to listen to the stories about his mistreatment, but toseeit…
It turns those stories into a harsh, heartbreaking reality. The cage that sits in the corner is rusted and filthy. The ceiling is too low for him to even stand, and there’s barely enough room to lie down comfortably. Stains cover the metal floor… blood, urine, and gods know what else. Their stench has faded with the passage of time, but the unmistakable punch of squalor lives in this place. It tells of a half-life lived in conditions no man should ever face.
Not for a single fucking day, much less a lifetime.
The story of his last moments here is told in frozen images as I tear my eyes from the cage and look around the tent. A pile of keys sits beside the open door. One still protrudes from the padlock that lies useless on the ground, its purpose served. A bowl and an overturned bottle of water sit near the edge, and as my gaze drifts up the bars, my heart falters before it plunges straight to my feet. It breaks, wholly and completely, until it's nothing but devastation.
Two sections are worn, polished until they shine and handled until the rough edges have turned smooth. In arush of images that almost brings me to my knees, I picture all the times Nyx has grabbed my shirt. He holds on, rubbing the fabric between his fingers as he soothes himself. I stare at those two shiny segments of bars, knowing in my heart that’s what he was doing.
I can see it, clear as if it were happening before me.
Nyx, locked up and terrified, grasping at those bars and staring out into the sunlight he’s so desperate to feel. Holding on like they’re his only tether to that precious outside world, and rubbing until the iron is smooth under his palms.
Emotion builds in my throat until it’s hard to swallow. My eyes drop to the clumps of grass underneath us, and a glint of metal shines from the weeds. The knife he once wielded as he stood in this place.
Such a small thing. Innocent, this weapon that almost took him from me.
“It is gone,” Nyx whispers.
“What’s gone?”
One hand gestures to a dark corner, barren of anything except dirt and cobwebs. “My flower.”
