Page 96 of Burning Ice
Cyprian’s gaze flicked to Mirel’s eyes. He frowned. “What’s up, brother, your eye’s turned to frost. Are you still bothered about those prisoners?”
“No…” But he was. Or he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure. Something there wouldn’t leave him alone.
Cyprian let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. I met Bekn online when I researched my origins. Bekn, though I didn’t know it at the time, had information about my yellow eyes and Helion. I bought the information, then decided to come here.”
“So it was Bekn you met through the deep web?”
Cyprian shook his head. Somewhere a woman cried out and Mirel flinched. A tear iced at the corner of his eye. “No, it wasn’t Bekn, it was Theo. Turns out he’s some magical IT wonder, and…”
They stared at each other.
“Theo?” Mirel finally asked. His hand was already on his multi-slate.
“Yeah.” Cyprian frowned. “Hang on. But then, I’m sure Yure would have checked, right?”
“I’m sure he would have.”
“Cyprian?” Celia’s voice came through the door. “Is that you, my boy?”
“Mama. Yes. Later.” Cyprian mouthed, then opened the door.
“And Mirel. My light. Come in, boys!” She clapped her hands, elated. “Do you want to play with my dolls?”
“Sure, Mama.” Cyprian winked at Mirel, who smiled. Together, they sat down with Celia, her black hair in a loose bun, her frail legs dangling from the bed and almost swallowed by the oversized white gown. She climbed down and plopped onto the floor, introducing her dolls.
For a moment they played in peace.
When Mirel stood, the light on the floor blinked faintly under his steps. The air in the corridor smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic, as if the place had been washed too many times. He stopped by the door and listened. Machines hummed under the walls, steady and low, like the sound of a sleeping lung.
He walked. A nurse passed at the end of the hall and vanished without a sound. Somewhere a monitor beeped once, then went quiet.
Mirel brushed his fingers along the wall. The tile was cool. Frost stirred under his skin but didn’t form.
He thought of the cages. The eyes behind glass. The way the prisoners had sat so still. His stomach turned.
The cold inside him felt alive, restless, waiting for something.
Cyprian’s laughter carried faintly from behind the door. It sounded far away.
The quiet deepened. The hospital felt hollow, as if the walls were pretending to breathe.
Mirel kept walking.
His hands cooled down, his vision blurred, frost coating his irises.
There was something eerie about the place. And yet that wasn’t the problem. It was the air. Strange. Quiet. Calm.
Ice shot through his veins, hitting the wall. Mirel jumped when the frost changed into an arrow, pointing him toward another corridor. He hesitated. Was he going crazy? His hand touched his palm lightly, as if reaching for Kylix. Then he squared his shoulders and followed the indicated direction.
He had barely taken three steps when…
“Halt!”
Mirel froze.
A national guard stepped out of his security room. Middle-aged and rounded at the waist, he didn’t look like a man who chased criminals daily.
“I-I…” Mirel stuttered. His hand twitched.
