It’s all lost.
I beat the darkness with my arms and feet, unable to figure out which way is up and which way is down. My lungs scream in pain, and white stars from the blow blur my vision.
The Elders grant me a merciful vision before my end: two strong male arms closing around my chest, pulling me up with such force, that the last breath escapes my lips. And to my surprise—before darkness swallows me—I am flying. And the sound of powerful wings is stronger than the wind.
*
“Talysse?”
This cannot be. I am dead. Is Aeidas dead, too? Because I am sure he’s shaking me awake, his concerned face just inches away from mine. He is warm, smells of sea and magic, his wet silver hair loose, and the moonlit beach doesn’t look like Atos’s Underworld.
“Talysse, speak to me!” There is a plea and pain in his voice and a hint of rage, a barely concealed promise that the world would suffer should I not wake up. I remain motionless, too weak to move, melting into his warmth, relishing in his wild heartbeat.
He is the type of man who would drain seas, split mountains, and burn cities for love. I see it in the glint of his eyes, in the relentless curve of his lips, in the fluid way his body moves.
Fate is cruel, placing me between him and his dream.
Too bad he is an obstacle to my escape to the Free Cities with my sister.
Too bad the sun will set forever soon.
Someone else has drawn this path for us, has thrown the dice, deciding our destinies, and all we can do is relish the tiny stolen moments before we have to face each other and the inevitable death of one of us.
“Aeidas?” I whisper and brush my knuckles along his stubbed jaw to make sure it is him and not some nasty trick of these cursed lands. A feverish sage flame burns in his eyes as he sees the wound on my thigh.
“Who…” he is heaving when he points at the slash on my thigh, “who did this to you?”
His growl is a promise of a violent death for the fool who harmed me.
“He’s already taken care of.” A proud smile curls his full lips as he leans closer.
“Was it the pampered Odryssian and his mistress?” He sneers. “I knew you could handle yourself well in…tight situations.”
“Like tricking rich boys? Atos’s hairy warts, you should see me and Myrtle.”
We cackle and drink on each other’s warmth.
The beach has gone suddenly quiet, even the wind has found some other place to torment.
We both feel the air shifting. The haze of our breaths mingles.
There. Just a hundred feet away. Behind the decayed remains of something that was once a beautiful siren’s face, a magnificent ship bow, now looking like a rotten corpse, eaten away by the elements. The darkness beside it thickens, stretches, and becomes dense.
“Aeidas,” I whisper, “Shadowfeeders.”
Faster than lightning, he grabs something from the sand next to me and stashes it in his pocket. Then he gathers me in his arms and dashes toward the sand dunes, away from the sea, away from certain death or worse. The wound on my thigh burns, my muscles are jelly, and my head is still spinning.
“You could’ve just left me there, you know.”
“Shut up, Talysse, I’m busy saving us,” he spits through clenched teeth. “Are they catching up?” Hot springs’ vapors veil the surroundings, but I can still see the beach. Two Shadowfeeders aimlessly wander the empty shore.
“They’re searching the beach,” I breathe, “they’re not following.”
He lets out a grunt; the muscles pressed to my body, straining.
The sound of the waves has died out behind us, and the landscape among the thick putrid mist has changed dramatically. The floor is solid rock. Round holes filled with clear water are steaming around, and they look really inviting. Crumbling walls appear from the mist—ghosts of buildings long gone—colorful ceramic tiles still cover the floors. Seems like we’ve reached the luxurious bathhouses that stood here before the Hex.
My head rests too conveniently in the curve between Aeidas’s powerful shoulders and his neck. His skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat now.
