“It’s not something I’ve ever heard of. But then again, there was no way of monitoring everything they did. Everyone we encountered with the darkness had only ever been of our own kind.”
I nodded, thinking as much.
“And any of the Myths that were overtaken, you tried imprisoning them, right?” I asked, based on what I had learned from Atlas when he described the first months of the Rift from his side.
She tensed, just slightly, as if this was a sore subject, before answering.
“In the beginning, when we first arrived here and discovered what was happening to our own people, we hoped we could stop it. We captured as many as we could and poured all of our resources into finding ways to reverse what had happened to them. Trying to draw the darkness out.” She hesitated before continuing. “I’ll be honest with you, most of the time it simply ended in death.”
I couldn’t help but flinch, Riley’s face flashing in my mind.
“That must have been disappointing,” I said quietly, hearing the weight of pain in her voice.
“It was,” she agreed. “But what was worse was knowing that every time we fought and raised arms against our own people, every life we took, there was always the sense that we were killing a victim. Someone who had this done to them against their will.”
I thought back to what she said, and it made sense. In those early days, some of the things I had seen, every Myth had seemed like the enemy. There had been very little distinction made between them from our side. We never really considered the darkness that had consumed them, or the differences that mattered.
They were all enemies to us, invaders in our lives. And that belief hadn’t been helped by seeing other Myths protecting their own kind, even when they were attacking us. Now I understood those rare moments so much better.
Of course, now I knew why. They weren’t only trying to protect us. They were also trying to protect those they saw as victims, believing back then that they could still be saved.
“So, you’ve never saved a single one?” I asked without wanting to rub salt into the wound.
She shook her head.
“No. And it wasn’t through lack of trying, I can tell you that much.”
I could see the toll that realization had taken on her, the weight of eventually being forced to accept that they couldn’t be helped.
“The prison didn’t start as a sanctuary,” she continued. “It was meant to be somewhere we could safely house the infected. But we quickly realized it was too dangerous to keep them and there was no point because there was nothing that could be done for them.”
Without thinking, I reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, offering comfort I knew she would never ask for.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a whisper. “That must have been hard.”
“It was,” she replied.
“No harder than watching your own people suffer, I imagine.” In that, we had something in common, though I didn’t say it aloud. “You want to know about, Riley,” she said, reading me easily. “About what’s going to happen to him.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I do,” I said, taking my time to form the right words. “Back in that cell, he was there. He was fighting it. Every one of them is a prisoner inside their own body, but for some reason, Riley had a voice, if only for a moment. I can’t help thinking there must be a way to save him.”
Bronte listened quietly, her expression thoughtful. “Perhaps with mortals it’s different.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, think about it,” she said. “This darkness, this entity, whatever Demetrios is using, it’s born from Theïkós. It was likely intended only to work on our kind, like a virus engineered for a specific host. But maybe it doesn’t function the same way in mortals. They can be infected, yes, but what if it can’t be sustained?”
Hope stirred at her words, and I nodded.
“I had the same theory. Whoever has control of his body, I could tell he wanted out. I made him a bargain that we could get him out of Riley’s body.” She looked tense at this, as if I was setting myself up for failure. “I don’t think the only reason he wants to leave is because he’s locked up. I think he knows his time is short. Riley is fighting him back. I pushed him on it, and I could feel it. He was afraid of what would happen when Riley grew strong enough to force him out. Afraid of having nowhere to go. No host.”
She looked surprised and tapped her fingers against her folded arms.
“If what you’re saying is true,” Bronte said carefully, nodding, as if what I said already had merit, “then whoever took his body is on borrowed time.”
“I told him that if he let Riley speak, if he gave me the information I needed, I would help get him out,” I admitted before continuing. “It was the only way.”
She met my gaze steadily. “Ask me, Alex, and I will do what I can.”
