I didn’t knowhow much time had passed after my swollen eyes cracked open.
My gaze couldn’t land on a solid figure, but I knew night was fading. It was sometime between midnight and sunrise. Closer to sunrise. But everything was blurred and out of shape.
My temples throbbed, and there was an ache from the sides of my head all the way to the back.
I was still chained to this spot. Every tear, gash, and cut burned when an early morning chill swept across my bare chest. It forced my eyes open wider, focusing on the shadows until my vision balanced out and my surroundings took shape.
Three men stood before me. One I hadn’t seen before.
“It’s colder thanfuck-yououtside,” Beck said, entering the barn.
And then there were four.
Go find Zeph,I remembered Julian saying.
So, this must be Zeph, I thought. He stood across from me with dark blond hair and a mask. And looking at him was as if I was looking at the reflection of my old self. A monster. A wendigo. The version of me everyone ridiculed, but no one saw. Not even myself until Adora.
From inside the mask, a pair of lime-green eyes stared back at me.
Two viridescent globes.
“Did you have a nice nap?” he asked in a shield-like voice. Calm, collected.
I was curious about him and tried to stand straight.
He tilted his head with a disgusted glare and studied me. “Where did you come from?”
They would never let me go. Not at this point. They believed I was a threat to their town. At some point, they would have to decide which one of them would have to kill me. Beck could not stomach it. If I had to guess, my prediction would be the one standing before me.
My jaw clenched as I gritted my teeth. I refused to give them what they wanted.Not out of spite but because I didn’t owe them anything.
But then Zeph flicked his wrist.
Suddenly, the air in the room thinned, and it was more difficult to breathe.
At once, it felt like two concrete fists were squeezing my lungs.
I gasped for a solid breath, my eyes darting around, unsure of what was happening. I didn’t understand why the air was slipping away faster than I could take a single breath.
“Zephyr,” Beck warned.
“He’s got this,” Phoenix snapped.
And my lungs gnawed at my insides, a painful burn, trying to find oxygen.
Zephyr turned his wrist clockwise, and my throat swelled.
Somehow, someway, the man in the mask was exhuming all the air from inside me.
In the books I’d read, death happened loud, fast, and violently. Steel clashed, men cursed, and both boots and hearts collapsed to earth until it all stopped with absolution. But at this moment, my dying was hushed and unhurried. A slow dance. It seemed that when you drowned, whether it be in water or air, it happened slowly. The absence of air was the only weapon, and it stole any curse right out of the thickness of a desperate throat.
Zephyr’s green eyes stared into mine as he slowly killed me, almost like he was romanticizing it.
“He’s turning fucking blue, man,” Beck shouted, mindlessly counting his fingertips. “You’re going to kill him.”
“Let his magic be his hero,” Zephyr said, his eyes narrowing. “If he has any.”
The room was fading. Dimming. Spinning.
