Has the world burned yet? My heart has.
I want this to be a nightmare I wake from.
My mate lied to me. Tricked me into helping her, so her brother could win and I could lose. She was a liar who sought to kill me from the start.
How can I feel nothing, yet everything at once? I’m torn to threads, but threads can be spun just as Selene’s true nature was. Selene and Everett’s lies have stitched me into savagery.
Click.
Someone enters. Ember and Nero have been relentless, sleeping in my cell, curling up to me as they try to soothe me.Adrian and Ryker come to talk, they tell me of our positioning, and what has happened all over the lands.
Old buildings that have stood the test of time, that had runes etched into the stone, have awakened. The runes are alive, but no one understands how to use them. Why do the runes on stone hold strong, but the runes on Hector work like our magic, igniting then sleeping until they are activated again?
Ryker told me Hector is their test subject.
I guess that means Ryker trusts the mage.
I don’t really care.
As soon as I see the Vitalis, I will do what Torin failed to do. Destroy it. I’ll make sure Everett doesn’t win.
A throat clears, but the visitor doesn’t speak. I remain lying on my side. I couldn’t move if I tried; my bones have fused this way. Humidity presses into my face. A deliberate action to make me thirsty.
“It’s me,” Cyrus acknowledges. Another wave of his water magic has my throat aching for a drink.
I hear him walk to the opposite wall and sit down.
“I’m not going to try to fix you,” he admits in his deep, soothing accent. “Some days I feel like you. Inside, I’m lying down, unmoving. Dead. It’s comfortable to stay that way. Moving, feeling. It hurts.”
His boots slide over the stone as he settles.
“I've got a letter in my hand. Hector had it on him. It’s from Everett. It’s addressed to you.”
My eyes snap open. Cyrus’s hazel eyes show no glee. His brown hair is freshly shaven, and he’s got a tan from marching in the heat of the sun. It makes the visible scars on his forearms an angry red hue. His face is the only part of his body not scarred; his old master wanted to keep it that way.
“I’m not one to pry, but I know if I give you this letter, you’ll destroy it.”
“So…” My voice is dry, sharp, shattered clay that failed to withstand the kiln. “Let… me.”
Ember would have hugged me and cried; Nero would have thrown a party. Cyrus’s lips thin, eyes glue to the thick letter in his hand. “If this letter were another knife, I would, but I have a feeling it’s glue.”
I cough and then curl more into myself. “I thought you weren’t here to fix me.”
“I’m not. This letter is,” he answers. “I’m going to read it.” The cracking of the wax seal makes my heart—kept alive by Selene’s magic—skip a beat.
Not waiting for a response, Cyrus begins. His knuckles turn white. His skin has lost some of its sun-kissed hue. It makes his saturated hazel eyes more molten against his skin. More eerie. Everyone thinks Cyrus has tan skin, that he’s from the East. He’s not; he’s naturally a pale shadow. That's how he was stolen as a child. Now he’s always in the sun, tanning his skin a golden hue so he can’t be invisible again.
Why did he let himself sink into the shadows again? Was it due to where he was stationed, just outside Lunestra’s dark and gloomy borders?
Titus, I know exactly where you are right now. You’re in…”Cyrus’s voice tightens,“a cell in Blackthorn, plotting ways you can destroy the Vitalis.
Cyrus hesitates with shock before he starts again.
I warned you of this ending. I need you to know I tried to save my sisters. For decades, I sought to find a different ending. When all hope became lost for Sable, I added new players inhopes that it would save Selene. It always held the same end. We failed.
No words can describe your state; this letter isn’t meant to soothe you. It’s meant to give you closure. I’ve seen our world when the enemy wins. I watched Cy…
Cyrus stops reading. My chest is so tight it’s turning into a snare, hoping to catch a breath.
