Teigh gruffed forward, squinting. “Ah, yes. He was a godling once. Not dead, but they put his name on the wall and struck it through as punishment. He would have been next in line, had he not committed such horrible atrocities. He is not able to redeem his title.” Nymiria cringed at the thought. She’d done horrible things in her life, but was still able to claim godhood. She couldn’t possibly imagine what one would have to do to be removed from that sort of position. “The God of War has chosen another. She believes this godling shows more promise and strength, anyhow.”
With that, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and began steering her down the rest of the strangely-lit pathway. “Come, now. She’s getting tired.”
Chapter 41
Though they were safe inside the fortress Trio spent years designing, the sounds of war brought little comfort to their worried minds. All of them sat and waited—watching as the vines and roots wove around Nymiria’s body until she was perfectly encased in a sort of impenetrable cocoon.
Aziel tried his best to get the vines away from her, but no matter how much he tugged and pulled at them, they would not budge. Even the sharpest of blades could not cut through their surface. He’d even tried entering the Otherworld, but it seemed as if Teigh had barred him from entering, surely to protect him from damning himself more than he already had.
If Aziel ventured into his realm to retrieve her soul, the implications of that action could mean death. And as much as he would have loved to sacrifice himself to be by her side, he knew what her godhood meant to her. He knew how badly she wanted to redeem herself, how she wanted to bring hope to a dark and cruel world shadowed in death and deception.
All Nymiria ever wanted was to do something good.
He would not kill himself and deprive her of that. Because he knew, the moment he died, she would not leave the Otherworld without him. It was just the sort of person she was.
Stubborn in her beliefs and loyal to a fault. Even if she tried to push people away, she could never quite leave them alone, lest her guilt come swallow her like the vicious monster that it was. Though, usually, her guilt was terribly misplaced. He thought of this as he looked at her, as he watched her shallow breathing and the color slowly return to her face. He thought of who she was and wondered who she would become if and when she decided to pull herself from this slumber.
Four days had passed and while her heart was beating again, she still lingered in that hazy place between life and death. Her body was alive, but the soul had not quite found its way back just yet. So he waited. He lingered by the mattress inside of Trio’s humble home the entire time, not even tearing himself away long enough to bathe or eat a meal.
Raven’s pleas had been heard in the throne room. And though Dieve had been reluctant and seemed rather disappointed in the young boy’s decision, she granted him this blessing. And if Aziel had been deemed an unmoveable force at Nymiria’s side, Raven had been even more so. The boy slept in the chair across from Aziel’s, worry etched into the innocent lines of his face even when he was deep in his slumber.
There was no telling when she would awaken. And without him being able to enter the Otherworld, Aziel was just as clueless as the rest of them.
The others—Desi, Trio, Oran, and Fiernan—were busy with the war that roared on outside the safety of this home. After Aziel killed Everand, the king of Alvaros dispatched his forces and they descended upon Eadyn and Yaar with unrelenting and unsuspected force.
Many were dead. Many werestilldying. And Aziel could do nothing.
So he watched, daily, as his friends and family dragged themselves back into the safe house, their tired bodies worn down and depleted of energy from the battlefield, and plopped themselves at the dining table.
They ate in silence.
They did not speak unless it regarded Nymiria’s wellbeing.
He waited. Drowning in the guilt of his choices, he waited. Because if he hadn’t acted so impulsively, if had been just a fraction more calculated, none of this would have happened. Despite this contrition, he could not bring himself to say that it was a death that hadn’t been deserved.
Everand Alvaros had not just stormed into Eadyn making demands of alliance. He’d stormed in with the intention to take everything that was not his, by any means necessary.EspeciallyNymiria.
Knowing that he’d saved her and the rest of the world from being taken advantage of by that man was the only consolation he had at the moment. Even if it meant he would be tiptoeing around the forces that be for the rest of his life, he could genuinely say that everything that he’d done—every choice, even if they resulted in despair, had been worth it in the end.
The people of Yaar once believed him to be a demon. They believed that he would selfishly and joyfully take any life that lingered too long in his path, they believed that he was corrupt and heartless…
Aziel was starting to believe that they had been right all along. Perhaps hewasselfish. Perhaps hewasmean and ruthless and did things to benefit himself, feeding himself excuses as to why his choices were notjustfor him, but others as well.
Perhaps—
“Have you slept at all today?”
Aziel turned towards Fiernan, offering her a shadow of a smile before turning his attention back to Nymiria. “I need to fetch her some more water.” He pushed himself to his feet and turned, only to be met with the force of Fiernan’s hand against his chest. As if feeling the darkness that crawled over his skin, her hand jerked away from him immediately, her eyes narrowing up at him.
“You’ve corrupted yourself.” She said, her voice small and kind. Her eyes betrayed her, though. Even if she was trying to seem like it did not bother her, Aziel could see the fear there. “The pain you must have felt… it must have been awful.”
He was stunned, to say the least. “It’s fine.” He stammered, his fingers curling around the empty pitcher on the bedside table. Without another word, he was walking towards the door that led into the washroom, fingers trembling when he reached the vanity. He flinched at the distant sounds of cannons firing, closing his eyes when the screams finally reached his ears.
Though he hadn’t graced a battlefield in years, it was as if he were transported back to a time and place he would have preferred to forget. Those branches on his chest contracted, pushing that familiar warmth through his bloodstream until the fear was gone. The guilt lingered like the dull ache of a bruise being prodded, but lessened nonetheless.
“I can fix it, you know?” He paused, his body flinching at its own accord. Whether it was due to her sudden presence in the washroom or because of the cannon blasts, he was not sure. When Aziel still said nothing, Fiernan released a deep sigh and folded her arms in front of herself. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Those things you hate about yourself, I can replace them with something else. You could be happy.”
The corner of his lip raised, his eyes catching her reflection looming behind him in the mirror. “What gives you theimpression that I am not happy? I’m the most jovial bastard in Yaar.”
