“Here,” Morgen said next to her. He helped her sit then handed her a cool glass of water.
She took it and drank half, then handed it back to him, taking stock of her surroundings. She was in the same room as before, though the couch was not in front of the hearth anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Morgen asked. He looked exhausted. His eyes were rimmed in red, and dark, purple-hued shadows sat underneath them.
She rubbed her temple, trying to banish the lingering ache there. “Fine, I think. Better than before.”
He nodded, though the tension on his face did not fade. She glanced at her parents, searching for any sign of injury. She was aware they had been hurt—thatshehad hurt them—but recalling the memories was like viewing them through a warped glass.
“I didn’t…” she tried to say, but her throat constricted, her eyes burning with shame. “Are you both okay?”
Her father’s mouth twitched, although he did not look like he was laughing. It was her mother who stood first, squeezing her father’s arm then crossing the room and kneeling in front of Nya.
She reached out a hand, and Nya stared at her for a long minute before she took it, her fingers trembling. “Other than being worried about you, we’re now fine, Nya,” she said, reaching out to stroke her cheek with her other hand. “You’ve been in and out for some time.”
Nya’s lips quivered. “But I hurt you. I could have—” She cut herself off, unable to speak the horrible truth aloud. The void could have killed them easily.
Her mother tapped her nose. “I do not know that darkness so well, my love, not in the same way as you. But I do know its call, and I can only imagine the immeasurable will it must have taken to resist it the way you did.”
A tear slid down Nya’s cheek. “It was so lonely. It just wanted to be seen and understood, but no one could, not until me.”
A shadow flickered across her mother’s eyes, a brief whisper of that very same darkness. “I can only imagine,” she whispered. “It is a lonely thing indeed to be feared without understanding.”
They stared at each other, both heirs of Death and Night, with little choice in the power they had inherited. For the first time, Nya thought she really understood her mother’s wish to leave Arcadia behind all those years ago. In the quiet of the thick forest in Mise, no one feared them. She had not been raised in a bubble or a cage, but perhaps the one place where she could live without the shadow of her legacy. Mortals and gods alike feared their family’s power, but her parents had given her the gift of growing up without the heavy weight of their judgement.
“Will you go back home?” she asked with a new sense of understanding, completely unclouded by any past judgement.
“Not yet,” her mother said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Nya’s ear. She smiled, tilting her head to the side. “We’ll stay for a time, at least.”
Nya glanced back at her father, and he raised a brow. “Don’t look at me as if I’d disagree.”
She chewed on her lip and felt Morgen shift beside her.Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself further.
She glanced at him.Relax. I’m fine.
As much as I’d like to believe you, I know you’re not. Don’t think I can’t tell. You need more rest.
“Are we being kicked out?” her father asked, and she jumped.
“No,” she said at the same moment Morgen grunted, “Yes.”
Her mother laughed softly. “You should take a bedroom now that your temperature has stopped fluctuating. It will be more comfortable.”
Nya’s brow creased. “My temperature?”
The room fell silent until Morgen explained, “You’ve been cycling between feverish and nearly hypothermic. That, and the pain I know you’re feeling, is all a result of the embers. They’re not…easy on a body, especially not one with any amount of mortal blood. I was ill often as a child with similar ailments.”
She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “So it’s true,” she murmured, searching for a confirmation not from anyone in the room, but from within herself, and…
Yes. There it was, pulsing within the burning darkness that made up the fabric of her and Morgen’s souls; a fluttering flicker of light and warmth, humming and alive.
The embers.
It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet she could not deny the truth of their presence. She had survived, albeit a little worse for wear.
Apparently, Morgen really did sense that last part, because he insisted, “You need to rest.”
Her mother glanced at him briefly and nodded. “He’s right. Sleep, Nya, love. We’ll be here.”
