“Show yourself,” he demanded, turning back around to find a dark figure within the clouds.
The figure moved closer. It was as if he simply floated, no wyvern to ride on and no wings to hold him up. The closer he got, the more Daimon could feel his pulse pound. There was something dark that radiated from this man, something that had Daimon’s instincts screaming at him to run.
A rumble worked its way through Zephyr’s chest, and she bared her teeth. Daimon raised his chin, expecting the figure to retreat. But he didn’t—instead, he camecloser.
Daimon held his ground as the man came into view, taking in his appearance. He was impeccably dressed, hands folded behind his back. He wore a black coat, fitted perfectly to his shoulders and arms. Beneath the coat was a black linen shirt, threaded together with shimmering silver strands. His trousers were also black and tailored without blemish.
He wore clothing suited for a king.
“I’ve been waiting for the right time to meet you,” the man said.
“Who are you?” Daimon demanded, letting his shadows grow around his hands.
The man stepped closer, his eyes dropping down to Daimon’s shadows. He smiled. When his gaze lifted to meet Daimon’s, a chill ran down his spine. Daimon knew these eyes—one the color of midnight and one bright green. They were the eyes of Nyx, the God of Fear and Dreams, the way he was depicted in every text.
“I think you know who I am, Daimon,” the man said. “It’s not often a god takes interest in man.”
Daimon’s blood ran cold as the man smiled again, flashing his teeth.
“You’re—” His voice caught, his mind rushing to process the being beforehim. “You’re Nyx.”
Nyx winked. “In the flesh.”
Daimon reined Zephyr back a bit, feeling like his shadows were wholly useless now. The god who gave Nocturna shadows was standing before him.
His smile was dark. Sinister. He was every bit of the god of fear at this moment.
“Why are you here?” Daimon pressed.
Nyx sighed and leaned against a tree. “To tell you the truth.”
Daimon’s brows pulled together, trying to make sense of what truth the God of Fear and Dreams might have to share.
“What do you know of your parents?” Nyx asked.
Daimon paused, even more confused. He never talked about his parents. His chest tightened as he tried to keep his mouth closed. But the words came out before he could stop them, like there was a gravitational pull yanking the truth out of him.
“My mother never told my father she was with child,” he whispered.
“And your mother?” Nyx said slowly, his eyes expectant.
Daimon gritted his teeth, trying to hold the truth in. But again, the words came out despite him not wanting to speak them. “She died during childbirth.”
Nyx nodded and hummed to himself. “In a way, I suppose Aurora did.”
Daimon’s eyes widened, the tightness in his chest loosening. “You knew my mother?”
“I knew her very well,” Nyx said with a smile. His tone was teasing, like there was a joke only he knew. “In fact, I would say I knew her in a way I have known no one else. A way a god shouldn’t know a mortal creature. Fae may be immortal to time, but you all die eventually. Nothing is truly immortal unless you’re one of the Divine. Aurora knew that, and yet she chose to be with me regardless.”
Daimon felt as if he had been hit by a brick wall. His breath caught, his mind racing at Nyx’s words.
“You’re a liar,” he hissed.
Nyx tsked. “Haven’t you ever wondered why your shadows are stronger than the other Nox? Why they developed from such a young age? You’re only thirteen and you have better control than half the Nox alive.”
He was a liar, a trickster here to cause chaos as the gods so often did. But Daimon didn’t know of a fae that could float in the skies.
“Some have stronger Essence than others,” he said with his chin lifted. But doubt swirled in the back of his mind. “That doesn’t make me the son of a god.”
