Thirty
Alex awoke in a cell.
It was dark, and not from the limited lighting or because it was still night-time, though she had no way of knowing if that was true. It was dark because the cell itself was made out of traesos, pure darkness pulled from the abrassa.
Seeing her black crystalline surroundings, Alex broke out in a nervous sweat, because she knew exactly where she was—Taevarg, the Meyarin prison. And by the looks of things, in Niyx’s old cell, with its door still melted from when she’d freed him nearly three weeks ago.
Bound by Moxyreel, Alex was chained and hanging in the middle of the room. Her arms were stretched out above her head and her legs spread wide, her limbs secured by the thin wire as if she had frozen mid-star-jump. Even her fingers were wrapped tightly together, keeping her from summoning A’enara.
Trying not to think about why she was in Taevarg or what she would face if she didn’t escape, Alex strained against her bindings, struggling for some wriggle room. All she needed was to free one hand enough to grip her weapon and cut herself loose. But it was useless, the Moxyreel unyielding. She needed help—and she needed it now.
Niyx! Alex cried. Niyx, I’m in trouble!
Kitten, whatever it is, I’m sorry, but it’ll have to wait, Niyx returned quickly. I’m with Aven—he says there’s something important he has to do and he’s hand-picked a few of us to be with him. He’s… deliriously happy.
Niyx—
We’re at Taevarg. Arrived a few moments ago, Niyx cut in. There’s a prisoner here he wants to see. I’m sorry, kitten, but I have to concentrate or I’ll blow my cover.
The blood drained from Alex’s face. No, no, no, Niyx! The prisoner, it’s—
Before she could say ‘me’, Aven stepped through the melted door, and on his heels were Calista Maine, the tattooed Gerald Togen, Marcus Sparker, another human Alex hadn’t met and three armed guards—Claimed Zeltora, Alex presumed, seeing the weapons they bore. Niyx brought up the rear of the group, and upon stepping into the cell, stilled at the sight of Alex strung up in the centre.
His dread was palpable, but he managed to unfreeze before anyone else noticed, moving woodenly forward while screaming a wide variety of curse words through their bond. But Alex barely heard him, because her attention was on Meya’s new king standing before her, a wide smirk on his face.
“Alexandra,” Aven said, “as always, a unique… pleasure.”
Alex closed her eyes as his honeyed voice washed over her. If she didn’t look at him, it was easy to imagine his younger self, the Meyarin he’d been before he’d turned into a raging murderer. The Aven who had been her friend.
But when she opened her eyes again, the memory was replaced with fear so acute she could almost taste it. She was completely at his mercy. Even if Niyx chose to reveal his true loyalties, it would be eight against one as he fought to free her. Impossible odds, given the Zeltora warriors, the gifted humans and Aven himself.
“You mustn’t blame Gaiel,” Aven said. “He only did what he thought he must, and he has been rewarded for bringing you to me.” He cocked his head. “Of course, it wasn’t quite the reward he believed he would receive. But he shall be content here with us, especially now that he has been reunited with his daughter.”
Alex’s bound hands flexed as they tried and failed to ball into fists, the Moxyreel tightening painfully against her wrists. In a shaking voice she hoped sounded more angry than terrified, she said, “You Claimed him, didn’t you?”
“Not until after he delivered you to me,” Aven said, brushing some invisible speck from the shoulder of his leathery, collared vest. “He made that choice all on his own.”
Alex had been right to be suspicious of the Meyarin councillor’s strange behaviour up in Draekora. And yet, having heard Gaiel’s story about Vaera, she couldn’t begrudge him for trying to get the jump on her. She should have listened to her instincts and never dropped her guard. But then again, she’d never heard of a powder that could knock someone out with a single breath. If she ever made it out of Taevarg—a very unlikely ‘if’—she’d have to find out what that stuff was.
“As you can see,” Aven continued, “I’ve brought along a few friends to witness our auspicious reunion. Calista, Gerald and Marcus you already know. My personal guards need not concern you, but there are two others here who I would like to introduce.”
At what must have been a mental command, the unknown male stepped forward. Dark-skinned and as thin as a beanpole, he looked to be only a few years older than Alex, though she knew that if he had been Claimed a while, his age was relative.
“This is Grimm Helkin,” Aven said, and Alex jerked against her chains in recognition of the name. “We have him to thank for my dear brother’s current state of existence.”
Aven’s expression soured, enough for Alex to know he would have killed Roka without hesitation if Lady Mystique hadn’t swept the comatose prince away to Draekora.
“Grimm is a relatively new addition to my cause,” Aven went on, “but there’s someone else here who has been loyal to me for millennia. My true brother.”
Aven motioned for Niyx to step forward, using a hand gesture since he had no mental link to him.
“Alexandra, meet Niyx Raedon,” Aven said, as Niyx’s eyes bore into her own. “He has suffered for the cause of the Garseth for thousands of years, but he has not been without reward, since he had the honour of murdering my own father. Niyx Kingslayer, as he is now known. A worthy title, for a worthy Meyarin.”
Aven clapped a proud hand on his friend’s shoulder, and since he was looking at Alex, he didn’t see Niyx grimace with disgust.
Swallowing her trepidation, Alex said to Aven, “As nice as it is to meet your buddies, how about you let me go and we continue this discussion elsewhere?” Preferably when I’m not chained and can at least try and fight my way out of the city, Alex added to herself.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Aven said with feigned apology. “I can’t risk that hound of yours stealing you to safety before I’m satisfied. The traesos surrounding us wards against your mutt’s travelling abilities and she is much too intelligent to attempt a rescue without being able to spirit you away immediately.”
Alex shot a glare at Marcus, realising he must have asked about Soraya after seeing her in Graevale and shared what he’d learned.
She turned back to Aven and said, “What did you mean about being satisfied? You have to know by now that I won’t tell you anything.” Not that there was much left that he didn’t know, since Marcus would have already passed on everything he’d heard during his time with the elders. All Alex had left were the secrets he couldn’t possibly know about—her trip to the past, her familiarity with Niyx, how she’d Released Jordan, Kaiden’s dangerous gift and her lessons with Athora. The power of Aven’s blood lingering in her veins was also a mystery to him, though by now he had to at least have some ideas about that.
“We’re past the stage where I care what you have to say, Alexandra,” Aven said. “I’m in a position to receive everything I’ve ever desired, so I no longer need anything from you, least of all answers to questions that now mean little to me.”
That surprised Alex, just as it filled her with anxiety. If he wasn’t there to interrogate her, then what did he want?
Seeing the question in her gaze, a dark smile touched his lips. “You have been a thorn in my side ever since I met you,” he said in a sinister voice. “As much as I want you wiped from the face of this world, death would be too good for you. You have to suffer first.”
His golden eyes were lit with anticipation, causing shivers of foreboding to travel down Alex’s spine.
“Yes,” he said, his voice a contemplative whisper, as if he was imagining it playing out in his mind. “You will suffer physically first, until all you know is pain. Then you will suffer the anguish that comes with seeing those you love die. And if you survive longer than that, you will suffer until you are the last of your filthy race—indeed, perhaps the last mortal remaining in this world—and only then will I show you mercy and end your agony myself.”
Breathing raggedly at the picture he’d just laid out, Alex couldn’t help saying, “If that ending is your idea of mercy, then something has gone seriously wrong with your education.”
For a second, Alex thought the horrified groan she heard was out loud, but then she realised it was Niyx’s response to her comment across their mental link.
What in the name of the light are you thinking? he demanded. Stars, Aeylia—don’t antagonise him!
You heard him, Alex returned. He’s going to make me suffer no matter what I say. I might as well get a few licks in while I’ve still got the chance.
Don’t talk like that, he said in a harsh voice. We’re going to get you out of here.
Niyx, she said softly, we both know it’s not looking good.
“Perhaps mercy was the wrong word, but we won’t know until that day comes,” Aven said, the only evidence of his irritation at her blithe remark being a warning flash of his eyes. “In the meantime, I must admit, I’m impatient to get started. These last few weeks have been spent tediously waiting for the perfect time to carry out my next move, but now that you have failed to align the mortal races—don’t look so surprised, Alexandra, of course I know about that—I can finally take action.” His expression turned eager as he finished, “A new dawn is coming for this world, starting tomorrow when Medora will finally begin to feel the wrath of Meya.”
He stepped closer until he was right in her face. “From tomorrow, the mortals will experience pain unlike anything they’ve ever known. But you, my dear…” He reached out and trailed his fingertip along the curve of her cheek, his heated, hateful eyes boring into her own, “… your pain shall begin now.”
Stepping back just as suddenly as he’d moved forward, Aven turned to Niyx.
“Make her bleed. I want her in agony, but keep her alive.”
It was an order, one that a Claimed follower would be forced to carry out immediately.
But Niyx hesitated.
His delayed reaction lasted only a fraction of a second; enough that Alex, who knew he wasn’t Claimed, saw it, but no one else noticed, not even Aven.
Move, you idiot! Alex screamed at him, and he jolted forward in shocked response to her yelled demand. You have to do what he said or we’re both dead!
Niyx’s blazing amethyst eyes locked on hers as he walked slowly towards her. No way. I won’t hurt you.
You have to, she told him. The only chance I have of getting out of here is through you, but you have to be alive to do that—and you won’t be if Aven discovers the truth. He and his guards will take you down, then we’ll both be screwed!
Aeylia—
Think, Niyx! Alex interrupted firmly, holding his eyes with her own serious ones. You know you have to do this. For both our sakes. And everyone else’s.
His throat bobbing as he swallowed, Niyx drew out a long Myrox dagger, his hand giving a single wobble before he managed to steady it. Seeing the blade, Alex’s heart pounded furiously in her chest, enough for her to hope she would pass out before having to experience what was about to come next.
He wants you to bleed, Niyx said in an emotionless voice as he geared himself up to do what they both knew he must. But I can’t go for your arms or neck or anywhere else where he’ll be able to see me bleed as well.
Alex looked at the leathery vest and pants Niyx wore as he continued to slowly approach, knowing both would help hide the wounds he shared with her, as opposed to his thinly covered arms.
That means this is going to hurt, he warned. A lot.
Stomach clenching and her pulse now raging in her ears, Alex whispered, Just do it.
I’m so sorry, kitten, Niyx whispered back, his remorseful gaze locked on hers.
… And then he plunged his dagger into her side.
A scream of agony tore from Alex’s mouth and her vision blurred, but not before she saw Niyx wince from his own pain as well as at the horror of what he’d just done.
Bolts of lightning speared all along Alex’s torso as her nerves screamed along with her vocal chords, her arms all but ripping out of their sockets as she strained to get free from her bindings and curl protectively around herself. When she finally exhausted her fight and slumped against her chains, panting and blinded with pain, Aven spoke.
“Such a beautiful sound,” he said, moving forward to run a finger under her head and tilt her chin up. “I wish to hear it again. Niyx?”
The pain of the first wound blurred into that of the second, third, fourth and fifth as Aven ordered Niyx over and over to stab Alex like one would a pincushion. Her screams echoed around the cell until her throat was raw and her voice a hoarse, nearly silent whimper. Tears streamed down her face, soaking her clothes, along with blood from where she’d bitten through her own lip from the pain. Her jaw felt broken from her attempts to grit her teeth through the agony. She was weak from blood loss and exhaustion, her ankles and wrists rubbed raw from fighting the Moxyreel—something she realised partway through her torture that she would have to try and stop doing to keep Aven from seeing Niyx’s corresponding wounds.
Just when Alex was certain she wouldn’t be able to survive any more, Aven said, “Enough.”
Niyx’s feet, all that Alex could see with her head hanging listlessly, moved away with a slight stumble—the only indication of his own pain.
“Niyx is masterful in the art of torture,” Aven said, his voice a murmured slur to Alex’s ringing ears and muddled mind. “He will have avoided all your major organs, so your injuries, while hopefully excruciating, will not prematurely kill you.” He seemed pleased by this; by the inordinate amount of suffering she was experiencing. “I’ll have someone tend to you in a few hours before you expire from blood loss so we can have another round tomorrow, starting afresh. It can be our way to celebrate the victory I shall achieve in the morning.”
Alex wasn’t sure if he said more after that. She wasn’t sure of anything other than her pain that was swiftly turning to numbness. Numbness was good. Numbness meant no more agony, no more suffering. Numbness meant no fear of what Aven planned on doing in the morning; no fear of him celebrating by torturing her again later that day… and the next… and the next.
Slumped upright against her chains in the darkened cell, Alex’s last thought before she passed out was that maybe Aven was right. If this was only the beginning of what she would suffer, then killing her just might be a mercy after all.