𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒔𝒉

𝑽𝑰. 𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Quiet, methodical tapping on wood.

tap.

tap.

tap.

tap.

tap.

tap.

Nyx was awake, her mind conscious of her breath and the sounds around her. But she couldn't move anything. She willed her power towards moving her toes; they barely moved.

More tapping. Nyx began to count, syncing her breathing with the pattern.

She was in a bed, that much was certain. The softness of a mattress and stiff sheets. If she had been even the slightest bit more exhausted, she would have gladly allowed herself to fall back to sleep. But she couldn't smell the forest, hear the whispers of her friends, or feel her armor and weapons protecting her. No, nothing was familiar. And there was danger in that.

She groaned as she tried to move, everything felt so heavy. As if a weight had been draped on top of her. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut before willing them to open.

Stone.

High above her, a ceiling made of stone.

Intricate metal lanterns filled with silver light hung from the ceiling, casting a cool dim glow on the room.

She blinked and looked down at herself. She was right, she was in a bed, covered by white sheet. Her armor was gone, she couldn't quite see what she was wearing, but it felt light. Not the heavy protection of her usual armor.

Nyx let her head fall back onto the flat pillow behind her and tried to breathe. Her hair was no longer in its usual tight braid. It stuck to the sweat on her neck and cheeks and made her itch. The nuisance was interrupted by another thought.

The tapping had stopped.

The sound of someone clearing their throat in the corner startled her into an upright position, her nerves now fully engaged.

"So, which one is Cillian?" A smooth and deep voice.

He sat relaxed in a chair in the corner, a chair far too small for him as his legs stretched out. Dressed entirely in black, the pale hands intertwined on his lap stood out in stark contrast. In fact, everything about him was the opposite of his dark attire. Pale lips, impossibly blonde hair, and silvery grey eyes. Eyes so bright that Nyx could easily see them from the corner he resided in.

The left side of his mouth pulled up into a tight smirk, "No need to answer. I already know."

His hands gripped the arms of the wooden chair as he pushed himself up, Nyx catching the glimmer of a gold ring on his right hand.

Nyx scrambled to find her dagger, sword, anything. She would have taken a rather thick branch even—anything was a weapon with the right momentum.

Finding nothing, she quickly pulled herself up to stand. Opting out of the vulnerability that came from sitting as someone else towered above you. As she stood, she felt fabric fall around her ankles. She was dressed in a long white nightgown. She allowed herself only a moment to choke at the thought before turning to the man in front of her.

He stood nearly a foot taller than her, his right brow raised in a look of amusement.

"Ah, she rises." He chuckled.

Before she could let out the breath she was holding, she had backed him into the wall. Her forearm pressed against his neck as her other hand grasped his black tunic tightly.