Beneath Shadows and Secrets

♔ 𝕿𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶 - 𝕱𝔦𝔳𝔢 ♔

♔ 𝔑𝔦𝔯𝔞 ♔

Pain forces me awake.

A garbled sort of moan releases from my mouth as I try to arch against the throbbing agony. Except, it is impossible, for I am laid on nothing. I am floating, suspended in air.

My head turns, hoping to catch whatever it is that supports my weight, though my attention is stolen by the male beside me. Calix is reclined in a wooden chair, shadows mulling at his feet and extending towards me. He looks tired – still the same mess that he was in after we fought the Magfuror. Blood speckles his face and stains his clothes. His hair is unruly and has collected in thickened strands over his forehead, from where they were previously dripping with sweat. It is his hands that concern me though – both of them are covered in a deep, red blood. Not the colour of what filled the Magfuror, but something else. His?

"Are you in pain?" He asks, his voice quiet and soft.

I try to flex my back again, but it does little to abate the ache. So, I nod. "Some." He looks prepared to reply, but I stall him. "Whose blood?"

He looks down at his hands. "Yours." He stands abruptly, hiding them behind his back. "I should have washed as soon as we arrived, but I did not want you to wake up alone."

My eyes flutter closed. "I am awake now. Wash. I will be fine."

"You are laid upon my shadows, Daenira. Right now, I cannot go anywhere." I turn myself somewhat to notice he speaks the truth. His shadows support my head, my waist and legs. My midriff remains untouched, though sharp shoots of pain still coast along my back as though being pricked with knives. "It has only been an hour since we returned. Another will not cost me."

"You have travelled almost two days with blood on your skin. I assume you feel filthy." My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I realise then I am desperate for water. It almost takes too much effort to ask.

Calix must notice my distress, for my body shifts, and my upper half is lifted to a reclined seated position, and he offers me a glass of water. I do not take it from him – my arms feel too heavy to do so – instead I direct the water up from the glass and let it find my mouth in a stream. At least I know now that after the Magfuror, my powers have returned. Something I should have guessed, for once more, my chest feels full and brimming with potential.

"I was slightly more concerned in ensuring you lived." Calix confesses, setting aside the glass once it is empty. I take a moment to look around.

The room I am in is small, but airy. High walls and ceiling lit bright from the light that beams through the window behind me. There is little in here, spare a few oak cabinets and brittle wooden chairs, one of which Calix sits himself back in. The walls are in keeping with the style of the Court – dark blue, while the floor is a brilliant, polished obsidian. It is small, but my mind seems calm, unpanicked by the confines. I wonder what my body has been sedated with to not react as I usual would.

"What happened to me?" I dare to ask.

Calix sighs. "When the Magfuror were no longer draining your power, it seems the force of its return overwhelmed your body. The healers and Ryke think that before, some of your power was buried and hidden, almost untouched in an act of self-preservation, and when it was taken and returned, all of it that was unused was forced to come to fruition."

I recall the way my whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out. The way it felt like a mass was expanding within me, pushing against my bones and flesh until it felt like I was going to explode. Ghost pains prickle over my entire body at the reminder. Calix continues.