Maia thought death was the end, until the alluring Nix brothers summon her back to life. Now, she must embrace her newfound existence as she is thrust into a dark prophecy that could unravel their cursed fate.
With each step, Maia is inexplicably dr...
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Silence reigned over the tent, only briefly being interrupted by prolonged high-pitched cries when the needle held between Annia's finger tips pierced through the thin skin on Maia's throat.
The youngest Nix brother stood crunched next to the two women, his hands over his head trembling, still tainted with crimson. He whispered indistinguishable mumbles to himself as he rocked back and forth, his hair falling forward, obscuring his features, revealing the paleness of the back of his neck. Veins tensed down to his back, twitching whenever the wail filled the air.
Crassus' face was devoid of its tan complexion, oddly pale, in an expression of fright. The skin beneath both his eyes had become darker than it had been earlier that day, and his sight was stuck to the woman laying down on the bed of weeds. He found himself holding his breath each time the sharp metal tip punctured its way into her jugular, tightening the skin behind it.
"You two need to let her rest," Annia finally said, tying the last stitch and cutting the string. "Luckily you found her when you did. Any later and it could have been too late."
"It's all my fault," Rex blurted out, no longer baring the weight of his own conscience, "they always die because of me."
His voice was hoarse and it trembled as he tried to muffle his agitated breathing. Crassus tightened his fists, and he felt a chill run down his back as he recalled a too similar image flashing before his eyes.
His mother's senseless body was on the ground, in the middle of the Nest's square; Rex's mother's hands stained with blood, while his younger brother and sister stared in disbelief.
He had only been twelve years old then, his youngest brother only five, and despite their raw age, they knew exactly what had happened.
The two boys knew that day, that death will hunt their fate, striking down mercilessly whoever they cared about.
Crassus felt a lump forming in his throat. He tried to swallow in an attempt to calm down, but his mouth ran dry. He glanced between his brother and Maia, and blinked absently.
The curtains at the entrance of the tent parted, and Prisscil, who looked rather unphased, walked inside, with a small stash in his hand.
"I brought what you told me," he said, and rummaged through his leather bag, pulling out a bunch of golden leaf stacks, "Vision said the wound sods should be fresh enough."
"Vencrossian?" Annia questioned.
"Cirian," he corrected, handing them to her.
The young man threw Rex a puzzled look, he was now digging his claws into his own arm, continuing his back-and-forth movement.
"You brought the best kind," nodded Annia, and grabbed a small container, spilling its content over the fresh stiches. "These must have cost you plenty Valkyres." Prisscil shrugged. The sons of Gamza rarely bought the things they possessed.
