The Scion Of Nyx

VI

Eulalia

⚭

Nyx's royal carriage jolted beneath Acheron and I, nearly dislodging us from our seats with the impact. I gripped the carriage walls, attempting to keep my seating. We were going to the capital, Acheron had revealed to me several days ago.

Without considering a single word of my protests, I had been forced on the road, as I had been for the past several months. Only this time, instead of dragging me away from civilization, he was dragging me straight to the center of it.

Acheron did not explain why I was being removed from the camps, but I suspected it had well to do with my outburst several days ago. I was a danger to others. I knew well that this relocation was likely a punishment for my violent, deranged behavior. Every order from Nyx was a punishment in one way or another, but I did not understand what she intended to achieve from this. What was I intended to learn from this forced relocation?

I no longer knew how to behave amongst civilization. Savagery had become me. Months at battle, facing freezing climates and unbearable living conditions had turned me into a husk of a human. I hardly remembered how to be human.

As we passed through rings upon rings of cities and urban areas and living quarters, I gazed upon the immortals, hoping to find some semblance of humanity, in order to remember. I glanced at them in passing, attempting to retain their behavior, attempting to gouge how humans must act in society. I felt desperately misplaced.

Acheron had revealed that the city was built in rings, and the palace sat in its core. I could feel the magic radiating from the center, and I could feel how thinly stretched it was to the outside layers of the city, as we passed them in the rumbling carriage, like a straining net.

I could feel the change of the atmosphere as we passed through wall after wall, gate after gate, the air rippling and becoming thick with magic the closer we got. The air became lively and warm. I did not need to look out the window to realize we were getting closer to the palace. I could feel it all the same, the same way I could feel the uneven, dirt roads flatten as we went, before eventually turning to sleek stone, ceasing the violent jolting and rocking that had plagued us the entire trip.

I assumed I looked strange to the peasants watching the procession, as I peaked outside the heavy, dark curtain. I was difficult to miss, in Nyx's regal carriage, drawn by eight black, demonic horses.

Acheron named them purebred Rhaegals, distinctive to Nyx's house. I could tell by the reaction of the crowd that they were impressed by the imperial beasts, and had not seen such a concentration of them in one space before, if not for Nyx herself.

Nyx was making a spectacle of me, parading me about.

The steeds of the city, used by common people, were shaggy and huge, with thick coats of fur to keep the arctic chill at bay. They contrasted so blatantly from the regal steeds that pulled Nyx's carriages; black and poised and sleek, with coats so glossy and so thin that they seemed glaringly misplaced among the cold of the city.

Children gasped and babbled and screamed at the sight of the Rheagals, clapping their tiny hands loudly, enthralled by their presence. Adults peeked into the carriage, attempting to see something more, other than the pale hand that griped the curtain tightly, occasionally peaking out a silver eye. Flashes of silver, whether it be hair or clothing or eye, were the most they could glean of the person within the carriage. Nothing more.

My hair was pulled up into intricate braids, gathering at the back of my head in a large bun, like a nest of serpents. Looped braids hung into my face, tinkling from the diamonds, glass gems and pearls interlaced into the pleats. My neck hurt from the weight of the diamond netting over my hair, teardrop pearls and crystals trickling down to my forehead and diamonds hanging off on silver chains, resembling twinkling stars from a distance, as if they were floating around me in orbit.