Delta [Epsilon #2]

Chapter Twenty-Two

My body ran cold. I stood utterly frozen as my vision flickered in and out of two realities, as though teasing me. Before I knew it, my entire vision was consumed, and I was no longer in the grounds of the Northern Court.

No, I was strolling the catacombs of the Southern Court, trailing down the cobblestone corridor with echoing footsteps. My heart beat in my ears as black fear consumed me whole. No. I couldn't be back here. This had to be a trick. This couldn't be real.

But everything felt too real. The darkness of the cells, as cold and ominous as I remembered; the maddening echo of dripping water in the distance; the creaks of iron as the bars settled. Even my lungs were lined with the mildew, choking me, smothering me. Not even the distance voice asking 'what happened to her eyes?' could penetrate the sickening echo of footsteps, footsteps I knew too well.

A faint ache bloomed at my knees, as though I'd fallen. But I was still walking. No, I strode through these halls as though I owned them, with a kind of grace and pride I only knew one such person could possess. And when I rounded the corner, stopping to peer through the bars at a sickly figure, all my worse fears were confirmed.

I was looking through the eyes of Azriel.

I wanted to be sick. My bones were like cold lead, heart pounding so fast that it ached. In a fluid movement, Azriel gripped the iron bars and threw them open. Everything in me recoiled at the sound of iron scraping stone. The figure sickly figure in the turned to meet my gaze -- our gaze -- and my heart stopped.

Zion.

He looked beyond recognisable. He'd been starved to the bone, every rib sticking out beneath his tattered white shirt. Every bit of muscle was gone; thinned, as though his body had resorted to eating itself for energy. His green eyes were dull and empty, but as they focused, something strange entered them. Something like a combination of shock and fear. Zion stood, and it was obvious the effort cost him. Azriel entered and shut the cell door behind him.

"You're sick," Zion rasped, as though he hadn't had a sip of water in days. "Leave her out of this. She's gone now. Leave her alone."

A dry chuckle emanated from Azriel's throat -- our throat -- as he bought forward his dagger and mindlessly brushed his thumb along the blade. Zion's eyes widened, and my stomach lurched.

"Kyra!" someone called in the distance, but I don't hear them. All I could hear was Zion's ragged breathing, the zing of metal as Azriel tested the edge of his blade against a black ring. The Northern Court felt like a lifetime away, and at that moment, I realised this was where I'd always been. I belonged here, and this is Azriel bringing me back for another taste, to remind me that, though while I'm gone, part of me still remains here with my friends. Friends who I left behind. Friends who are suffering.

I began to cry.

"Why should I stop, Zion?" Azriel asked smoothly, and I could almost picture the satisfied smile on his face. "We have a visitor among us, and I think she deserves to know what happens to traitors."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to thrash. I wanted to jump out and save Zion, but I couldn't. I was frozen. Completely, utterly frozen. Something in my heart twisted as Azriel strode forward, forcing Zion back. His green eyes widened as he hit the wall.

"Kyra..." Zion breathed, staring into my eyes. As I stared back in muted agony, I saw the two golden orbs swimming in his glassy gaze. My eyes. My eyes in Azriel's head. Nausea twisted my gut again. Zion turned pleading.

"Kyra, whatever he does, don't come back here. Don't come back--"

He was silenced as Azriel drove the dagger into his shoulder. Zion bellowed in pain. No! I yelled in my head, watching the blood bloom on his shirt. I tried to shout, to scream, but my lips were sealed. I had been silenced again. I sobbed in silent fury as the blood pooled, running down the golden blade like liquid scarlet. Azriel's rumbling chuckle sickened my bones.