Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter forty-three

Mattheo

June 23rd, 4:30 a.m., Sand ship

I talked about it before, I had never understood fear. I'd seen it countless times—etched on the faces of men about to die, in the trembling hands of those who knew their time had run out. Fear was something weak people felt, a vulnerability that made them easier to manipulate, to control. I knew it well, could read it like a book in the eyes of my enemies. But I had never felt it myself. Not truly.

Not until now.

The feeling was strange, foreign, something that clawed at my insides in a way I couldn't fully comprehend. It wasn't like the rush of adrenaline that came in a fight, or the calculated focus I had always thrived on. It was... deeper. Darker. It gnawed at me, eating away at the cold certainty I'd always carried with me. I didn't like it.

It was because of her. Because of Lucia.

Since she almost fell off the damn ship, I couldn't get the image out of my head—the way she'd been walking, eyes wide open, moving toward the edge like she was being pulled by something I couldn't see. And when I'd grabbed her, yanked her back just in time, the look on her face... She had been so lost, so completely unaware of how close she came to disappearing into the desert forever.

Fear. I understood it now. It wasn't fear for myself. It was fear for her.

Lucia was strong—stronger than anyone I'd ever met—but the magic she now carried inside her, that ancient power that had coursed through the relic and was now a part of her... it worried me. I could see it taking its toll. Her body was cold to the touch, even after I'd wrapped her in blankets and held her close. She was carrying too much, and for the first time in my life, I didn't know if I could protect her from it.

The thought of losing her, of something happening to her because of this power she never asked for... it sent a shiver down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the cool desert air. It was the kind of feeling that twisted my gut, made my chest tighten. I didn't like not being in control of a situation, and this—this was something I couldn't control.

I glanced out over the dunes, the endless stretch of sand illuminated only by the pale moonlight. The ship hummed softly beneath us, gliding smoothly in the desert. At least I'd figured out the damn thing. After hours of trial and error, I'd learned which magic to use to steer it properly, how to keep it on course. I'd even discovered how to set it so it would avoid obstacles on its own—small dunes, boulders hidden beneath the surface. The ship could sense them and veer away without me needing to lift a finger.

That gave me some relief, knowing we were headed in the right direction and that I didn't have to stay at the helm every second of the journey.

Now, below deck, I was lying in bed with Lucia, her body curled against mine, her head resting on my chest as she slept. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing, her warmth seeping into me despite the cold that still lingered in her skin. My arm was wrapped around her, holding her close, and my fingers absently traced patterns on her back. I couldn't sleep. Not after what had happened. Not when I was still so worried that something like that could happen again.

Lucia stirred slightly, shifting in her sleep, but she didn't wake. I watched her, my gaze lingering on her face, on the delicate features that I had come to know so well. She was so fucking beautiful—breathtaking, really. Her long lashes fanned out against her cheeks, her lips parted slightly, soft breaths escaping with each exhale.

I ran my fingers through her hair, the brown strands soft and silky beneath my touch. I could do this forever, just watch her, hold her. And it scared the hell out of me—how much I needed her now. How much I couldn't imagine a world without her in it.