18. Niamh

There is something in my throat I can't swallow down. It's a thick lump that threatens to choke me whenever I breathe. Swallow. Think about him in this wide, waning darkness.

Realize that I am alone. For the first time in my life, truly alone. There are no fervent whispers to haunt my steps. No workers of the Citadel darting in and out of my reach. At least then, I knew I was some kind of being. A live one.

Here I am empty, soundless, nothingness.

It's what I wanted, after all. He gave me what I wanted, and for that…

I watched him go and let him leave. I didn't even say goodbye. I didn't try to follow him.

Even if I tried, I could never follow him. His strength is on display out here, in the wilds beyond our home, where the grass grows tall, and there is nothing around for stretches and stretches. Nothing but looming trees and swaying shadows and…

I am not afraid. I hug myself in my thin robe, easily pierced by a cold, bitter chill, and I tell myself over and over that I am not afraid. I don't need Caspian. I don't want him to return.

I am capable out here where my prior limitations no longer apply to me. In the old realm, I am sickly and weak. Here I am…

So very cold. The wind drives into my lungs, each breath a stabbing knife. My feet are numb, limbs trembling in the rapidly falling darkness. I can't see, even as I keep walking forward through looming, bending, twisting shapes. I'm in a valley of hungry shadow. They howl for blood and reach toward me with grasping, gnawing limbs.

I shiver past them, hunched forward, head down. I struggle forward and I remember what Caspian told me. "You'd need protection. It isn't safe. You'll be eaten alive."

Eaten alive by cold and shadows. Eaten alive by fear.

No. I keep moving. Keep walking. One foot in front of the other. I use my sole desire as the driving force to keep me going.

I want to see a museum. I want to see…

Anyone. Anything.

The shadows start to speak, in creaking, crackling mumbles.

I run. Trip. Fall. Crawl upwards, grasping and groping. Pull myself upright. Stagger. Sprint. Run. I run until my lungs ache. Until I can't feel the tears falling down my cheeks. I run and run until the forest gives way to a dark, flat river or stone that cuts a path forward.

And then on that path a light appears, beckoning and glowing. Two lights, a brilliant yellow, like eyes in the dark. I race toward them. Panting and choking, I lunge for them.

After that, the world slams into me and everything falls silent.

Black.

Nothing.

* * *

"Holy fuck!She came out of nowhere, I swear!" Someone hisses in alarm, their voice frantic. Panicked. I hear footsteps rushing and hurried. "Oh shit. I think she's dead. Fuck. Fuck! Pulse? You want me to check for a pulse? Ok. Fuck!"

Someone comes closer. I can feel them, so very warm. They pry the hair from my neck and press into the flesh there. They are so very warm.

But their touch hurts. Everything hurts. My legs won't move. I can't open my eyes. I can barely breathe in and out. My chest aches when I do. Everything in me aches.

"God, she is so fucking pale. She has to be dead. Wait! I think I feel a pulse. Fuck, I gotta call for help!" There is a musical sound like the toll of a bell. Then the voice continues, even more frantic. "Hey, yeah. I… This woman came out of nowhere right in front of me. She's hurt badly. We need an ambulance out here on Greyland Way?—"

Something new crawls from this forest, advancing on me and the stranger's voice. It's quiet but quick, like a knife cutting through the door.

"What was that? I think someone must be with her. Shit!"

Cold hard hands grab me, ice cold but brutally gentle. They lift me up and I do something I shouldn't be able to. I fly. The wind tears the hair back from my face and then I realize I haven't sprouted wings and taken flight of my own accord. In reality I've never even left the ground. I'm being held.

Strange. I've never felt peace like this. Strength like this. Viewed the world like this. Through one cracked, swollen eye, I can see the rest of the world rushing by. Through throbbing ears, I can hear the low, frantic breaths of my captor.

Only, wait… He doesn't need to breathe, not really. He's growling, whispering angry things as he runs through the night with my body in his arms.

"Stupid…stupid! Don't you die. Don't you DARE die. Stupid, fucking, foolish…"

He's angry with me, not that I can blame him. He brought me here and I already failed in my grand plan. I've been eaten alive by a pair of glowing yellow lights.

But in his arms, I don't feel the pain like I should. It's a quiet thing gnawing at the back of my mind, too weak to fully penetrate. Crushed and cradled against him, all I feel is fresh air and those thrilling hopeful feelings that made me dance dizzy when I first inhaled this perfect mortal air.

He's too dangerous to cling to, I know that. Far too dangerous to trust.

But I want to. My fingers scrape his cold, hard skin, and I want to hold him so tightly he'll never run away again. I want him, and it is a horrible thing to realize. My sole desire has a new vital component part, shoved in like a puzzle piece that can never quite fit.

I don't just want to see the mortal realm.

I want this vamryer to show it to me. I want to see it through his unfeeling, red eyes. I want to huddle in his arms, safe and broken but protected.

I don't want anything else, I promise. My greediness will run its course as long as I get to keep him…

I want him.

I'll keep him.