24. Zenya will see this through. I will not leave her, Father.

Chapter 24

Zenya will see this through. I will not leave her, Father.

NYXION

"War of Hearts" by Ruelle

"Save Yourself" by My Darkest Days

"Come to Me" by Sebastian Erkstrand

"Savior" by VoColor and Sebastian Erkstrand

" Y ou're not a black hole; you're a void. Empty and desperate for anything to fill you. And the next time you try to touch Zenya, it will be on your knees, groveling, kissing her feet, and begging for the right to breathe her air."

Her words still echo in my mind. No one has ever matched my monstrosity. While I'd reset my bones, the fallen angel slipped away, and Zenya returned.

Morpheus tightens and bulges the sinew in his wings, his shadows practically seething around Zenya's form. A direct warning, a command for me not to interfere as she opens the journal. His glare might as well say, Stay there and brood like only you can.

Suffering in not-so-silence, I reset another bone and gnash my teeth. Pain fills my wings the most, the reavers having slashed them to tatters.

Zenya's attacks don't feel the same—so wild and full of dark spirit. No, this…Beastie is different.

She strikes with a chilling precision, the eye of a quiet, eerie storm that unsettles me to my core, chilling my very soul. She is sinister grace.

Zenya has no method to her madness. She is and does.

Beastie has mapped every possible method. She plans. And executes when she must—in more ways than one.

Little wonder her execution causes me more pain than Zenya's.

When I look up from my bony hand, the beauty of my little killer's tears paralyzes me. Then…they unravel me thread by thread.

Never in all my wildest nightmares have I seen such beautiful tears—as if she is weeping silver blood from her heart. From dark solemnity to deep reverence to whimsy to somber intensity.

Her beauty and ferocity when she cracked the skull and pushed out the needles sutured all my fractured skin, fused my bones, and pumped life back into my heart. When she fell for me, I rose for her.

Awe overwhelms me at the force of her emotions from the pages of a simple, little book. Does she even realize her tattoos are stiller than ever?

Her essence whispers through the tether binding us. It's within this whisper where I find her, see her…where I feel her most. The raw power of her vulnerability and utter humanity.

Here and now, I know I would crawl into the Abyss itself and sell my soul to its infinite black heart if it granted her another sweet dream bereft of my nightmares.

The blackness of my depravity creeps in like a thief, attempting to steal this moment. For the first time, I war with it, this blood force. It rises like ten thousand corpses prepared to drag me into their graves when all I wish to do is share her breath.

Centuries of torment and malevolence, of darkness and danger, of fear. How I've preyed on those who fear.

I've never shared the tears of those who mourn. I've never found the light behind those dark tears ready to burn in their eyes again.

I'd drink poison if it meant I could share her tears.

After she scribbles something in the book, I'm ready to approach her until…

… Phobetor , the grim voice summons me.

Gods damn me!

If any of them notice, they don't show it as the booming voice follows the summons with his irresistible force of dragging me through time and space like I'm a damn wraith.

With a tightness in my chest and tattered wings stiffer than usual, I stand before the darkened threshold of my father's domain. The haze of his hypnotic realm thickens the air. The scent of opium poppies perfumes the air.

Hypnos's call is relentless, stronger, and more demanding, thundering through the depths of my consciousness. He calls to me from the darkness of his cavern system like some great and terrible monster stirring from his slumber.

Stepping into the cavernous expanse, a never-ending labyrinth of shadowed caves surrounds me—each wall carved from the alchemy of timeless sleep. This was the birthplace of the Oneiroi, a place of ancient power and dark serenity.

The God of Sleep emerges from the gloom, his presence both commanding and weary.

For fuck's sake.

Daddy is not happy.

I harden my jaw at the sight of the ancient God who stands as a towering, imposing figure, his presence dominating the cavern. His massive owl wings in place of arms span the width of the cavern, feathers shimmering with a dark, otherworldly light. The same feathers cover every inch of his body in bountiful layers. A great owl skull substitutes for his head, its hollow eyes glowing malevolently.

Hypnos is formidable and macabre. His nature as a minor God demands respect despite his natural sloth of slumber. The son of Nyx, his aura is dark and enigmatic.

"Phobetor," he booms, his voice, deep and resonant, hammers in my ears, carrying the weight of countless ages overseeing the realm of sleep. Yes, he prefers to call me by my birthname, the "Frightener".

Shoulders heavy with his troubles, the God's voice pierces through the oppressive silence.

"Nyxion," Hypnos's voice rumbles with discontent, "You and Morpheus are fighting. Again."

I meet my father's gaze with defiance icing my blood and resignation weighing down my wings. He stole my voice, Father.

His gaze bores into me, seeing right through my ruse. "You stole his Eye first. You bear the most responsibility for this discord."

I don't lower my head, but I don't deny his statement.

A weary sigh heaves from his mouth as he shakes his chest feathers. "Your battles with Morpheus have left me cleaning up your messes. I prefer my territory of rest and sedateness. Your infantile need for drama to appease your boredom with the fears of man and your misguided envy of your brother have led to the fragmentation of our worlds. Many lost dreams are escaping to the mortal realm. Too many could cause an undue war."

He coughs, makes a choking sound, and regurgitates the bones and skulls of small birds. Reavers escape with the bones. I should have recognized his signature in their attacks.

His talons scrape at the rocky ground in obvious annoyance. "Temporal storms rage unchecked, and reavers plague the dreamscape. I thought you'd get the hint of how I've had to work overtime, mending the fractures you and your brother have wrought."

I grind my jaw, nearly breaking a tooth. I cannot deny how more chaos has erupted from our conflicts this time. After all my failures to create a dream weaver resulted in thousands of souls passing into Purgatory, I took advantage of Morpheus. Wrath and envy ruled me.

They do not rule me now.

The dark torment of my soul from my little dreamer's tears has left me in a purgatorial prison of my mind. One of my own making. Only she may heal me with the asphyxiation of my sins until I retch them onto the ground for her to trod upon.

Clenching my bony hand, I stare my father down. I take responsibility for the disturbances that have ripped through the dream realm and into the mortal world. My quest for Eden has only thrust me closer to the Abyss. I don't mention how I've found paradise within the black and hollow void.

"Nightmares are as significant as dreams and sleep, Phobetor." Hypnos's voice sharpens upon me. "You would do well to remember that. Dreamwalkers are one thing. You've toyed with them. But never have you created a dream weaver. With every thread she imagines, the balance grows more volatile."

He tilts his head, predatory and commanding. "Zeus is not pleased with your recent exploits, especially after the incident in Purgatory that shattered the barriers between realms, then the deep schism between nightmares and dreams. Never have you and your brother been more divided. If you don't rectify this soon, I will have no choice but to call upon Thanatos."

A storm tremors inside me, and a growl rises.

Damn. My father's wings flare. I have never dared to challenge him, to defy him to such a degree. His eyes flash dangerously. With talons clenching, Hypnos creeps forward in a slow, gliding step. "Careful, son. Don't make me call your mother."

No, that's the last thing we need.

Lowering my jaw in submission, I assure him, Zenya will undertake the Trials. She will restore balance.

"Thanatos would be kinder to her than such an undertaking."

Steeling myself, I shake my head. I am not ready to let her go.

Hypnos's expression grows more suspicious and sinister. "And if she fails, Thanatos will come anyway. We cannot and will not trouble the Abyss. You know what could happen if we do."

My spine locks up. The Apocalypse. The portals of heaven and hell unleashing their fire upon all worlds, not just the mortal one.

"If he senses an iota of hesitation in her…do you think he'll spare her for your whims? I know she was a dream walker first, my son."

Don't. My rib cage rattles.

"You should have returned her to Purgatory when she accidentally wandered into your realm. She would have had a painless and slow process of working out her morally gray life. Now, she must go to war with her demons."

My heart snaps its strings, crashing to my stomach to swirl in its undertow. My memory returns to the moment she stepped into my world when the walls of Purgatory fractured for a time.

A dark desire overcomes me with the vision she was—one I believed was a mirage at the time. I called to her, summoned her deeper into the fabric of my realm, and hid her from Eros until I could find her in that cold and lonely hospital room. One glimpse to confirm her identity. One kiss of promise to return.

And I did—with the Eye of Morpheus.

The one who got away would not escape me again.

My father sways to absorb the shadows, casting him into a silhouette with only his eyes as light in the darkness. "Phobetor, the Chaos of the Universe chose you as the essence of nightmares. Whether you recognize it or not, you are necessary for the gravity of the subconscious of all mortals.

"In the past, you have created dream walkers and fed on their minuscule amounts of emotions—most return to the world of man driven to insanity. You cast them aside, returning to your haunting ways."

He does not ask, but I know the question hangs between us. Why is she different?

I could give him an endless list of reasons.

The truth is this: while she may not remember, she felt me all the same. She sought me. From the moment she entered Purgatory and felt its fractures, she searched for me, damn near hunted me in my nightmarish world. I sang my dark lullaby over her and laid her on the ground near my fortress before stealing away to her hospital room.

Her subconscious accepted the implantation of the Eye.

I recall the overwhelming awe when she fell for me. Her weaving like healing and how her presence had fused with my fractured soul.

Her ferocity when I pulled her down to that burial ground before her spirit took me until she was weaving for me.

And then, the moment I beheld her tears—ones not wrought from my hand—pierced my darkness. I felt her raw vulnerability and humanity in every breath.

I'm convinced Zenya Alice Myre's soul fell from heaven, then crawled through the fires of hell, battling for rebirth.

Father… I tread carefully, daring to step forward while raising myself higher, lifting my chin to stare down the God of Sleep. It is not her alone. It is because I would battle Death himself for her. It is because… I take a deep breath and speak the words in the macabre sanctuary of my mind, knowing they will become real. I would crawl into the Abyss itself and sell my soul to its infinite black heart if it granted her another sweet dream bereft of my nightmares.

Hypnos says nothing. I do not blink. I do not break, caught within his all-powerful gaze. I've unmasked my feelings, unraveled my heart, my truth—this vow I set upon myself with a hardened resolve.

He is the first to blink. Then declares, "Your devotion is evident, but devotion alone cannot mend the fractures you have caused. There are consequences, Nyxion, and even love cannot erase them."

Hope can.

It's my split-second response, and while my bones rattle with the gravity of what I have spoken, I believe it with every cell in my being. Could hope truly exist in the fathomless fabric of nightmares?

"A valiant speech, son." He sniffs. "But do not mistake theatrical words for actual power. The Abyss does not bargain lightly. Neither does it grant favors to those who only know how to destroy."

I will not let her succumb to destruction.

I understand the stakes, Father. She will not be alone in the Trials. Morpheus, Hecate, and myself will be with her. Zenya's strength is unlike anything I've encountered. I will ensure the Trials are completed. She is not just another dream weaver. She means more.

"Clearly."

Hypnos regards me with a mixture of skepticism and weary hope. "Very well. But remember, Nyxion, the consequences of failure extend beyond just your realm. The balance you disrupt affects us all."

I nod, a flicker of determination in my eyes. I will not fail. Zenya will see this through. I will not leave her, Father.

Hypnos sighs, his gaze lingering on me. "I hope you're right. For all our sakes."

With that, Hypnos's form recedes into the shadows of the cavern, leaving me alone in the dim expanse. The gravity of my father's words press on me, but beneath it all, the knowledge of Zenya's power and her impact upon me burns fiercely in my heart.

I will not let her go.