45. The Call Of The Void

45. The Call Of The Void

Skylenna

“I want to die,” Ruthmutters as she spits more bile from her mouth.

Marilynn ties Ruth’s thick curls back into a braid so they don’t get clumped with any vomit. Her pain level is so high that it’s affecting her stomach. Nausea, diarrhea, migraines, body aches. We’ve all felt helpless while taking care of her. Watching her suffer is bearing witness to my heart being cut into tiny pieces, then set on fire.

After one final dry heave, Ruth slumps back down, letting us wash her half-naked body. She smells like captivity. Like dried blood, bile, sweat, and terminal illness. We thought that by cleaning her up, it might help her feel a little better.

But in fact, nothing can make her feel better.

She’s depressed. Every time Ruth looks down, she sees the empty space where her legs once existed. And it only takes her a moment to process, but she ends up sobbing quietly into her hands for an hour.

“The boys should be coming back any moment,” Marilynn says, trying to make her voice sound hopeful, even though the action is obviously foreign to her.

And that’s the sad truth of this. Our hope has been waning significantly. Everything everywhere looks so grim. It’s the feeling all living, breathing beings in captivity feel, isn’t it? A complete loss of hope. Our world turns a shade of black, cold, and empty.

But no matter what, we do our best not to let Ruth see that.

“I want to die,” Ruth repeats in a withdrawn voice. She has this dead look in her chestnut eyes, as if her soul is retreating far away, not bothering to give this body a second glance.

My hands tremble at the reminder of Scarlett. In a way, she looks like her at this moment. That same expression Scarlett wore when I left her to gather blueberries.

I won’t bury another friend. I won’t lose any more family. Stumbling toward her, I place my cold hands on her cheeks. They’re hollow, ghostly without that radiant olive tone she usually wears so beautifully.

“Should I take you away for a while?” I ask.

“I guess.” No emotion. No care for anything at all.

My bottom lip sticks out involuntarily, a natural impulse as tears gather in my eyes.

It only takes a few moments to lure her back to Ambrose Oasis. And only a few more to return to Marilynn, who watches me with exhaustion hanging over her soft features.

“We’re in hell, aren’t we?” I ask her.

She nods. “The ninth circle. Right in the thick of it.”

As we watch Ruth breathing shallowly, I try to count back in my head. The minutes, maybe hours, of how long the boys have been gone.

“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” I look at Marilynn with suspicion pinching my brows.

“Right? What else could they be doing?”

I turn my head down the hallway, waiting to see if I hear their voice or footsteps. They were only supposed to be gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes or so. It feels like it’s been a couple hours.

“Do you think I should go” A torrent of misery blasts through the void like a horn of war. Echoing through my bones like hellfire. I fall back against the bars of the cage, clutching my chest as a tidal wave of emotions suffocates the inside of the void.

“What’s wrong?” Marilynn rushes to my side.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, breathing through the fear, the hatred, the almighty downpour of guilt.

And I feel him.

It’s tangible.

A rope connecting my life source to him.

I feel Dessin through the loud, violent energy sounding off in the void.

“Shit,” I grunt, bearing down my teeth. “I think he’s in trouble.”

Marilynn doesn’t waste a breath. She merely lifts her chin, straightens her shoulders, and nods toward the long, grim hallway.

“Go. I’ll take care of Ruth.”

My insides jolt with a sharp, electrical shock at the essence of Dessin’s roars. I’d know it anywhere. It’s the stinging reminder of his grunts radiating through the asylum as he was being tortured.

I’d argue with Marilynn about leaving the two of them alone, but the pull to find my soulmate is unbearable. It’s an itch to escape my skin, travel the length of the void to find him. I nod to my friend, jump to my feet, and bolt through the hallway.

~

Dessin

“Are you going to swingit again or let her bleed out slowly?”

Skylenna stands next to Sophia’s body, arms crossed, head tilted, and a wicked smirk I’ve never seen on her before.

Kane’s mother bleeds out on the kitchen table. The sounds of her gurgling lungs fill the stale air, piercing my ears and leaving me with a haunting memory that won’t ever fade.

I pull the blade of the sickle from her chest, painting my face with a look of indifference. Only…why is Skylenna here? Why is she smiling? Something isn’t right. Uneasiness turns my stomach at the sight of her.

“Let’s get the little brother in here!” She claps her hands.

What is wrong with her? Doesn’t she see Kane’s mother suffering?

“Skylenna…” I utter cautiously, as though I’m cornering an animal.

“Yes, there he is.” She shifts behind Arthur standing next to her. “Are you able to kill him, or shall I?”

“Don’t touch him!” I growl, anger flaring hot against my chest.

“He’s too much of a burden. Wouldn’t you want to get rid of him?”

What the fuck is she saying?“NO. He’s Kane’s brother.”

She laughs, then brings a knife to his throat.

“Do it!”

“Skylenna! Stop!” I take a step forward. “This isn’t you.”

An idea flashes behind her cold stare. She pushes Arthur away with a small shove and brings the blade to her own throat, pressing against her skin without a care in the world.

“Wait!” I shout. But she takes a step back, eyes desolate and buzzing with excitement.

“It’s him or me,” she says loudly.

My eyes leap from her to Arthur. He’s scared, clutching his rabbit, pleading with tears streaming down his plump cheeks.

“Please,” I beg, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “Don’t do this to me.”

She grins, showing off her straight, white smile.

Everything in this room scorches my senses. The sight of red. It drips off the sides of the kitchen table. It puddles around the floor. It seeps from Sophia’s lips. The smell of copper and death. The sounds of Kane’s mother suffocating, convulsing, pleading for me to save Arthur.

“I’m not going to choose.” I swallow, holding the sickle against my chest.

“No?” She presses the tip of the knife into her skin. Beads of blood gush around the blade, drizzling down her chest one drop at a time.

Conflicting emotions jet through me from Kane. He cries out for her, for his brother. I search her eyes for what I should do, questioning her actions, begging for mercy.

But the blood continues to stream.

“I know this isn’t your heart,” I say somberly. “I love you.”

And Kane howls as Arthur hits the floor, never letting go of that rabbit.

~

Skylenna

“Where is he?!” I pushmy way through a crowd of inmates gathered at the entrance to the stadium doors.

Helga Bee pops up from her seated position on the stage.

“Where is Dessin?” I shout, eyes stinging with tears at the void blowing up in chaos.

She shrugs in confusion. “Thought they went back to you by now. I told them about the new stock of Honey in here. They ran off like they were gonna get it, but when I showed up, it was still here.”

My hands clench into fists. A dead end. Where would they go? Did something happen?

Dessin’s heartbeat hammers through the void. It’s haunting, fast, and filled with morbid intentions.

“Fuck!” I screech, throwing my hands down to my sides. I spin in a circle, desperate to find any sign of him, catch a hint of a trail that will lead to my friends. “Dessin!”

Perplexed faces, sweaty bodies, and strobing lights make me dizzy as I jog aimlessly into the stands of organized seating. I feel it in my gut, in my bones that something is horribly wrong. After finding my memories again, learning of the deep, profound relationship we really have, it’s been different between us. Like we were meant to breathe the same air, share the same thoughts, be fueled by the same power.

And something is disrupting that fuel.

It’s like someone is sawing down the bridge that links me to him.

“Dessin!” I bellow with a red face and trembling hands. “DESSIN!”

A cold fingertip grazes my shoulder lightly, a touch that resembles the softness of a feather. I jerk around like a rabid animal foaming at the mouth, thrusting my hand forward to snatch the figure’s wrist midair.

The girl yelps, fumbling back into the arms of a man appearing just as startled.

“Do you remember me?” The girl exhales shakily.

I blink through the warm wall of tears, focusing in on her bruised face. Familiar. Tan skin, copper hair, both matted and stringy, with a heartbreaking glint in her gaze. The kind that screams pity, and maybe compassion. The last time I saw them, they were dressed in white, surviving in a different setting of captivity.

“You’re the two I broke out of the asylum,” I say cautiously.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Apparently the side effect of escaping the Chandelier City is to end up here,” Niklaus answers behind the girl. His black hair is tied back in a bun, and somehow he looks stronger than before. Glowing ocean eyes like he’s just seen war.

My swollen eyes shift between them. “I don’t have time for polite conversation. I’m looking for someone.”

I try to push past them, but the girl holds my wrist again.

“Drop it,” I growl.

“I know you don’t know me, but you’ve done so much for me the moment I needed you the most.” Her voice is lined with yearning gratitude. “Let me do something for you now.”

I watch as her brows knit together, and her bottom lip trembles.

“He’s in the tower on the east wing. It’s a dungeon they use to experiment on inmates.”

Respite and terror wrestle in my core. Experiment? Haven’t we had enough of that shit to last a lifetime? I pull away from her to go after him, but she tightens her grip.

“Don’t hold back on them. It takes something extraordinary to unlock a mind like yours. No one will ever forget this day. Especially not me. Not ever.” She stares into my eyes with a wealth of knowledge I’ve only seen in a few individuals in my lifetime. Dessin. Judas. Marilynn. Asena. The people of the ancient colonies…

And those eyes…there’s something about the colors of her eyes.

“Who. Are. You?”

Her look of farewell is timeless, beautiful, and ethereal as she bows her head, taking Niklaus and disappearing into the shadows.

~

Warrose

He started off murmuring her name.

“Skylenna, Skylenna, Skylenna.”

Now he says nothing at all. Every few minutes he makes agonized noises, the kind I used to hear from a dying animal in the forest. It’s a guttural moan that is so unlike him, raking across my skin like a blanket of spiders. Sweat glistens his furrowed forehead. Every muscle is flexed and excruciatingly tight.

“Alright, that’s enough! This has gone on long enough!” I fight against the bars holding me down, bruising myself until I’m a throbbing mess.

What the fuck are they doing to him?

“He won’t make it out until his brain chemistry toward the girl changes,” Masten says absentmindedly as he glances up at Dessin from an old book.

Niles pants next to me, still sickened and traumatized by the hot poker. I don’t blame him; I’m shivering and wincing at the horrendous burns on my side. But all I care about right now is getting my friend out of his own personal hell.

“Dessin? It’s me, buddy. Fight through this. You love Skylenna, and she loves you. Nothing in the world can corrupt that!” I shout with a sore throat.

But Dessin continues to make awful sounds in the base of his throat. And Kaspias fucking laughs. Before I can even open my mouth, Niles beats me to it.

“You think this is funny?” His snarl is shaped by torment and hatred. “That’s your brother! You’re hurting your brother!”

I watch as Kaspias glances between Niles and Dessin, and his expression goes taut, only for half a second, then morphs back into mockery.

“My family is here,” Kaspias says proudly, hands on hips.

“No.” The room swells with ice and wickedness. “Your family was Sophia and Arthur.”

I jerk my head to look toward the doorway but can’t move past my manacles. However, I don’t need to see the woman standing there to know her intelligent, strong voice.

It’s Skylenna.

She found us.

“Sophia’s heart broke the day she thought you died in her arms after birth. She sobbed in her birthing bed, trying to breathe life into a child that was swapped with you. Begging God to give her baby back to her.” Skylenna takes three steps forward, coming into my sight. “That was your mother, Kaspias. The same mother who used to tell bedtime stories to Kane and Arthur about the man you would have become. The same mother who cried at your grave every Sunday, leaving yellow tulips on your small grave in hopes it would brighten your day wherever you were in the afterlife.”

Kaspias is on his feet now, gawking at her like someone has just dumped cold water over his head. “How the fuck did you find us?”

“Sophia and Arthur were murdered in the house you were supposed to grow up in.”

Kaspias’s veins bulge from his hands and forearms, though he doesn’t move.

“Enough of this,” Masten scoffs, rising to his feet with the support of his cane. “Maybe she won’t be so mushy if she knew what you’re doing to your precious brother.”

Skylenna’s head turns to Dessin, taking in the horrendous view of the way his body reacts to the gruesome images the Mind Phantoms have given him.

“Masten.” She acknowledges the traitor with little surprise. “What have you done?” Her upper lip peels back.

“I’m fixing him,” he declares proudly. “Now, he’ll never look at you the same way again. He’ll forever associate you with loss, pain, and hatred. Without the weakness of loving you, he’ll be the perfect soldier. The world’s greatest assassin. And you’re next.”