25. Theo

Theo

Darius keeps talking, but I'm having trouble keeping track of the words coming out of his mouth, my brain too busy scrambling to catch up.

Why is he here?

What does he want?

Why does he keep touching me?

Sure, I might have the answers to those questions if I listened, but his hand is on my knee again , and my senses are at panic stations. I just want to run upstairs to my room, lock the door, and wrap myself up like a burrito until the thundering screaming in my head stops.

Shit.

Darius is looking at me like I'm meant to be answering. My lip has found its way between my teeth, and I can taste the blood where I have chewed on it too hard.

How had I ever thought his face was handsome? It is good looking, yeah, but devoid of personality, of life . There is nothing in his eyes. Like affection is just a mask slipped on his face, a role he is playing.

How have I never seen this before? Was I always so blind?

Well, yes.

To fight the overwhelming urge to flee, I focus on my breathing, cycling my breath in and out, until it steadies again. Darius takes both my hands in his, leaning forward to do so as I'd somehow shuffled my chair back while I'd been zoned out.

"Theo, are you okay, my love?" Man, it seems like I've missed a lot, what the fuck?

I try to pull my hands out of his grasp, but he holds tight, squeezing my fingers with punishing strength. His thumbs stroke my hands in a way that emulates soothing to the observer, but his grip doesn't loosen until I quit resisting.

"How overwhelmed you must be, here, in this… place." I've never been a violent man, but the snobbish sneer on his face when he casts his eye over the Black Stump Tavern helps replace some of my anxiety with rage. My palms itch to smack the look off his face.

"But never mind that, Theo. I'm here for you now. There was talk, back at the University, about what happened. I spoke to the Dean, and he confirmed that you weren't returning and that you…" A passably believable look of empathy moves over his face, and he leans even closer, hinting at my lost gifts.

A shudder ripples up my spine, but I don't pull back. This was the plan, wasn't it? The one I made with Dr. Brordieu? To talk, clear the air. Another deep breath. This is a good thing. Even if it feels incredibly, cosmically wrong.

Darius sighs, that sigh he always did when I had disappointed him or failed to live up to his expectations. "I want you to know that I forgive you Theo. That it doesn't matter to me that you lost your gifts or that you ran away. Or that you didn't answer my calls when I needed you. There is no need to be ashamed, I am still here for you."

His voice is soft still, wrapping around me like a ribbon. Unbidden, those old feelings stir deep in my gut, throwing my world as I know it off its axis, clouding my judgement until it settles around me like a fog.

"I-I-" I shake myself, trying to clear my head of the shame and guilt, to remember the points that I had gone over with Dr Brordieu, but for the life of me I can't seem to remember them. "What about Mathilde? You're going to marry her. You said-"

He squeezes my hands again, eyes flicking cautiously around the tavern when I hiss loud enough to draw the attention of others. "My darling Theo, that was nothing. I swear it. Why don't we go somewhere more private? The beings here, they are so… unseemly . I can explain everything ."

In the very distant back of my mind there is a fuzzy voice yelling a warning, cursing a storm that he was talking shit about my friends . But it is quickly snuffed out. Darius would never hurt me, the more logical, reasonable voice reassures me. He's safe—he cares about me. The first flicker of real emotion flashes in his eyes as I nod, satisfied that I have agreed.

Leading Darius to the table filled with my brother and my friends and most importantly, Roan, is a surreal feeling. He keeps trying to touch me, to lead me, with a hand on the back or the arm, but each time a fiery spark warns me of his touch, and I jump from his reach.

It's a stark contrast to the safety I feel when Roan does the same thing. Everything about this interaction feels vaguely wrong, like it is happening beside me, not to me. But I can't seem to stop it all from happening.

The adrenaline of the moment is making me feel like I'm watching the scene from outside my body as I reassure them, play-acting normalcy, even maintaining my newfound sass like a puppet. My mouth aches as I mouth "I love you" across the tavern to Roan.

Darius keeps close as I lead him down the path to the house, and I can feel the judgement rolling off him. The knowledge feels exterior to me, outside of my body.

Even though none of this feels real, his touch still burns through my shirt. Obviously, he still feels the sting in his hand as he has thankfully stopped trying to grab me. If I didn't know better, I would think my body is trying to repel him, even if my mind can't seem to.

"Well, isn't this… charming." He follows me through the carved door into the living area, freshly painted a soft and creamy butter yellow and waiting for its new curtains, and spins on his heels.

He looks so odd here, his pressed and starched clothes, pristine hair and icy aura completely at odds with the warmth, comfort, and love of the room. He looks alien, unreal. Maybe this is all still some dream, and I'll wake up in Roan's arms once again.

"Thank you. I did most of the work myself. Well, what I could. The others helped." I step closer, and he turns back to me, coming to stand before me, chest to chest—well, waist. Like everyone, he is considerably taller than me—looking down at me. Not even metaphorically this time. His hands rise to grasp my arms before he remembers and drops them, resting them on his hips instead.

"Of course, Theo. And what help you would have needed, I mean, you, a Hivercouer, doing manual labour ." He scoffs, pretentiously.

I want to argue back but hold my tongue, not wanting to ruin things with a fight.

One of his hands comes up again, ghosting over my cheek with the back of his hand, while his eyes search mine for something I don't know how to give him. A warm buzz skates over my skin, like a million pinpricks poking holes into my spirit.

I can't seem to take my eyes from his—like a compulsion, I'm locked onto them. They are so deep, the dots of his pupils widening until his eyes are pure blackness. Panic rises in my subconscious, but it's too late. The earth drops from beneath my feet, plunging me into blackness. As the world disappears and I sink into oblivion, one thought overwhelms me.

Oh fuck. Not again .

***

The ground beneath me is hard, rough. And also kind of damp? With my eyes still shut, I scan my body, testing my limbs for movement. Fortunately, there is no pain, no apparent injuries to my body except for a dull ache to accompany the mental grogginess.

Unfortunately , my arms and legs are completely unrestrained. That would have been a good thing, except there is a slick patch of something wet beneath me—is that moss? —and my body jerks wildly in shock.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake." Hearing Darius's voice seems to unlock my hearing, the sounds rushing my ears.

Bird calls, trees rustling in the breeze and, most importantly, the pounding of the Whisper Falls.

How did I get here? Hysteria wells in me, as I become all too aware that, for the second time in my life, in this year, in the last six months I have been bespelled and kidnapped.

What in the actual fuck?

Hysteria gives way to white hot rage. How fucking dare he? How dare he victimise me again? The anger flowing through my body balls into furious sparks from my fingertips.

Thankfully, my fingers are hidden from view under my chest where I am sprawled on the floor. The sparks burn my chest, but I take the pain and let it fire me up further. Whatever is about to come, I am going to need whatever advantage I can get.

"You can stop pretending now, Theo, I know you're awake. You might try to act with some dignity."

Despite being loath to do a single thing he says, I push myself to sit, tucking my knees into my chest and crossing my arms over them to conceal my sparking hands.

The sun is worryingly low to the treeline—though summer means longer days, it seems late in the afternoon now. We arrived at the tavern just before lunch. How long have I been out?

Somehow, and I hate to consider how exactly he's done it, he has managed to get us both to the top of the Falls, setting us up beside the rocky creek bed right before the water tumbles over the ledge. From my sitting position, close enough to the edge to raise my blood pressure, I can see the pool below and the surrounding trees. If I squint really hard, I can see the white of the tavern and the house, so far, yet so close.

Actually close by are the slick rocks that form the wide creek bed. The bed is covered in moss and scraggly trees struggling to take root in between the large, flat slate sheets and smaller water-tumbled pebbles. The water is crystal clear, flowing rapidly towards its descent.

Naturally, the Whisper Woods surround us, and for a moment I consider pushing to my feet and bolting for the safety of the trees. But the distance is too far, even if I did manage to make it past the slick rocks without Darius and his absurdly long legs capturing me, there are still several metres of overgrown grass and shrubbery before you get to the treeline. I'd never make it.

Darius huffs impatiently from where he is fiddling about at a large stack of flat rocks. It almost looks like a primitive altar. Probably because he is setting it up to look like one, with bundles of herbs and a large seashell, candles, and a rather wicked looking knife.

What is it with my kidnappers and knives? It's starting to hurt my feelings.

I meet his huff with a solid glare, happy to see his perpetually pristine and starchy pressed shirt and trousers stained and streaked with mud and grime. It is petty and childish, but it feels like a win to see him dirty. I know it will have cost him.

"Yes, yes. Enough of that. But don't be mad, I'm about to give you everything you ever wanted, darling Theo."

How had I ever thought his smug, pretentious face was handsome? His sneer twists his handsome visage into something sinister and gross. His hands rest on his hips, a length of black ribbon wrapped around one hand.

"What are you talking about, Darius? Why have you brought me here?"

" You should be grateful ." That honeyed quality I'd always loved is back in his voice and for the first time, I recognise the gentle press that accompanies it.

Is he compelling me ?

Had this been going on for our entire relationship? How naive had I been? I manage to swallow my groan, gritting my teeth against the emotions bubbling up, focusing instead on my anger to stay tapped into the power sparking from my fingers. Feeling the pressure of his magic in my mind, I'm torn by indecision.

How much does he know about what happened to me? I had told the University, with extreme brevity, about the loss of my gift and my powers. Is he counting on my fae abilities being gone? He wouldn't know they had begun to return, different as they are.

No one knows.

But also, if he had been managing to compel me for years, and I had been too stupid and happy to be wanted that I hadn't noticed, he wouldn't think my magic would be a roadblock to his control at all.

There are too many variables, too many unknowns, and I can't seem to scramble a thought about what to do. Darius watches me closely, assessing—I need to do something . I send a quick prayer to the Gods for help, like a mental SOS, and tentatively push back at the compulsion prodding at me. Darius's head cocks to the side, the sneer fading ever so slightly, becoming more shrewd.

" Interesting ." The word hangs in the breeze between us. He seems so unhurried, like he has all the time in the world for whatever he has planned.

"Are you going to explain what's going on here?" I work to calm my voice, my breathing. I need to focus.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Darius goes back to the altar, fussing at the things he has there, withdrawing a thick, leather-bound book from a bag or something hidden behind the stone. It looks ancient, delicate; the pages yellowed and frail. He places it reverently on the slab, stroking a finger over the cover.

"Theo, my darling, we are to be mated . Isn't that wonderful?" Both hands spread wide on the waist-high altar, he leans forward, a flat, emotionless smile on his face.

He isn't even trying to hide it anymore.

Dimly, I am almost offended, the pressure of the situation, the insanity of it all sending me over the edge.

"What, and I mean this with all sincerity, Darius, are you fucking talking about?"

I'm met with a scowl and stony eyes.

"Language, Theo. You are a Hivercouer for the Gods' sake. You should bloody well act like one for once!" His lightly tanned skin flushes with rage, his words ending on a broken shout. Taking a moment to collect himself, he breathes deep, smoothing down his shirt, running a hand over his hair. Physically pulling himself back together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the gathering of Woods creatures hanging in the shadows, all watching with interest. A herd of nabras captures my attention, their feathers ruffling like they do when they stalk their prey. They are too far to recognise if they are the herd I am familiar with, but I can only hope so.

If not, I might also be on the menu for whatever is running through their heads. I swallow down the fear of one more potential villain in this scenario and try to get a hold of my panic before it spirals out of control.

From over a kilometre away, the largest, obviously the leader of their herd, locks eyes with me. Help . That knowledge again, communication felt rather than heard.

They are here to help me? Maintaining eye contact I give the briefest of nods—nabras' eyesight is inherently powerful—I know they can see me. My nod is confirmed by the bow of the nabras's enormous head, their beak snapping once, menacingly. For whatever reason, they wait, holding position in the shadows. Are they waiting for my signal?

"It seems…" Darius's much calmer voice pulls me back to the moment. "…that I have found myself in a bit of a dilemma, sweet Theo. And you, you are my solution. Don't you want to help me?"

"Not particularly." My cheerful taunt only angers him again, his eyebrows flying up before slamming back down in a frown.

"Well, that really is beside the point, now, isn't it ?" He stalks around the side of the altar towards me again, his shoes clipping loudly on the stone.

Not wanting to let him tower over me again, I stand, planting my feet wide, strengthening my stance, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my hands. He still stands over me, until my neck cranes back so I can glare directly in his face.

"You never even deserved it . None of it—not the money, not the power, not the influence. And Gods, your gifts! Useless. Wasted. But no more. I need your inheritance, Theo. And you, you obviously need someone to show you how to act. Behave. I tried and tried, but you never learnt. But maybe now you will. Who knows? And who cares? After we're mated, and we've secured your place back in your family, then you can disappear however is necessary."

Wow. I can feel my eyes widen in shock at the vicious diatribe —not to mention casual threats to my life —he literally spits in my face.

"I don't know if you've heard, Darius." I pump as much venom into my tone as I can muster, that spark in my fingers stretching through my palms up to my wrists, almost unmanageable, searing my skin. "But I'm disinherited . It all goes to cousin Gerald. Seems like you weren't the only one whose expectations I failed to live up to."

His smug smile is back, and I want nothing else in this world but to wipe it off his face, but I don't have any faith that I could actually manage to overpower him.

"Wrong again, Theo. Your father is ready to welcome you back to the fold." He pauses on a breath. I really think he enjoys the drama of all of this. "Under the right circumstances, of course."

"And you're the right circumstances?" I let my eyes trail over him, derisively. "I hardly think a commoner like you would be suitable to my father."

My parents' classism and bigotry is a core aspect of their personalities. In fact, throw in their paranoia and it's their entire personality. But Darius just laughs.

"Yes, well, his acceptance is more of a commentary on you rather than me . They've given up on you, and your brother as well, but I managed to convince him of my advantages."

He compelled my father? That would be nearly impossible.

Father is as paranoid as he is a dick. Protection is his strength . What kind of power does Darius wield to be able to compel a man as gifted as him, or even me, without any hint of his magical presence? But most importantly, how did he manage to get to him? As far as I am aware, they had never met.

"How did you even meet my father?"

Casually, he brushes lint off my shoulder, hissing at the shock he is given when he makes contact with my shirt.

"My engagement to Mathilde opened doors to me. I managed to make friends in the right places. One thing led to another, and here we are."

"That explains literally nothing, Darius. Tell me what happened. What happened with Mathilde?" I shift my arms on my chest, stinging him when I accidentally brush against him.

"You were never this mouthy before… but I'm sure I can break you of the habit." My stomach turns at the sinister look on his face, but he continues before I can answer back. "With the new connections afforded to me by my fiancée, I saw an opportunity and seized it. They all looked down on me, snide and condescending. Like I was something undeserving."

He scoffs, his face twisting in derision. "But they were fools, and so I showed them. Outsmarted them all. It wasn't even hard. They are all so greedy for more, when they have everything . A whisper here, a rumour there. A little convincing , and I had them eating out of the palm of my hand. That was until that nosey bitch stuck her nose in and figured it out—"

"Figured what out? What did you do to them?" Not that I particularly care, but I can sense the increasing anxiety of the creatures watching in the shadows. Darius is too focused on me to notice that we are surrounded. By the water, creatures of the Woods and, the thing I am most concerned about, a plunge to our deaths.

Completely unconcerned, he smiles contentedly, remembering how he had outsmarted my father and his peers. "I convinced them to invest in a business opportunity. I'd mastered the art in school. It was expensive, you see, keeping up with Mathilde and our friends. They didn't understand, they didn't care . With the contacts Mathilde introduced me to, I could increase my game a thousandfold. And it worked . They invested more and more—I just had to stay ahead of the game, ahead of them all."

His sharp inhale through his nose as he blissfully closes his eyes and turns his face to the sky shocks me, and I startle, my nerves frayed. It nearly unsettles him, almost has him casting his eye about the small clearing, but he is too wrapped up in the high of remembering the apparent thrill of investment fraud.

He'd been running a fucking investment scam.

"You compelled them to invest, didn't you?"

His furious face snaps back to me. "A gold star for the little genius. Yes . None of you knew I had that particular gift. None of you had any idea of what gifts my parents gave me. They taught me how to be clever, to use the skills they had to my advantage, to be more ."

His eyes are crazed, his voice frantic. "But then Mathilde found everything—well, mostly. She never found out the truth about my talents. My mother was not only a powerful witch, but she was cunning too. She taught me how to conceal the gifts inherited from my father, how to mask my magic so as to appear weak and harmless. But then Mathilde ran crying to her father. Rather than risk the scandal, he made me quietly end the engagement and disappear. And I would have."

"Until I heard a rather interesting argument between your father and your cousin. Your cousin Gerald was mad he had invested with me, and your father threatened to disinherit him and welcome you back into the family. Especially if you made a suitable match. It hadn't taken much more effort to convince him that none other than yours truly would be an impeccable mate for you. I only had to find you. And you were wiley, I'll give you that. But…" He quirks an eyebrow, calm again now. "…here we are."

"And how exactly did you find me?" He startles me again, stepping away quickly, turning on his heel to return to the altar.

"Do you know anything of the mages that once resided on this land?"

I shake my head and throw my hands in the air, forgetting for a moment the magic sparking there before quickly tucking them back into hiding. Gods, I hope the stance at least looks casual and not like I'm hiding or cowering.

His monologuing was really taking away from the stress of the situation for me. A part of me considers just making a run for it, but now I am invested. I want to know. Need to know.

" No, Darius , I don't know anything about the mages that once dwelled in the Whisper Woods."

A flurry of magic whips from his hand, smacking me hard across the face. The pain stings my cheeks. Blinking back tears of pain I refuse to show him, I rub my cheek with my palm, still trying to conceal the uncontrolled power sizzling at the place where my fingers meet my palm.

"I will only tolerate so much, Theo. I warn you now." Darius strokes the cover of the ancient tome again and rolls his shoulders. "Mages are known for their elemental control. But that is child's play compared to the mages of the Woods. They were masters of the astral realm. Weavers of spiritual threads that bind us all. They could walk amongst the dead. Talk to spirits. Dream walk …"

It was him .

The thought hurts like a punch to the guts, winding me, wounding me more than any of the bullshit this encounter has wrought. He had stalked my dreams, tortured my sleep, until he found me, took me from the people I love, to force mate me ? Fuck this.

" You bastard ." He knows. I know. He knows I know, and I know he knows I know. Sounds confusing, but it means it's all out in the air now.

That same empty smile is plastered on his face again, and, before I can raise my hand to wipe it off as painfully as possible, my arms are bound to my body with magical bonds. I fight with all of my strength, but there is nothing I can do when I'm raised in the air til my sneakers drag on the rocks, carrying me closer to the altar and my deranged ex.

"Now, now, that's no way to talk to your beloved, is it? I don't understand why you are fighting this, Theo. Isn't this what you always wanted? To be by my side forever? For me to finally claim you? For someone to finally want you ?"

Acting on some childish reflex, I draw back my head, gathering up all the saliva in my mouth, and spit in his face. The wad of gunk lands on one eye with a loud thwack , dripping disgustingly down his cheek. His horrified expression makes it worth the way the bonds around my chest squeeze terrifyingly tight.

"If you were so confident I still wanted you, you wouldn't have kidnapped me, Darius. I wouldn't mate with you if you were the last being on earth. Gods, I wouldn't piss on your teeth if your mouth were on fire. Rot in the ether, Darius !"

My voice raises to a furious shout, echoing through the Falls over the sound of the rapids below us. The rage only feeds the power buzzing inside me, but it's volatile, like a child learning to hone their gifts for the first time, only bigger, stronger. It feels like a volcano inside me about to burst.

Darius, a man I once thought I loved, and I stare each other down from opposite sides of the altar. His hand flexes by his side, bound in that black ribbon, no doubt used in the mating binding ritual. His chest heaves with each breath he takes, power and anger rippling from him in waves. Tipping me closer to the edge of exploding.

"Good thing I don't need your agreement. The magic of my father's people may be largely lost, even before the Great Wars that ripped the power from us beings to save the pathetic humans, but some have remained loyal. Haven't forgotten the way of our people. And my people, Theo, didn't ask for what they wanted. They took it. Not through war or other barbarities. No, we used our wits and our cunning-"

"Yeah." It seems my fool mouth has a mind of its own under pressure nowadays. And there is a lot of pressure on my chest—it's getting more than a little difficult to breathe. "And that worked out great for your clan didn't it?"

Another hard slap of magic, this time to my other cheek for good measure, snaps my head to the side. He didn't pull back at all this time, pain radiating through my jaw and down my neck. My head spins from the whiplash, and it occurs to me that maybe I should keep my mouth shut if I want to get out of this alive.

"Enough of this, Theo. It's time." When my eyes blink open, through the haze of tears and black spots blurring my vision, I watch in horror as Darius raises his arms to the blue sky, his head thrown back as he chants mystical words, channelling ancient powers.

The candles before him are lit, the incense is burning, and the magic is brewing. I don't know the words he is chanting. I can't recognise the language, a long dead tongue, but I can feel the magic swirl around us and this sacred space.

Everything grows dimmer, greyer, as he casts his circle, as though we are encompassed in a mercurial cloud. The world feels detached from us, like we are displaced from reality.

He has managed to call the astral plane to us, merging the astral and physical realms in one temperamental convergence, a powerful and complicated ritual. The magical bonds around me loosen as Darius's power is diverted into his workings, allowing me more precious oxygen into my lungs.

"It's time, my mate, to bind our lives together."

Pure, primitive fear floods my very spirit, wiping my mind of every thought, logical or not. There is only instinct. Wild, perilous, and stupid instinct. There is no possible way to escape. Desperate, I wrench my arms against their bonds as Darius rounds the altar with jet-black eyes and malevolent intent in his step. In the hand wrapped in the black ribbon he carries a blade. It is obviously ceremonial, but that doesn't mean he is not going to draw blood. In fact, that is definitely his number one intention.

He stops immediately before me and cocks his head, listening for something in the distance. The gesture is so unexpected I almost giggle, obviously having lost my mind entirely. But then I hear whatever he has heard.

There are people calling. Yelling. Down below, their voices faint from the distance and the roar of the falls and the pounding in my ears. But it's there. People calling out.

For me.

Darius and I seem to have the same realisation at the same instant, and everything becomes confusing and chaotic all at once. The cloud-like circle around us drops immediately, Darius instead diverting his power entirely to the bonds around me. With the last full breath of air before the bonds seize again, I yell as loud as I can to the people below.

"You fucking idiot!" Darius seethes, snatching me up roughly, pressing my back to his chest like a shield, the knife in his hand suddenly against my throat. There is a sizzle where his body makes contact with mine, but he is too far gone to feel it.

Instead, like the cornered animal he is, he frantically eyes the scene, above and below the Falls, edging us dangerously close to the cliff's edge to see who has arrived.

"Theo!" My brother's broken cry breaks my heart. He stumbles free of Caelan's grasp to race to the edge of the pool as if he can somehow swim up the waterfall to me.

They are all there—Seff, Edith, Seldon, and Roan . My poor Roan, he looks frantic and ready to go completely off the rails. Every vein on his skin raised and red, his muscles enlarged. I can see him heaving in rage even from this far away, feel the burn of his eyes on me.

But there are others there, too. More witnesses than I can count to my mortifying second kidnapping. They are patrons. From the Tavern? The mages are there in their swirling jewelled cloaks, fae of all varieties, even a pack of bear shifters I'd been friendly with whenever they passed on through.

Even that minotaur who'd been a massive dick a few weeks back. Turns out he was a nice guy, just problems with his mate had made him act like a jerk.

Well, shit. My eyes begin to burn with fresh tears. The idea that so many people had come to find me is somehow more overwhelming than the kidnapping itself.

Behind me, I can feel the anxiety vibrating off Darius. He seems to also be realising just how big the crowd is, and what it might mean for him.

What he doesn't seem to realise is that behind us, the nabras have been silently stalking their way across the clearing.

"Don't even think about coming up here!" Darius screams hysterically to the crowd gathered below, jerking me wildly about with his movements.

This whole thing has spun wildly out of control. Though it wasn't exactly a well-thought-out plan to begin with. Darius seems like he is on the edge of losing it entirely. But then, sane men don't kidnap their exes to force them to mate with them, so I'm not sure he ever really had it to begin with.

I doubt rational decision making is top of his agenda right now. In the deepest recesses of my consciousness, I almost feel bad for him, but if only one of us is making it out of here, it's going to be me.

Far down below us, I can see everyone anxiously trying to devise a plan. I can see the ball of magic in Edith's hand ready for her to launch her own offensive. The bonds wrapped around me tighten threateningly again, cutting off the circulation in my extremities.

That is the final threat to my existence my subconscious can seem to stand. Like a match to the tinderbox, the unstable power brewing inside me bursts forth like a blinding yellow light.

My explosion of power renders his hold useless—I can smell the singed skin on his front where my magic burnt him as I step out of his grasp. Balls of light still encompass my hands, and I hold them up defensively, pretending I know how to wield whatever new magic I possess.

But it doesn't matter.

Screeching in pain, Darius backs away from me, the entirety of his front melted into a vile, blistered red mess. Bile rises in my throat at the hideous sight.

"Just stop, Darius! Just stop!" My pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues to stumble back away from me, too encompassed in his pain.

It is all for naught anyway; he backs up too far, too close to the nabras that have been watching him from the very edges of the rocky creek bed. They had patiently waited, biding their time, so their talons didn't give them away by clicking on the rocks.

Help , that word again, slithers its way into my skull. The largest nabras rises to its full height behind Darius—who is gasping and wailing in his horrific pain—expanding its feathered wings and elongating its neck. It isn't until the beast unhinges its jaw that my shock-addled brain understands what it is about to do.

I lunge forward, trying to grab Darius, but he jerks back, screaming anew, unaware of his fate, terrified of being burnt further by my hands.

As he jerks back, my screaming cries become choked by the vomit rising in my throat, and he tumbles back just as the nabras's impossibly large beak descends, devouring him whole.

The vomit finally wins, and I unload my stomach contents onto the creek bed. It's not the visuals, but the visceral wetness of the action, the gulping and swallowing that upends me. The nabras rises and for a moment, in my demented state, I almost expect it to burp like a character in one of the cartoons I watched in secret as a child.

But it doesn't, obviously.

Instead, he raises his head, leaving a blank spot where my ex-lover, my kidnapper, had been.

Only dust, and the scuff marks from where he'd shuffled from me remain. He didn't even have a chance to scream in fear. Well, he had been screaming but because of me , not the nabras about to swallow him whole.

It is the last thought that tips me over the edge, and I wrap my arms about my waist, my hands now extinguished of their magic, dropping hard to my knees on the stone.

Hysterical crying laughter overtakes me in gasping, choked sobs. I can hear the yells from below me, the rushing of the water, and the gentle trill of the nabras as it edges closer to me, brushing its hard beak lovingly over my tangled curls.

The noises are dim, echoey. I'm too consumed with the agony inside myself, expelling the pain inside in gut-wrenching tears. The nabras envelopes me in its feathered wings, using its warmth to shelter me from hurting myself further.. It warbles softly, a vibration through the cocoon in which it has encompassed me.

You can only cry in terror for so long before exhaustion claims you, and so it comes for me, too. Sucking the fight from me, leaving me with sweet, sweet nothingness.