He shifted his feet at the question, his eyes still not meeting mine. I could tell he was crying. I kneeled down to him, gently placing my hands on his shoulders.
“Ryland?” I whispered.
“You have to go,” he looked at me with pain and fear and anger, everything meshed together in a face that only said heartbreak to me. And then, he firmly placed his palm against my forehead and pushed me away from him.
My eyes opened to the tiny room, Ilyan sleeping next to me, his mouth still agape. I looked around wildly, trying to place what had happened, or how much time had passed. The light had almost fully left the sky and the first few stars were now visible from the gap in the curtain. I hadn’t been gone for too long, maybe only ten minutes. An hour in the T?uha wasn’t long enough for me to fully recover.
I blinked furiously before dropping the necklace, the cold lifeless stone becoming more of a dead weight than ever. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened.
“Ilyan?” I spoke his name far too softly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake him that way. But part of me knew I didn’t want to. I could still feel my heart call to the black pit of rot in the T?uha, still screaming that that was where Ryland was stuck. I knew it was foolish, but I also knew that his memories weren’t completely gone. I needed to get him out.
I grabbed the necklace again and pushed my magic into it, the moldy room flying into view the moment I closed my eyes. I got a glimpse of the black wall, my feet turning toward it when I felt a heavy weight against my back.
“Get out!” The words ricocheted around my head and followed me back to the small attic room, my breathing becoming a frantic pant.
I dropped the necklace again and leaned forward, shaking Ilyan’s shoulder roughly. I hoped he woke up in a good mood. I wasn’t sure how prevalent showers were going to be, and we still had a whole week until we went to France.
“Ilyan?” I spoke louder this time. I needed him to wake up. I was scared and confused about what had just happened.
He inhaled sharply as my voice startled him awake, his body jolting upright. Ilyan grumbled and yelled something in Czech before his brain caught up to his body. His hair waved down his back as he shook his head.
“Ilyan?” I whispered, not wanting to disrupt his waking routine and make him even surlier than I was expecting.
“Joclyn?” He turned slowly, his eyes widening to see me sitting there, awake and not screaming.
“You didn’t have any nightmares?” I shook my head in confirmation. Ilyan’s magic flared in my shoulder, his excitement surging his energy.
“Do you think it has anything to do with...” he stopped himself abruptly, shaking his head.
“With what?” I asked, leaning away from the wall.
Ilyan paused, his eyes looking anywhere but at me. His lack of response brought back the real reason why I woke him in the first place. I hoped Ilyan had the answers I wanted.
I didn’t beat around the bush, I just asked him right out.
“Can a T?uha rot?”
“What do you mean?” Ilyan’s nervous mannerisms stopped and he swung his legs around to sit cross legged in front of me. “Did something happen?”
“I’m not sure.” Now I hesitated. I didn’t know how to explain it and I didn’t want Ilyan to do his crazy, headache inducing, mind reading thing on me again. My head was already pounding enough from trying to figure out what was going on.
“I went to see Ryland, and everything had been destroyed more. It looked like it was dying. And then there was this smell...” I cringed at the memory of the stench, my face crinkling.
I shook it off only to see Ilyan staring at me, his eyebrow raised in confusion.
“When you say ‘destroyed more’ what exactly do you mean? Was it destroyed prior to this?”
I sunk into myself, wishing I had a hoodie I could hide in. I had forgotten that I hadn’t told him about Ryland’s destroyed artwork, about his outburst or anything that had happened in the last T?uha. I had been too wound up in all that had happened with Ovailia that I hadn’t even mentioned it.
I pulled the blanket up around me, desperate to hide in any way possible, as I told him about what had happened last time. His face grew more and more concerned.
“But this time it wasn’t something that he had caused, Ilyan,” I said, “It was almost like everything was rotting.”
“What do you mean rotting?” he asked.
I sunk away from him. His tone was making me uncomfortable.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It almost looked like everything was crumbling away. Like a piece of molding bread.”
Ilyan looked at me. I could feel his magic pulse and swell in my shoulder. The feeling was comfortable and yet...
“It’s the ?tít, isn’t it?” My voice was soft.
“I don’t think so,” Ilyan replied hesitantly, but I could hear the strained undertones that had weeded their way through his voice.
“Then what?”