Graevale (The Medoran Chronicles #4)

Niyx’s feet, all that Alex could see with her head hanging listlessly, moved away with a slight stumble—the only indication of his own pain.

“Niyx is masterful in the art of torture,” Aven said, his voice a murmured slur to Alex’s ringing ears and muddled mind. “He will have avoided all your major organs, so your injuries, while hopefully excruciating, will not prematurely kill you.” He seemed pleased by this; by the inordinate amount of suffering she was experiencing. “I’ll have someone tend to you in a few hours before you expire from blood loss so we can have another round tomorrow, starting afresh. It can be our way to celebrate the victory I shall achieve in the morning.”

Alex wasn’t sure if he said more after that. She wasn’t sure of anything other than her pain that was swiftly turning to numbness. Numbness was good. Numbness meant no more agony, no more suffering. Numbness meant no fear of what Aven planned on doing in the morning; no fear of him celebrating by torturing her again later that day… and the next… and the next.

Slumped upright against her chains in the darkened cell, Alex’s last thought before she passed out was that maybe Aven was right. If this was only the beginning of what she would suffer, then killing her just might be a mercy after all.





Thirty-One

“Wake up! You have to wake up!”

Someone was opening Alex’s mouth and then she was choking as a sweet liquid rushed down her throat.

“Swallow, Aeylia. Please, try to swallow it all.”

Hacking and spluttering, Alex had little choice but to do as she was ordered, her consciousness coming back slowly but enough to realise Niyx was slathering laendra nectar over her wounds with one hand while holding a flask of the juice to her lips and pouring it slowly into her mouth.

The damage to her body was extreme, but like Aven had said, Niyx hadn’t hit anything important, and the laendra began to take effect much more swiftly than it would have for a fatal wound—something Alex knew from experience.

“That’s it, kitten,” Niyx said as he finished smearing the flower directly on her stab marks and encouraged her to drain the remainder of the flask. “You’ll feel better in a minute.”

“What are you doing here?” Alex rasped through her quickly healing vocal chords. She was part hopeful, part horrified to see him, but when she looked around and there was no one else with him, the hopeful side won out.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Niyx said with determination, using his Myrox-bladed dagger to slice through her bonds. He caught her as she fell listlessly into him and held her close until she was healed enough to stand on her own, shaky as she was.

“Aven—He’ll know—”

Niyx shook his head and wrapped a supportive arm around her, ushering her quickly to the cell door. “I don’t care. I won’t let you go through another round of that again. Not by my hand or anyone else’s. Nothing is worth seeing you hang from the ceiling and tortured to near death. Nothing.” His voice broke on the last word.

“Niyx,” Alex whispered, hating that he’d had to see that. Hating that he’d been forced to do it. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” His tone was ragged as they slowed to step through the melted door. She took in the ravished look on his face and felt that pain wash over her, worse than any of the dagger wounds he’d given her. By far.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but by hurting me, you saved both our lives,” Alex told him gently. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before it was all for nothing.”

Niyx didn’t need to be told twice and he helped her stumble along the dark corridors of Taevarg until they were free of the prison wards and he was able to activate the Valispath, swooping them away from Meya.

Their escape seemed almost too easy to Alex, and as they soared over the Golden Cliffs and through the dawn-lit Silverwood, she tentatively said as much.

“That’s because the city has been cleared out,” came Niyx’s weary response. “Aven wasn’t lying when he shared his plans last night. His battle against the mortals of Medora begins today.”

Even with her tortured body swiftly knitting back together thanks to the laendra, Alex could recall few times in her life when she’d felt more wretched. The knowledge that Aven was now off somewhere with a city’s worth of Claimed Meyarins at his side made her want to grab everyone she cared about and run back to Freya, never to return to Medora again. But she knew she couldn’t do that. She knew she wouldn’t do that. And that left her with only one choice.

“Where is he, Niyx?” she asked quietly as they swept out of the Silverwood and flew over the countryside bathed in the early morning light. “Where’s Aven?”

Blowing out a shaky breath, he answered, “Graevale—He’s gone to Graevale. He knows the Shadow Walkers aren’t prepared for an attack, so while humans are still his end game, he’s taking advantage of the elders’ refusal to take your warnings seriously.”

Alex nodded, having figured as much, the prophecy repeating loudly across her mind. ‘When Day and Night combine and fight…’

“We have to go there.”

Niyx’s response was as quick and firm as she knew it would be. “No chance.”

“We have to,” Alex repeated just as firmly, before she finally recited the prophecy for him. She hadn’t kept it from him deliberately, it had just never come up—mostly because she’d been in denial about it. “Don’t you see? I know it doesn’t make any sense, but this might be a way to stop him before he even gets started.”

“What exactly would you do if we went there?” Niyx asked, his tone borderline sarcastic. “Kindly ask Aven to stop? Even if you were capable of winning a fight against him right now—which you’re not—what would you do?”

Alex opened her mouth to respond, but he continued before she could.

“You said yourself you won’t kill him, and while I’m not sworn to the same level of morality, even I wouldn’t attempt anything that would risk so many lives,” Niyx said, frustrated. “Until everyone he’s Claimed has been Released, the only outcome either of us would face if we went up against Aven is death. Is that what you want, Aeylia?”

“I—”

“Because that’s what we’ll get. If we face Aven today, there’s no good ending for us.”

“We—”

“‘Dark and Light, meet mid-strike’,” he recited mockingly. “If you think that’s you and him, you can forget it. I haven’t expended this much effort trying to keep you alive just to let you throw yourself into the arms of your enemy on a sacrificial whim. Has that been your plan all along?”

“Of course n—”

“Then what is your plan, Aeylia?” Niyx all but yelled. “What reason can you have for such a foolish idea where you, a human, go up against the most powerful Meyarin in existence to help a city full of mortals, half of whom hate you? Do you want to kill us both?”

“Don’t say—”

He leaned in and roared into her face, “What’s your plan, Aeylia?”

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