Page 81 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Nikalias

D ays, maybe even weeks, had passed. Nik had no way of keeping track in his endless torment. All he did was follow Tauria every time he caught a glimpse of her, but she would laugh, mocking him, as he desperately tried to reach her before she disappeared for a while.

He was going insane. Looping around an infinite white room. Nik occasionally remembered how he’d gotten here. That this was not where he should be. He thought he’d felt Tauria right before the mirror swallowed him fully, but the moment he’d landed here, she was ripped away, only appearing now in taunting images, so he was almost certain she wasn’t truly here with him. It was a Dresair playing with him.

He didn’t know what it wanted, but every time he saw his mate, he thought she was real and couldn’t stop this endless chase.

“Tauria,” he croaked, sinking to his knees.

Nik ran his hands through his disheveled hair. He hadn’t slept at all, and his fatigue only helped the Dresair play with his delirium. He’d collapsed a few times, closing his eyes with a need to replenish his energy if he had any hope of making it out of here. Then he would wake to the sound of Tauria’s voice and begin his chase anew.

“Nik!” Tauria called, her song of a voice echoing around with no direction.

His head whipped up. Her voice sounded more sure this time. Didn’t it?

Nik stumbled to his feet, catching a flicker of brown hair and emerald green material drifting around a white wall. The brightness had dried out his eyes and caused a relentless pounding in his head. Nothing cast a shadow, and he’d never craved darkness so badly.

“Wait for me, love,” he rasped, catching himself against the wall and following after her.

Tauria walked backward, hands clasped behind her. Gods, she’s so beautiful. She wore a flowing green dress that wrapped around her torso, accentuating her chest and leaving her brown skin glowing, with no sleeves, only a train of material from her shoulders that started green and ended…blue. A deep sapphire blue that matched the sash around her middle. The colors of both their kingdoms. Her crown was woven gold antlers atop her braided hair.

He wanted to fall to her feet with the powerful, magnificent ruler she was.

This was what awaited them at the end of this war, and he would do anything to see this vision come to pass.

He realized then that was all she was. Much as he wanted to run to her, to chase her into infinity, he knew she wasn’t real.

Nik stopped walking. Tauria’s smile fell slowly when he did.

He had his sword at his hip, and he thought maybe this was his trial. If he managed to finally reach the Dresair, get close enough to kill it and end the torment, maybe it would open the door home. And it had made it so treacherously difficult by taking on the form of his mate, toying with his mind to be uncertain of whether she was real or not.

“Nik,” she said, holding out a hand for him.

He approached, playing along.

For the first time, he managed to slip his hand into hers. He stared into her hazel eyes with such yearning his mind was already slipping, falling for the illusion. Nik blinked consciously. The finery and crown were a prize not yet won, and that was what made him sure enough…

The Dresair hissed, leaping back to avoid the path of his blade. It contorted Tauria’s beautiful face into anger and malice, backing away from him until she dipped around another corner.

Nik took off after her again. It had changed clothing, mimicking what she’d been wearing the last time he saw her. A green corset tunic and black leather pants. They were preparing for battle. Her hair was in a single long braid, with her emerald jeweled comb fixed into the back. The one that meant so much to both of them when he’d stolen it from her the day they met in Fenstead, holding onto it for centuries.

He grew tired—not in his body but his soul—and slowed his pace again.

Nik had to make it back to her. He had to catch the Dresair and end this cycle.

“You are so weak,” the Dresair taunted in her voice. It was close, but Nik couldn’t bring himself to search. “You knew the threat you were to her, and yet you still claimed her.”

His spine locked.

“You’re the Dresair I met that day…who told me about my prophesy.”

“I am.”

He found the will to turn around, and it hadn’t let go of Tauria’s image. His resentment grew fast and ugly, surging the most determination he’d felt in this place.

“That damn prophesy kept me from her for centuries . It stole so much time from us I wish I’d never heard it.”

“That’s the curse of knowing one’s fate. Mortals like to think they want to know what lies ahead, that it will grant them a sense of direction, or wisdom of which paths not to take. But the future is not carved in stone. You gain and lose according to which path you take in your own infinite web.”

Did that make life a choice, or an inevitable course?

Nik shook his head. He didn’t care about fate—not anymore.

“Knowing only made me a slave to fear.”

“Exactly. Yet had I told you something of grandeur and triumph, you would have become a slave to greed and impatience. Knowing what is to come serves as a curse either way.”

Vexation twitched his jaw. “How do I get out of here?”

“You have already figured that out.”

“By killing you?”

“There are many who wander through this void in search of something great. Somewhere new. But to Realm-Walk, you must have something of value to offer a God, and hope they will answer your call and grant you passage.”

“I don’t want to Realm-Walk. I have to get back to mine.”

“Then you must kill me, for I was the one to drag you here.”

“Why?”

“Because I once walked into this void willingly, and my call was not answered. It left me trapped here to waste away into this thing . There are two ways for a Dresair to be freed. If all the mirrors at the gate of passage are shattered when they’re present, that frees them as a faceless creature, cursed to steal others’ identities for the rest of their days. This way, by killing one who wanders through whom I have served before, I will have my old form back. The one I do not remember, nor do I remember from which time or realm I came.”

Nik’s grip tightened on his sword. “Then why haven’t you killed me already?”

“I had to make you weak. I have no skills in combat, nor any weapon. This was the only way I could contend with you.”

He straightened in defense, blinking the tiredness away. Nik was lethargic and would doubt his skills against most opponents, but not this one. He would fight and he would win to make it back to Tauria.

Nik was prepared to lunge, but his vision swayed suddenly, catching on another image of Tauria. Then another. And another. She surrounded him in dozens of copies, so Nik lost track of which was the Dresair to strike.

One lunged for him, and…he couldn’t do it.

All he saw was Tauria’s face, and he could not raise his blade to her. They went crashing to the ground, and he held her off by her wrists that aimed to wrap around his throat.

Confusion battered his mind.

Why were they fighting?

What had he done to inspire such loathing in his mate’s eyes?

“Please, love,” he said through a breath, struggling to hold off her determined strength.

“You should have heeded my warning, king ,” she hissed.

Those words slashed through the illusion, and Nik gripped her throat instead, flipping them and straddling her. He choked tighter.

This is the Dresair. Not Tauria.

Not Tauria.

Yet her eyes filled with so much terror that he let go, stumbling to his feet and backing away in horror over what he was doing.

“Tauria, I’m so sorry?—”

She stood, wheezing for breath and pinning him with a look of stunned betrayal. Until she let go of the act and a cruel smile split her lips.

Not Tauria.

Not Tauria.

Nik yelled into the void, his mind splitting apart.

He was grabbed from behind, recognizing her lavender scent as his back was bent back awkwardly by the hook of her elbow around his throat.

“Poor Nikalias,” she taunted in his ear. “Pining for years. Missing out on the many joyous centuries you could have had together.”

He would never regret anything more in his life. Nik had thought he was saving Tauria by pushing her away; that the wicked prophesy would not come to pass if they never bonded. It had all been lost time, but he swore to make it up to her for the rest of their long lives together.

With a pained cry, he had no choice but to twist, hooking his arm back and ducking to throw the Dresair over his shoulder. When he straightened, he was met with another dozen images of her.

The one in front of him wore amusement that crawled his skin. “It’s time for the best part,” it taunted.

A new sensation crept along his nape, making him believe the one in front of him was not the one to strike and make it out of here. Nik chose to spin around, driving his blade through the gut of the one behind him.

Tauria’s eyes flew wide, and she choked. It felt so real . Nik waited for the illusion to break and the Dresair to change into its true faceless form now he’d won.

He’d struck the Dresair true.

Nothing changed.

Every perfect contour of her face remained exactly the same.

“Nik,” Tauria choked. Her hand wrapped around his forearm still holding the mighty Farrow Sword, now plunged through her abdomen.

Her heart slammed in his chest, and he shook his head. Sweat beaded down his face.

Not Tauria.

Not Tauria.

This was what he had to do to make it back to her. He had to kill the Dresair.

Her knees buckled, and Nik wrapped an arm around her, lowering them both. She looked down at the wound with pain and terror-stricken eyes.

“I-I found you,” she said.

A ringing filled his ears.

I found you.

No. This was another trick. It had to be. Tauria wasn’t here.

Her hand rose to his face, and he trembled stiffly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “This wasn’t really you.”

It was him. Of course it was him.

“Tauria.” He said her name in a trance, hoping he wasn’t really holding her right now. That in all his days of chase and torment, wishing she were real, that this time she wasn’t.

Her eyes flicked over his head, filling with more fear. “Behind you?—!”

Nik twisted his head to find another image of Tauria, arm raised to strike him.

A blade flew through the air, lodging into her neck, and she gave a wail unlike any person or creature. The illusion the Dresair wore of Tauria broke off in fragments as its body contorted and writhed, shedding skin to unveil the dark, spindly body beneath.

Nik tore his sight from the gruesome scene to where the path of the blade had come from. He blinked at Tarly, wondering if this was a new vision.

A horrific nightmare.

Something hot trickled over his hand, drawing his attention back to the sword he held. Then reality…bone-trembling, world-shattering clarity started to settle in his mind.

This was no vision.

Tauria’s eyes rolled back when he dared to face what he’d done. He caught her head on his shoulder, and the worst panic of his existence tore a scream from his throat.

“Tarly, help me!” he yelled.

Nik didn’t know what to do. Tauria’s blood stained his hands from a fatal blow he’d been tricked into.

You’re so weak , the Dresair had taunted. And it was true, for how could he have mistaken his true mate for that monster ?

Tarly kneeled by them, and he swore. “We need to get back to Nerida,” he said hurriedly.

“The blade…”

“Keep it where it is—she’ll only bleed out faster if you remove it.”

Oh Gods. Oh Gods. FUCK.

Nik was losing his mind to sleep deprivation now crashing into surges of adrenaline that sped his heart to a dangerous degree.

He couldn’t lose Tauria. No, he couldn’t live without Tauria.

“Stay with me, love, please.”

He kept whispering his pleas though her eyes were closed. Nik tried to keep track of her heart, but his was too frantic, slamming in his ears.

Nik followed Tarly vacantly, only registering a change of illumination with how it stung his eyes to be released from the brilliant white surroundings and enter into a dimly lit room. He blinked desperately to keep his sights on measuring Tauria’s chest rising.

A loud gasp flicked his attention up to Nerida, who dropped a thick rope to cover her mouth.

“Help her!” Nik yelled.

He lay Tauria down on the ground.

“Nik, I…I don’t have my magick,” Nerida said quietly.

That realization slammed into him with the force of a warhammer.

Every second counted down to Tauria’s last, and without a healer…she didn’t stand a chance.

“Tarly,” he snapped. “You said you have healing magick in you.”

“I haven’t even tried to touch it yet!”

“You’re trying now.” Nik gripped his jacket, pulling him down. He didn’t have time to be nice. “Nerida, you must be able to guide him.”

“This wound…it’s grave. Even I would struggle?—”

“Don’t say that like she has no hope!”

“Nik…” Tauria’s quiet voice dragged his attention to her, and he held her upper body close, careful of the sword as he rocked gently.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. Be strong for me, okay? I’m going to make this right.”

“I see the beach,” she said.

He pulled back, watching her glazed eyes that held unblinking on the ceiling.

“The one I love…in Fenstead.”

“No. No, no, no, you can’t see the beach yet. We need to see it together. Look at me instead, Tauria, please.”

Nerida and Tarly spoke to each other, but he couldn’t hear them. Tarly’s hands were on Tauria, and he prayed to every God, any God that might hear him, to spare her and reverse his grave mistake.

Her eyes didn’t move, but a tear slipped down the side of her face. Nik kissed her cheek, then her tear, then her mouth.

“You can’t leave me,” he said in a pained choke.

“My favorite moon…is when it’s…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, and Nik was desperate to know.

“When it’s what? Do you want me to guess? I know you too well, Tauria Silverknight. I know the special smile you wear when you look up at the moon and it’s full. Bright in all its glory. You are my full moon, Tauria. I need you.”

Tauria’s brow pulled together and her mouth moved, trying to speak, but no words came. Then her face relaxed slowly, her eyes dulled, and her heart…stopped.