Page 140 of As Above, So Below

I’ve tried over the last couple weeks to simply live. To find my place in this realm while learning and admiring all the differences from the realm I spent centuries trapped in. If all of this is part of Nektos’ great plan, give me the abridged version because I can’t keep tearing at myself like this.

I don’t want to be caught between Netharis and Celesta.

I don’t want to return to the hells.

I don’t want to be used by any Sovereign King to claim a throne.

There are a lot ofdon’t wantsin my life right now, and I’ve given very little consideration to what it is Ido want.

I want to live, unhindered.

I want to explore Eldoterra.

And I would be lying to myself if I didn’t say I want Ryc.

I want the laughter, and the ease, and the comfort he brings.

And I want Eve and Cora with me too.

I want to surround myself with people whose company I genuinely enjoy.

In a perfect world, Ylara and perhaps even Vaelyn would be here.

But this world is far from perfect, and I know better than to hang myself on the dreams of a bleeding heart. I’m a piece in a game where no one has explained the rules or expectations. I’mstumbling, trying to figure them out each time I’m forced to make a move, and more often than not, I make the wrong choice.

What is the right choice?

Heaving a sigh, I let my head fall back against the cool marble wall and fold my legs beneath me. Eve lies beside me, curled up around a book, and settles her head into my lap. She notes my sigh and cranes her head, peeking up at me.

“It’s not like we can venture through the city today. Not with Sir Stalwart over there,” she mutters, shooting a pointed stare over the top of her book at Cyran standing in the corner by the door.

I follow her stare, he remains stoic, unmoved by her comment. There’s no way he didn’t hear her.

Eve sits up, closing her book and setting it aside. “You’re the one who managed to chase Tiarsus out of Ollora a decade ago, right?”

His lavender eyes dart to hers. “Yes.”

Cyran is a fae of many words it seems.

“It’s too bad he escaped during that whole ordeal.” Eve scoffs a bitter laugh. “Would have loved to see a dagger in his throat.”

Cyran’s brows raise slightly, as if he hadn’t expected such venom in her words. “Should he or his guild return to Erus, he will be caught.”

“Good luck with that,” Eve says flatly, moving back on the bed to sit beside me. She leans back against the wall and folds her arms across her chest. “The fae is slicker than oil and has a ridiculous network across the continent.”

Clearly, Eve has some kind of connected history with Cyran and this Tiarsus. The name isn’t a familiar one.

“Tiarsus?” I ask, unable to mask my curiosity.

“The guildmaster of the Guild of Night,” Eve answers, swinging her head to me.

“Of which you were a Black Nightling,” Cyran adds, and Eve nods slowly.

Eve laughs dryly. “You remember then.”

“Eve Willowgrace, Ara Redstorm, Jonik Brightclove, Dyffros Oakhorn,” Cyran says. “Erus’ Black Nightlings.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone else is dead. If they live, I’m dead to them.” Eve releases another long sigh, pulling her knees to herchest. She drapes her arms over her legs, letting them hang.