Page 61 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

MISCHE

I t didn’t feel like this the last time I died. That had been quick. I hadn’t been fighting anymore.

Now, I fought.

Colors and shapes and sounds smeared around me, all the messy runoff of a life circling a drain.

I saw Asar’s face close to mine, and he looked so beautifully mortal—the scars painting history across his cheek, lines and scars and battle marks.

Nothing like the terrible, blank version of him I had seen when I handed him the axe.

I tried to say, Good, you’re back.

But I couldn’t speak. The world tipped backward. I clung to that blurry image of Asar’s face. It was crumpled with dismay, then smooth with determination. I had only ever seen him look that way one other time.

A tear hit my cheek. Not mine.

We were moving. The world bent, twisted, faded to darkness and then extreme light.

I dreamed of Saescha, standing before the dawn, doused in gold. She looked so much more real than she had in my dreams, and so much happier. For a moment I thought maybe this was really her, maybe she had passed to the afterlife. I tried to call her name, but she wouldn’t hear me, anyway.

We were falling. I smelled ivy and frost. Asar held me tight as we hit the ground. Pain, as we fell to the rocks.

No—snow.

No—sand.

Sand?

Shouting. Movement. We were running. I was fading. I dreamed of the Citadel. I dreamed of a kingdom of sand and night skies and some friends that I loved there very much.

Asar’s voice echoed: I need ? —

I need ? —

I need her, he had said the last time, and I wanted to stroke his face and tell him it wasn’t true. He was a god, and I was no one. He would be just fine without me.

It’s up to you whether you choose to believe me ? —

Asar’s words cracked. He never sounded this way. So undone.

—but I will not allow her to die here. I will not allow it.

My lashed fluttered. Reality fell away with the retreating waves upon the shore.

I saw the underworld flicker around me. Deep cracks now opened in the sky. Souleaters circled. Blood poured through the gaping wounds. A million invisible voices screamed out.

I couldn’t speak, and he was already gone, anyway.

The underworld. Crumbling mountains. Morthryn tumbling from the sky.

Pain. A wave of pain that ripped apart the seams between worlds. Everyone was shouting.

Someone screamed. Was it me?

Raihn. His face leaned over me. He was wearing that face I hated so much—that big dumb puppy dog face. But I was still so happy to see him.

I smiled weakly. “Hello, you.”

And he returned my smile. It was the same smile he had given me when he’d pulled me from the burning Moon Palace. “Hey, you. Everything is going to be fine. Alright? Everything is going to be fine.”

I don’t think so, I thought, but I let him say it, anyway. He always needed to hear it more than I did.

The voices blurred together. Shouting.

—the fuck did you do to her?

I didn’t do anything to her ? —

Raihn. Oraya. Jesmine—was that Jesmine? What a strange dream.

Eyes closed. Opened. Closed.

Vincent stood over me.

“At last,” he said, “you’ve finally listened to me.”

What?

He grabbed my shoulders. “We do not have time. Go. Take the blood?—”

She doesn’t have time ? —

—No time, no time,

no

time—

Saescha turned around to stare at me, her smile growing colder, colder, colder.

You are out of time, she said.

Asar leaned over me. Gods, he was so beautiful. More beautiful than the sunrise.

“Asar,” I whispered.

A sad smile twitched over his perfect mouth.

“I told you I would never let you go again,” he murmured. “I won’t.”

He slid the mask down, and suddenly, it was the god of death staring down at me.

I didn’t like that. I mourned Asar’s perfect, imperfect face.

But the pain began, and the darkness rose up, and dreams and reality and death and life all crashed together into a single overwhelming cacophony?—

And that was all.

I felt heavy. Like rocks had been strapped to my wrists and ankles. Everything ached. The pain was oddly tangible, solid, in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Was I dead? Dead er ? I had already died once, and it hadn’t quite felt like this.

I opened my eyes.

The sight that greeted me was familiar. Blue ceilings painted with stars. Silver filigree. Purple-stained windows.

Where had I seen?.?.?.

Panic crashed over me.

I sat up sharply, or tried to, and mostly ended up flopping around like a fish.

I recognized this place. I was in the Nightborn castle.

“Mische,” a familiar voice gasped.

My head whipped around to see Raihn and Oraya at my bedside.

Raihn had stood so abruptly his chair nearly tipped over. He breathed my name in a single exhale of relief.

I barely heard him, because I was too busy just staring at them. They were real, not a dream.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.

And yet, I was so, so happy to see them.

Oraya smiled. “Hello, Mische.”

My eyes burned. “Hello.”

But then Raihn’s expression darkened.

“You have,” he said, “ so much explaining to do. So. Much. ”