Page 93 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)
Nymiria awoke to the sound of screaming, her eyes flying open and searching the room before she realized that it was her own screams that echoed through her surroundings and that the pain she'd felt during her rune reversal had returned with a vengeance—taking root in her and claiming her to the point that she felt like she couldn't move.
She stared at the wall in front of her, lips frozen around a silent scream, as she sank her nails into the mattress.
They punctured through the fabric, pressing into the stuffing.
"It's alright," Desi whispered. "You're going to be alright.
" She lightly stroked Nymiria's hair out of her face, brow furrowed as she looked from the young goddess to the witch that worked over her.
"We're finishing this now, Nym. You're going to have your power back completely and you are going to get your revenge. "
The word revenge caught her attention, her eyes flashing a dangerous shade of silver as her mind flickered with the image of Dorid forcing her onto the mattress.
Every thought became a different memory—him hitting her, his fingers tightening around her neck, all of the men he let touch her, every compromising position he believed she could handle—it was all there.
And with each second that passed with her trapped in the loop of nightmares, she felt the anger inside of her swell so large that it consumed her pain.
Her eyes flickered to the God Stone still perched upon Aziel's altar, the hand that had ripped through the mattress now lifting and curling until her index finger pointed at the stone.
Desi's eyes followed, her mouth parting for just a moment before snapping it shut again.
She jumped to her feet from her place beside the bed and scurried across the room to grab it, practically throwing the stone at Nymiria as she went.
"What is she doing?" Phyona asked in between chants, her hands prodding and pushing the thick, black sludge from Nymiria's back.
Desi couldn't look away from what she was seeing—how Nymiria used every ounce of her strength to reach for the blade she'd stuffed under the pillow that morning. Once her fingers curled around the metal, she dragged it back towards herself, lifting it and swiftly dragging it across her palm.
She didn't know what she was doing. It was as if she had no control over her extremities at all.
She could see Desi and Phyona talking to one another, she could feel the little witch's hands on her, but she could hear nothing other than the chanting of prayers going through her mind.
Some of them were her own, from years ago when she was just a lost child running through a forest, bloodied and beaten, while her mate chased her.
The other prayers were a flurry of thousands of unknown voices.
Each of them calling to her, each of them pleading for her strength.
"Do it now." A voice whispered. "Do it now while the blood is hot."
Nymiria's eyes fell to her sliced palm and then to the God Stone that rested inches away from her.
She hesitated, heart pounding as the anger inside of her steadily became more and more unbearable.
She wanted to scream, to release the pressure in her veins and unleash the ache inside of her unto the world.
The painting on Aziel's wall, the one of Greia walking through a bed of moonflowers filled her vision. But Greia was not in the painting. She was right in front of her. Standing at her bedside.
"The time has come, Nymiria. You must seal your fate now.
Touch the stone." She was but an apparition, her skin translucent, but still visible.
It was not like the times she'd seen Owen, when he was but a full embodiment of her own imagination.
No—this was a real ghost. A spirit of the goddess she'd declared her loyalty to as a mere child.
"I have watched you endure far too much pain while waiting for you.
I cannot hold on to this plane any longer, my love.
I need you. The world needs you. He needs you. "
Nymiria let out a cry of relief the moment her hand gripped the cold stone. She pressed it into her bleeding palm as hard as she possibly could, her cry turning into a guttural scream of rage and sadness that'd been trapped inside of her, unable to find release for years.
At the other side of the bed, Desi reached for Phyona, ripping her away from Nymiria's wounds just as a bright white light filled the room.
It formed at the place where Nymiria held the stone, her blood turning silver as they spilled through the intricate runes, and flaring brighter and brighter until Desi and Phyona were left with no other option than to shield their eyes.
The crows at Aziel's window were cawing again, clapping their beaks together and flapping their wings. But it was not in warning, she realized. Not this time. It was in celebration.
Slowly, the light began to recede. It moved back into her as her screams turned to breathless pants, her brow beaded with sweat.
Nymiria still gripped the God Stone, looking over the silver markings that were once so weathered she couldn't make out what they were.
She drew in a ragged breath, wincing at the feeling of her back slowly stitching itself back together, before carefully pushing herself off the mattress just enough to look at the two females huddled into each other at the other side of the room.
"That fucking hurt." She wheezed.
His healing abilities had returned.
In the matter of time it took for Trio to block all of the doors with his shadows, Aziel was already pulling himself to his feet and staring through the wall of shadows at the angered queen.
Her world looked as if it had ended, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she slowly staggered away from the wall.
She backed herself into her throne, nearly missing the seat by a few inches, but was quick enough to catch herself on the gilded arm.
By this time, his father was cold and unconscious on the floor, but Aziel didn't care.
He wasn't dead, but even if he was, there would not be a single ounce of remorse felt for that plump corpse that was still bleeding all over himself.
Aziel merely stepped over him as if he were nothing, not even sparing him a glance as the wall of shadows parted for him and gave way to a clear path to Camalia's throne.
"A god." She humphed. She didn’t seem to be afraid, if one took things at face-value, but Aziel could feel her heart begin to race. He could feel her squirming as he lifted his hand and commanded his rotting roots to wrap around her body, securing her to her seat.
She did not fidget. She did not whimper, nor did she whine. Calm on the surface, but inside, she knew this was the end.
“You have nothing to say for yourself?” Aziel asked. “No final words you would like to share with all of your loyal subjects?”
Camalia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “As if they deserve to hear my final words. They’re nothing, but leeches.” Her gaze narrowed, sharp and tactical, before she spoke again. “Though I do have a final request.”
Gods, he wanted to rip her tongue from her mouth.
He wanted to end it all right here. But Aziel had spent the greater part of ten years planning this very moment.
He’d dreamed of the ways he would ruin her—how he would torture her.
Not in the same ways she’d tormented him, but bringing her pain would be close enough, and he wanted her pain to last. Hours, days, months—he hadn’t quite determined that part just yet, but this was only the beginning.
With the roll of his aching shoulders, Aziel released a tired sigh. “And what is that, exactly?”
“I want to see her.” Camalia’s finger stroked along one of Aziel’s roots. Though he could not feel it physically, it was simply the action that had him clenching his jaw and fisting his hands. “The Anam. I want to see her.”
At hearing those words, Aziel turned on his heel, preparing to descend the stairs of the dais. “Request denied.” He stated blandly. The audience watched him walk down the aisle, eyeing him with the same fear that they’d always revered him with. They trembled in his clutches.
When he began testing the doors to see if Trio’s shadows were strong enough, he heard Camalia let out a noise of discomfort. “You're being selfish, Aziel.” She puffed a breath of air from her mouth to move an unruly brown curl from in front of her face.
He moved to the next door, tugging at the handles before turning to another. “Am I?”
“Don’t play games with me, you little brat.
You forget that I know who you are. I know what she is to you.
I know everything. Even if you kill me now, there will still be hell to pay for you and for all of those precious little Mystics you helped escape from those camps.
” This drew his attention. His body went still, his hand hovering over the golden handle to the last door.
Upon seeing him go rigid, Camalia grinned once again.
“You think that I didn’t know? Who do you think told your father about your secret missions and your lies?
It was me. I hoped you would have been smarter about it, but it seems as if that pretty little goddess of yours has caused you to become rather sloppy in your work. ”
Aziel turned to face her, eyes cold as ice as he looked her over. “You’re lying. There is no way you could have known.”
“Now,” she chuckled. “That is the lie. Of course there is always a way for me to know anything. Seeing as I am not only the queen of Yaar, but also the Witch Queen, there are people out there who are willing to do anything for me for the right price. You, of all people, should know that. You’ve been whoring yourself to me for ten years! ”