Page 16

Daimon

It was evening when they finally touched down at the camp. They were greeted by Aster and Willow just landing from a patrol, but Evelina and Gloriana didn’t linger. Brielle led them to a cabin beside the fleet’s, the healer cabin Jarrett used to sleep in. It was stocked with herbs, tonics, and tinctures. Still, Gloriana and Evelina came with sacks filled with more supplies. Evelina didn’t so much as look at him, but he found himself stealing glances in her direction every few breaths.

He yawned while he paced outside of Evelina’s cabin. Something in his chest buzzed and burned with warmth, his magic answering a song he couldn’t hear. A primal magic poking at his chest. Zephyr seemed restless too, her head following Daimon as he started to stalk around the camp.

“Up for a ride?” he asked her. Her ears perked up, eyes glowing in the dimming light.

He glanced out into the thicket of forest outside the camp, where a fire was crackling. He knew Brielle slept less than anyone else, her need to keep others safe driving her to stay up all hours of the night. She was usually who he reported to when taking flight, a way of keeping track of the Riders in case something went wrong while in the air .

He left Zephyr behind, the trees too closely packed to let her follow, unless he wanted to wake the entire camp with her knocking them over—a feat she would be all too eager to do. He crossed over the fallen trees and pushed through the bramble bushes until he found Brielle seated by the small fire.

“I’m headed up for a quick sweep,” he said by way of greeting.

She grunted and nodded her head, her eyes focused on the pines around them. “I’ll be here.”

Brielle was brilliant, a talented warrior with her skill and her mind. Daimon didn’t doubt she likely knew he was doing more than just a perimeter sweep. They were both Riders, both needing to take their beasts to the skies when the world got too heavy.

He walked back to the center of camp and tugged at the bond nestled in his chest. Zephyr flew from the back of the cabin, her wings fluttering in preparation for the flight she was always desperate for.

He wasn’t the only one who longed to be beneath the stars and among the clouds.

With a quick jump, he hopped on her neck, barely having time to hold onto her spikes before she launched off the ground. He huffed a breathy laugh, feeling a burst of excitement flow through their bond. Her joy settled his worries, mingling with his emotions.

They soared through the clouds, a slow and steady pace that started near the camp and then got further away—until the moon was high in the sky. He made sure to settle his shadows over the campfires below, blocking their light so he couldn’t see the fires they made no matter how close he was. No chances would be taken, not with Evelina here.

Zephyr’s ears flattened against her head as a low rumble moved through her throat. Daimon’s attention snapped into focus, searching the forest below. But all was quiet. No rustles of branches or scattering of birds to signal any kind of movement .

And then he felt it. The hairs on his neck standing on end, his blood thrumming like something was trying to pull it out of his body.

“I still marvel at how magnificent these creatures are,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them. “Though I do prefer dragons.”

Daimon whipped Zephyr around, the misty clouds swirling as her tail spun. It was too hazy to see, the voice seemingly coming from thin air. He knew all the Riders, each and every one of them. This was not a Rider.

His pulse pounded against his temple. He knew the voice, though—it was one he could never forget. There was always something dark in each syllable he spoke, a crackling of energy that filled the air around him.

“Show yourself, Nyx.” Daimon held his voice steady, though his insides were quaking.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you recognized me.” A deep sigh followed the words. Through the clouds, an outline appeared as the figure got closer. With the moonlight shrouded in haze, Daimon couldn’t see the man’s face until he was hovering a few paces from Zephyr. He floated in the sky, no beast with wings to hold him up and no wings of his own.

He watched Daimon for a moment, his face still partially shadowed in darkness. Zephyr angled herself so that Daimon was partially shielded by her.

“I know it’s been quite some time since we last spoke,” Nyx said with a grin. “I’ve gone by many names over the years, but Nyx has always been my favorite.”

Daimon clenched his jaw, his insides twisting.

Nyx laughed, a deep sound that scattered like thunder through the clouds. “You are always far too serious.”

Nyx hovered a moment before floating closer, the shadows lifting from his face as he paused within hand’s length of Zephyr’s nose. She sniffed him, her neck stretching out. He lifted his gaze to Daimon’s, one of his eyes a midnight blue and the other bright green. There had always been variations as to how he was depicted, but the color of his eyes remained the same in every painting. That was how Daimon had recognized him all those years ago.

The dark god, Nyx.

“A pleasure to see you again, Daimon.” The god’s mouth curved into an eerie smile.

Daimon didn’t return the smile. If Nyx was here, it couldn’t mean anything good. The tales involving the gods showing their faces to mortals never ended well, and Daimon knew all too well what Nyx was capable of.

Nyx tilted his head to the side, his navy hair rustling in the wind. The hue matched the navy iris of his right eye. “Problem?” he asked.

Daimon remained silent, willing his heartbeat to stay even.

The stories about the gods were endless, as well as the abilities they harnessed. While he didn’t feel any aggression behind Nyx’s visit, he was still a god. Many stories told of the way all gods could sense what any fae or human was thinking and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Some said it only took one thought from a god to take any fae’s magic away. Not to mention their cunningness, how they all had their own selfish agendas, no matter how neutral their magic seemed. Daimon had no way of knowing what legends were true. The gods were still a mystery—and it had been years since he had last spoken with Nyx.

Nyx’s smile turned feline, his gaze making Daimon more unsettled.

“Smart of you to stay silent.” Nyx laughed, the sound like metal grinding against stone. “I would expect nothing less of my offspring.”

Daimon’s spine straightened at the word, his blood boiling. Offspring —the word callous and without emotion.

But then again, Daimon did not consider himself his son. And no matter the true story of their blood, he would never accept Nyx, the God of Fear and Dreams, as his father.