Page 55 of Beneath the Veil of Tides
“It’s my body trying to escape your presence.”
Noctis chuckled into my shoulder, a breathy laugh that trailed along my neck, and my stomach flipped violently at his closeness. At the familiarity that hit me. The memory of us sparring in the grassy field. I never told him I’d remembered that part of our past, nor would I say the words I held tight to: I missed him—what little bit I remembered—but I didn’t know what parts I actually missed. My body wanted to move closer, but my heart and brain restrained me.
“It’s time. I can’t tell you more. Fate is fickle, but we believe in you, Wavebreaker. You were born for this,” Neryssa whispered, breaking the moment between Noctis and I. The woman whistled through her teeth, and Raven fluffed his wings and took off toward the cavern entrance.
Neryssa tapped her staff along the ground seven times, and the stone above our heads fractured systematically, a gaping hole reaching to the sky. The floor grumbled under our feet, hurling Noctis and I through the sky along a wide pillar of land.
Toward the gates of Aetherkin Bound.
The wind battered us without mercy, but I clung to Noctis as he stood unmoving against it, his grip firm at my waist—a silent claim I chose not to fight. I struggled to breathe as fear of the heights, the movement, and the rushing air against my face tightened its grip. My heart ran rapidly, remembering the evening I had dragged myself onto Zahara’s ship. The same night I had begged my goddess who had cast me aside to my death mere days prior. The death which I had escaped, forcing my sister to take the downfall of my miracle. My miracle that had turned into her hell.
The god’s hand guided my face downward to block the impact of wind, and I finally withdrew a breath. However, when I looked down, I nearly toppled over in fear watching the pillar we stood on grow thousands of meters high, propelling us into the sky.
Noctis’s grip tightened.
“Close your eyes. It won’t take much longer,” he murmured into my ear.
So, I did. Our bodies pressed together, ripping through the sky. I wondered if it brought pleasure to the god to feel the wind ripple through his wings again. He had tasted the sky, and then it was torn from him, sharp and merciless. He had tastedlove with me, and then it, too, was ripped away. Yet, he held tight to me as if he refused to let me slip from his fingers.
The pillar slowed, then halted, and I inched open my eyes, blinking away the dryness and shuffling from Noctis’s hold.
“Could we just fly next time?” I asked shakily.
“I would be honored to carry you to my home,” he drawled wryly.
White fog dusted the ground, smoky tendrils hovering above its surface like the mist from an early morning day at sea. It swirled around along the cool breeze, an enchanting invitation to step forward. Temples of glass-blown delicacy towered above us, columns of transparent beauty reaching crystalline fingers toward the cosmos. My feet met the ground as I stepped through the low hanging clouds off the shifting pillar.
A crystal gate bordered the entrance to the sky kingdom, a kaleidoscope of colors piercing through the material only steps before us.
Standing at the convergence of hues were two males, the wind whipping through their ivory clothing, the only indicator to me that they weren’t stone statues.
“Bru. Finnegan,” Noctis announced from my side. His voice was stern, but I could hear the trace of pain in his words. The beg for forgiveness that accompanied them. “Caelyn, this is my council.”
The man on the right stepped forward, and the other followed quickly, keeping close to each other as if thinking they were impenetrable. Then, they both fell to the ground with arms outstretched, bowing to their banished, rogue god.
I stood in shock—the council I expected to berate the god worshipped him at his feet.
“We have been expecting you, God Noctis,” the right male murmured loudly into the ground. Sprouts of thin, graying hair wrapped around his head, wrinkled hands a barrier between his face and the cloudy ground.
“Please. Stand. I do not deserve your worship,” Noctis demanded from my side. My heart twisted at his words—at the agony that laced his voice as he spoke to his own council.
They stood and dusted their matching clothes.
Noctis continued. “You must know, then, why we are here. It is urgent.”
The leftward man stepped forward, his perfectly slicked-back brown hair catching the light, his hands drawn together in front of him. His gaze traveled over Noctis, from head to the boot lost in the low clouds, as though he doubted the god before him was truly there. “You left us.”
“Do you know how hard it is to protect Aetherkin Bound without your powers?” the right council member spoke as he stepped forward.
“I left you everything my blood would allow, Finnegan—every ounce of raw magic that surges my veins is with you,” Noctis replied, but his voice wavered in disbelief. Once a strong, powerful god then shook with shame.
Old man Finnegan to the right.
Bru, the leftward male met Finnegan’s side.
“It’s barely been enough, Noctis. The Aeyronox Seal is failing. Prisoners are escaping. They have been killing kingdom rulers for months now.” His seething teeth flashed. “You. Have. Not. Been. Here.”
What is the Aeyronox Seal, and why is it failing?
