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Too long since a dark chuckle rose within me. Longer since a mortal ever had cause to amuse me so.
“It will all make sense soon,” I reply.
Once I infuse my shadows with calming energy and channel it into her subconscious, her resistance ebbs away. Her eyelids grow heavy. Her body gives out, and I sweep her into my arms, smirking at her yawning through her words.
“If you’d wanted me to nap, you could’ve sung me a lullaby,” she mutters, her words slurring, but I relish how she lays her head on my shoulder, cheek nuzzling my chest.
Her essence dims, the aura darkening as I soothe her into a dreamless slumber.
With Zenya securely in my arms, I turn to leave, but my brother’s familiar and menacing presence halts me. His aura consumes the air, one far deadlier than normal.
“You steal all my toys, Morpheus.”
I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on the girl. “And you break all mine, Icelos.” No bite to my tone. It’s a fact. But I will admit it’s the first time I’ve enjoyed leering at my oldest brother so much.
Nyxion’s energy crackles with fury, and he clicks his wing talons against the crone trees as he approaches. He’s cautious—because I’m still holding Zenya. His possession contests with my own, both undeniable.
A snarl lashes the air. “Just because you’re the favorite, Morph, doesn’t mean you should get everything handed to you on a silver platter.”
I arch a brow, chuffing a laugh at the tension in the air. “It doesn’t?”
Lowering my chin, I flare my nostrils, breathing in more of her scent and reveling in his predatory growl regarding my invasion. Oh, come now!—he can’t blame me too much. Not with her hair falling all around my chest and her steady breaths drifting along my neck.
“Always the golden child,” he says in a daggered voice, and I swear I hear his bones rattle beneath that sharp suit he wears. “Never doing the real work.”
“Hmm…” I muse and fold my shadows around the girl, my suspicions regarding the direction of this conversation alreadymounting. “I didn’t realize tantrums amounted to productivity, Epiales.”
His steps mirror mine as I surrender Zenya to the shadows, placing her lovely form on a soft bed. Anyone might think it’s a bed of moss, but it’s a fine thicket of dark human hair.
“You’re not untouchable, Morpheus,” he says through gritted teeth, beating his wings to surge chilled air at me.
I tap my chin with one hand and project my shadows, beckoning him with my other. “I prefer the term…elevated.”
Nyxion lunges, the rush of his energy about to collide. My shadows rear up, my black diamond dust clashing with his nightmarish power.
It’s only the beginning.
I sense every move, every shift in the air. I dodge Nyxion’s swipes, countering with blasts of shadowy force. But suspicion preys on my nerve endings. All it takes is one snicker from my brother.
“Oh, shi—” I groan at the shift in the air and the familiar rearrangement of bones. “Not the golems, brother.” I clench my jaw and swell my shadows.
Nyxion laughs darkly as his creations manifest, their limbs beyond oversized and powerful, ending in massive bone clubs or scythes.
“We’ll be at this all day!” I huff and adjust my collar.
“Your charm won’t save you this time, Morph.”
Removing my outer robe, I let it pool to the ground and open my hands, palms to him. “Who needs charm when I have skill?”
The golems charge.
Hours later, our battle still rages.
Fierce and chaotic, we both give as good as we get. I will admit, I’m not exactly in equal territory. Equal in skill but not territory.
Here, Nyxion can manifest and regenerate anything he desires. For the first hour, the bone golems reassembled anytime I shattered them.
Skeletal wolves were his next little trick. Their ribs protruded like uneven daggers, though they moved with swift and otherworldly coordination. I’ll give him credit for those. I’m usually the one with flair and style. Hmm…he’s learned a few tricks in my absence.
