Page 12 of On Burning Paths

While she’s taking her moment, I sense others on the periphery of the graveyard. Just like when we approached the swamp, the competing teams are here, close enough to sense but far enough that we can’t engage in fighting them. The gods like to spit us out into these challenges with enough distance that we focus on the task at hand, rather than picking one another off.

In fact, it seems like every team is here. The two knights that remain from The Hollow Blades team look old and haggard, like this journey has taken a toll on them, but not drained like they did after the swamp. Beyond them, the last member of the human team stands, staring out at the graveyard with a gaunt face. From what I understand, human children had the highest death toll in this slaughter. It can’t be a happy moment for the one remaining Stone Serpent.

The shifters bound out of the forest in their wolf forms and shift back, fully naked, their bodies gleaming in the light of the moon.

Emerging from the woods to our left and standing closest to us is the vampire team, The Crimson Fangs, with only two remaining members. Talon and Behanta, tall and lithe, stand just at the graveyard’s edge. I wonder if a challenge like this even phases a creature like a vampire. Do the undead bother with grief, with pity?

Once again, just as he did on the outskirts of the swamp, Talon turns and his eyes find Nyx, almost as though he can’t stop himself.

His blond hair is shifting in the wind, just a little too long, his features angular, his body poised for movement. Even from this distance, I see something flash over his face. Is it concern? Interest?

Time passes. I keep watching him. My annoyance is growing. Talon's gaze hasn't moved from Nyx. I've been watching him watch her for the better part of three minutes, and the longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to look away. The way he looks at her is deliberate. It’s too focused to be casual, too steady to be idle curiosity. And when she finally notices him and looks back, she stares for longer than I like.

What does this mean?

I tell myself that for her it was the simple fact that she noticed another person staring at her, and for him, it must be hunger. Vampires need to feed, and out here in the Trials there's no convenient source. What are they subsisting on? Game blood, if they're practical about it. But vampires have preferences, and their preferences tend toward the living, the warm-blooded, the beautiful. If you have to bury your teeth in a throat, why not make it one worth the effort.

The thought of Talon's hands on Nyx sends heat twisting through my gut, ugly and unmistakable. I don't bother pretending it's anything other than what it is. Jealousy. Possessiveness. The fury that comes when another man looks at something he has no right to and the urge to break his line of sight flares hot.

She isn't mine. I know that. It doesn't seem to matter to whatever part of me has apparently decided otherwise, the part that kept her pressed against my side that never wants to let her go

At some point, she's become important to me. Not just as a teammate or someone I'm responsible for getting to the Obsidian Spire alive. I want her to win, to find her sister, and to come out of this with something good waiting for her on the other side.

But right now, I want that vampire to stop looking at her like she's his for the taking.

I don’t care for the feelings I have toward her. The relentless urge to protect her, watch her, think about her. I just want to pull her into my lap, hold her. Having her close has moved to the forefront of my mind, which is not a good thing.

I’ve made a point of not caring for anyone, even the demi-gods who throw themselves at me when we meet in passing, seeking a connection with someone like them. Not a single woman in the world has tempted me the way Nyx does now.

Humans are far too fragile to love. Caring for her as deeply as I do is already foolish. I need to stop how I feel before it becomes dangerous.

Weakness is dangerous.

My thoughts are interrupted by a great crack, a sound like the heavens themselves are ripping open, and we all look up when lightning flashes through the sky, a bolt so long and strong it’s otherworldly.

Valtor. My father.

The realization puts a bitter taste in my mouth. As much as I dislike the way Talon looks at Nyx, it pales in comparison to how I feel about my father. He's watching all of this. Worse, if I'm not careful, he'll see exactly how much Nyx has come to mean to me.

And feeling affection for anyone but yourself is only an opening for pain. Especially when it comes to interacting with the divines. Most especially when it comes to being the focus of my father.

As they always do, thoughts of my father lead me to confronting my dishonesty. I glance at Fenric, who kneels down by Nyx, saying something to her under his breath. Then, I look at Nyx. This is my team. My people. For however long it lasts.

I’m still not sure if I should tell them the truth. The full truth about my father, and what’s coming for us all.

“Okay,” Nyx says, rising to her feet, a little more color in her cheeks. She nods, straightens her shoulders, and looks out at the cemetery, that empty look in her eyes replaced with both grief and determination. “I’m ready. What’s the plan?”

The plan. Right. We have another trial in front of us. That should be the focus. If I tell them the truth, I’ll just distract them and put them more at risk.

So, I decide that now is not the time.

There will be time for that later. Right?

5

Nyx

Thorian doesn't answer right away. Instead, he takes a few steps back from the cemetery's edge, one hand on my shoulder, guiding me with him, and I feel the difference immediately. The pressure doesn't disappear entirely, but it eases, like a headache finally fading after you step out of a loud room. I breathe. It's easier here.