Page 65 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

Lying down on my back, I let Chepi settle next to me, his tiny warmth a source of comfort. My eyes fixate on the wooden panels above, thoughts swirling in my head. I long to be in Colton’s arms tonight. But I thought I was making the considerate choice, given Nyx’s presence. I didn’t want to flaunt our newfound intimacy, not when the air is already thick with tension. But the brief flash of pain and surprise I felt from Colton when I made the request haunts me. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted. Maybe it’s for the best that I sleep alone tonight, allowing me some space to gather my thoughts.

Closing my eyes, I let the gentle sway of the ship lull me into a light sleep. When I awaken, I’m still on top of the covers, the cold having seeped into the room. I’m sure it’s this sudden drop in temperature that roused me. I snugly tuck Chepi under the covers, ensuring he’s warm. Grabbing a throw blanket from the foot of the bed, I wrap it around myself, slip into my boots, and venture outside, craving the fresh night air.

Silently, I open my door and tiptoe past the rooms of Colton and Nyx. The stillness suggests they’re deep in sleep. Climbing the steps to the deck, I’m struck once again by the grandeur of the ship. The deck gleams, every wooden plank polished to perfection. The ship’s mast stands tall and proud, crowned with crimson sails that billow gently in the night breeze. Intricate rigging crisscrosses above, lanterns hanging and casting a warm, golden glow all around. Their gentle swaying in rhythm with the ship’s movements adds a serene feeling.

Spotting a few crewmen on one side, I head to the opposite side, hoping for a moment of solitude. With no one in sight, I settle down on the deck, pulling the blanket tighter around me and leaning against the ship’s side. The sea, an abyss of inky blackness, is barely visible, but the sky more than compensates. A tapestry of stars sparkles above, and the moon, in all its luminescent glory, casts a silver sheen over the water. It’s a sight to behold, and for a moment I lose myself in its beauty.

It’s hard to believe sometimes that the gods created all of this.

“Can I join you?” A voice startles me, and I look up to see Nyx approaching, dressed in his usual all-black attire. He reeks of whiskey and looks as if he hasn’t slept in days, and I remind myself not to feel bad for him.

“Sure. You’re King Onyx and can do whatever you wish,” I say, a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. He sits down next to me, closer than I anticipated, and leans back against the wall.

“You don’t have to call me King Onyx. I was being an asshole,” he admits, letting out a sigh.

“You think?” I turn my head to study his face, the bags under his eyes. He meets my gaze, his gray eyes shining even more brightly in the darkness of the night.

“Lyra... I’m sorry for everything. Truly. I know it’s too late to fix anything, but I want you to know I regret lying to you. I regret hurting you. Trust me, I’m living with the consequences of my actions.”

That takes me by surprise. I pull my lower lip into my mouth and look back out at the sea, unsure of what to say. After a long pause, I finally respond, “I forgive you.”

Holding a grudge against Nyx only hurts me. I don’t want to be angry, and I don’t want to feel hurt by him anymore. It’s time to let go. Nyx clearly isn’t sleeping, and maybe my forgiveness will offer him some solace, if not a good night’s rest.

“Lyra, you have no idea how much that means to me.” I shift my gaze to the stars, taking a deep breath, the salty sea air filling my lungs. “Sometimes, we hurt the ones we love the most. Maybe it’s because they’re close enough to feel the pain. Or perhaps we take them for granted, expecting them to always be there no matter what. And sometimes they are. Some endure this pain out of fear or shame, but forgiveness is a choice. It’s a gift we offer, not just to those who’ve wronged us but also to ourselves.” He reaches out to touch my face, but I pull away, turning my gaze elsewhere. We sit in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

I often wish I could find the strength to forgive everyone who has hurt me. I’m not there yet, but I cling to the hope that someday I will be. The pain and resentment I harbor toward Aidan, Samael, and even my own mother for her indifference to my suffering under her watch remains fresh when I’m not working to keep it buried. Yet, in the midst of this turmoil, I find space to forgive Nyx. As much as I try to deny it, he was my first love. While I wish I could forgive solely for the sake of love, it’s more for my own peace. I realize that to truly heal from the wounds he inflicted, I must let go. So, for my own sake, I choose to forgive him.

Nyx shifts suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. He turns to face me fully, his eyes intense. “Lyra, princess, I love you,” he says, gripping my chin to force our eyes to meet. “Do you remember when you said you were mine?”

I wrench away, catching the unmistakable whiff of whiskey on his breath.

“You’re clearly drunk,” I snap.

“I’m not,” he shoots back, voice tinged with desperation. “Look at me, damn it!” He tries to grab my face again, but I dodge his hand, leading him to seize my wrist instead. “I’ve never loved anyone but you, Lyra. Only you. You need to understand that I need you. You will be mine.”

Releasing my wrist, I quickly stand, heart racing. “I’m going back to bed,” I declare, trying to keep my voice steady. “You should too, before you do something you’ll regret come morning.”

He gets up as well, taking a step toward me. “Lyra, please understand I never meant to hurt you. You need to know how I feel.” I back away, unsettled. I’ve seen signs of his possessiveness, but this intensity is new and unnerving. He clearly hasn’t slept and has been drinking too much tonight.

Nyx’s voice grows desperate, almost haunted. “You’ve read my father’s journal, Lyra. The prophecy...must weigh on you, as it does me. You think you can be with him? Well, he’s not the one destined to be with you, destined to save you. You’re mine.” The finality of his last words sends shivers down my spine.

This isn’t the Nyx I know. Deciding there’s no point in prolonging this confrontation, especially given his state, I turn to leave. Maybe he won’t even remember this tomorrow. But he grabs the edge of my blanket, pulling it away.

As I pivot to reclaim it, he seizes my wrist, his eyes roaming over me. “Gods, Lyra, I’ve missed you,” he mutters, yanking me into his embrace. Torn between the urge to flee and a twisted nostalgia, I momentarily allow his warmth to envelop me. Somewhere deep down, there’s still a weakness for him, a trace of what once was.

Taking a deep breath, I plead softly, “Nyx, let me go.”

He releases me abruptly, shoving my blanket at me. “I can’t believe you let him touch you,” he spits out, retreating to the ship’s opposite side.

Wrapping myself in the blanket, I hurry back to my room. As I settle into bed, my pulse races, and my hands tremble visibly in the dim light. What the fuck happened?

The image of Nyx’s possessive eyes lingers in my mind. One thing he said sticks with me. Whatever was written in Callum’s journal does indeed haunt my mind. Destined for darkness, destined to be with his son—Nyx. How can I push it aside? Frustration surges within me, and I slam my fists down on the bed. Where did Callum even get this prophecy, and how can it be true? If I’m truly destined to be with Nyx, then why am I so drawn to Colton? I can’t deny my past feelings for Nyx, the depth of our connection, but that’s not how I feel now. With Colton, there’s an undeniable pull, an unexpected spark, a fire that I can’t ignore.

I really can’t sleep now, and I need a distraction. I focus on practicing my magic. Instead of stressing about the two men on this ship. I need to concentrate on honing my skills. I must be ready when my dark magic wakens—whatever that will bring. I focus on the candles flickering about in my room, drawing the flames to me, I gather them into my palm, creating a tiny orb of fire. I play with it, tossing it upward and guiding it back to its wick repeatedly until fatigue finally takes over and I fall asleep.

Something’s coming! A chill creeps down my neck when a voice whispers in my ear. “Don’t come back,” it seems to say, but the gusty winds steal the clarity. The voice is joined by others, echoing from the dark recesses of the tunnels. I’m determined to uncover the reason behind these recurring visits. This time, I refuse to let fear dominate. I hasten my steps, my fingers grazing the cold, stone wall, guiding me to the familiar spot.

It doesn’t take long before the rhythmic thudding starts. At first, I mistake it for my own heartbeat echoing in my ears. But it’s not. Lub-dub, lub-dub. Drawn to it, I follow the sound. It magnifies, resonating with the accelerating beats of my own heart. The environment shifts — I’m getting closer. The pungent iron tang of blood becomes palpable. Underfoot, a sticky fluid makes each step a challenge, and the tunnel as before takes on the semblance of dark, writhing roots and branches.