Page 36 of The Arcane God

But Ty wasn’t here. Her mind still wanted to reject that thought. Because he should be here—to meet his mother, to see these people. How could he not be here? How could he still be gone?

All she’d done over the last several weeks was go over what had happened again and again, trying to understand it. Talking to Greya had helped snap her out of her stupor and reminded her of her purpose, but it still didn’t make any sense—like her mind was trying to grapple with a loss so deep and profound, that it didn’t quite know how, so it rejected it.

In the back of her mind, she had convinced herself that maybe he was coming back. She’d had to—to survive. Even without speaking it, she had clung to that hope. It was why she had gotten mad at Turner when he’d insinuated that Ty was gone forever, and why it had felt impossible to tell Kaya what had happened.

But now, she suddenly saw things more clearly. She was doing herself and her baby no favors by clinging to the idea that he was coming back.

Because something was wrong with her. She’d been ignoring it, clinging to her sanity by a thread after losing Ty, and focusing only on surviving, but after today’s episode with the tea, she couldn’t deny it anymore.

Her strange cravings weren’t going away, and they were no longer limited to just Ty’s blood. They were getting worse.

Whatever was happening to her, or to her baby, she needed to figure it out. But she wouldn’t be able to do that with her head in the sand. She needed to be brave and face her reality, and that meant letting go of her delusional hope and facing the truth.

And the truth was, she didn’t have her husband anymore. And she never would again.

Chapter Fourteen

Ty

Two weeks ago

All he remembered was the cold. He had no idea how long he’d been floating in the water—battered by the rough rapids, slamming into rocks, his head just able to pop up for the briefest gulps of air, before tumbling back under.

He’d tried to kick and swim with all his strength, but his limbs felt like lead and didn’t move the way he wanted. He couldn’t feel his hands, or his feet, and he was often so disoriented he didn’t know which way was up or down.

After some amount of time—he had no idea how much—he noticed a battered log floating next to him and he reached for it, hanging on with all his might as the river continued to consume him.

He clung to the log, resting his head on it, as he went in and out of consciousness. Eventually, he stopped shivering from the cold, and it felt like relief. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that was a bad sign, but he had so much trouble focusing on it or being concerned.

All he could do was cling to the log.

At some point, he swore it felt like he was falling, only to crash down into the water once more. The fall hurt, and he felt a crushing blow to his collarbone, but his mind barely registered it. He maintained his focus on his grip—the way the rough, wet bark felt on his cheek as he grasped on to it with his dwindling strength.

He banged into rocks, smashing from one side of the river to another, causing his collarbone to throb painfully, but all the jostling and pain had the benefit of keeping him awake. It kept him awake, and it kept him alive.

Soon, it was night, and he opened his eyes blearily to find that he was no longer in the water—well, not all the way. His head and torso were on something solid, while the river lapped at his legs, trying futilely to pull him back into its course.

He shifted slightly, raising up on his elbows and scooting back as much as he could to get out of the water, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His muscles barely worked and his left collarbone was throbbing dully—the cold making it hard to feel much of anything at all—and it took several minutes before his feet were fully on the snow-covered bank.

As he lay there, exhausted, feeling sleep tugging at him, he felt his wet clothes begin to stiffen on his body. He vaguely thought that he needed to get a fire going, or that he might be in serious danger of freezing to death, but it was hard for his mind to hold on to the thought—it kept slipping away like sand through his fingers.

After Iblis only knew how many minutes, he drifted back into consciousness again and was able to roll over onto his stomach, using his uninjured side to inch further from the riverbank and into the forest. He still wasn’t shivering, which he knew was bad. He needed to find some way to get his body temperature up, even though he just wanted to lay down and rest.

He pushed himself, disciplining his mind to concentrate as he fought to get to a recently downed tree about twenty body lengths away from him. The tree still had a significant amount of branches covered in green pine needles, with snow packed on top from the recent storms. If he could get underneath for a while, maybe he could insulate himself enough to warm up a bit. He knew that in his current state, starting a fire would be futile—he had zero supplies. The effort it would take to find a suitable rock for striking a spark, and gathering enough branches, which were bound to be soaking wet and cold… No. His best chance was insulation right now, until he got his body temperature back up.

After what felt like an age of shuffling his barely functioning body towards the tree, he made it, and was able to squeeze under one of the drooping branches, only to be met with a pile of snow falling on top of him. He brushed it off as best he could and tucked himself deeper into the tree’s branches. There were just enough branches underneath him that they kept him off the cold ground, and some over top packed with snow to preserve some of his warmth. Pine branches scratched him in the face and back, but he didn’t care. He was just glad to be done moving for the time being, and his last thought, before his eyes drifted closed, was that he hoped he would make it to see the sun rise again in the morning, because there was something important he was missing, though he couldn’t remember what.

***

Ty awoke to a rough blow to his side, followed by a pile of snow crashing on top of him. He tried to roll away from whatever had struck him, but he had trouble even opening his eyes.

The blow came again, harder this time, and he groaned.

What was happening?

“So you are alive,” a female voice spoke from somewhere outside of his shelter.

Ty’s heart seized. It was daylight now, but he couldn’t see much with the tree branches hanging over him. He felt the woman tug on his feet, dragging him out. His back scraped on the rough branches underneath him, and more snow fell on top of him as he was rudely extricated from his makeshift home.