Page 129 of Dark Fate

I am not letting this bastard get to me. He won't fucking break me, no way in hell. My brain is spinning, figuring out how these two are in cahoots and what twisted game they're playing. I cock an eyebrow, glancing between these two dipshits. "So what's the story with you assclowns anyway? Bumpin' uglies?" I spit, my words dripping with venom.

Azrael's icy stare bores into me, his eyes narrowing with barely contained rage. "Mind your tongue, Rhyland, or I'll slice it clean off," he hisses, his voice a deadly whisper.

My laughter echoes through the room, a harsh, manic sound that borders on hysteria. Am I losing my mind? Possibly. But I couldn't care less, not when I'm facing down these two sadistic fucks.

"Oh, did I piss you off?" I quip with a smirk, my split lip stretching painfully with the motion. "Hey, if you're into pussy that reeks of rot, who am I to judge?"

Another damn fist slams into my face, the taste of blood flooding my mouth, coppery and thick. I spit it out, watching with grim satisfaction as it splatters across the floor.

Then Azrael makes a beeline for the door, Amara in tow—both of them strutting out like they couldn't give a damn, smug in their belief that time and goddamn solitude are gonna break me, that I'll crumble under the weight of my own thoughts.

Left in the dark, naked and bleeding, my mind can't help but wander to Lucian and Erik. Are my brothers locked up close by, or have they been dealt a shittier hand? That bitch and that bastard have their fates hanging over my head like a juicy carrot, just another mindfuck in their twisted game.

What if my brothers are getting screwed over while I'm rotting in this shithole? The last time I saw Erik, he was chained up just like I was, his silver eyes burning defiantly. And Lucian...that smartass is still my blood, no matter what shit we've been through. If I've lost them, the blame's on me. I should've fought harder, should've protected them better. But here I am, screwing up with them just like I'm screwing up with Dani.

Dani, my fierce, gorgeous angel. The thought of her in Amara and Azrael's clutches, suffering like I did, makes my blood run cold. "If they get their claws into you like they did with me, I'll never fucking forgive myself," I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion.

I try talking to her, sending my words through our mental link, but it's like shouting into a damn black hole—nothing echoes back, just a yawning emptiness that threatens to swallow me whole.

I'm bleeding out, and this godforsaken collar has fucked up my healing, leaving me weak and dizzy. My sight's getting fuzzy, my grip on consciousness slipping away like sand through my fingers. I'm flickering between moments of peace and some fevered, hellish dreams, my mind a kaleidoscope of nightmares.

I'm watching my brothers getting cut down as some shadowy motherfucker with eyes like firestorms tears through everything I give a damn about. Adrian's icy warnings are repeating in my mind, a haunting soundtrack to the horrors unfolding before me. And Dani, she's caught like a fly in Amara's web, struggling and screaming as the Shadow Queen's poison seeps into her veins.

I'm pulling at these damn chains, desperate to save her, but she's fading further and further away until all that's left is the dark, a suffocating void that threatens to consume me. And my fuck-ups, they're right there with me, hounding me, even as I slip into the abyss, a chorus of accusation and recrimination that follows me down, down, down...

Danica

60

Ever in tune with my emotional currents, Seraphina offers a light touch to my arm—her presence reassuring amidst the celestial vastness. "There is a subtlety in the flow of time that you must come to understand," her voice carrying a soft power that belies the depth of her words.

I pivot toward her, absorbing the comfort of her presence. "What about time?" I inquire.

She reveals how time meanders differently across the realms—it isn't the linear march I've always known. Here, days could translate to moments elsewhere or stretch into years.

That revelation trips my heart into double time. "Years?"

The prospect of such temporal dissonance sets my head reeling.

Acknowledging my concern with a serious nod, she elaborates, "Indeed, the nature of time is unique to the realms. Consider it a fabric we traverse with utmost caution and respect."

Jophiel offers to elaborate, flicking his lush brown hair over his shoulder, painting a vast, intricate picture of existence's timelines. "Imagine each realm as a chamber in time's grand palace, each with its own pendulum of moments. While navigating your native temporal river, remember the other parallel streams, each fundamental to the cosmic ballet."

The mind-bending complexity of this multi-tiered reality sucker-punches me. I wring my hands, anxiety spiking. "How long have I been stuck in this celestial time-out corner?"

Bewilderment laces my tone as flashes of lost moments with Rhyland flicker through my thoughts. Did I accidentally hit the cosmic fast-forward button on our life together?

Jophiel doesn't hesitate, "Four weeks by Luminara's measure."

My chest constricts like it's being crushed by a heavyweight, and my stomach takes a sickening plummet. But I've barely been in this realm, right? An hour at most if I go by my watch's time.

"How long have I been here?"

"A day," Seraphina answers.

A tidal wave of sheer panic crashes over me, lodging a suffocating lump in my throat. Visions of Rhyland's safety—or lack thereof—slice through my core like razor blades.

"I need to get back to him—now," I declare, my voice brooking no argument.

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