Page 53 of Hell's Secret Omega

“Cyrus.” Mezor grips his ankle. “We must break it eventually.”

“But nottoday!” Cyrus drags the shirt over his head. It smells like Mezor. He’s being selfish—he should accept Mezor’s help. How else will he get Ekko out? But…he balks at the idea. “What about the world seeds? What if breaking the bond hurts you somehow, and you can’t finish?”

Mezor yanks him backward. Cyrus yelps as he’s pinned to the ground.

“You don’t want to.” Mezor’s frown above him is ferocious, probing his soul.

“It could put all your work in danger.” He swallows. “It’s your land. Your home.”

The truth is he’s not ready. But he can’t admit that to Mezor.

Mezor’s gaze is knowing as he releases Cyrus. “Very well. Then stay in the grotto with me until my work is done. Then I’ll take you to the King.”

“Fine. Until the Court has settled.” Cyrus sits up, nerves buzzing.

Mezor nods, seemingly satisfied. “Come to the water—I want to visit my brother before we leave.”

It makes Cyrus antsy to think of being stuck in one place, hiding, not knowing what’s happening in the outside world. Even if that place is a sanctuary. He’s used to coming and going as he pleases, relying only on himself. But he can’t get Sabinus’s body out of his head. So much has changed. Maybe he can’t do this on his own; maybe he needs Mezor’s protection. Just for now.

Cyrus follows Mezor to the water’s edge. The surface of the water is smooth as glass, the grassy shore giving way to pale reeds poking out of dark, wet soil. Huge round blooms cluster at the edge of the water, glimmering in shades of blue. Mezor points to the center of the pool where a hump of rock rises from the water.

“His name is Kalad. He was the youngest shepherd, besides me.” The lines around his mouth grow tight with pain, and Cyrus longs to reach out to him. But he hesitates. Mezor goes on. “He was kind and innocent. The poisoning of our realm pained him the most, out of all of us. He couldn’t stand to watch it die. One day I came to the edge of the night forest to find him already gone.”

“You said they’re asleep. Will they ever wake?”

Mezor shakes his head. “I hope when the land heals it’s possible. But they don’t speak to me, so perhaps they’re nothing but stone now.”

Cyrus kneels in the grass and slices his hand through the cool water. The light from the flowers breaks into a million pieces. The water is cool and gentle, playing over his fingers. Beneath the surface a gleam catches his eye.

Roots. Filaments of gold creep through the soil between patches of reed, a network of veins that undulate gently across the bottom of the pond. He reaches in and tugs at one. It comes free in his hand.

The root is covered in tiny hairs that adhere to his hand instantly, gold on grey, pricking him sharply. As he watches, the golden glow seems to fade—then a jolt of pain shoots up his arm. He yelps, dropping the root.

“Don’t let it bite, little demon.”

“I didn’t mean to!” A tracery of gold flares in the crease of his palm. He shakes his hand.

“Didn’t mean to what?” Mezor closes the distance between them in an instant, grabbing his wrist. “What did you do?”

“It broke off.” He casts around, but it’s gone. “It bit me! It was a piece of root.”

Mezor turns his palm over and his calloused thumb strokes the golden streak. “It’s the sapling. Have care. The world seeds are powerful artifacts, and whatever the King did to them in the Hellspring only made them stronger.”

The gold fades under Mezor’s touch, leaving only a tingle.

“Did you hear a voice?” Cyrus wonders. “I thought I heard someone speak.”

Mezor frowns. “There’s no one here but us.”

It must have been my imagination. But as he follows Mezor back up the slope and into the forest, he looks back at the clearing just in case. The pond ripples, as if something stirs beneath it.

Chapter 31

MEZOR

Mezor staysin the grotto with Cyrus. He tells himself it’s because the gate needs to recover—he tells himself it’s because he promised to teach Cyrus to shoot with the bow. In truth, his instincts recoil at the idea of leaving Cyrus alone. Seeing him terrified and angry roused a ferocious protectiveness, and he can’t seem to stuff it back down.

Mezor’s bow isn’t for self defense—it’s a hunter’s tool. And anyway, no weapon will keep Cyrus safe from the Court. Only Cyrus’s quick, clever mind can do that. But there’s more than one reason to learn a weapon. Part of Mezor rejoices to see his bow in Cyrus’s hands, to be the one to guide him in using it. It’s another claim. But most important of all, it will give Cyrus confidence—he’s never held a weapon, but he’s an eager pupil.

---