Page 87 of Hell's Secret Omega

It seems to be his answer to everything—it depends. Cyrus soon grows impatient with this style of conversation and he lets the quiet chatter of the company filter in distracting him. In the background his mind still churns.

His abandonment of Mezor could be selfish or selfless. Mezor’s deception could be cruel or loving. So how can he know what’s right?

Soon it will be too late. The bond will pull tight and snap like a spiderweb. But no matter how many times he turns it over in his head, no answer comes to him.

By the time they break free of the fog on the bridge, the day is beginning to wane. As the air below them clears, the sight that stretches under their feet takes Cyrus’s breath away. They’reright over the pit, hanging in mid-air. Deep, ragged cracks around the base of Mount Hythe show where the mountain slammed into place so many centuries ago, and broken shale lies in a pattern like waves leading outward. Beyond it, the wilds are a dark smear. Cyrus grips the rail and stares down at the distant ground, though it makes him dizzy.

Flickers of gold criss-cross the land everywhere. Far away, smudges of light float atop the wilds like ghostly lanterns—the world trees.

He’s so entranced he doesn’t notice the dark specks floating on the updraft at first, until the soldiers shout in alarm. Someone grabs his arm and pulls him away from the rail. The specks grow larger, circling in a familiar pattern.

“Roks!” someone cries, and pikes rise. “They’ve spotted us.”

Cyrus’s heart leaps. He breaks away and rushes to the rail as the massive birds of prey approach.

“Are you crazy?” one of the soldiers barks, grabbing his shoulder.

Cyrus shakes him off and leans over the edge, drinking in the sight of the roks hungrily. They’re rapidly drawing nearer, so close he can make out the bars on their feathers. He holds his breath. At first he doesn’t spot Ekko in their number. One by one, they soar past him. Five all told, each with the same tawny coloring, their crests of various sizes, their feet and claws black, yellow, white. He squeezes the rail in desperation.Please.

With a cry, the last—biggest—rok hurtles over the railing. The demons around him yell, only a few of them gathering the courage to raise their pikes. Cyrus has already spotted the familiar dual-toned gaze.

“Stop!” He spins, raising his arms to ward off their weapons. Claws scratch the stone rail behind him. The rush of wind from Ekko’s wings grabs his hair and clothes.

“Stand down,” Claudius barks, stepping forward.

Slowly the soldiers lower their pikes, puzzled. Ekko butts Cyrus’s shoulder from behind. Far above, the rest of the flock let loose mournful cries, rising in a spiral into the grey sky. Cyrus digs his fingers into Ekko’s crest and presses his forehead to the rok’s beak.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs.

Ekko shakes his crest, dislodging Cyrus’s hand. He hops back, puffing up his chest, and with an echoing call he takes flight once more. Cyrus’s heart feels like it’s soaring with him and sinking at the same time.

He can’t leave Ekko.

He can’t abandon his mate.

It isn’t over. There has to be another way.

He knows one person who might have the answer.

Climbing onto the stone rail is easy as breathing. He blocks out the shouting behind him, Claudius’s cry of warning. He shuts his eyes and stops thinking about the future he might be leaving behind, the freedom and new beginnings—a life that not a single atom of him cares about—and he looks inward instead, grabbing the last of his courage.

He leaps.

Ekko’s cry follows him down. Then he’s soaring, rising with the wind. He grabs the feathers on Ekko’s neck and gasps for breath, his legs liquid.

Ekko wobbles, clearly unused to carrying cargo. Cyrus hugs his back tightly, heart pummeling his ribs as he gulps for oxygen in the rushing wind.

“Let’s not do it this way next time,” he chokes out.

He casts one last look over his shoulder. The bridge is a shining ribbon fading into the Earth’s grey sky, the company just a blur. Lightness fills his soul.

Beneath him, Ekko turns a questioning golden eye upward as Cyrus laughs.

Mezor, I’m coming.

Chapter 48

CYRUS

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