Page 13 of From Frost to Flame

“I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Silas's bare chest rumbled as he spoke. The vibrations on Lex’s arm made him want to curl closer, but he fought against the urge. “Where am I?”

His eyes darted around the cozy living room with deep ruby-colored walls. Large plants of varying heights decorated every corner. A jewel-toned, stained glass coffee table sat in front of him with a black leather backpack perched on top. The only source of light was the fireplace. Its flames cast golden light over the ornate, velvet emerald couch Lex was cradled on.

“You’re in Wisteria. You’re safe,” Silas said reassuringly. His grip on Lex tightened. “Don’t move too fast.”

“How did I get to Wisteria?” He ignored Silas's advice and twisted to look around the foreign living room.

“The compass brought us here. Do you remember anything from the other night?”

“Compass?” Lex looked at his once white sleeve, now drenched with crimson blood. On the back of his hand, the compass gleamed in the firelight. Behind its glass, the four cardinal directions were labeled in dramatic black script. The letters were bold against the bloodstained metal. Half of the needle glowed white and pointed steadily east. Its chain was buried deep in his flesh and held it firmly in place. He tried to lift his hand to better examine the damage, but his muscles only throbbed.

A flurry of memories came back, and a rock dropped into the pit of his stomach. “I’m dying.”

He was certain he would burst into flames if he had blood in him. He was dying again and the handhe used for art, for music, for writing, for all the things that brought him joy was useless. The air in the room thinned, and the world spun. “I can’t move. My arm and my hand. I can’t move them.”

“Breathe,” Silas said gently. “You’ll pass out again if you aren’t careful.”

“I just need space.” The words came out strangled. He heaved himself off Silas's lap and a bolt of pain shot through him. “Fuck me, everything hurts.”

Silas huffed as he got off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of Lex. “You should have let me help you. You’re too hurt to be stubborn.”

“Too late now.” It was hard for Lex to ignore the fact that Silas wasn’t wearing his toga as he kneeled on the ground. His chiseled chest was on full display. Black tattoos of constellations and celestial slayed monsters decorated his pecs and arms. They were beautiful stories of Silas's victories, captured and immortalized on his skin. Lex wondered what he missed in the last fifty years and sadness swept over him. “Can you just tell me what happened?” he asked, clearing his throat. “It all goes fuzzy after Arden grabbed my face.”

“The Ravenous One attacked. She wants her compass back. That’s all you really need to know.”

“That’s not possible.” Fear spilled over him. “She’s locked in Tartarus. It’s a fiery prison below the seafloor. No one gets in or out of that place. That’s what the entire festival is about.”

“She’s partially trapped. She split her soul before the war ended. The werewolves didn’t know she did this when they sealed her into Tartarus. Since she technically exists on both planes, she can cross over. It harms her to do so, and she can’t stay long before Tartarus drags her back. She made Death’s Compass using her own blood to keep track of the pieces of her soul in our world, but it was stolen ages ago. Nonhumans have been fighting over it and its power for years. Thankfully the loss of her compass and her limitations with crossing over have rendered her not much of a threat, until now.” Silas nodded to Lex’s wrist. “You have the most elusive and sought after artifact in the world stuck to your wrist.”

Lex shook his head and closed his eyes. “This can’t be happening. I know all the myths and legends. I’ve read all the books and journals about the war. This compass isn’t supposed to be real.”

“All the kingdoms agreed to say it’s a myth to dissuade future generations from seeking it, but as you can see, it’s very real.”

“My family,” Lex said, sitting up. Pain shot through his limbs, and he winced. “I wandered out of the bar. If she attacked, they have to be worried sick or worse. What if they got hurt?”

“They’re sleeping upstairs.”

“Really?” Lex was dumbfounded. It was so quiet in the cozy cabin, it was hard to believe they were here.

“Castor and I brought them along when she attacked.”

“You kept my family safe?” Lex’s heart swelled against his will.

“Castor deserves more credit than me,” he said, as if it was no feat at all. “Wisteria is Arden’s territory, so Castor and I can’t be seen here. Your family was kind enough to go out and steal supplies for the journey ahead. It took a lot out of them, and they went to bed at sunrise.” Silas snatched the leather bag off the stained glass coffee table and slowly unpacked colorful bottles and bandages. “I’ll admit, I think the cabin is a bit much.”

“Says the man who lives in a castle.”

“Not when I’m on a mission.” He shrugged. “How do you know a rich nymph with a getaway cabin, anyway?”

“I do art restoration and preservation for lots of people now. The public saw what I did for your kingdom, and it led to a lot of requests. I’ve done quite a few pieces for Arden, too.”

“You’ve worked for Arden?” Silas stopped digging through the bag and scowled. “He’s been sanctioned for torturing vampires and humans for sport. Do you not remember what I said when I introduced you ages ago? As long as he was in Orion, you weren’t allowed to be alone with him. Why would you do something so reckless?”

“My personal life isn’t your concern,” he snipped. A flicker of hurt crossed Silas's face, and Lex forced himself not to apologize. Silas had thrown him away. He didn’t get to act hurt now that he wasn’t invited back into his world.

“Fine.” Silas tossed the leather bag aside roughly. “Let’s just refocus on Death’s Compass.”

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