Page 131 of A World of Ruins

Idris takes hold of my hand and I gasp as I open my eyes and look down at his face.

As he shakes his head, dark, crawling veins start to appear on his neck. ‘Just stop,’ he rasps.

Iker and Illias lower themselves to their knees. ‘Come on, brother, we need to try,’ Illias urges with a nod, but all Idris manages to do is tell us ‘No.’

‘Idris,’ I say. He looks at me, and it takes all of my strength not to break. ‘Don’t try to be stubborn now; that is my thing.’ I chuckle softly and sink on my knees to the same level as my brother.

He smiles. It’s such a rare sight on him, but right now I want his smiles, his frowns, his lectures, and everything in between. ‘You got it from me.’

‘I got a lot from you,’ I tell him, my voice steady despite the tremor of emotions threatening to break free from my throat.

My brothers stare at me and then at Idris. Illias is already crying, and I don’t know why because everything will be fine.

‘Do you . . .’ Idris winces and I thread my fingers through his, trying to soothe him and take all that pain away. ‘Do you remember the day I tried to make your favourite pie?’

I give a subtle nod. ‘Yes,’ I say, smiling. ‘You almost burned our cottage down.’

‘I still remember Iker covered in strawberries while I was trying to distract you from coming into the kitchen.’ Illias chuckles.

Idris’s laugh is weak. ‘It was a disaster,’ he admits, and Iker can’t help but crack a smile. ‘One I’ll never forget.’

‘I couldn’t get the scent out for weeks,’ Iker quips, playing along as his gaze softens.

The memory dances vividly inside the depths of my mind. I can still recall the frantic yells and clashes of pans and dishes while a young me wondered what was happening. It is such a simple story, but for Idris, it means everything.

His grip on my hand tightens, and there is this heartfelt promise in his eyes. A love that gradually fades away as our connection weakens. His breathing soon ceases, yet the glistening tears in his eyes cascade down his face, freezing time altogether.

‘Idris?’ His name is a whisper on my lips as a profound silence now deafens the room.

Illias weeps softly while Iker’s once smile shatters into a thousand pieces with the kind of grief that knows no consolation. He looks frozen in place, and as I look up at Freya, she shakes her head and starts to sob.

No.

‘Get up,’ I order, my lips tightening as I glance back down at Idris. He doesn’t move. ‘Idris . . .’

Nothing.

I bite my cheek, drawing blood. ‘Idris, get up, come on.’ I shake him forcefully, but he is just so still, so . . . motionless.

Get up.

Get up.

Get up.

My words come out angrier each time.

He just needs to wake up. That is all. Once he wakes up, everything will be back to normal.

‘Nara,’ Darius murmurs softly, and I realise he is now behind me, his hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t try to pry me away from my brother; he simply lets me know he is here and that he won’t leave me unless I want him to.

But why would I tell him to leave?

Idris is just resting. He’ll wake up soon.

‘He is okay,’ I whisper, smiling as tears blur my vision. ‘Just get Leira and Aelle in here.’

‘Nara, no.’ Iker’s voice breaks, and my gaze snaps towards him. He is crying unabashed, and it is the most I have ever seen him cry in so long. Not since our father’s death.

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