Page 86 of Oracle of Ruin

“And a bunch of creepy monsters. Spiders, probably very large spiders.” He shivers despite the heat of the burning fire. “I hate spiders. Why do they need so many legs?”

“They’ve got a lot of eyes too.”

I laugh as the mechanic blanches, his nose crinkling with disgust. He may not be sarcastic like Rowan or witty like Torin, but there’s something sharp and humorous in his dry honesty. It’s refreshing.

As I stare at the sky, my mind clears in the silence, allowing my anxiety to dissipate with the crackling fire.

“To be honest, I prefer it out here.” Derrín stares at his scarred fingers. “These monsters don’t pretend to be anything other than what they are.” Something haunted comes over his features then as he stares into the fire. The flames dance in his watery gaze like the reflection of a battlefield, haunting his every mannerism.

“You know, Kya never told me how you two came to be with the Nightwalkers.” I nudge his leg with the toe of my boot.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Just when I begin to fear I have said the wrong thing again, Derrín parts his lips with a shuddering breath. “It was after we escaped the island. We landed at the port on the southern Krycolian border. We were young and Varium was all we knew, but even then, we weren’t stupid enough to go back. So those nobles sent hunters after us. They didn’t want their secret operation being exposed. The king sanctioned it so they wouldn’t face any repercussions, but their reputation would have taken a hit. A foolish thing, reputation is. Worth enough to end two young lives.”

A weight settles in my gut at his words and how simply he says them. Not like he believes them, but acknowledges that they’re a fact to someone out there.

He continues anyway, his face to the stars. “The night we became Nightwalkers, the bounty hunters found us. There were seven of them and we were just kids, and Kya… she only had this small knife. She told me to run, so I did. That’s how I found Rowan.”

“Then what happened?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

Derrín inhales sharply, then admits quite plainly, “Rowan had to get her a new knife.”

The weight of his words hang dead in the air and settle in the silence between us. The logs crack, sounding unnervingly like snapping bones. I shake the thought off. It is only my nerves at being so close to the Bone Wood mixed with the horror of the twins’ story.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I answer honestly. “I don’t think Kya would understand what I’m trying to do. I’m just trying to save everyone.”

Derrín chews on the stalk of a blade of grass then frowns. He spits the greenery into the dirt and folds his arms beneath his head. “I understand, but that doesn’t mean I approve.”

“Good to know,” I sigh.

I suppose understanding is all I can hope for at this point. None of them can fully grasp the pressure I’m under. This apocalypse is all my fault, and now I am the only one who can stop it. I’ll use whatever means necessary to keep them safe, and yet to them, I’m a villain.

“You should start valuing yourself more,” Derrín casually drops in before curling up on his side. “You don’t have to throw yourself away. You just act like you are nothing. That is what hurts them.” I consider this for a moment before he adds, “And all the stupid stuff you’ve been doing too. Human sacrifice, looting dead bodies. Not cool.” A certain degree of gravity coats Derrín’s voice, but I can hear the hints of dark humor commingling in there. The bit of him that still believes I’m capable of redemption reaching out.

I nearly laugh. A broken, rattling sound settles in the back of my throat instead, something like a sob. I lean back against the trunk of a tree and flip my dagger into my palm. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“I was planning on you saying that.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, but say nothing else. Soon, it is only me, the stars, and the sound of Derrín’s soft snores filling the air. My head lolls back for a moment before I rise and search for a high ground. I leave my pack of sacrifices by the fire.

Chapter35

Rowan

The survivors are taken to the med bay the moment we reach the rebel base. The idea of leaving the former king’s men with the rebel group sit like stone in my stomach, but we don’t have the resources to save them and Torin has assured us they will be fine. As the former captain of the guard, I assume he knows what he is talking about, as he now walks daily through this pit of vipers.

The Nightwalkers rest around a fireplace in a spare apartment area Roiden reserved for us. He expressed his condolences that he could not be here to tend to us, but sent Lyra in his stead. Blaine pushes through the door, returning shortly after going to check on his mother, who, as promised, found a place for herself in the furthest corners of the rebel compound.

The older woman wears her hair loose this time, and the softer look makes her appear more aged than she is. A dark form of sadness coats her mannerisms as she cares for Amír, stitching up a laceration from an arrow fired as we fled the palace. Kya holds the gunslinger’s hand, more for her own benefit than Amír’s. The redhead does not complain, neither does she look as the needle slides in and out of her flesh.

“This is going to scar,” Lyra offers.

Amír tosses a playful look to her lover, even through the pain. “It won’t be the first or the last I receive.” Then she adds, “Thank you for your kindness.”

I nearly snort at the nicety. The words “thank you” hardly leave my second’s lips, and when they do, they are usually sarcastic.

“Anyone else on the verge of death?”

No response.

---