Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

54. Thrum…

Chapter 54

Thrum…

S how me .

The command rang through my body like millions of tiny lightning strikes, fracturing me. My eyes shot open, back arched, and mouth gaped open as a silent scream of agony ripped through me. It was the same cleaving pain as before, but sharper. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I was no longer in control.

More. More. More .

My lower lip quivered uncontrollably, and as pain traversed my body, I prayed for Father Death to call in the debt all mortals owed.

Yield.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from me as my body caved to the demand.

Yield.

Blood filled my mouth.

“Nyleeria!” Endymion yelled. “Nyleeria.”

Thaddeus raged at the interruption.

I howled in pain as Endymion tackled me from the side, severing my connection to Thaddeus.

I fell onto Endymion, who stared at me wide-eyed with shock, confusion, and pain, as a glistening black dome filled with tiny embers of muted white and glittering dark mist slid around us.

Scampering off Endymion, I pressed myself hard against the opaque barrier on the opposite side. Trying to get a grip on my terror, I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, holding so tight that my knuckles blanched.

I flinched as a loud crackling sound like thunder hit the dome, the aftershock hurtling me forward. My hands shot out to stop my fall, but before I landed, another aftershock whipped me back as if the barrier were the new source of gravity. My head smashed against its hard surface, filling my vision with white speckles. Breathless, I blinked away the pain and cradled my knees.

I sucked in a sharp breath as the tense, shivering muscles along my spine seized.

Father Death, take me. Please, I call for your mercy. Just take me.

Across the way, Endymion’s horror did nothing to calm my nerves. He seemed surprised, if not unnerved, as he slid a hand across the dome, testing it—a trail of that dark, glittering mist flowing along his fingertips.

“Nyleeria,” Endymion said.

I cowered as his echoing voice distorted into a menacing sound that multiplied in cadence and volume, forcing me to press my palms over my ears.

When it felt safe, I slowly removed my hands, still unsure.

Endymion closed his eyes briefly while he took in a long, calming breath. Jaw clenched and fists bunched, he leaned back as if settling in for the long haul and continued to maintain a watchful, heartbroken gaze.

The cracks became less frequent until enough time had passed that my terror had eddied into fear, and my trembling morphed into exhaustion.

Like a mighty oak in a storm, Endymion had remained a steady, solemn figure.

My joints crackled as I pulled away from the dome’s edge. The moment I broke contact with it, my ears popped, and the midnight-black barrier slowly vanished from the top down in a glittery rain—replaced by a never-ending expanse of white so pure, fresh snow would swoon.

If I were to name it, I’d call it the anti-void.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice sounding foreign to my ears, like that of a child.

Endymion rose from his vigil, and with great gentility, he said, “We’re inside your dreams.”

“Why are you here?” Again, I spoke in a childlike tone.

“You summoned me here somehow.”

His words jolted me, like they’d held the secret password to kick me out of the dissociative state that’d gripped me.

I blinked as if seeing him for the first time.

“There you are,” he said with tenderness as soft eyes met mine.

“You’re not part of the dream,” I said, stepping forward. Lifting a hand, my finger felt solid muscle as I poked him in the chest. “You’re actually here.”

“It appears so.”

“How?”

“I have no idea.”

“How do we leave?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for the past five hours.”

“We’ve been in this gods-forsaken dream for five hours?”

“No. We’ve been trapped in that horrid memory of yours for five hours.” Agony for me flickered in his eyes, but his words didn’t betray what his depthless eyes did. “Is that what Thaddeus did to you? Is that the cost of someone tethering to your power?” His voice was strained as if he wanted to rage but forced himself to contain the tempest that writhed within.

“That was only a fragment of what happened. But yes, that’s the cost, or part of it—I think it will take time to understand the full scope of its toll. ”

His eyes darkened. “How did you live through it, Nyleeria? The pain, gods, it was excruciating.” He searched for my truth as if he could mine it out of me with his will alone.

“You could feel it?” I said, horrified.

He nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry. No one should have to feel that much pain,” I said.

“No, they shouldn’t. I’m surprised your human body survived. Some fae would have died from what you endured.”

I nodded, somehow knowing he was right.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m still not sure all of me did. If it were up to me, I would have given into it, let it sweep me away. But it’s not up to me—little is these days.”

Devastation stared at me for a heartbeat before he gathered himself again.

“Why did it choose me?” I asked, feeling utterly spent.

“I don’t know.”

“Why does it have to hurt so much?”

“I don’t know, Nyleeria.”

“I try to be okay, but I’m not in control anymore. It’s like I’m a prisoner in my own body—in my own life.”

“I know. I could feel it today while you rode Luca. I can feel all of it.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. None of it’s your fault, you didn’t ask for this.”

“What do you think would happen to the spark if I died?” I asked, giving oxygen to the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his words careful.

“Sometimes.”

“I don’t know what would happen, Nyleeria. But I pray to all who would listen that we never have to find out—do you hear me?”

“I don’t pray for those things anymore. I only pray for the pain to go away.”

“Oh, Nyleeria,” he breathed .

And as if something in that shared truth was a secret passcode, the dream faded and we awoke, the sun already lighting the land.

Silently, we sat up and stared into the depths of each other’s souls, as if needing to steep ourselves in our waking reality before being fully released from the dream’s barbs.

I wondered then if my powers had pulled Endymion into the dream, just like my magic had protected me within the dome; only, this time, it knew that the protection I needed, the help I didn’t know how to ask for, wasn’t physical at all.

Later, as we were about to head out, Endymion turned to me. There was an air of assertion around him that I hadn’t seen from him since the Summer Court, and I readied myself for the carefully considered words I knew would follow.

He took in a deep breath. “Nyleeria,” he started, his voice firm but kind, “I need you to tell me what you’re okay with and what you’re not ready for. If you’re not ready to talk, I won’t force it. If you’re not ready to ride together, that’s okay too. But please do not, under any circumstances, pretend like something is okay if it’s not. If there is any part of you that’s not comfortable, no matter how small or how inconsequential you think it is, please tell me. No more pushing through, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated, unsure.

“Okay,” I promised.

He looked at me as if waiting for me to rescind the words, but I didn’t.

Endymion watched me as I looked up at the saddle, then to him. “I’m not ready to share a saddle with you,” I admitted, “but I would like to walk next to you…if you’ll have me,” I added, a little unsure.

He smiled brightly. “I would be honored to walk with you.” And surrounded by the vibrant colors of autumn, a tiny fraction of warmth slipped in through an unguarded fissure, and a tug pulled at the corner of my lips.

We walked for hours, mostly silent, but the quiet between us was different now—comfortable, even. Something about Endymion understanding the dark crags of my soul helped me feel less…alone.

“Endymion?”

“Yes, Nyleeria?” His tone was light, and he cocked a questioning brow.

“You’re the second-in-command in the Autumn Court, right?”

“I am.”

“So, why are you helping me? Shouldn’t you have taken me straight to Wymond?”

“I should have—at least, those were my orders.”

“Why go against your high lord? Won’t he kill you for this?”

A smirk. “He can try.” His words were laced with arrogance, but then he paused, considering. “What Thaddeus and Wymond want…goes against everything I believe in, everything I stand for. You, the spark, were necessitated because leaders like them thought there was only one path forward. We can’t repeat that dark history, Nyleeria. I’d never support such a thing.”

Every fiber of my being agreed with him, just like every fiber of my being had recoiled when I’d heard how Thaddeus planned to protect his people.

“How did Wymond know I had the spark? And does everyone know?” I was curious what had given me away.

“Wymond—”

“Can you hear that?” I asked, moving toward the faint cadence beckoning me.

“Hear what?”

How couldn’t he hear it?

“Nyleeria, where are you going?”

I ignored him, stepping onto a narrow, uneven path following the sound, mindful of my footing. Endymion’s footfalls faltered as he tethered Luca, assuring him we’d be right back before following after me.

“Nyleeria?” he called out, his voice distant.

With every step I took, the sweet, calming rhythm rang clear as if the Mother herself played it for me, and my world narrowed to that beautiful, rich, loving, ethereal call.

I picked my way through the boulders and heaved myself atop a small outcrop—finally able to see the source of the hymn. Needing more than anything to feel the bark of the massive standalone tree against my palms, I recklessly scrambled down the rocky slope of the crater.

Every cell in my body hummed in response to the song emanating from the epicenter that was not of this world. Impossibly thick branches peaked through the droves of tendrils that cascaded toward the ground like the boughs of a weeping willow—only, she didn’t hold sorrow. Such a thing would be impossible for her. No, she held life itself, each luminescent wisp swarming in every hope-filled color imaginable.

My fingertips tingled anticipating the bark’s velvety smoothness, yearning to trace its beautiful patchwork of soft greens, purples, and blues.

Oh, how I craved its touch.

I was vaguely aware of colors shifting in the air in my periphery, like the hues caught within a bubble sliding to-and-fro in the sunlight’s embrace. Somehow, I knew a dome now protected her and me—even from Endymion.

Her power flowed more freely the closer I got, as if the budding anticipation I felt wasn’t mine alone.

As I took those final steps, that slumbering part deep within me awoke, yearning to yield to the sweet, sweet melody as much as I did.

I lifted my hands, and, at long last, pressed my palms against her.

White filled my vision.

I felt everything. Heard everything.

A thrum from the impossible depths of Lumnara’s pulse—a heartbeat. Her heartbeat. Our heartbeat.

I was part of her, and she was part of me. Down to our very core.

Pressing my palms harder against the bark, I let go.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum .

Every beat deepened our connection.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Every beat allowed us to be one.

Thrum. Thurm. Thurm.

It was the source of all life, of all creation on Lumnara. It was the Mother herself.

Thrum. Thurm. Thurm.

I tilted my head back and breathed it all in, releasing every bit of who I was to her as an offering.

The dance between our magic felt like the unbridled jubilation of a family reunited after too long apart. The humming of loving conversations. The laughter of old and new memories. The dance of lovers who needed no words. The cries of a newborn child.

It was hope. And joy. And love.

It was the harmony that had been lost long, long ago.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Another flash of light.

And like an evening that must end, the thrumming melody faded as our powers mindfully disentangled themselves until, eventually, she was gone.

I was left alone, with only the softness of her cool bark beneath my glowing palms. Leaning in, I rested a cheek on the trunk and closed my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and a tear slowly rolled down my face.

And like someone sitting with a loved one after they’d passed, I lingered until I was certain she was no longer there.

When our bond broke, the shimmering dome released its grip, depositing me back into my own reality.

Eventually, I stepped back and pressed my lips upon my fingers, then touched her bark one last time in a silent goodbye.

I turned to find Endymion only steps away, unbridled reverence and awe staring back at me at what he’d witnessed.

Looking down, I flipped my hands over, then back, mesmerized by the faint glow still emanating from me—it was breathtaking .

Catching his gaze, Endymion regarded me as if cataloguing each feature for the first time.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice sounding distant.

He continued to take me in, unable to form words.

We stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before he finally whispered, “You’re fae.”