Page 49 of Hell's Secret Omega
Instantly Mezor understands. Cyrus has been spying for them. Pulling as many threads as he can.
“Are you hurt?” He barely manages not to grab Cyrus and check every inch of him. His primus snarls like a caged animal. “Did they touch you?”
“No.” Cyrus lets his arms fall to his side with a shudder. “Only Sabinus. They let me go—I don’t know why. They probably thought I had nowhere to run. But there’ll be more executions.”
“You cannot go back.”
“I can’t stay away!” Cyrus’s eyes flash with silver fire. “What am I to do? I have my duties—my work for the King, for you. I can’t do any of that from outside the Court.”
Mezor closes the distance between them, letting the taste of Cyrus’s bitter fear ground him. He grips Cyrus’s shoulders.He had no one. But now he has me, and I’ll be damned if I let him feel alone.“Stay here with me. Let General Leuther ferret out those he can, until his attention turns elsewhere.”
Cyrus’s shoulders tremble in his hands. “I’m useless here.”
“You’resafehere,” Mezor growls. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“But Leuther’s plans?—”
“Cyrus.” Mezor slides his thumb up the delicate jaw to cup his cheek. He exhales, trying to control his emotions, but it’s no use. “Come with me. Let me show you something.”
TakingCyrus through the gate is the easiest thing he’s ever done. It feels right. It feels like coming home. For a moment he forgets that Hell will never again be home for him.
They exit the gate in a burst of white flame and Cyrus stumbles onto the grass with a gasp. His eyes are huge, fear and wonder warring in them.
“What—?” His head whips around. “What was that?”
“The aether. It can be disorienting,” Mezor explains.
Cyrus straightens his mess of hair and tugs at his uniform out of habit as he stares at their surroundings. In a moment he’s composed, his fear buried. It gives Mezor a flicker of pride,as ifhe’sthe one responsible for Cyrus’s steel nerves.Mine,his primus insists, still wound up.
“What is this place?” Cyrus takes in the meadow, turning. They’re on the edge of the night forest. The eternal dawn glows in his eyes, washing him in gentle light that softens his edges. Slowly, his tension is overtaken by curiosity. “Is that a river?”
“The sea,” Mezor tells him.
“It’s so big,” he breathes.
“It’s bigger than it looks. Endless, to some.”
“It must be deep.” His gaze turns distant. “Sometimes I swim in the dam behind the forge hall, and when I dive under it’s like entering a different world. A silent, peaceful world. It felt like that in the aether.”
It’s closer to the truth than Cyrus could know. “Its depths are unknowable. Those who enter this sea don’t come out.”
“Where do they go?”
“Nowhere. Everywhere.” Mezor waits for him to turn back. “It’s the end of their journey. This is the edge of Hell—the last resting place.”
At last Cyrus tears his eyes from the horizon and looks up at Mezor, realization dawning. “We’re truly outside the Court. This is your realm.”
“We’re as far from Mount Hythe as we can be,” he replies.
Cyrus’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath of the sea air. “You said Hell was dead, but this place is beautiful.”
“Not everything has been twisted and blackened by rot. This is one of the few places left untouched. I want to show you something more important, though. This way, through the trees.”
He turns away from the sea and Cyrus follows. The light fades as they enter the forest, darkness enfolding them like a sea itself. The effects of the corruption grow more evident. Behind him, Cyrus silently struggles to wade through the thick mud andclimb over the broad fallen trunks. Mezor slows subtly to let him catch up. He doesn’t want to leave Cyrus alone in the wilds, not for a moment.
When Mezor pauses, pretending to catch his breath, Cyrus looks around.
“Is this all caused by the corruption?”
