Zayda’s Pain

ZAYDA

~How long can a person last in hell?~

If I was even a person anymore. This was yet another thing that, after two days in Xythor’s death chamber, I didn’t know for sure.

I knew Xythor was a dragon. I knew in my head that I was a blood mage—a ~blood raven.~

But if I was so powerful, then why couldn’t I save the man I loved?

Certainly, all suffering could pull reality apart at its seams.

But this felt worse.

This was immortal pain.

I stood by the open window, staring at the skyscrapers through bloodshot eyes.

The cold, unfeeling city cared nothing for my pain.

Looking out the window, I could pretend for a moment that I was anywhere but here.

I could forget my lover, bloody and weak, sweating in the bed sheets. I could forget the messes in the hall and bathroom.

I could forget how full of life this sickroom once had been.

I could forget, for one fleeting moment, that I was totally alone.

Earlier in the day, I texted Xander to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it to work.

How far away the university seemed. That simple life when I worked in a lab and went home to my big, strong boyfriend every night.

I stared at my phone now, wondering who I could call to help.

I only knew one another person who could come close to understanding what I was going through.

I pressed Maddie’s contact and held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang, and then went to voicemail.

Even she wouldn’t talk to me. I was totally alone, with nothing and no one to lean on.

My reality had turned on its head.

I used to be excited by my studies.

I used to be young and in love.

Now I felt as old as stone and dead inside.

Xythor promised me he wouldn’t die. But how could I believe him?

I knew there was so much Xythor wasn’t telling me.

I left my seat at the window and went into the bedroom, doing my best to brace myself for the tragedy playing out inside.

“Xythor,” I said as I sat on the bed. He stirred in his sleep.

The sores on his body were still open and bloody, and his fever raged on. Most of the time, he was asleep.

He pressed his temples with his fingers and managed to open his eyes. He did his best to focus on me.

“I need answers, Xythor.” I kept my voice level and strong. “If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you die, you’re wrong.”

“I won’t—” he began, his voice weak.

“How can I help you?” I demanded.

“Just stay here with me…” he whispered.

How many times had I heard him say those words? It was clear my presence alone wasn’t doing any good.

“I can’t give you what you need,” I told him. “You have to tell me what I can do.”

My voice broke as I began to cry, but I tried to hide my tears.

“I’m sorry, Zayda,” he whispered. His hand searched for mine over the sheet. “There is something you can do.”

“What?!”

“Find my friend Silver…” he began. “She’s a dragon. A good one, like me.”

“Okay. How do I find her?” I asked impatiently.

“In the Skeleton Quarter...there’s a door...to the Shadow Realm...where she lives.”

Even these few words exhausted him. He closed his eyes.

“What does it look like?” I whispered.

How was I ever going to find the door?

“It’s red,” he told me. “And the top is scratched by dragon claws.”

“Okay!” I said, filled with determination. I squeezed his hand, clammy with sweat, and leaned down to kiss his lips.

If I was going to catch whatever he had, I’d have it by now.

I left his apartment, closing the door behind me.

I prayed that I would return with hope.

I raced through the city to the Quarter.

As I ran, my muscles twitched with power. The capable feeling that had been lying dormant now revealed itself again, overwhelming me.

My legs shot up like pistons. My strength and speed surprised me, and I moved at shocking speeds.

I felt an internal timer in my heart. It counted down the moments as if each one was Xythor’s last.

The anxiety propelled me through the city, careening around the corners. I nearly crashed into unsuspecting pedestrians.

Nobody knew the nightmare that was my life.

Nobody knew my secret mission:

To find the red door. To get to Silver.

Only at the edge of the Skeleton Quarter did I pause.

I peered down the dirty alley. Never had I stepped foot in this dangerous place.

I’d been raised well, in the suburbs far away from here.

I knew what all the nice girls of Requiem City knew. Nothing good happened in the Skeleton Quarter.

But that wasn’t about to stop me now.

I took off, my feet as fast as rockets. I sprinted past the junkies crumpled in the corners, the heaps of trash piled outside the homeless people’s makeshift shelters.

I ran past what looked like dried pools of blood. Crack dens. Gambling houses.

I ran without a plan, following some unknown intuition.

How would I ever find a red door? The Quarter was huge.

My legs never grew weary, but as the minutes wore on, my heart ached more and more.

Anxiety gripped my mind, pinching behind my eyes.

~Where was the red door?~

I ran on for what seemed like forever. My mouth parched and my lips cracked. Sweat trickled down between my breasts, which bounced in my flimsy bra.

The end of an alley came closer, and as I approached, I found that it was a dead end.

~“Fuck!”~ I screamed.

I scanned the wasteland before me.

How stupid was I, to think that I would intuit the way to a goddamned ~red door?~ There must be hundreds of doors in the Skeleton Quarter! Thousands! ~Millions!~

In that moment, it was clear to me that any magic I had was a curse. It only brought me awful visions that may as well have been nightmares.

Blood raven.

Mage.

~My ass.~

If I was anything, I was cursed.

My magic controlled ~me,~ not the other way around.

My sorrow turned to rage.

I prowled the dead end in a circle, growling like a wild cat.

I caught sight of a figure lurking in a doorway, but even that couldn’t awaken my fear.

I was just about to turn back when I noticed a tiny passageway to my right, formed by broken bricks.

Without pausing, I hurried through it, finding myself in another deserted alley.

And at the end, I saw a red door.

I sprinted toward it...

Sure enough, there were deep gashes rending apart the metal at the top of the door.

~This was it.~

I took a deep breath and reached for the handle, a curved bar.

It was locked.

I summoned all of my strength, all of the magic that could possibly be pulsing through my cursed veins as I grabbed it.

I ripped the door, my muscles straining.

And suddenly, the lock gave way.

I stared into the opening before me.

It was only a dark hallway, filled with dust.

***

Back in Xythor’s apartment, I collapsed onto the bed beside him.

I stared up at the ceiling and listened to his rattling breath.

“I couldn’t find the Shadow Realm,” I told him.

After my frenzy through Requiem City, I felt defeated.

I felt like my life wasn’t my own.

This wasn’t my boyfriend, wasting away in the bed beside me.

This fucked up fate wasn’t mine.

It couldn’t be mine.

Xythor stirred, and effortfully turned to face me. He moved his head onto the pillow beside mine.

Inside the apartment, the light was dim, even though the sun shone outside the large window.

“I’m supposed to be a Blood Raven,” I whispered. “If I’m so powerful, how can I sit here letting you die?”

The words fell between us.

And just like that, my fear was out in the open.

I couldn’t hide it from my love any longer.

“It’s not you,” Xythor whispered. I turned to look at him and touched his cheek with my fingers. For the first time since he got sick, we were really seeing each other.

“It’s me, Zayda. I’m so sorry.”

A tear pooled in the corner of his eye.

I was overcome by a feeling of peace. I finally felt like I was able to calm him.

“Baby, don’t be sorry,” I said. “You’re sick.”

“Don’t worry about the door. I don’t know how Silver could help anyway,” he went on.

I began to cry, the tears wetting my pillow.

“I opened it,” I whispered. “It just didn’t lead anywhere.”

His eyes refocused on me.

“Maybe the portal closed since you’re a blood mage,” he whispered. “You’re too dangerous to enter the Shadow Realm.”

At his words, I felt exposed. Totally naked. Or like birds were picking the meat off my bones.

“Is that why you didn’t mate with me?”

My greatest insecurity was out: we were incompatible.

Xythor didn’t love me enough to claim me as his own.

“No, Zayda,” Xythor cried. He touched his forehead with his fingers.

“I just don’t believe in it. I wouldn’t do that to you, Zayda,” he went on. “If one mate dies, then the other dies, too. I couldn’t risk that with you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“You were the love of my life,” he went on, tracing my chin. “I didn’t want to own you. I just wanted to love you.”

“You did,” I replied, my smile sad. “But what will I do when you’re gone?”

He wiped a tear from my cheek.

“You’ll have a full life after me, baby. You’re young and beautiful. And strong.”

“I don’t want anything after you,” I replied. And I meant it.

He sighed, pulling me closer.

I snuggled into him. In that moment, with my eyes closed, Xythor was the healthy man he used to be.

This evening was any of the evenings we used to have together, back when we thought we had all the time in the world, holding each other before we fell asleep.

“I love you, Xythor,” I said.

I held him like he wasn’t sick. Like this wasn’t the last time.

“I love you, too,” he replied.

Together, the rhythm of our breathing slowed.

I was so exhausted from the long day, and all the long days that led up to it.

“Promise me, Zayda. When I die, you leave this apartment and you never come back again.”

I nodded and pushed my head into his chest. All the words I could’ve said were too big and heavy. The only thing that made sense was to lie there, holding him.

I leaned up to kiss his throat, now frail and quivering, where it had once been so full of life.

And then I rolled into a little ball, protected by his body, and we fell asleep together...

For the last time.