Page 46 of Ever Dark Academy: Volume 6

“It’s too far out of the pattern, Roan,” the boyish voice explained patiently, but there was an edge to it. “We go too far and Seeyr will end us. We exist if we stay on the edges.”

“You give her too much credit!” Roan sounded petulant.

“Only because I didn’t give her enough before,” the boyish voice answered. “And we paid for it.”

“You should have destroyed her like the others! Given her to Weryn before he was put away! Have him rip her apart and then–”

“That could never have happened,” the boyish voice was definitely edged now. “Don’t you understand? We are in the future that Seeyr picked.”

“And you think she’ll let this happen?” Roan did not hide his disbelief.

Grayson wondered what this was. He was now treading water just beneath the amber light. That light was full consciousness. He would pop right back into his body if he broke through. But not yet. He wanted to hear more.

“I think,” the boyish voice dropped into an almost sensual whisper, which caused the hair on the back of Grayson’s neck to rise, “that I am done being questioned.”

There was a sharp cry of pain and then the retreating tread of footsteps before the thunk of the brass doors shut. After that, there was only the crack and hiss of the burning soul gems. He heard one crack open and a sigh–was that the sigh of a spirit as its energy was expelled to feed the flames?–before he felt a hand in his hair.

“Wake up, Ashyr,” the boyish voice said by his left ear.

Grayson broke through the water’s surface into the light before he had a chance to choose it. Kaly had chosen it for him. He drew in a sharp breath as he flew upright on the divan. He drew in deep haggard breaths.

“You poor thing. You’re exhausted. I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep this body alive this long considering the Ever Dark’s hunger for you,” the boyish voice said. “Here. Drink this. It will help. Not as reviving as Daemon’s touch, but it will make you more comfortable.”

Grayson found himself taking a golden goblet from someone’s hand and bringing it to his lips. He stopped himself from drinking it at the last minute. The compulsion that this version of Kaly had on his soul breaking as life fully returned to his body. He brought the cup down and stared at its contents. It was clear except there was the faintest oily sheen on the top of it. It smelled of oranges and something bitter underneath.

His gaze left the contents of the cup and gazed around him, looking for the person who had given him this likely poisoned chalice. What he found–who he found–was not what he was expecting. There was a teenage boy, wearing a set of orange and black robes, kneeling beside his divan. He had white-blonde hair that fell in lush waves down to his narrow shoulders. He smiled, showing a snippet of white teeth, and even whiter, sharper fangs.

“It’s not poisoned! I wouldn’t have had Roan bring you here unharmed if I simply wanted to poison you,” the teen laughed.

He laid his hands on top of his thighs. The robe was parted and showed a disturbing amount of creamy white skin. He was clearly wearing nothing under the silk robe. Grayson found himself tucking his legs up onto the divan so that he didn’t touch this unearthly beautiful boy.

Eyros? Eyros, are you there? Grayson sent.

Nothing.

Good grief. Had Eyros cut their connection and fled when he’d been dragged down into… into death? A near death? Perhaps he’d had to. But why wasn’t he listening now? Grayson felt a prickle of hurt and betrayal. Balthazar would never have abandoned him! But Eyros had…

So I’m on my own? Fine. I’ve done this before.

“Poison? No, I don’t think it’s poison. It probably has some kind of mind control ingredients or something like that,” Grayson said and set the untouched cup down onto the floor.

“Ah, yes, the Ever Dark does provide the most interesting botanicals,” the boy nodded. “But, truly, this is to help you.”

“Forgive me, but I highly doubt that, Kaly,” Grayson said. “Considering you killed me not too far away from this spot.”

“Oh, yes, that. I can understand your anger about that. But I really did it out of necessity,” Kaly answered. “And, of course, you may call me Kaly. For I am them. But others call me Artemis.”

Grayson frowned. Where had he heard that name? Ah, Artemis Alucius! Caemorn’s Master. But how could he be here? Caemorn had absorbed him, hadn’t he? Evidently not.

“Just as I call myself Caemorn in your time. Well, a part of me does. It’s all about preference, I suppose. But either works. Whatever you choose to call me is fine,” Artemis said with a fluted laugh. “And what about you? Would you like me to call you Grayson or Ashyr?”

“It matters not to me,” Grayson said stiffly.

He was surprised at himself. He should be insisting on being called “Ashyr” so that this slice realized he was in the presence of a full and total Immortal. But he found himself unwilling to say one way or the other.

Artemis nodded. “You’re experiencing some of the mental dissonance that we’ve all had taking on these other lives. Which memories are more important? Which defines us? Which ones take precedence? How to weigh the most recent against the majority?”

“You’re comparing dying and being reincarnated to what you’ve done with this slicing?” Grayson lifted an eyebrow.