The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 2

Chapter Twenty Two

Onyx paced the dimly lit room, her footsteps echoing in her mind as her thoughts raced. The weight of her erased memories lingered like a dense fog, obscuring the clarity she sought. Fragments of forgotten moments flickered at the edges of her consciousness, teasing her with their elusiveness.

Rok observed her with a furrowed brow, his concern palpable. He recognized the turmoil in her every movement, the struggle to piece together a puzzle with crucial parts missing. "Onyx, you should rest," he suggested gently, his earthy eyes locking onto hers.

Rest felt like an elusive concept in the face of the unresolved mysteries clouding her mind. "I can't shake this feeling that something important was taken from me," she confessed, her voice a barely audible whisper in the quiet room.

Rok approached her, his firm hands cradling hers with a comforting strength. "We'll figure it out together. Your father..." he paused, choosing his words with deliberate care, "...he had his reasons, even if we don't fully understand them now."

Onyx nodded, caught in the crossfire of trust in her father and the unsettling realization that there was a veil shrouding her past. "I just wish I knew what those reasons were," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty within.

As the room sank into a heavy silence, until a resonant knock on the door shattered the stillness. Onyx and Rok exchanged meaningful glances before Rok strode forward to open it. Oldrin stood in the doorway, his weathered face carrying the weight of unspoken concerns, and young Jade lingered nervously by his side.

"Dezenym is sending out scouts," Oldrin relayed with a stern look in his eyes.

-ooooo-

Through the ice and wind, Sith's vision failed, blurring as he watched in desperation as Demeter's figure faded. Disappearing in the thicket of the frozen forest, her loyal Orcish guards following her like strays on the city streets. Leaving him to die alone, in a frozen wasteland. With only the unforgiving embrace of the winter being the only thing to accompany him as he perished. There, left to only wish that death would come sooner, to end this suffering.

"P-please don't l-leave m-me" he choked out, yet his final plea seemed to fall on deaf ears, engrossing him with cold silence as Demeter's figure became lost in the blinding white of snow.

The biting cold sank into Sith's bones, the merciless wind whipped through the barren trees, all of wich created an eerie symphony of desolation. His strength waned with each passing moment, with the numbing cold crept through him like a relentless predator. Each passing heartbeat closer to being his last.

Yet through the snow-laden branches, a figure emerged. A silhouette against the winter's white canvas, approaching Sith with slow, deliberate steps. This being was shrouded in a heavy cloak of black, torn and tattered. Raven black hair fell loosely from the figures hood, matted and untamed. As this figure drew nearer, a pair of hazy blue eyes became visible through his blurred vision.

Then darkness.