The Son of Night & Spring

Chapter Fifteen

He stumbled down, on his knees. Breath stolen from him after just a few steps out. He was exhausted already, just how long has it been?

The shadows moved.

The darkness creeped around him and he looked up.

But there was no one.

So he pushed himself up and started walking again. As quietly as he could without being discovered. Past the dining room, the library, the bedrooms. Lingering only at Nyx's nursery.

He knew he should keep going, to find what he was looking for for all this suffering to stop. To get the Harp and start over again. But his body had another idea.

As he quietly opened the door, the House already knew who he was so the alarm never rang. The one his Mother, Rhysand and Morrigan had made. Moving softly across the room, he approached the crib where his little brother lay. Nyx, with his fragile wings spread beneath him and his midnight hair already grown long enough for Lotus to braid, looked like a tiny starlit angel.

Lotus couldn't help but marvel at the ethereal glow of Nyx's skin, a testament to his parents. Though others believed it was the result of their starlight, Lotus secretly thought it was because Nyx was the son of the moon itself.

Gently, he brushed away a small eye boogie from Nyx's cheek, longing for his brother to wake and greet him with that heartwarming smile he cherished. But Lotus understood that now was not the time, especially as he heard the melody he hadn't heard in a while, flowing from the walls and filling the room with its haunting beauty.

He turned to Nyx once more, kissing his head.

"Goodbye, brother."

Only until Lotus closed the door, did he feel his ache.

And after he left the House of Wind, did he notice the tears fall. For after he used the Harp, he will never see this Nyx again.

He knew the price of the Harp. He knew, even when no one said anything. That unless he used all three objects, it would only heal him, however Spring would still fall. It would all be pointless. So he had to go to another time where the Fire Rite hadn't yet happened and Lotus could do it all over again. However, that would mean all the events that occurred since that accident, would never happen. The moments, the people, and the experiences that had shaped his life since then and the lives of those around him would fade away into the annals of memory, existing only within the confines of his mind. The weight of this sacrifice bore down on him as he tempted himself to turn around.

But Lotus learned long ago that he is selfish.

So he continued on.

Unaware of the figure lurking in the shadows. Following him.

****

It had been almost a week since he left.

Since he sat in a bar in the Court of Dawn, the atmosphere was thick with hushed conversations and tension. Rumors swirled about the Night Court's activities—Illyrians on the hunt, searching for something, or perhaps someone, as whispered conversations suggested. Despite their efforts, they had come up empty-handed.

With a heavy sigh, Lotus downed the last of his bourbon, the fiery liquid offering a momentary escape from his troubles. He couldn't ignore the fact that not only his mother but the entire Spring Court was on high alert.

So Lotus kept on the move, never stopping unless he felt the slight shift of time again. When he lost whether Day turned to Night or Dawn to Dusk.

Lotus kept moving, never pausing unless he sensed that subtle shift in time, that point when he couldn't tell if it was day turning into night or dawn fading into dusk. It was in those moments that the temptation of death crept in. The exhaustion held his body in its grip, and his mind teetered on the edge of madness. Days seemed to blur into weeks, and weeks compressed into mere hours. Months now felt like minutes slipping through his fingers

But there was no time to rest.

No time to stop.

He had to remember what he was fighting for.

Calian, Talia.

His brother, his Mother,

For Spring.

And just miles ahead, was a mountain.

The same one where it all started.

Where the Harp rests.

****

Lotus was no fool.

Even when his Mother would try to protect him, he remembered the Darkness. Where the walls were like ice and the chains were as hot as coal.

He ventured deeper Under the Mountain, lighting the torches with each step. Letting fire illuminate his path of memory lane. Flashbacks of tears blurring his vision, his small body weak. The cell he was kept in, cold.

He passed the empty rooms. Dark halls, fogged mirrors, cracked stone. Broken prisons.

Suddenly, Lotus dropped the torch, collapsing to his knees as searing pain rang in his ears. He felt the all-too-familiar sensation of his skin tearing, sharp claws extending from his nails, and he slumped against the cold wall. Lotus clumsily reached for a nearby glass, only to realize that fire had caught on his boot. Panic surged through him as he hurriedly tried to snuff out the flames, his heart pounding wildly.

And after a moment, he realized the pain was gone.

There was no painful ring in his ear. No crushing weight, no claws.

It was all in his head.

None of it was real.

He felt like breaking his hand against the wall.

Then, as Lotus sat in the garden, his eyes widened as he noticed the flames dancing gracefully against the walls, casting a mesmerizing and beautiful glow. And there, just a few feet away, bathed in the warm light, lay his escape, his savior, and his mender.

The Harp.

_____________________________

I'm back!