Static Stars & Binary Scars

CHAPTER 13: The Burning Bridge of Hell

Nyxarte stood in the heart of Hell, her phone in her hand, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in her wide, silver eyes. She had just sent the message to Niko, telling him she was going to be away for a while.

"I'll be back, just need some time with my fathers. Love you."

It felt odd—this connection, this strange longing. But she was here now. For the first time in years, she was standing in the land that once defined her, surrounded by the very fathers who had shaped her existence.

She had decided to stay for a while, to understand them again, to see how they'd changed. But little did she know, the calm would soon be shattered.

The weeks in Hell passed slowly, each day a quiet, tense harmony between her, Vox, Alastor, and Valentino. They exchanged stories, old jokes, and sometimes silent moments that spoke volumes. But beneath the surface, a subtle tension began to build. Valentino was unpredictable. His charm and swagger hid the cracks in his demeanor. Vox, always the quiet one, had grown protective and increasingly wary of his surroundings.

Alastor, ever the enigmatic figure, observed with a mixture of amusement and irritation. And Nyxarte, caught between the three of them, tried her best to play mediator, unaware of the storm brewing beneath.

Then it came.

It started with a sharp word, a moment of frustration. Valentino, frustrated with the lack of control over the situation, snapped at Vox. The quiet, often protective father didn't respond, but his eyes burned with a heat that made Alastor notice immediately.

"You know what, Vox?" Valentino sneered, leaning in close, his smile full of venom. "Maybe you've been too soft on her. Maybe you're too soft in general."

"Watch your mouth," Vox growled, his voice low, like thunder before a storm.

Nyxarte flinched, instinctively stepping forward, but before she could speak, Alastor's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

"It's always you, isn't it, Val?" Alastor's eyes gleamed, anger rising in his chest. "You always manage to drag everyone down into your mess!"

Vox's shoulders stiffened, and his expression darkened. The two of them had a silent history—one that went beyond the realm of understanding, and even deeper than Nyxarte could comprehend.

Alastor's gaze shifted to Vox.

"Vox, you have to choose. You've always been the glue that holds us together, but if you keep playing the martyr..."

Vox didn't even flinch. He stepped forward, staring directly at Alastor with a quiet strength that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room.

"I choose you, Alastor."

Nyxarte's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in shock, and for the first time in her life, she felt a ripple of something she couldn't quite understand. Valentino's face twisted in rage, his fists clenched, the air around him practically vibrating with fury.

"You didn't!" Valentino hissed. "You chose him over me? After everything?"

His voice cracked with emotion, raw and unguarded. And in that moment, Nyxarte could see the fragile man behind the mask of power—desperation, anger, and an unbearable weight of betrayal.

Before she could intervene, Valentino's gaze swung towards her. His eyes were dark, hurt, yet full of unspoken rage.

"You think you're the Queen of everything, don't you?!" he sneered, his voice lowering into something much darker. "You don't deserve him, Nyxarte. You never did."

The words cut through her, and for a moment, she felt like she was suffocating. But before she could respond, Vox, who had been silent up until that point, stepped in front of her, shielding her from Valentino's venom.

"Enough, Val," Vox said quietly but firmly. "You've gone too far."

But it wasn't enough. Valentino's anger erupted, a burst of infernal energy that shook the very walls of Hell.

Nyxarte stumbled back, her heart pounding. She had never seen him like this. It was as if he was a completely different person—a shadow of the father she once knew.

"Get out of my sight," Vox ordered, his voice harsh. "You've hurt my daughter enough."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, cold anger flickering behind them. Vox's words stung deep. Alastor's own feelings were betrayed by the harsh reality of what was happening—his family was falling apart.

In the midst of the chaos, Nyxarte felt like she was sinking. She didn't know how to stop this—how to fix it. She could only stand there, watching the people she had once considered her anchors unravel before her eyes.

Finally, Vox, who had always been the protector, turned to her, his expression softening, though pain still lingered in his eyes.

"Nyxarte," Vox said, his voice shaking. "You need to leave... for now. Go back to your husband."

She looked at him in confusion, but the fierceness in his voice brooked no argument. She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned and walked away. She didn't fight it. She couldn't. The chaos was too much.

She returned home. The familiar warmth of her palace should have comforted her, but something was wrong. Something felt... off.

Niko was gone.

She searched everywhere, her heart racing in panic. The guards were called in, but no one could find him. Days passed, then weeks. Nothing. Her mind began to slip into despair, and the pain of not having him by her side gnawed at her every waking moment.

Her love, her everything, was gone.

Days turned into months.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't function.

Niko was her world. Without him, the universe felt empty, even with her father's by her side.

And then, one day, she couldn't take it anymore.

Her magic pulsed with energy as she prepared herself. She had to find him. She couldn't live without him.

She went to Hell. Alone.

With her powers at their peak, Nyxarte located the place where Niko was being held—the dirty, cold chamber, hidden deep in the heart of the underworld. And when she saw him, tied and bruised, covered in scars—her heart shattered.

She didn't hesitate.

Her magic flared. Power surged through her. The air crackled.

"No one touches him." she growled, her voice filled with venom.

She obliterated the kidnapper without a second thought.

The man fell to the ground, his screams echoing through the underworld as he crumbled into nothingness.

Nyxarte knelt beside Niko, her hands shaking as she gently caressed his face. The blood, the marks, they were all too much. But she wasn't going to let him suffer anymore. Not now. Not ever.

She whispered softly, her lips trembling as she worked her magic to heal him, to save him from the torment he'd endured.

"I'm sorry. I'll never let them hurt you again."

Her heart ached, but she was strong. She had to be.

And as she carried Niko back home, the world around them quieted. The calm had finally returned—at least for now.