Nox is pulling away, and it’s killing me not to try to stop him.
It’s torture to glance over at him, only to find he’s not sneaking a look at me. To address him, only for him to relay snippets of information—only what is necessary for our mission.
We finally found a lead at a village trading post in the foothills of the Kobiis, where an innkeeper had reported strange activities just over the border into Dwellen.
It struck both of us as strange that Abra would hide out here when she’d had plenty of time to get Piper all the way to Mystral while I was busy traveling to the Rip, but I’m sure Abra has her reasons.
Either that, or the parasite does.
Speaking of the parasite, the black adamant box dangles from Nox’s belt. I gave it to him for safe-keeping during this mission. Figured it only made sense given Nox is the only one of the two of us who’s ever used it to trap the parasite.
Of course, for the parasite to rip free of Abra, that would mean Abra was dead.
I won’t mourn her if that comes to pass, but I don’t want the parasite roaming about free either.
The warehouse is stiflingly warm, the scent of humidity fogging the air. There’s something off about that, given we’re in Dwellen during the early autumn months, but it’s not as if we don’t have bigger things to worry about than the climate.
Nox and I sneak through the abandoned halls, slinking through the shadows. The entire way, I can’t help but remember doing this with him in the castle back in Mystral, when he took my hand and led me to see the aurora on the rooftop.
Nox doesn’t hold my hand this time.
He’s made it clear we’re on a mission together. Our interests align, but there’s no mistaking he isn’t doing this for me.
Still.
He doesn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to come back for me after the Rip opened, and he certainly didn’t have to travel all the way to Dwellen with me just to help me redeem myself.
It’s not much, but it’s enough of a handhold for me to cling to, like a lone root jutting out from a cliffside.
We make it to the center of the warehouse before we realize where the strange heat is coming from.
A glow ascends off the top of massive adamant vats, bright orange in hue, though some of the vats gleam white. Nox searches the large room for anyone who might be watching, then approaches the nearest vat and peers in.
“Liquid moonlight,” he explains, staring down into the silvery liquid.
A chill snakes my spine. Liquid moonlight is partly to blame for Nox’s vampiric condition, and I suppose mine as well, though indirectly.
“And I thought Avelea was known for underground trading,” I say, sidling up next to Nox, but careful not to get close enough to touch.
My efforts don’t really matter, because he stiffens anyway.
“This stuff can do worse things than cause vampirism,” Nox says, glancing over to the other vats. The ones that glow orange.
“That’s not liquid moonlight, is it?” I ask, chest tightening.
He shakes his head, and I follow him to the edge of the container. He glances at me before returning his attention to the vat. Then we both peer into it, and my heart jolts.
It’s warm and familiar and the beauty of it, the aching for it, brings tears to my eyes and down my cheek.
It’s marvelous.
It’s marvelous, because it’s sunlight.
“How?” I whisper, realizing this is the first time I’ve been able to look into anything similar to the sun without burning.
“I suppose the same way they collect the liquid moonlight,” Nox says, his voice tinged with wonder. His statement reminds me of the stories I read while imprisoned. Tales of humans collecting droplets of moonlight from divots in the mountains, like one might collect dew.
I reach out my fingers to touch it, the longing to feel the sun against my skin aching, but Nox catches my wrist.
The touch is brief, over with as soon as Nox pulls my hand away from the vat and tucks his hand back into his pocket. It still sends sparks jolting through my fingertips.
“I doubt we can touch it safely.”
“But it doesn’t burn us like the sunlight does.”
Nox shakes his head. “I imagine that’s because it’s contained in liquid form. Like how you might approach liquid poison without being harmed, so long as you didn’t touch it, but you wouldn’t dare approach it in its powder form, in case a draft stirred it up and made it airborne.”
I nod, understanding now.
Still. It’s nice to bask in its warmth.
“I wasn’t a vampire over there, you know,” says Nox, and the ease at which he provides the information shocks me. Nox hasn’t been keen on talking to me throughout our journey. I try not to press, not wishing to annoy him. But it’s nice for him to offer something up of his own accord for a change.
Even if that something drives a dagger through my heart.
“I didn’t know that,” I say, fighting my fingers, which want nothing more than to interweave themselves with Nox’s. “Did it make it worse?”
Nox flicks his gaze over to me. “That’s not what a normal person would ask, you know.”
