NOVUS

—OF ALL THE VOICES THAT HAUNT NOVUS, THE MOST VIVID IS HIS MOTHER'S.

Her words cut through his defences, leaving wounds that never heal. Her voice drips with malice, poisoning his heart with every syllable. She makes a mockery of everything good and pure and she regards him with contempt and disdain. He longs to escape her voice that torments him even though he is so far away. The pain never fades.

“Well?” She had taunted him. “Do it. Kill your mother.”

The knife in his hands shook violently, and he pressed more fiercely to her neck.

“I will!”

She laughed bitterly. “Any day now,”

And he dropped the knife, and ran.

Is he dead or what?” a voice interrupts. Wilham.

“Maybe he’s just a quiet sleeper,” another voice answers. Animo.

“Corpses aren’t known for being chatty, Ravka.”

Ravka?

“Don’t call me that,” Animo snaps. “They don’t know.”

“They will, eventually.”

“And when that time comes, I’ll deal with it. Until then, I’m Animo to you.”

I’m awake. I know your secret, Novus wants to say but the darkness lures him, and he plunges into the void again.

**

Novus wakes to a splash of cold water on his face. He gasps and opens his eyes, blinking away the droplets. He sees Vanya standing over him, holding an empty glass.

“I hate you,” he mutters.

( What a lie. )

Her eyes still linger at his water droplets, and then she steps back, her grin fading. Different things flash in her eyes before she looks away and forces the grin back to her face.

“You love me, you fool. I dragged you around all day yesterday.”

She gestures to the sofa where he lies, covered with a thin blanket. The sofa is old and worn, with stains and tears on the fabric. The room they are in is small and dim, with peeling wallpaper and cracked windows. It smells of dust and mould.

A knock on the door makes Vanya reach for her pocket. Novus notices her nervousness. He sees a flash of metal in her hand. A knife.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She looks through the dirty door hole. “Just Animo.”

She opens the door with a sigh of relief and Novus feels it too. Ravka—or Animo—steps in, her curly hair dancing as she does so and she drops some weapons on the floor. There are swords, daggers, guns, and grenades. Novus wonders where she got them from.

“Got some stuff—” her eyes land on Novus. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Her voice is full of genuine joy. Novus’s heart melts. She beams, and her skin quite literally shines.

“How do you glow like that?” Vanya asks, touching her own skin.

Ravka shrugs, beaming even more. “It comes with the race.”

Vanya huffs. “People could mistake you for the god-damn sun.”

“Yeah, she hurts their eyes.” A new voice says. Novus turns and sees Wilham leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed.

“By being too stunning,” Ravka retorts.

Wilham rolls his eyes. “Yeah, stunning like a supernova. Blinding and destructive.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

He shrugs. “It could be anything. Take your pick.”

Novus clears his throat, and all eyes turn to him. “I want to go outside,” he says weakly.

He is met with silence.

“You’re kidding me.” Wilham says in disbelief.

“Yes, he is. Did you forget we’re being hunted by guards? And by we, I mean you guys. We just followed you.” Ravka says firmly.

A pang of guilt hits Novus. He had forgotten how they had joined forces with Ravka and Wilham, only because Vanya had acted recklessly and attracted the guards’ attention. He fiddles with a loose thread on the sofa cushion, avoiding their eyes.

“I know,” he says softly, hoping they would understand. “But I need to see for myself, I’m looking for someone.”

Vanya’s eyes narrow. “Who? Can we trust them?”

Novus laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Yes, you can.”

He knows they won’t believe him. He knows he can’t tell them who he is really looking for.

He tries to stand up, but his legs are weak. He grabs the sofa arm for support, feeling dizzy. Vanya is by his side in an instant, holding him up.

“See?” Wilham says sarcastically. “He’s not ready.”

Novus glares at him. He doesn’t need his pity or his mockery.

He makes a rude gesture at him. “Leave me alone,” he snaps.

He staggers towards the door, with Vanya’s help. He wants to get out of this suffocating room, this tense situation.

He makes his way to the cottage door, leaning on Vanya. She unbolts the door for him and pushes it open. It creaks loudly, breaking the silence. The world outside is dark and cold, as always. The street lights flicker, barely illuminating the deserted streets.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He forgets that there is no sun anymore. He can’t even recall how it felt to have its warmth and light on his skin.

Vanya nudges him. “Well?” she mocks. “Take your oh so important peek.”

He shoots her a scowl, but it’s half-hearted. He looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blue eyes that have haunted him since childhood. The sun-kissed skin and the perpetual frown.

Novus sighs.

“She’s not here?” Vanya asks from the doorway.

“No,” Novus says. “She is, she just doesn’t want to show herself.”

Vanya cracks a grin. “Playing tricks on you. I like her.” She pauses. “Who is she?”

“It’s a surprise,” he mutters as he staggers back inside.

He wishes he could tell her the truth.

Alina, where are you?

**

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Novus blurts out as the light flickers in the bar, and the bartender shuffles over to them, the low murmur of the crowd rising like a background music to a movie.

Wilham looks up from his deep examination of the wood. “Not much,” he admitted.

Novus winces. “Ouch.”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t like anyone.”

( A fib. He definitely likes Ravka and tolerates his brother. )

“What would you like, sires?” The bartender has reached them, blue eyes flashing curiously.

So similar to Alina’s.

Novus thinks for a moment, and then translates his thoughts to Faeish. “A GIanesti Cocktail, please.”

The bartender bows shortly, and then she leaves them to themselves.

Ravka strolls over, laughing with Vanya. Her steps are unsteady, and her eyes sparkle with intoxication.

“What?” She asks defensively, and slides into a seat next to Novus.

They are sitting in a corner booth of a dingy bar, the only place they could find that was open at this hour. The walls are stained with smoke and graffiti, the floor is sticky with spilled drinks, and the air is thick with noise and smells. The only light comes from a few dim bulbs and a neon sign that says “The Last Drop”.

“You look very….” Novus begins, at a loss for words.

“Drunk,” Wilham says flatly. “Seriously, Animo? We need you sober.”

“You need me?” She smiles, and her eyes shine brighter.

Wilham shoves her. “Your eyes are too bright. Dim it.” He hisses at her, loud enough for Novus to hear.

The light flickers, and then dies. Ravka’s smile dims slightly. “You need me?” She echoes.

“Unfortunately.”

She sticks her tongue out. “Be nice,”

“I’m always nice.”

“You picked a fight with Novus,” Vanya says casually, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She leans back into her seat, and closes her eyes.

“And he’s not six feet under the ground. That’s being nice.”

Novus rolls his eyes. “Thanks a lot.”

Ravka raises her glass. “To Wilham for his kindness,” she says dryly.

Vanya joins her, and both of them exchange a smile. Novus’s glass stays on the table, and Wilham’s hands clench into fists.

“What’s the deal?” Ravka downs her shot. “Why are we here?”

Novus opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what to say. “What do you mean?”

Ravka shrugs. “You know, running from the guards.”

“Oh,” Vanya shares an uneasy look with Novus.

“We got into some trouble.” Novus wrings his hands together.

Ravka’s brow creases and she wipes some remains of the wine in the corner of her chin. “You guys are rebels?”

Wilham clamps a hand over her mouth. “Not so loud,” he hisses. Ravka bites his hand, and he sharply intakes a breath of air as he pulls his hand away.

“Whoops,” Ravka says unapologetically.

Wilham glares and goes quiet.

“We aren’t,” Novus frowns. What did Vanya do all this time? He realises he didn’t even know why she was in the palace. “I amn’t.”

Vanya hiccups, and her eyes study the lights. “I am,”

Novus, who was taking a sip of his drink, spits it out. Wilham recoils in disgust.

“What?”

“I’m a thief, I mean.” Vanya says lazily, examining her fingernails.

Everything slots into place, with a click in Novus’s mind. Ravka seems enraptured by the story.

“So…you were in the palace…” Novus starts, feeling hazy.

“To steal,” Vanya confirms.

“However interesting that information is,” Wilham breaks through. “The guards said ‘deserter’. I’m sure a thief wouldn’t work for the Royal family.”

Novus drops his hands to his lap and clears his throat. “That’s me. I helped her escape, and escaped with her, so…” He trails off delicately.

Ravka whistles, grinning. “Damn. You guys have some guts.”

“Guts?” Wilham shakes his head. “More like stupidity. The guards will find you. And we have to deal with it now as well.” He pauses. “Why are we even here again?”

Novus clenches his jaw. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

“Because,” Fury laces Vanya’s voice. “You guys are not stuck fighting to the death anymore because of us.”

Wilham scoffs. “Please. I would rather be there than over here.”

“Where?” Novus taunts, his voice raspy because of the lump in his throat. “Hell? The only reason you’re alive is because Vanya saved your sorry ass, buddy.”

“Guys, stop,” Ravka interrupts softly. “Let’s forget about that. What’s your plan? What do you guys want to do?”

What does Novus want to do? He can hardly keep up with the present, planning the future seemed like a dream.

“I want to kill the queen.” Vanya speaks up.

No. Oh no. This is going to be a ride to hell.

“I beg your pardon?” Wilham whispers furiously.

“I want to kill the queen,” Vanya repeats, her eyes cold. She then closes them, which makes Novus glad. He likes the warm, laughing, counterparts of her eyes.

Ravka laughs nervously, but she closes her hands into fists. “Why, though?”

“She is the reason our country is at war. Her and her stupid ‘I hate gods’ plan. She’ll be the reason we’ll all die.”

Wilham massages the bridge of his nose. “This will be a huge shock to you, Vanya, but people with differing opinions exist everywhere. You can’t do anything about it.”

“Yes, but at least the elves will be freed. How many more centuries will we go through hushing up the fact magic exists? No more. I’m done.”

Novus senses the storm brewing, and he speaks up. “What about you, Ravka?”

She jolts, since she was watching the fight with brutal intensity. “Me?” Her hands go to her hair, and she tugs at it. “I want to…”

Everyone looks at her expectantly. Novus almost fears the answer.

“I want to go home,” she says softly, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

Novus can’t help it. He laughs, fresh peals of giggles erupting.

“What?” Ravka asks defensively.

“Nothing—“ he snorts. “Sorry. It’s just…Vanya talking about brutal murder and you just—“ He starts laughing all over again.

The rest chuckle, and when he’s finally done, they move on. The atmosphere is considerably lightened.

“What about you, Wilham?”

“I don’t know,” he answers.

“Let’s put it this way, where do you see yourself in the next couple of years?”

A pause. The chatter of the crowd flows through the air like music, with the occasional ‘thunk’ of the glasses being slammed down by the bartender. Some drunk people holler songs, laughing.

“In the next couple of years, where do you see yourself?” Ravka repeats.

“Dead.” Wilham answers primly, and all hell goes loose.