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NAHLI
Nahli stood next to Anton, watching in disbelief as Roka and Pav helped Daryna through the tight space. Or perhaps she should be calling her Kezia. Daryna always seemed like a woman who feared nothing, but right then Nahli realized that everyone had their hidden fears. Her. Anton. Daryna.
She nudged Anton’s arm to distract herself from sinking back into that darkened nightmare Maryska had put her in. “You never told me Pav is such a caring soul.”
On the day she’d met him, he’d been different, perhaps a bit flirtatious. But this sensitive side could be considered adorable. He didn’t even complain once while fitting through the space by being the most muscular out of the group.
“Yes, Pav is an interesting sort.” Anton chuckled, but there was pride there too.
“He reminds me of you.”
His flames slid to the side to stare at her, his jaw unhinging into a smile. She bet it was a sly one.
Daryna dropped to her knees as soon as she entered the room with the glistening lake. When she’d exited the space, Nahli had only peered at the Lake of Flesh briefly, to make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous lurking around. Including Maryska.
The room stood clear.
Daryna moved her good leg away from Roka, who bowed his head in shame as he fell back a step.
Pav let go of Daryna’s tunic and held out his hand to her. “My lady?”
“I’ve got it, Pav,” Daryna said in the friendliest tone that Nahli had ever heard her muster.
Nahli turned her head to the side to survey the lake once again. The liquid skin wasn’t one solid color. If she looked one way it appeared mahogany, another showed it olive, then something pale. As if it was alternating through different shades of flesh.
Bright orbs dangled above them in hues of green, blue, and yellow. On the walls, white specks twinkled like stars, their light strobing in sync with the beats of a human heart.
“Which one of you wants to go in first?” Roka asked, interrupting Nahli’s staring spell. She’d seen so many horrific oddities, and the beauty hidden within them, but this was hypnotizing.
She regarded Anton who was observing her, allowing her to decide. “How about you go first, Roka? You’ve been here the longest.” It only seemed appropriate to do it that way.
He nodded, resigned. “It will only gift me my fur and muscle until we retrieve my crown from Maryska.”
With a scamper of his feet against the stony floor, he plummeted into the still liquid. It rippled but didn’t splash the way water normally would.
Anton inched to the edge of the lake, peering in. “Is he going to come back up?”
“It’s a good thing you two had him test it before going in,” Daryna said.
There was no bitterness in her voice toward Nahli. In fact, it was almost strange that Daryna might feel concerned if something were to happen to her or Anton.
Tiny bubbles floated to the surface and started their sail across the top, before popping their voyage.
“No, I think he’s all right,” Pav said, squinting his eyes.
While watching in anticipation, Nahli’s hands shook with worry for Roka. He was her friend, the rightful ruler here. Out from the side of her flames, she looked at Daryna and understood her for once. She would have been angered by the story as well, but Roka couldn’t hold all the blame. How would he have known?
Although, he did know about Daryna’s scar and birthmark. Did Maryska illusion those, too? Or perhaps he was too caught up in the moment. She didn’t want to go there and imagine intimate moments between any of them. If they ever had a chance, she hoped Daryna and Roka could figure things out.
As they watched, the liquid began to change, turning a rusty brown as it spread apart, revealing a furry animal. A meerkat.
“Roka...” Nahli breathed.
Roka paddled his way through the fleshy liquid, then pulled himself up and onto the edge. He rolled onto his back, breathing—exhaling—with real organs, and stared at the ceiling. Not even a drop of moisture clung to his golden-brown fur.
“It worked,” Anton uttered in disbelief.
“Did you really think it wouldn’t?” Nahli nudged his shoulder.
“Perhaps. I don’t know. It was hard to hope, but we haven’t gone in yet.”
“Anton,” Roka said, “let us hurry because who knows how long Maryska will stay away. All the dead in Torlarah know I am back, and they will not let her know this. However, I am still without any power.”
If Maryska could dislodge an entire city, perhaps they were in over their heads.
“Go ahead, Anton.” Nahli motioned him forward to the lake.
He set down his daggers before removing his pants and tunic. She swiveled her head to look at Daryna who was gazing down and inspecting the edge of her blade like she needed something to keep her occupied.
Pav knelt to the ground, quietly asking Roka question after question. “What is the difference between having fur and only bone? Why do the dead on the outside of the Bone Valley still have flesh?”
Her attention focused past them and onto Anton, who was near the center of the lake. His flames caught hers, and he shared a silent exchange with her before dipping down into the thickness.
The walls beat harder, the pace becoming wild and frantic, or perhaps that was only Nahli’s shadow of a heart.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” Daryna said.
Nahli didn’t look away from the lake, too afraid if she did, she’d miss something. “I hope so.”
“A man who gives himself to others for coin and a woman who takes things from others for profit. I can see why you two make a perfect pair. I mean that in the best way.”
Nahli wasn’t sure if she should thank Daryna or take what she said offensively, but she smiled anyway. Perhaps the two of them had found a truce.
The lake rippled, but no bubbles floated to the surface as they did with Roka. “Why is it taking so long?” Nahli asked Roka.
“He is a larger specimen. It takes more time to piece him together.”
Nahli wished she’d gone in first to make certain it would work because if something had happened to her, then Anton would have known not to go in. As her thoughts swam with images of his bones disintegrated to flecks of dust, or worse, something finally started to happen.
The top of the liquid swished then separated, and Anton’s head emerged. From what she could see, he was whole, his blond hair dry, falling to his shoulders.
As more of him rose from the liquid, she couldn’t help her thoughts from wandering to new places. If her bones could flush, that’s what they would be doing in that moment, altering to a bright scarlet. She scooped up his clothing from the ground when he slid his strong arms through the tan-colored film, making his way to the edge.
Averting her gaze but not completely, she watched him roll over the ledge, breathing hard. She knelt beside him and handed him the tunic and pants. Like Roka, he was completely dry, his hair no longer white but back to the brownish-blond that fell to his muscular shoulders.
Perhaps anything would appear muscular to her now, compared to seeing bones.
While Anton slid on his trousers, Nahli turned to Daryna who was not averting her gaze, but she wasn’t watching him with yearning, either. Her brows were furrowed like she didn’t understand something.
“What is it?” Nahli asked.
“Nothing.” Her expression turned grim as she peered down at her leg. “I can do so many things with what you would consider magic, but I can do nothing of this sort. I’m slightly envious.”
Once they retrieved the crown, Daryna could talk to Roka about it. From his story, he’d already wanted her down here before. If Daryna never chose to come, perhaps Roka could still help her.
“It is miraculous, isn’t it?” Nahli said instead, not only referring to the magic of the lake, but also Anton.
After tugging on his shirt, Anton locked his gaze on Nahli and smiled at her. One she’d been waiting all this time to finally see. Softly, he placed a hand on her arm. “Your turn. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”
Nahli set her clothing and sword on the ground. His words echoed in her skull, and relief washed over her. She remembered what it was like to have her skin and insides ripped away when she’d died. But even if it would feel like flames burning away flesh, she wouldn’t care. It would be worth it to truly feel again.
Anton held out his hand to hers. A few small pale scars etched his fingers, and they were wonderful to see. She clasped her skeletal palm with his as he guided her into the unmoving liquid.
His fleshy hand against her bones was one of the strangest and most beautiful things she’d ever experienced. While his bones lay hidden under his skin, they were still there, and she knew once hers were hidden as well, they would always remember his.
“See you when you come up,” he whispered, his smile radiant.
Nahli grinned back, taking in his old, yet new, features. And she hoped he knew she was smiling at him. She shifted through the milky liquid until she reached its belly. Holding her breath and thinking hopeful thoughts, she let her body sink down until her skeletal frame was covered.
At first, she didn’t feel anything, not even the laziest of movements to her bones. But then small objects brushed her rib cage, and it felt as if they were being guided into her by liquid hands. A beating heart thumped fiercely against her rib cage, a set of lungs ready to take breaths, her jaw being lowered, and a tongue inserted. One by one the organs came, finishing with two spherical balls being inserted into the hollow pits of her skull.
A warmth—one she didn’t know she’d thoroughly been missing—wrapped around her bones, embracing them tightly as another layer came. She wanted to run a hand along every inch of herself to feel what she had missed, to watch what was happening, but she couldn’t see through the thick liquid.
It was as though Nahli wasn’t even submerged beneath the surface as she could now breathe—real breaths. Inhale. Exhale. The bubbles rose to the surface.
Above her, the lake opened to the orb-lit ceiling and her body was pushed upward. The first person her dark eyes—not flames—connected to was Anton. In that moment, she didn’t want to look away from him, but she had to in order to stroke her way to where the lake met stone.
“Pav, turn around,” Anton whisper-shouted at his brother.
With a half-smile, Pav rolled his eyes but faced the other direction as Anton helped haul Nahli up. “You’re ... you’re perfect,” he murmured. “Not that you weren’t beautiful before.”
He would see her flushing this time, now that she could. Before this happened, she would have never found bones to be so beautiful, but now she felt the same.
Anton lowered her down and turned around while Daryna handed Nahli her clothing. She hurried and slid them on and took in the citrusy scent of the room.
“Finished,” she said.
The males, including Roka, spun around. She tapped and flexed her toes against the cool stone. Her feet were bare and she didn’t even care that she would be walking around without boots, regardless of how uncomfortable it may be.
“Where do you think Maryska will be?” Anton asked.
“My guess is the throne room or the bedroom connected to it.” Roka rubbed his chin, right under his whiskers. “Unless she’s up on the surface.”
Nahli dropped her shoulders, trying to hold back her fear. She may not have powers or a crown, but she had a sword and a group of people with her who wanted the same thing she did.
“Take us to the throne room to retrieve your crown, Roka.”
Keeping their footing light around the lake, they followed Roka down a long passageway, its stone surface marred with deep cracks. Nahli covered her mouth from making a single sound when she noticed body after body pressed tightly against the walls and along the ground. She crossed over a frail person with protruding veins and facial features attached in all the wrong places.
Long gangly arms and legs were attached to another woman’s back, her thinning hair matted in blood. She writhed on her stomach, like a turtle turned upside down on its shell, struggling to roll back over. A man glanced up, only his eyes had been replaced by ears. He held up a bloody hand, and in the center of his palm, a dark mouth screamed at them as they passed. Not a single sound escaped his dark lips.
Roka spoke softly, “These are ones who were horrible in their past lives. But even then, I’m generally not as cruel.”
Nahli wondered what Roka usually did to them, and she quickly shook away the thoughts.
Up ahead, several hallways appeared, each lined with silvery orbs. Roka took a left, and they followed closely. She stepped over more bodies, trying not to peer down at the horrors before her. Eventually, they reached a large metal door without anyone guarding it.
Roka pressed an ear to the entrance. “Pav, you stay out here, and slice down anyone who attempts to enter.” Then he held up a hand to Anton. “I’ll intervene if I need to, but he’ll be fine.”
Before Anton could argue, Nahli reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Daryna had crept her way to the front, silently prying open the door.
They entered the new room.
Out of her periphery, Nahli caught movement and held her sword higher. But she paused when she noticed the movement had come from the walls. Ripples drifted across their surface, swelling in size, like the waves of an ocean.
Closing her lips, she looked to the left and discovered two empty thrones constructed of bones, one with antlers attached at the top. As she moved forward, the floor dipped, making the room similar to a spherical globe.
When her gaze met two beastly animal forms and four humans bowing down with their arms, or paws, stretched toward the empty thrones, she stepped forward with her sword high. Did Maryska make them stay like that all the time? Again, she wondered what unspeakable crimes these people had committed.
Nahli tore her eyes from a muscular bloody animal, with broad shoulders and long arms, to find Roka pointing at another door across the hall, this one a wide, wooden circle. That must lead to the master room.
Daryna and Nahli raised their swords even higher. As Anton followed Roka to the door, his fists tightened around his daggers.
For the first time in a while, Nahli truly felt her heart thumping against her rib cage. Anton quietly opened the door, his hand slightly trembling. Her eyes drifted across the walls of deer after deer skulls, until they met a large bed. However, Maryska wasn’t lying there sleeping.
A living, breathing, gray deer lay in her place.
