Dark Promise by Annika West

52

To my utter disappointment, death was not, in fact, painless.

You shitbrain, I insulted the energetic void around me. The afterlife is a fucking drag, isn’t it?

I couldn’t talk, move my body, or even sneeze.

What if I got an itch?

Apprehension filled me. What if I was stuck here for an eternity, covered in itches?

Damn. This was hell, wasn’t it?

That wasn’t even the worst part.

Even in the afterlife, I was still enjoying the pleasant sensation of my diced liver. It’s like I still felt what my real body was experiencing.

Who said I wasn’t a lucky bitch?

Not only did it feel like I was actively dying in the afterlife, but it also felt like the pain was expanding. As if my skin was getting waterlogged with energy and was waiting to explode.

Okay, Mr. Hell. I’ll take the itch instead! No complaints!

The agony snapped through me, harsh and blade-sharp. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

I tried to twist and writhe, but of course, there was no moving my body in hell. The agony pressed deeper into me.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Clawing my way into my soul room was my last option.

And the worst mistake I could have made.

This time, I didn’t care if no one heard me scream. The moment my consciousness touched the crackling energy of my soul room, I shattered.

My stomach, if I still had one, shredded. My body, if it even existed, splintered. Every bone, every nerve.

I screamed and screamed and pushed deeper into my soul room. It’s the only thing I could do. Either that, or give up while I was destroyed.

Once I was properly inside of my space, I could almost see past the agony. I dug my presence into the very root of my soul room.

The magic rippled around me.

The pain ebbed and then flowed back in.

I latched onto the tiny relief, instinctually repeating what I’d just done. This time, I layered intention. It was a blind, desperate thing.

The last thing I could do.

You are in my soul.

You obey me.

Again, the magic effectively chainsawing my insides backed off for a moment.

Digging my metaphysical fingers into the foundation of my soul room, I gave it my first command: Stop hurting me, you dickwad!

* * *

It felt like an eternity that I spent pushing that overwhelming magic through my body. It fought me at every turn. If I let up my focus for even a second, the magic returned to destroying me.

There wasn’t any understanding of what was happening or why. All I knew was that I could make it not hurt me, and that maybe meant it was fixing me.

After all, as I worked through every inch of myself, from my head to my toes, the pain backed off. It was kind of like squeegee-ing the ocean water as it washed up on the sand.

But somehow, my squeegee was extra-cool, and it was able to keep the torture-water at bay.

Did that make sense?

Probably not.

Finally, pushing my awareness and intention through the last part of my body, the job was finished. The magic wasn’t torturing me anymore, but I certainly didn’t let down my guard.

I stationed myself solidly in my soul room and made sure my awareness filled every inch of my body.

I still couldn’t move or talk. Who knew if my body even existed in this realm?

But the pain was gone.

The in-hell healing process was terrible.

Zero out of ten stars.

Would not recommend.

Cautiously, I tried letting go of my hold on the crazy magic.

It… stayed put.

No more chainsaw action.

No more screaming.

If I could sigh in complete, exhausted relief, I would have.

I need to be awake again. I know I’m still alive. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Oz had told me that I knew how magic worked. It all worked the same, as far as he was concerned.

Did that still count in this void?

I was somewhere. And part of me knew that my body still lay slumped in Hux’s arms. Unless years had passed, and I’ve been buried.

Huh. Maybe this was my chance to claw myself out of a grave and have my own little undead moment.

Gladys would be so proud.

I’d severed my connection with Xavier’s dagger. I’d broken the illusion Elona had showed me. Now it was time to use the same tactic to get back to myself.

Wherever that may be.

Please don’t let it be a casket. Just… ew.

Gathering my energy, pointing my intention to exactly what I wanted to break through, I drove my magic forward.

My insides shifted. As if I’d been in a bubble that had just popped, sensations sunk into me.

It wasn’t just metaphysical pain. But real feelings.

Touch. Weight. Warmth.

Actually, was really, really fucking warm.

My eyes flicked open.

I was in a stone room. Either I was still in the pyramid, or I’d been moved to a mausoleum.

Instantly, my mouth was smothered.

Smoke. Honey. Heat.

Thank the gods.

Hux kissed me soundly, and we clutched to each other in absolute relief and wonder.

He pulled away enough to sew his gaze across my face, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You are an incredible creature, Aster. Amoeba, my ass.”

He held me with forced gentleness that it was obvious he thought I’d break.

I flung my arms around him and squeezed.

Hux grunted and jerked.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. Had he been hurt?

Shit.

Had I hurt him?

Wait… what the fuck happened in the first place?

I released him, and Hux rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more cautious with your body, Aster.”

I looked down my still-cradled form, as if searching for tentacle arms sprouting from me. “Why’s that?”

Hux picked up a stone from the ground. It wasn’t any bigger than a marble.

He handed it to me. “Pinch.”

“This is such a bizarre Welcome-Back-To-Living party,” I mumbled, taking the stone from him. Holding it between my thumb and pointer fingers, I pinched it.

The rock cracked, and less than a moment later, shattered. Shards of stone went flying, nearly catching me in the eye, others pattering against Hux’s chest.

I met his gaze, letting my flabbergasted expression ask all of the questions I was too shocked to voice.

“Aster,” he said, “I’m afraid you just forced yourself into immortality.”