His Broken Mate

Chapter Eight: The Silence After the Storm

The bodies had been cleared. The fire had gone out. And the moon—bright and cold—kept watching.

Athena sat at the edge of the dais where her coronation had begun just hours ago. The blood had been washed off the stone, but she could still feel it. In her nails. In her throat.

She didn’t speak.

Nyt dropped down beside her, slower than usual. He had taken a deep gash across his shoulder. Someone had stitched it already, but the fabric of his shirt stuck to it, dark and wet.

He didn’t speak either.

They sat in silence, watching what was left of the celebration smolder. A few lanterns still flickered. A plate of untouched food lay abandoned in the grass. Somewhere across the courtyard, someone was crying quietly.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Athena said finally. Her voice was barely there.

“You didn’t hesitate,” Nyt replied, eyes on the trees. “That’s ready enough.”

Athena looked down at her hands. Her knuckles were bruised, the skin raw. “I recognized one of them.”

Nyt turned to her slowly. “Who?”

“Jem.”

His jaw clenched.

“I don’t know what happened to him,” she whispered. “But he wasn’t there. Not really. His body was, but he was...gone.”

“They’re not just attacking,” Nyt said, almost too quiet to hear. “They’re taking.”

Athena didn’t speak. Her breath caught in her chest.

Nyt shifted closer. “You felt it before it happened. The dreams, the unease. You’ve always had that. You knew.”

She shook her head. “Knowing doesn’t stop anything.”

“No,” he said. “But it means you’re the one they’ll listen to.”

“I don’t want to be the one they listen to.”

“Tough,” he said, without malice. “We both got thrown in. We either rise, or we lose everything.”

She looked at him then—really looked. There was blood dried at the edge of his jawline, and his eyes were darker than they had ever been.

“You’re scared too,” she said.

He didn’t deny it. “Of course I am.”

They sat in silence again. This time, heavier.

Then Nyt leaned back against the dais, tilting his head toward the sky.

“We’ll find out what this is,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Athena didn’t reply.

She watched the stars instead, her chest aching with things she couldn’t say yet.

Like how part of her already knew—whatever was coming for them wasn’t just darkness.

It was ancient.

It was waiting.

And it knew her name.