NOVEL NEXT 108: The Mystical Force Of Doom
RYST
Journal
Relapse Day 1: Everything hurts. At least I'm home this time. Last relapse was 8 months ago on Floria, so I'm due. I'll get it over with before the wedding.
Relapse Day 2: Nayth is holding me against his heart.
Methela, I want to try something. Can you hear me? You feel far away.
I'm here, Ahtah.
Nayth moved so he was lying behind me and put one hand on my sternum and one hand between my shoulder blades. Can you give me the pain, sweetie? Push it into my hands so I can take it away?
WHAT? You think I'm going to push pain into you?
So I can take it away. I think I can siphon it off. And take it out to be recycled. Like the compost pile. Take it away from you. But I think you have to let go of it first.
What, Nayth? You think I can push it out of my body and then you can be like a kidney and filter it or something? Like it's a waste product?
Nayth was confused by that. My brain was too cloudy to explain glomerular filtration. I wasn't thinking straight.
Just focus on my hands, honey. Feel the pain. Feel my hands. Remember I love you. Give the pain to me, Ryst. I can help you if you let go of it.
My heart hurt. Tears welled up. The idea of pushing pain at Nayth made me want to puke, but I tried. I let go of some of the tension. I remembered what it felt like to connect to the force of erotica and instead thought about connecting the pain to Nayth's hands and let it go. Fatigue overwhelmed me, and I knew no more.
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NAYTH
"Short one this time," Peydran said with raised eyebrows over my video.
"Yeah, Day 2, and she's sleeping deeply. We tried something, and I think it helped," I told him.
"Go on."
"Hmm," I started. "I'm not sure how to explain it, but I thought maybe instead of the mystical force of erotica, maybe the pain was something that's like it. But instead of a force of creation, a mystical force of deterioration. Like how we put everything in the compost pile, and it all breaks down."
"What, some type of mystical force of destruction, Nayth? You think that makes her sick?"
I shrugged. "Well, if it isn't medical, maybe it's mystical? I mean, Peydran, she was in a coma. She thinks she might have died. So, what if she connected to a mystical gateway that helped her become who she is, but she also picked up something that's mystically making her sick? A force her body can't handle?" I shook my head and shrugged again.
"I don't know, but I just knew that if I could convince her to let go of some of it, I could siphon it off. I mentally thought about throwing it in the compost pile outside so nature could break it down. She fell asleep. What's Ren doing? Maybe he's got some ideas from songs?"
"Ha!" Peydran laughed. "He's on Day 4. This morning I woke up to him grinning at me. He said, 'Pey'o I just slept for six hours! You're my favorite violin, and I'm gonna play you so good!' And he did. He makes me so crazy. The whole time he kept saying hilarious things about instruments and what he was gonna do to me. Then he jumped up and ran upstairs, calling, 'I'll be done today, Peydran! See you tonight, honey. Be ready for me!'"
I let my full, deep laugh out, joining Peydran in laughing about Ren. "Didn't you tell the man you'd marry him, Peydran? What are you waiting for?"
He waived, "Ah. I don't care. As long as Ren knows I'm his, nothing else matters. Not all of us need weddings of 2,000 guests to know we're loved, Carmidee."
"No, the tangle just tells you to build small cities instead."
"Ha!" he barked. "Point taken. Want me to go see if Ren can shed light on your Mystical Force of Doom theory?"
I nodded and the video followed him up the staircase to their second level music studio. Once Peydran opened the door, an oboe-playing Ren turned around, looked straight at me, shook his head, and turned back around, continuing the haunting melody on his oboe.
I quirked my eyebrows at Peydran as he shut the studio door, and the sound of the oboe disappeared.
"That's his signal for 'Not now,'" Peydran explained.
"Alright," I nodded understanding. "You'll ask him later?"
"I'll try, Nayth. I bet Ryst would love that oboe piece. I think he's writing for your wedding again because I heard glass orchestra yesterday. He loves Ryst so much. I bet she can hear him in her sleep."
Emotion welled up in my eyes. "You're probably right, Peydran. I love you both too."
"Back at you, Nayth. Go cut some melons for your wife. We'll see you soon."