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Hi, Barbies! Here's a tiny gift. This is some of the music I listen to for inspiration:𓆩✴𓆪 Never Felt So Alone𓆩✴𓆪 I Know I'm Not the Only One𓆩✴𓆪 La leçon particulière𓆩✴𓆪 Kiss It Better𓆩✴𓆪 Hurts So Good𓆩✴𓆪 Born Without a Heart𓆩✴𓆪 Somewhere Only We Know𓆩✴𓆪 Good For You𓆩✴𓆪 Little Girl Gone𓆩✴𓆪 Skin𓆩✴𓆪 Daylight𓆩✴𓆪 You Put A Spell On Me𓆩✴𓆪 Don’t Blame Me𓆩✴𓆪 labour𓆩✴𓆪 Wherever I Go𓆩✴𓆪 Creepin'𓆩✴𓆪 BABYDOLL𓆩✴𓆪 Heroes𓆩✴𓆪 Bad Liar𓆩✴𓆪 Love Is a Bitch𓆩✴𓆪 Enemy𓆩✴𓆪 I Wanna Be Yours𓆩✴𓆪 Bones𓆩✴𓆪 Stand Up𓆩✴𓆪 i'm yours𓆩✴𓆪 High𓆩✴𓆪 Here With Me𓆩✴𓆪 Talking Body𓆩✴𓆪 Mai Dansea𓆩✴𓆪 Die for you𓆩✴𓆪 Moth to a flame𓆩✴𓆪 All eyes on you𓆩✴𓆪 Lose Control𓆩✴𓆪 Endgame𓆩✴𓆪 Too Sweet𓆩✴𓆪 Cruel Summer𓆩✴𓆪 Eat Your Young𓆩✴𓆪 Intikam Yemini𓆩✴𓆪 Venom𓆩✴𓆪 Keeping me Alive𓆩✴𓆪 L'atra dimensione𓆩✴𓆪 Anlatamam
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Prologue
I know it’s hard to believe, if I had heard the same story from someone else, I would have thrown him a few silver coins and asked him to stop telling me stupid lies: parallel universes, worlds that intertwine towards the edges, the feelings of deja-vu and the absurd sense that you are being watched when you stand with your back to the door. Nothing new, right? Your neck is probably tingling right now and you need to look back. Did you notice anything out of the corner of your eye? There's nothing there, stay calm. Well, even if they were, they wouldn't be able to touch you through this thin veil that covers your world. Oddly enough, just like this dusty pellicle protects your soul from being stolen by… oops, I'm not allowed to say his name. He might come back for me, and I've already made a living here. So I'll just say this: watch out for witching hour, when the energy layers crack. Be careful not to read, not to think deeply and not to get lost in the subconscious, otherwise you will end up like me: lost in this world that I barely knew. What did I do wrong? I was awake, a little drunk, too thoughtful and willing to do anything to get rid of stress. Anything. Including an absurd bargain that appeared to me in a nightmare. Who started the bargain? I'll tell you, it sounds silly, but his name is Samael, a kind of obscure deity, a double-edged sword, demon or angel. He only asked me what I wanted, and I replied on impulse that I wanted something new, an adventure. And I received it, a double-edged sword, a world I barely knew from books, but about which I had forgotten much, a world that was about to change with my coming. My name is Vesper, the titles that come after my name don't matter anymore, but once upon a time, I was called different, I used to be someone else.
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PART 1: Pit of Despair
Chapter 1
3:33
" Goddamit, Nadia. I sucked so bad today at that blood donation. " I complained while rummaging in the dark of my bag for the keys to my small apartament. " I have no ideea why the fuck did I sign up for that volunteering thing. " The stinging odor of disinfectant irritated my vision. Not to mention the grey walls that were stained with white dots of solution for killing beetles were making me feel even dirtier than I actually was. The neon on the stairwell lights up and a shadow quickly passes by me, causing a moment of internal panic. I don't have time to say a greeting towards the neighbor, but only notice the pair of black boots, which silently climb to the next floor. Quite odd, I thought they were in Italy trying to make an in-vitro fertilization. " It wasn’t so bad after all, doctor Appleheim didn’t stick the syringe down your throat at the end. " Nadia lets loose a high-pitched laughing on the phone that pulls me out of my thoughts, " At least you didn’t popped the poor man veins like me. " She complains and I search the red dots splashed on my shoes, remembering the disastrous moment. Nadia was my first friend from university and that is only because she basically jumped me on one of the anatomy laboratories, recognizing me from the day we submitted our files. I was quite impressed, I could never recall a person’s face if I only saw her once. Well, it was not because I had bad memory or short memory, - I got a handfull of healthy brains in my skull thanks to my reading addiction – but rather because I was not paying attention to anyone near me that day. There were actually five girls in our group that we could call quite good friends, but the two of us were always inseparable. We even wanted to do our license together, in the last year of med school. The familiar smell from my little apartment relaxes my muscles instantly and I take a moment to shrug the bad energies off of me. Amber, from the parfume I always wear, and hyacinth from the mini freshener I had on the shoe closet. Opening the lights from the main hall, I’m greeted by my cat’s deafening meow. " I missed you too, little boy. " I throw my shoes on the floor tiles, remembering myself to wipe the dust from the dark cherry color. The past weekend was one of the hardest calamities I have ever endured this year. Not that the last of it was any better: my love life was badly affected by my family intrusion of my intimacy and as a repercussion, so was my family life. Also, my grades from med school suddenly dropped as a result of my insomnia and constant tension. And I am not even adding that heavy weight I feel on my chest or the fact that I should start working soon because I had no financial support anymore. " How do you feel? " Nadia asks after a long pause of silence. I still on my own tracks and watch the cat caress my feet. Did I ever told her about my personal problems? Fuck, how could I forget that? I never liked to play the victim. Not good, I tell myself. Like I was kicked in the nuts and one of it got stuck in my pelvic bones. " You’re talking about the fact that I can’t catch a vein or?... " " Yes, what else? " a note of concern staines her honeyed voice, " Something else happened? " Oh, so I didn’t tell her. " No, no, what could happen? "
Fucked a girl, that’s what happened.
I snort at my own lying ass and lock the door behind me. " I am a little upset, but nothing some alcohol can’t heal. " " Alright, dear, " Nadia chuckles and I feel her small smile through the phone, " I’ll do the same. See you tomorrow! " I threw the phone on the pile of folded blankets and stick my fingers in my eye holes, trying to stop the thriving headache in my temple. I knew it was not going to be alright. My parents were so ashamed I was dating a girl they kicked me out of the house. It was that or the possibility of losing the only person I have loved and turned my love back multiplied. I unpack my bag and sit on the edge of the bed, allowing myself some time of peace. The book that I finished last night laid on my night stand, making me feel stuck in their world of faes and happy endings. My bed was neated and the white sheets seemed so appealing to me, an open invitation to a death sleep. I could already depict the coldness of them engulfing me whole, promising me a short termed patch for my damaged heart. Closing my eyes, I listen to the ticking sound of the clock that my father gave me. I guess it was a present to remind me how a waste of time I was for him. Of course I had no peace of mind in my own home. He was everywhere. " Sooner or later I’ll take the syringe from doctor Appleheim and stick it in my throat by myself. " These emotions, the anxiety and haste made me feel so tired. Was it ever going to end? This constant sense that my every step was being watched and analyzed, my never ending bad luck? Is my existence a joke to some higher divinity that gets bored every now and then and throws some bad shit into someone’s life just for fun? " Come, Icarus " I mumble and open my white blouse, swearing at the shit material of these doctor uniformes that made me sweat like a man, " your whore of a mother needs a drink. " I get up and change into a green hoodie, tying my hair in a knot at the back of my head and making a mental note to wash it tonight. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and I instantly regret it. I looked hazardous, my green mascara was smeared under my eyes making the dark circles turn purple, my scalp was still stained from my red dye and the broken blood vessels from my eyes overpowered the grey irises. Maybe I was going mad after all, and I was barely 23. After several unsuccessful attempts to find a wine glass, I satisfy my needs with a pink cup for coffee that says: ‘ Don’t be a whore, suck some coffee! ". I fetch the white wine from my almost empty fridge and officially start my lonely night. The cat jumpes on the table and meows, considering me with his golden eyes. I stare right back, taking a massive sip from the alcohol and admire the only patch of white fur around his neck. Nausea hits me when I remember that chilled night of December, when I stumbled over his paralyzed body at the trash. Some stray dogs found him helpless and too small to fight back or know who’s the enemy and skinned him alive. Since then I protected him with my whole being. My throat starts burning and I sigh, burying my tears in the past. If I let myself fall prey to crying, I don’t think I would be able to stop for years. Even so, I can’t stop wondering what would happen if I wasn’t me, if I could be someone else, start something new, do things better. I wish I could repair everything wrong in my world, but I know I don’t have the strength nor the courage to do that. I was scarcely able to handle the things with my family back home, how the hell could I cope up with something bigger? I sniff the sweet scent on the wine and throw my head back, easing the feeling of sadness. Not even this damned alcohol can help me. A strange sensation of not belonging overpowers my senses and my limbs tremble under the weight of my own body. I feel the time pass by me, making me feel older. My soul seems heavy and my exhaling is stuck in the middle of a breath.
Is this a panic attack?
I touch my neck from instinct, feeling the heated chain around it and open my eyes, focusing on the clock from my father. A moment passes by before I realize the weirdness of the situation and I lift my brows in confusion. The clock hands didn’t work anymore, fluttering in a repetitive way at 3:33 a.m. " What the shit? I just got batteries for you... " I moan and put the half drank wine on the kitchen island. I barely make a move towards the hanging object, when a dreadful element catches my attention. My cat. My immovable, frozen Icarus, stretching after a mosquito on his back paws, holding himself like a statue. My mouth drops open, without being able to believe what I was witnessing. For several minutes I am not able to make a move, examining his tiny body and waiting for him to sit back down. His mouth is slightly opened, letting the sharp fangs visible and his slit pupils are fixating the imperceptible fly. With the only sound around me being my acute heartbeats, I lift my shaky hands and touch his frozen torso. The bile is rising in my esophagus when his rubber like skin comes in contact with my icy fingers. The shock is rapidly replaced by the feeling of fear and helplessness. Was I high? Was the wine old or expired? That wasn’t even a possibility. " This must be a joke " I can’t even hear my breathy voice as I launch to the bottle, searching the little sticker on the side. Nothing alarming poppes, but at the end of it, a red sentence makes the hair on my neck rise. ‘ Open the door. ‘ A shiver runs down my spine and the sensation of being watched creeps behind my ringing ears. I take a step back and pinch myself, making sure I was not in a disturbing nightmare. I was so used to having them lately, that sometimes, right after I woke up, I still saw the scenes in front of my eyes: a spilled cauldron drowning me, dark shaped-like creatures grabbing my legs from my bed and that fucking peculiar lady with ink black hair and a pair of green eyes that seemed sick and eerie. Maybe I had sleep paralysis, but I never suffered of one before and I knew it wasn’t manifesting like this. I check my phone with the intention to call back Nadia when the hour gets my attention. 3:33, the worst half of 666. When I tap the clock to check the whole hour, I see the interminable series of 3. I turn back to the one from my wall, and a hole formes inside my stomach. 3:33. I thought it was barely 9 p.m. Now, I was not scared anymore, but fucking terrified. If the lights abruptly went out, I think I would curl on my floor and have a heart attack. Dizziness hits my consciousness, and then, as if my cat being stuck in the air and the clocks showing a strange hour wasn’t enough, someone knocks on my front door. My mouth dries up and my blood runs out from my cheeks. The coldness from my apartment makes my extremities’s temperature to drop and I am not able to move from the spot where I was looking directly at the doorknob. I turn my head slightly to read the label from my wine bottle and consider the opportunity to just strangle myself by the ceiling. " That would not be an option. " My shrill scream bounces off the white walls, sounding pathetic and petty. I jerk so bad backwards, that I step in my cat’s water bowl and slip, hitting my head on the sink and making me see double for a split second. The place where I hit my skull pounds deep in my brain, and I start wondering if I fell before I drank that wine and this is just a result of my unhandiness. But the tall, slender man sitting in the middle of my kitchen was as real as my pain behind my eye globes. He seemed so effortlessly classy and… harmless that I almost relax in his presence. The black suit was tailored on his body and seemed to be in a perfect match with his dark laced boots. I feel his brown irises searching me, as if I was the one who broke into his house and looked like a wild animal on the loose. He dodges the light blue carpet that was covering my white floor and offers me a hand with wrinkled fingers. He was so pale that I couldn’t understand how he was not see through. I swallow the vomit back and shiver, feeling the water dampen my pants and hoodie. " My apologies, miss, but you were not answering your door. " he admits after I don’t move from the spot where I was rooted. " I was afraid you might have changed your mind. " His voice was so… narrative, like a story teller. It was so clean, with barely any inflexions and no accent to stain his phrase. But, even with this composed figure, my intuition kept raising red flags on the back of my head. " My, my mind? There was a reason why I was not answering the door. " I find myself speaking lowly, using a cracked tone. I couldn’t even recognise myself. My head was empty, still loading the fact that someone got into my home without entering the front door. And I live at the 3rd floor on my block. My complexion takes him aback and he exhales and lifts his dark, full brows in sign of surrender. He withdraws his hand, takes my cat gently from the table and sits him nicely on his lap when he takes a seat on one of my chairs. " If you like your ass to be wet, I don’t mind, I just hoped we could talk like some civilised… creatures. " He stoically declares, petting my cat’s head and admitting his existence with a tedious look on his face. The man’s features were alarming. They seemed old and young at the same time, with small wrincles on the sides of his mouth and a strong jaw with dinky stubble piercing his follicles. " You entering my house with no invitation is not civilised. " I bark and gather the courage to lift my body from the water puddle. " What is your name? " " I go by the name of Samael, " he declares, making a slight bow with his head and offers me the other chair from the table, " but you can call me however you feel like it. " The movement takes me off guard and I switch my attention to the top of his head. A bizzare comparision to his dark suit, was a strand of white kept hidden between his rich, raven hair caught in a low ponytail. " Don’t touch my cat. " My order came more like a request, so I clear my throat, and move to stay as close as possible to the knives in the support. " Those won’t save you. " He sternly warns me and puts Icarus on the seat besides him, turning his focus on me. " I came here because you wanted a change, I am here to offer you that chance. " " I have no idea what are you talking about and how on earth you could help me, but I don’t want anything from you. " I make myself clear, rumaging my brain after something I could use in my defence. Samael chuckles, and the sight seems both wrong and forbidden to look at. " If you wanted to be left in peace, you wouldn’t have said that. " I blink in utter disorientation, starting to feel overpowered by his suffocating presence. The headache from earlier catches my temples in a cage, biting down on every nerve in that region. I clench my fist several times, feeling my fingers swollen and stiffened. This man’s presence held something wrong and out of this world. The energy around him was as contrarious as the sun and the moon: it was loud and calm, lightweight and obscur, a breath of air and a hand around your throat. From time to time, when he peerced me with his gloomy eyes, I had the impression that he was feeding himself from my own energy resources. He walked, stood and watched like a man bored by existence itself, like he attended every single historical decision and wasn’t surprised by anything he encountered. " Look, " I dare to speak, unable to put a finger on what was going on around me " my cat is frozen, I think I am on drugs and I almost pulled someone’s vein out of his arm today. " I list, watching Samael’s unmovable posture " I am in no mood for tricks, whatever hack you used on my phone, it was funny, alright, give me back the batteries from my clock and switch this plush cat with my real one. " " Oh, but this is your real cat. " He simply states, leaving me dazzed. I wanted to punch him in the face so bad and mess up that strict façade of him. " Listen to me. " He asks, finally standing up from his seat and coming towards me, cornering me, scaring me. " I am not here to hurt you, I heard your cry for help and I am here to offer a bargain. " Now that Samael was closer, I could see the hiding viperin figure behind his chiselled features. The man was tall as a tree and smelled like old, dusty books and forest after rain. My kitchen looked smaller and bland with him in the middle of it, overthrowing everything with his sultry presence. " What bargain? " I fell into his trap, suddenly bewitched by his face. I couldn’t take a hold over my body anymore. I was watching everything from the outside, through a blurry curtain that was restricting me from taking my physical being back. " I can give you freedom, peace " I have no reaction as he comes closer, touching my rosy cheek with a frozen hand, " the chance to make everything better. " My spirit revolts inside me and I feel the temperature from the room starting to rise, like the energy particles hit each other, staggered by an invisible force. The beats from my heart sound like a distant echo, crying for help and I realise then, that I was having palpitations, that my blood wasn’t reaching all the sectors of my body and that I couldn’t think straight. " You are able to start over, with all the knowledge you have now of everything that happen. " Samael carries on, unbothered, clawing at my cheek with his fingers " but with one condition: never spoil anything from the future to the ones from the past, otherwise you’ll change the course of events, and things may go to the wrong path... people may die, others may not be born. The universal balance will be broken and the worlds will crumble on top of each other. Be careful. " I feel my skin pulled from my face, gathering under his nails. " What is the price? " I ask mechanical, hearing my eardrums thudding continuously. I catch a glimpse of blood running lazily down my collar bone and damping my hoodie and some loosen strand of my hair, making it even redder than before. I can’t even totally feel the stinging sensation. A brush of air starts ruffling the papers I had scarced on the table. The lighting bulbs flicker furiously and I catch a glimpse of the creature standing in front of me. His face changed with the intermision of darkness and light, molding his face from the composed human to a horrific complexion. His mouth was wide as if he couldn’t close it completely and a pair of irregular, blood stained lips surrounded it. His tongue was sharp and scarred by the uneven fangs sticking out of his gums. His orbs were black and his skin was purple. " Your name and a drop of your blood should be enough. " Samael smiles victoriously as he makes me shake my head with his hand in sign of a silent acceptance. What happens next is over my power of understanding. He pushes me, but instead of hitting the wall, I start falling through what seemed an interminable void of circles. I hardly even get to see anything, too terrified of the thing that’s waiting for me on the bottom. I catch a flash of a city, a city built near a river and try to cling to the nearest building, but fail. Something from another level hits my rib cage and I open my mouth to scream, but the falling speed cuts my breath and I start waving my legs and hands. Sparkles obscure my vision as the pressure gets higher and the colours from all the worlds overwhelm my senses. The five amprents on my cheek start burning and the pain in my lungs gets oppressive. In that spining wheel of circles, I hear my phone ringing, but the song is so far away it barely reaches my ears. A familiar tone that makes my eyes sting with longing. The last thing I see before I hit the bottom of a lake is a war on a mountain and a burning flame cutting through the darkness.
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Chapter 2
God Forbid...
Author’s P.o.V:
Before the first war, five hundred years ago, when humans grew tired of the faerie’s tyranny upon their kind, there was this plain saying, who gained power through the blood of every slaughtered male and female, regardless of their nature. It was a chanted, vicious poem, spreading malevolent or honourable effects once it was spoken. Even though it was brought into this world in the same very moment as the spilling of The Cauldron, The Mother hid it from the world, for it was a calamity to the ones that fitted the category. Then, after years of being preserved in the back of the minds of the population, it surfaced when a group of celestial beings fell into our circle, commanded by a wrathful god who ruled a young world. ‘ Like calls to like. ‘ It was the truth. But a very bitter truth. For this, the mortals suffered tremendous atrocities: skinned alive, enslaved and worked until they died of fatigue in the mines of the faeries, spitted on and stripped of any independence. It was even worse if you were a half-faerie, if somehow, you’re mother was taken by a whore and fucked by several sharp-eared bastards. The reason may seem futile and… dispassionate. The creatures thought that mankind was made for this, for pain and hardship: pain calls to pain, misery calls to misery. They weren’t nice even to their own comrades: the lesser faeries. The differences disgusted the High-Faes: the rounded ears that remembered them of humans, long limbs, glowing skin, horns and clawed, webbed feet. This was all deemed to be inferior and shameful. But all of this injustice was so far away. It didn’t mean that the consequences weren’t present now: the wall itself was evidence that scars remain and some don’t even heal. The winged male, roaming the skies at this late hour thought the same. His memories of the dark cell rarely affected him when he was conscious, but the trauma that resurfaced every time he slept was still proof enough that he needed more than climbing out of the abyss. The war with Hybern didn’t last very long, but both him and the rest of his family, suffered great loses for a merely illusion of peace. Some things where not good before that, to start with, but others grew colder and colder. He thought of the relationship between the three sisters, that was hanging by a thread and then at him and his brothers. The Archeron family was scattered anyway, but after their absent father died during the war and the other remaining sisters being transformed in faeries, the hole grew bigger, pathless. Somehow, it seemed like destiny made them meet. One sister for each brother. The Mother was so sure that the pairs were able to pull each other from bad memories and heal their hearts together. But it was not that simple: Nesta wished to see no one around her and Elain was so closed inside her shell-shaped mind, that rarely someone could reach inside of it. He wished that someone to be him, but The Cauldron made a mistake and gave the middle sister a mate that didn’t fit her. Rhysand was the only one that was content with his wife, but he got his own plate of agony for fifty years before he reached this point of alleviation. Azriel’s gut tightened at the thought of what his High Lord had to endure for the sake of Velaris. Recently, the two of them had enough of Nesta’s rebellious behaviour. Only yesterday, at the breakfast table, they got the bill from Rita’s restaurant and some gambling magazine. The Shadowsinger didn’t interfere with their decision, it was not his resolution to take. He had other things on his head to worry, so much that they kept him up at night. It wasn’t about the money, because the inner circle got plenty of them in the treasury. It was about her unhealthy way of coping. Feyre took the drastic decision to end her sister’s suffering by sending her into the one of the shittiest places on earth: Windhaven Camp. Azriel brushed the sensation that it wasn’t the place to help Nesta, blaming it on his distate for the illyrians and their backward mentality. He didn’t deny the fact that the oldest sister needed and impulse to step out of the hole she was falling. He understood the urge to drink and fuck her way out of trauma and forget about bad memories and powers she couldn’t control. Azriel did the same, after all. But her behaviour hurted more than just Feyre, it scared Elain too, pushed her out of everyone’s reach and he couldn’t bear this. His jaw tightened at the picture of her delicate frame, coming back to the town house after she went to visit Nesta. Her shoulders were brought inward and she kept her elegant features hidden. He didn’t need his shadows to read her posture. The tears stains from her dress where proof enough that things didn’t end well between them. Elain didn’t spoke to anyone that night, or the day after and Azriel never had the courage to go and say a word to soothe her heart. He found himself on the hall of her dorm once, hiding in the dark, waiting like a dog for her glistening appearance. Azriel could imagine Elain, only in her pink nightgown he knew she was wearing. It was her favourite. He could trace the fragile silhouete of her body with the fingers of his mind through the thin silky material. It covered nothing. It was only a shield. Never to touch. Always out of reach. The Shadowsinger took a deep breath and stretched his wings again, feeling the warmth of summer caressing his membranous wings. He felt his pants grew tighter. He didn’t want a damn boner in the open sky. He was not his brother, he could hold in his temper, his needs, even if they grew bigger each day. Pleasure hall wasn’t enough and he felt dirty screwing an unknown woman and picturing Elain under him, how she’ll sound while he entered her, how her breath would hitch. Focus, his shadows seemed to whisper in his ear, curling around his ear lobe. I wish I could, Azriel answered, more to himself than to his companions. He switched his attention towards the final trees, trying desperately to soothe the ache from his belly. The stench of resin hit his nostrils first, before a pair of big firs came into view. He recognised their lining that marked the entrance of Velaris. There was something odd about this night. As he approached the wards protecting the city, Azriel realised that the sky was fuller. The stars were piled on top of each other like they shielded against something, or shielding someone. Not even the spymaster’s favourite’s giant constellation, Orion, wasn’t to be seen, outshined by the prodigious mass of shining bulbs. The moon was coated by opaque grey clouds, leaving the sky open and somehow forsaken, reflecting Azriel’s own unhappiness. The night air was unusually heavy and hot, too much even for the beginning of summer. Inhaling it felt like being trapped underwater, violating your nose and giving the male a headache. His black illyrian leathers were tight and made him sweat underneath. Also, he didn’t see any animals running down the forests paths, didn’t hear the rustle of leaves or howling wolves. Azriel didn’t take the signs as something bad, but rather a normal way of acting when it came to solstices. More so because the summer one held a meaningful symbolism: the light that helps us find a goal in our journey, setting us to the right path and having a new beginning. He lost a low chuckle through his lips. Azriel wasn’t the one to believe such bullshit. In his five hundred years of living, he never saw that guiding light, he reached his goals through torture and patience. The latter was beginning to fade as he grew more impatient, longing for warmth and the feeling of belonging to someone. Inside, he kept his emotions under a firm grip, knowing that displaying them was a sign of weakness. And he didn’t have the freedom of being vulnerable anymore. Sadly, that made him forget how to show them. Or how they felt. When Azriel passed the protection layer, the air changed swiftly from the thick and almost liquid one on the mountains, to one a lot more breathable and flowery. ‘ Thank the Mother. ‘, he thought, escaping the honeyed atmosphere from the outside. The lights of the mansion were on. The meeting has started. Or already finished. He only hoped that he didn’t arrived late. Not that he was eager to see Nesta’s punishment or sense Elain’s mating bond on her. He cringed at that and landed on the balconies threshold, donning his frozen mask. " Brother. " Rhysand acknowledged his presence first, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before eyeing Cassian. The High Lady nodded in his direction " She needs to come to her damn senses, " then fixated her eyes somewhere in the distance, putting a shield between her and the world around. " otherwise, I don’t know what else I can do to help her. " " You’ve done enough. " Rhys delicately assured her, brushing his fingers through Feyre’s light brown curls. " You’ve helped her enough. You and Elain, Amren. Cassian. Everyone tried to give her space and a place here. With us. " So it didn’t go smoothly. There is nothing to bind them anymore, his shadows whispered, uncovering themselves in the dim light of night. " I am sorry I didn’t get here on time. " Azriel spoke, stepping silently and covering the archway with his wings. " I had business to attend to. " His remarked didn’t pass unnoticed by his High Lord. ‘ My office. ‘, Rhysand said in his mind.
‘ Is not urgent, but it is something you need to hear. ‘
" We convinced her to come with me to the camps. " Cassian added, putting one ankle over the other knee. " More like forced her. " Rhysand completed. Azriel remarked how his brother took time arranging himself today: with lacquered brown boots, ironed shirt and freshly shaved. " I knew she wasn’t going to take this easy. " Amren was seated neatly on the couch, toying with her new favourite bracelet that Varian gave her as a present " But something tells me you’ll manage. " She gave Cassian a half nod, smiling in her own devilish way. Azriel knew why Rhysand brought her here, so he would preserve any sort of familial bond between him and Feyre’s sister. The spymaster senses the tension in the room and scans it rapidly, locating the source of the strange ambiance. It came in big waves from Cassian, who kept his shoulder straight and his muscles contracted. " She’s scared, tormented. " Cass draws a breath, visibly irritated with the stubborn older Archeron sister. " Let her dig her own grave, boy, then offer her a hand. " Amren stirs the wine in her almost empty glass, licking her red lips. " I thought that’s what this past year has been: reaching to her. " his brother closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his features for a second, " But I received only death looks and venomous words. " Azriel knew what he was talking about: the gift he threw in the Sidra, last solstice, after the fight they had on the market streets. After she made it clear she wants nothing to do with them. With him. He was the only one out of the Inner Circle who knew what they’ve lost that day: The Veritas. The apple sized bulb, incastrated with truth magic, that required the Spymaster’s infiltration in the Court of Nightmares’s dungeons. Azriel suspected the reason behind this gesture, to show Nesta the truth, Cassian’s truth. Even though he knew the General’s feeling towards the oldest sister, it was his own secret to tell. " Keep reaching out your hand. " Amren stated, piercing Cass with her silver smoked eyes. " I’ve gotten young warriors in the line before. " Cassian dared to joke, shifting from his previous pose and coming closer to where the Shadowsinger was standing near de balconie’s archway. " Nesta’s not some young buck pushing the boundaries. " his brother contested, kneeling at Feyre’s feet and caging her palms in his own. " I can handle her. " " She’ll give you a hard time. " their High Lady spoke, shaking out of her sadness, " And she’ll enjoy every second of it. " " She’s miserable. " Amren rose, finishing her glass, ready to get back to her house. " Too bad that rule doesn’t exist, or is not exactly as precise as I made it to be. " " Then make sure to add it later. " Rhys helped Feyre to the base of the stairs, " We don’t want to be caught frauding the system. It is enough Keir doesn’t have us at his heart and seeks any wrong step to split the Night Court. " Elain had walked in halfway through his brother’s testimony. " I left her baggage in the hallway. " she spoke softly, hiding her hands in the purple dress she was wearing, " It is small. I don’t think it will rise any problems of transportation. " He inhaled unconsciously, feeling the lilies and daisies smell all over her. She kept a solemn face, never taking her eyes off of Rhysand. Oddly, one of his knives came out of his pocket and kept stabbing him in the ribs, giving him a blessed distraction from Elain. With his head în another world, he took it out and placed it on the table next to the fireplace. The spymaster shot a look towards her soft brown eyes, asking himself if she was strong enough to bear her sister’s deadly arrows that were about to come her way. But Elain’s gaze remained steady as she listened to Rhys, not sparing him a glance. So he changed his focus to Cassian, who looked pale and angry. " I’ll bring it up to the House of Wind. " Cassian agreed, stepping on the balcony. " How’s Varian accommodating the weather from Velaris? " " I show him new things every night. " the little devil throws us a meaningful look. " He loves the view from our windows. " Feyre laughs softly and Elain blushes, turning her gaze to the ground. A sudden feeling of tiredness settled on Azriel's shoulders and a wave of pain crossed his body. The sky, his shadows whispered, the sky. He blamed it on his lack of sleeping, but as he turned to watch the night sky, a shooting star passed silently and a ghostly smell of amber made his heart ache.
The Continent
" This world is the nurse of all we know,This world is The Mother of all we feel. "
Mother of all we feel…
I will bring you to my feet!
Don’ t falter, Evening Star!...
Your existence is like mud under my nails.
Stop it, I pray to the different voices around, watching the scenes fly pass me: an old man, a young king, two ladies helping me get up and blood. So much blood.
The Three Dead Kings are waiting for their Daughter.
Their blood is all over your hands, Queen of Ashes.
Make it stop, I beg again, feeling lost inside the darkness.
Strike her again!...
Mother of all we feel…
I’ll make a crown out of your bones.
I have been waiting for you…
A gentle caress touches my forehead and a pair of hazel eyes passes swiftly trough my mind.
Wake up, I beg you.
A piercing man’s scream shatters my eardrums and I jolt, barely aware of where my body starts and ends. The ache inside my heart is agonizing and I feel like I faint several times before my mind is fully anchored to my material body. I always had the uncertain sensation that my death will be miserable. And I always blamed myself for thinking too much, for feeling too hard and for playing the victim too often. But the truth is: Death was always stalking me – like a lovely sister of Bad Luck that became my friend -, eradicating in her path everything that was dear to me. Grandparents, uncles, dogs, birds and recently, the parental love that I never had, actually. I blamed the cancer, because that is what the fate seemed to have prepared for us: hereditary colon cancer. I was afraid that I had it, but my mother was too scared to do some analyses, refusing to hear the truth and preferring to stay blind. So I did the same. But that doesn’t mean I escaped. I experienced another kind of illness. I am not american, I came from the Balkans, from a part of Europe where fairy tales, curses and legends are at home. Not recently, maybe years prior to this day, my mother, an aunt and I visited an old lady. She lived in a village with unpaved streets and we paid her to do a tarot session and read in our coffee cups. That was the day I knew some higher divinity had a vendetta against me. The lady was ancient, reaching – after the precision of a teenager – a critical level of ninety years. She smelled like rotten eggs and something characteristic for an old woman with no bathroom inside her house and no sewerage. Her house was made out of adobe and lacked a few windows, the plaster had peeled off of the exterior walls, leaving the horse’s shit and wheat straws to be seen. The interior wasn’t any better. It stank of sauerkraut, it was very chilly, dull and inhospitable, with a raw wood floor and an iron bed covered by a smeary flattened mattress. She invited us to sit around a little table in a slightly tidier room. It seemed like it was made especially for guests who were into pagan games. The wooden furniture was covered by a hand-sewn table cloth, coloured with red, white and blue thread. The chairs had red leather seats, and the few windows were covered with soot and embroidered curtains. The crone kept here an old sewing machine, with pedals and a sharp spindle in witch she impaled three porcelain dolls. " Keeps the dark forces away. " She hinted, observing me. The old woman had a glassy eye, corrupted by cataracts and the other one held such a bright blue, that made you wonder if she was blind or not. She looked more like a witch than someone’s granny. She missed a good part of her gray hair and only a few tufts remained trapped in a bun at the base of her head, covered by a black handkerchief. The woman wore a mourning gown, a full-length dress, with a brown apron hanging around her navel. A nephew of hers died of a chromosomal disease that made him look like an experiment of God. I never believed her. I knew this was a form of punishment, implied by the one who ruled up or down, because she was playing with dark magic. The crone opened the books to read my life and looked at me crookedly. With a confident, wrinkled hand, the woman put three cards on the table, after she shuffled them and had me cut them three times. 4 of hearts. 5 of clubs. 3 of spades. I don’t recall with what lies she charmed me with, I was horrified by her looks. Some years passed before I opened up a discussion with my mother and she remembered me of the crone’s premonitions. It was about an unexpected, long journey on a foreign continent, devoid of good people and love. " She called it a place with no pure magic. " My mother added, drinking from her cup of coffee. She told me that someone puts me through great obstacles and I will suffer many losses in my path. In the end I was to be successful, but with terrible costs. " To save only one hand for the price of the whole body. " My mother raises her brows, and the memories seem to torment her for a second. " Quite strange if you ask me. " " She swore, by the tongue of death actually, that the man from the shadows is waiting for you. He is the only one that can save you. " Shortly after our meeting with the witch, she died. It seemed she had gone mad. Her kids found her trapped in the space between the stove and the wall. She was frigid.
Mother of all we fell…
I claim you, mou nafsah…
I manage to take a deep breath, feeling my trachea obstructed by mucus and salt. A convulsive cough makes the capillaries in my eyes to stop pumping blood, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar pressure. My mouth opens, gasping for oxygen and a loud moan escapes my crusty lips when a spasmodic pain flourishes in my body. The sounds echo around me and I worry that some of my neighbours might hear me. But I couldn’t stop. I try to tense my muscles, but another wave of nausea storms my stomach. I twist and vomit on the ground beneath me. " God forbid… " I whisper, feeling the air hitch in my throat. The smell of salted water and fresh flowers decrease my nausea, and my vision begins to clear slowly, patches of light dispersing the darkness. I blink a few times, feeling my eyelids glued together. Only after a few moments I am able to see the scenery. A vast meadow, fresh and… alive, in a strange way, " God forbid… " I hum lowly, touched by the sudden beauty that surrounds me. " Where am I? " One of my vertebrae cracks when I raise my head wearily, reminding me of the tangled position I was in. The patch of grass was guarded by rocky, ink-black mountains, which shone in the distance like the precious jewels of an imperial crown. It looked like I was inside a dormant volcano. The sun shone brightly over me, warming my tangled, frizzy hair and making me cringe at the sensation of dirt and salt tightening the skin of my shoulders. Carefully, I turn around, enthralled by the clear lake stretched out, alluring insects around it. A thin strip of sand noted the difference between the water’s edge and the beginning of the grass. I must have fallen in it, that’s why my clothes were drenched and covered with a dusty pellicle of dry salt. Dizzy, I look at my filthy, creased thumbs and use my mouth to breath. My nose was stuffy and it hurt terribly, like it broke when I landed. A gray stag lowers his head to drink water. " Don’t… " I start, feeling my hoarse voice rubbing against my larynx. I clear it and try again: " It’s salty. Don’t. " He watches me, and for a second, we both look skeptical at each other. Is he questioning my existence? I watch his high, branched horns and involuntary smile at his long snout and bright, gentle eyes. I pull back, not wanting to scare him and squeeze my head between my palms, unable to neglect my growing headache. "I am sorry… " I was losing it. My minds, my spirit of observation, my instinct. It couldn’t be true. I fucking fell out of the sky, through nine circles of worlds. Something told me it resembled Dante’s Inferno, but I knew I wasn’t in Hell. At least not so soon. This place was more like Heaven, not burning flames and red demons wanting to get your soul. And I felt very much alive. I was probably drugged or drunk or the fall on my cat's bowl must have done something to my brain, because I couldn't be here. My memory wasn’t a reliable source either. Broken and discontinuous fragments appear in my brain: Icarus caught in the air, Nadia, volunteering for that blood donation, 3:33, the clock’s batteries, the 3rd floor and the man in the black suit. Everything was like a tornado, always moving and changing, without sitting next to each other so that I could make sense out of this. The intention to cry makes me stiff and I feel like crying, because I sigh and hiccup and my eyes sting and my throat hurts, but I can't feel the tears on my cheeks. I can feel the drops gathering in the corners of my eyes, but nothing bluries my vision. I only feel a confusing emptiness that gnaws at my intestines. The stag pities me and the grass seems to wrap around my ankles, comforting me. For a second, is not cold and earthy, but my cat’s soft fur brushing my skin, welcoming me back home, telling me he missed me so much. My dry and rough voice runs through the calm of the place, over and over again and I mourn. My existence, my destiny, my life. I beg for help over and over and try to get up, but I fall to my knees and feel desperate when the only thing that answers me is my voice’s echoes hitting the onyx mountains. In an unconscious attempt to wake me up from this nightmare, I strangle myself and even when my nails are dangerously deep in my skin and my blood no longer reaches my head, I can't get out. It was real. I had indeed fallen through those circles and landed in a lake. In the lake next to me. I don't know how I got out, but it saved me from drowning. Or maybe something else happened. I didn’t know. The stag was gone and the grass had fallen off my ankles. I was left alone, face up, lying on my back and looking at the empty blue sky. So empty that it reminded me of how I felt right now. And what are you going to do? I wonder. Are you going to die here without knowing the truth? " I do not know. " I whisper, feeling my chapped lips scratching at each other. " I want to die here. I want to die. "
Mother of all we feel…
I have been waiting for you…
The song in my ears, which danced between my eardrums even before I woke up, makes me get on all fours and crawl, absent from my own body and indifferent to the cuts that pierced my palms and knees. I crawl and wheeze and cuss until I barely breath. I don't even know how long I move like that, with my eyes on a clear horizon and my mouth dry. The desperation was my only comrade right now, pushing me further and faster. I had nothing, but desperation and ambition flowing through my blood. After an infernal time I wake up face to face with the foot of the mountains chain. The black rock shone as brightly as it did from the lake, like billions of tiny diamonds were encrusted in it. I brush the tips of my fingers against the material. A bolt of electric power dashes through my muscles, followed by thousands of whispers in my ears. Goosebumps appear all over my soaking skin and my body is suddenly awake. The cells in my body vibrate, enthusiastic and respond to the mountains, rushing to the tips of my nails, warming my hand. I am aware of the stag coming closer, of the green serpent roaming silent at the bottom of the lake. I see the flowers bloom under my attention and the trees bending in my presence. A sparkle comes to life at the connection and I drew back, perplexed. Maybe this place has a large energy field around it, flowing from mountain to mountain and protecting it from any technology. Maybe that was the reason it was not populated. The stag by the lake appears, sniffing in the direction of a narrow opening in the rock. I could scarcely slip through it. I look at him puzzled, feeling the madness that settles in my head. " What are the chances that you will understand me and know that I want to get out of here? " I speak more for myself, and the shock crosses me when he nods and the crown of horns goes towards me. " God forbid… " I chant for the third time and I lower my head, sticking my fingers in my eyes. " I think I'll have to get used to it, until it shows me that it's all in my head. " It wasn’t just my imagination. I could smell fresh grass and clean water, I could feel my body stiff and my extremities swollen, I was aware of the headache and my ears popping from time to time from the pressure. My feet ached from the gravel and my knees and elbows stung as I crawled on all fours. The only thing that made me doubt the surrounding landscape was my memories, probably scattered because of the fall and the long sleep. Sometimes I got so close to a detail in my head I could brush it with my fingertips, only to disappear as if it never existed. I dare to reach out, wanting to caress the animal on the fluffy head. I stop a few inches from him, noticing my filthy palms, full of mud, blood and lacerations. I would have tarnished his beauty, just to fulfill my desire to feel contact with a living being. "Thank you... " I bow to him, touching my heart with my palm. After a few seconds, his eyes widen in warning, blinking at me, wanting me to understand. " I am sorry. I can’t… I… I will be careful. Thank you… " I try to slip through the small crack, but the opening is too narrow for me. I remove my hoodie, leaving only my bra and jeans on. Holding the piece of fabric in my hand, I manage to pass through the tunnel. My clothes went two shades darker from the dust on the rough walls and my exposed skin rubbed painfully against the sharp edges of the mountain. Finally seeing myself on the other side of the volcano, the desolating image strikes me, causing my anxiety to reach alarming levels. The beauty and the peace inside the oasis contrasted sharply with the barren earth and gray sky. Life seemed to disappear, being replaced only by a vain hope of survival. Left and right, miles of yellow-grass meadow laid deserted, and here and there were a few peaks of brown mountains filled with smoke from the houses that lived on the ridge. I turn to the volcano from which I just came out, just to be petrified. There was nothing behind me. No sign of it, no rough wall of bright onyx, no sign of a stag or fresh grass. The sky was just as cloudy and the pasture just as barren. Even the feeling of calmness ran out of my system. " Well, maybe not everything is real... Or beautiful… " I wave my hands in the air where I knew I came from, but I don't feel anything. I lay on my knees, desperately looking for proof that everything was true. When I feel like I'm losing hope, I catch a glimpse of the black mountain and the patch of grass leading to the lake. It seemed like the air was cut by a knife and the opening lead to another dimension. " How is that possible? " I look around and notice the dogwood tree, the same height as me and with a few budding flowers. It marks the entrance to the oasis. Unsure of what I was going to do next, I set off. If I were to stay here, I would never know what happened to me, how I got here, or where I am. I had no chance of returning. Sadness grips me and I sigh unconsciously, wandering the barren pasture, heading for what I thought was the East. Dark thoughts surround me and I can barely find the strength to keep going. The desolating atmosphere wasn’t helping me at all with my internal grief. My parents wouldn’t know where I am. They’ll probably imagine that I had committed suicide out of love, as all young people do today. The feeling of my watch on my left hand was a constant memory of the person that I loved back home. What will she do? God, how cruel everything was. I couldn't even remember her name. The terror of forgetting her brown eyes or round face embraces me and I start to cry. I could finally feel the tears streaming down the scratches on my cheeks. My Icarus. My sweet Icarus. He was going to be left alone. Who will feed him? Who will love him? My little savior… I cover my face and stop, unable to cope with the pressure that covered me like a blanket, suffocating me. " Miss, are you alright? "
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 3
The Waking World
" Miss, are you alright? " My head is still spinning trying to decipher the puzzle of events I was subjected to. In one second, I was at home with Icarus, mourning my twisted way of living, and in the next, some kind of sly saint makes me an offer, bewitches me into agreeing with it and throws me in a distorted reality that does not belong to me. Was this a parallel universe of the same world? Like a forked road and somehow I departed from the right path. In fact, I didn’t deviate, I didn’t do anything wrong, someone pushed me, lied to me to believe that a right direction was actually wrong. Looking back, I can barely recall the way I felt starring into his eyes. His looks are vaguely present somewhere in the back of my mind, sheltered by a glamour that tasted of sadness. My hair was still a little frizzy from the powerful electric field he created in my home and my fingertips were still tingly. Here, I felt big and small at the same time, guilty and somehow, a distortion that erased the beauty of a mirror with gold-polished edges. An imperfection, something that shouldn’t have existed in this timeline, something that changes the flowing of a river. Like a stone in the middle of a watercourse. I was so close to punching myself in the head to wake me up, to rip myself out of this nightmare, but I had already proven myself that nothing works, as the wounds I had on my hands and feet were witnesses of my distressed tries. Deep inside, I knew there was another way out, but I just couldn’t figure it out yet. " Miss? " A sweet voice calls near me and a spark of hope rises in my stomach, as I recognize my friend. I find myself calling for her. Nemira? Was it Nina, actually? Her name stuck on my tongue like a sweet and sour candy that wouldn’t melt. The feeling of knowing, but being unable to access the information, forges my brain, which is already quite worn out from the last few hours of desolation. It must have been hours, though? I couldn’t be sure of the time that I lost while I was diving through the air nor the time I wasted while I was unconscious. It fucked up my biological watch. Frustration makes my scalp itchy and I grit my teeth with the last remains of my strength, trying to bury my anger and despair as deep as possible. It wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere if I kept crying, yelling or acting wild. I had no idea where I was, I did not know the moral or political laws of this realm, the continent or country in which I had fallen. The reasonable solution was not to be an enemy. I could play the lamb, I could pretend to be whatever this world wanted, as long as I got what I needed at this moment: answers, solutions for my problems and a way home. But… I had to ask myself, do I want to go home? I remove my muddy palms from my face and raise my eyebrows to unglue my swollen eyes. I had cried so much that my tears dried between my lashes and at the corners of my eyelids, forming a sticky and lumpy rheum. My irises hadn’t gotten used to the brightness yet, because I wasn’t able to control myself and not collapse every two seconds. The pressure on my forehead intensifies and time seems to get bogged down until I manage to get a clear image of the being in front of me. First, I catch the same desolate picture of aridity with faded shades of brown and sickly green, then the back currants that peeked out from the sun-burnt area. The figure in front of me is lost in the landscape, angular and thin, resembling the cut trunk of a tree that no longer bears fruits. My blood rushes from my head to my feet and I drag my ass back when she takes a timid step forward. Her legs are covered by a brown skirt that brushes the dust off the floor, patched at the hips and nibbled at the hem from all the years it was worn. She was not wearing any shoes, leaving her calloused toes exposed to the rough gravel. " No, no, don’t run… please. " she whispered softly as if I was a rabid animal ready to strike, " I don’t mean to scare you away. I just… " she bites her lips nervously, watching me with weary brown eyes. " I just want to know if you need any help… " Do I need help? Probably. Was I going to accept it from any stranger who offered it to me without knowing his full intentions? Of course yes. " Water. " I say dryly, licking my lips with my dusty tongue. I raise my head towards the other half of the woman and frown, raising my hand to shelter my eyes from the burning of the sun. " You don’t look familiar. I mean… you know? " she shrugs as she kneels in front of me and rummages in her old leathered bag until she pulls out a bottle held in a raffia clad. As she holds it for me to take it, I see her yellow stained nails and the little chamomile flowers hanging from it. " I mean you seem like you don’t belong to this parts of the continent. " Her accents slips between words and I frown. Was I in my own world? In Ireland? No, it was impossible. I just passed through a hole in the air and got from a chill oasis with diamond mountains and a stag to a sad field. I don’t think this things happen often in Ireland. " There is a little bit of water on the bottom, but I think is warm -" I cut her off, removing the plug cork and chug the mild water. The taste makes me choke and I cough, feeling the terrible aroma drowning my taste buds. The dust I inhaled mixed with the old water and the algae from the lake and iron formed a thin layer of rubble inside my mouth. " I warned you, y’know? " she chuckles and hides the bottle back in her bag. When the silence fell between the two of us, I felt the need to fill it, but I couldn’t find the right words to do so. I had so many things I could ask, but I had no strength in me anymore, no ambition. Nothing. Instead, I let her study me. From my wet hair sticking to my face, to my puffy bags under my eyes, over my bruised and runny nose, my chaped lips, my red stained neck and clothes. I was a bloody mess. However, she didn’t seem impressed. I felt pity from her. Maybe this type of disfigured people thrown from the sky were not a novelty around here. " What’s your name, dear? " she tilted her small head, letting a few curls to fall over her skinny cheekbones. She had an angelic allure, with dark features highlighting her sickly looking alabaster skin: raven like hair caught in a tight bun, thin and arched brows and sparse eyelashes. " My name? " I repeat, woken up from my starring. My name. My name… What was my name? I could feel my throat closing. Do I have a name? Of course I do, I just need to remember. My gaze ran from one corner to another, bombing me with so much visual information that I forget to breathe. Was I not a person anymore? Do I still exist? Does my name define me? Who am I? Was I really here? A silent galaxy flowed in my brain, a dizzyng void in which all the elements I knew the night before were lost: my name, my girlfriends name, my parents, my friend. All this sat covered by a thick curtain, like some creepy shadows of the past. I looked at the still working watch hanging from my wrist. The only thing I kept dearly attached to me. The gift from my late lover. I started crying again, with quiet sobs and barely present tears to sting my eyes. I was incapable of reproducing one of the simplest things: the name I was given at birth. " Shh… That’s all right if you can’t tell me, y’know? " she stretches her lean arms towards me and embraces my shoulders, placing her chin on top of my head. " We need to find something suitable for you. " " Forgive me. " I manage to say, digging my nails in her fragile wrists, " I fell, I can barely remember anything. " Gradually, we get up from the field and start walking towards the smoke that was rising between the valleys of the mountains. She sustained me with one arm, as my limping in my right leg was painfull and slowing us down. " Do you at least recall where you come from? The name of the city, how it looked, a random name of a priest you used to know, a friend, anything, you know? " What was i supposed to answer? What occured to me was pure science fiction. Even for me it was hard to believe, but for her? She may think I am lunatic. I could be locked up for who knows what experiments or thrown in a prison for heresy. If they have a religion here… I was a panicked and tearful stranger with no idea about her own damned name, dressed according to the modern standards of a world that here seemed invalid. I was a walking evidence of apocalypse. Even I would lock myself underground if I was from here and saw myself. Maybe I should lie. Should I lie? No. They would catch me immediately if I gave random names or directions. There was no sign here that could indicate the name of any nearby town or village and I didn’t have any knowledge of the local places so I can be able to give vague indications regarding my supposed home. I was clueless if there was an ocean separating us from another continent on the left or if there was a deadly canion on the right. I was a leaf in the wind waiting to be guidate or to be withered. " I have a cat… " I find myself talking, accepting the crocheted woolen scarf that she draped over my shoulders, " Fortunately, I remember his name – Icarus. " Maybe ’ I used to have a cat. ’ was a better way of puting it into words. Maybe it would soothe my heart if I talked about him like he was dead. I touch my watch and close my eyes for a second, restraining myself, gaining strength from the feeling of cold leather. " Icarus. " she repeats cautiously, considering me through her black lashes, " You love him dearly, don’t ya? " I nod, counting in my head the big rocks that we where avoiding in our path, searching for serpents or insects, anything for a little distraction. " I love all my pets too: cows, horses, sheeps, dogs, cats, even the chickens and ducks. My family has a farm on the hill, y’know. " " That’s where we headed to? " I ask shyly, tightening the scarf around me. I could finally feel the cold creeping through the seams of my clothes. As we keep getting closer to the base of the mountains, the scenery slowly changes from the sad, steril land, to a more vivid and cold enviroment. Tall trees, mostly firs with thick crowns, appear in our sight, guarding the path on both sides. Even the soil seemed to be alive, with a more redish color and some grass starting to grow. You could even smell food, fresh food and smoke from the fires in the houses. Even the feeces from animals and howling of wolves where present. It was such a real image of a normal village from my own reality. It made my senses go into overdrive and my head to spin. It must be something wrong with the meadow if it looks so soulless. The young woman nods and increases her pace, " Yes, and I hear you are hungry as well. " I laugh feeling the shame rosing my cheeks. I was starving. " My name’s Niven. I am the youngest from my family. I have a brother as well. " " And how old are you? " " 16, my brother is 20… I guess, I never remember, you know? It doesn’t really matter our age. " I silently approve. That would explain the level of naivety and gentility she exudes. No sane person would take a stranger from the streets to take him home and feed him. Especially not one that looked like me and didn’t have a name. " My dad is a priest in the village, he has some relations, he can definetly find you a safe place to stay and a job until… you know, remember who you are. " she bites her pale lips again and turns her dark pair of eyes to study me again. " You have quite a small forehead and your nose is strong and defined. Are you sure you don’t come from a palace? That you don’t have a noble background? Altough… I’ve never seen a prick wear your style of clothing. Is nothing wrong with it, don’t missunderstand me, but is bland and washed out. " I stop in my tracks and blink several times, trying to procces the amount of informations she just dropped on me. I touch my nose and open my mouth to speak. Royal family? Bland and boring style? If I fell in an Outlander type society, I won’t be able to survive more that a couple of weeks. " You mean to say I am uninteresting? " " Oh, dear, I am so sorry. " she laughs and drags me by my hand after her, " I mean to say you don’t fit in their expectations either. Only by your face you might have a chance… I am not saying you are ugly, you know? You just, nevermind. " " No, I’m not noble, I come from a common family, an ordinary village, this much at least I remember, I - " I fell from a carriage, I was pushed from my horse, I was hit on the head and they left me here, I was robbed, " I came here with a carriage, but I must have fallen backwards and hit my head. " " Well, that can explain the blood from your clothes and the holes, and injuries. " How easy it was for me to lie. I bite my tongue long enough to sting and I don’t let go until I notice how her face relaxes. I had given her information that satisfied her. She wasn’t so naive after all. Maybe she was acting. " I know it happens often on this road. So many stones that break wheels and shake horses that you almost always find a boozer or a foreign traveler lost in the valley. " she babbles as she fishes a ring of keys from her bag, " The problem is that these places are quite dangerous for those unfamiliar. " The farm was made of black and solid wood, with a roof made of earth and logs pierced by a chimney that gave out a lot of gray smoke. The whole yard was surrounded by a fence made of thin sticks and a narrow river, crossed by a stone bridge. " Did you happen to see anything peculiar? " Niven stands up suddenly, catching me off guard with her innocent doe eyes. " Y’know, this place used to be full of legends. Even Icarus, your cat’s name has a legend. And in the middle of the meadow, it is said that an oasis sanctified by a questionable saint is hidden from the eyes of the world, feeding from the once beautiful field. But maybe you -" " Nivy! " A woman’s voice comes from behind the house, followed by a slender silhouette. Niven turns her bulbous eyes to me and whispers quickly, before releasing my arm from her strong grip and grins falsely, " Your name is Cyan. " I swallow hard and assert quickly, repeating my fake name in my head. Cyan. Cyan. It was so similar to the way I used to be called. " Niven, where’s the chamomile? And, oh -" The person, who I supposed was Niven’s mother after their dark features, stoppes in shock, looking me up and down, " A friend of yours? Niven? " " No, mama, I found her, she was lost in the middle of the field. " she admits, squeezing my shoulders and bringing me closer to her mother, " She was near the village of Dupnitsa, near the dogwood tree. " While the silence fell over us, a mute information passed between the two of them. Her mother was the same height as Niven and almost as young as her, the only evidence of her true age were the barely visible wrinkles on her forehead and on the corners of her eyes. They wore similar clothes: gray skirt, just as patched, raised by one corner and tucked into the thick pants she wore underneath. It probably helped her to have a better mobility considering the size of the yard she had to take care of. Above the narrow forehead the white roots tinted her brunette hair, which she kept hidden behind a green scarf. The color brought out her hazel eyes. She even had the same angelic allure, with clean face, slightly bronzed, pale lips and dark, straight eyebrows. " I don’t want to bother, I can leave if necessary. " I dare to say, feeling Niven’s short nails digging in my skin. I knew they wouldn’t kick me out, by the look of the house they seemed to be a family with a big heart. They would host me enough to be able to find a way home, or at least a job, if possible. The woman tucks the wooden basket under her arm and bites her inner cheek, " No, no, it would be my sin to throw you out, come in and clean yourself up. " Niven’s face lights up, a smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. She looks at me with a victorious air before leading me to a small hut near the big farm. While we go around the wooden construction in the center, I catch a glimpse of an empty barn and a boy, leading the sheep towards it. The cobbled path leads us past an open horse stable, giving me the honour of admiring their beauty in the last rays of the sun. I don’t think I was ever so close to one of them. I could see the muscles flexing on their backs and legs, I could almost feel the smooth black and brown hair under my fingers. I instictively smiled. Much further back, kennels where built for chickens and ducks, but the birds where still free on the grass, watched closely by a black cat perched on the hut towards which we were heading. The cat feels me as I stare at her in awe, waiting for her to turn around. I wanted to be sure my Icarus didn’t somehow ended here with me, but as he finally looks me in the eye, the missing white from his neck and the golden irises scrutinizing me destroy my hopes. " Is the cat allowed to sleep inside? " I ask, still watching the quadruplet. " No animal, apart from my brother, can sleep in the house. My mother’s rules. " Niven chirpes as she holds the lightweight curtain covering the door for me. I try as best as I can to wipe the filth from my feet on the carpet from the entrance, then I follow Niven throught her narrow hall. " But sometimes I sleep with my cat without anyone knowing. " The floors were made of sanded, unvarnished wood, covered with hand-sewn red carpets. They had a few shoes settled on a tiny cabinet and some winter clothes hanged above them. The hall opened to three separate rooms and no mirrors were to be seen in any of the chambers. It smelled familiar. Something that I use to feel while on vacation to my grandparents. It smelled of freshly washed wardrobe, of wood, chamomile and a hint of animal furr. " You can sleep here with me until we figure things out and find a way to help you, to bring you back to you family. " Niven explains, rummaging through a row of packed clothes and pulling out a skirt and a thick cotton shirt, along with a pair of socks and a waistcoat. " These are my old attire, from when I was younger. It seems they work for you pretty well. Now, I’ll prepare the bath here and then we can go eat something ‘cause I’m really starving, you know? " Nodding my head absently, I stare at the low bed, tracing every wrinkle of the white sheets and pillows. I hadn’t heard much since she mentioned my family. I needed all my focus to keep back my tears. So as she brought the small tub near the edge of the bed and prepared it with towels to prevent spilling and steaming water, I noted every defect of the chamber. The brown peeled headboard, the dust on the painting above the bed, the too much perfection of the colors with which it was made, the cracks on the corners of the wood walls, the dark colors who closed the space step by step. Nothing was how it used to be and the crippling fear that this will be my life from now on kept cutting deeper in my heart. " I wonder… are you used to being washed? I mean, you know… do you want me to… huh? " Niven stutters and rubs her hands together. I open my mouth to end her suffering, but she starts before me, " I have no idea of the life you used to have before, but we are not wealthy, no family from this area actually is, so I have to apology to you from now if we disgust you with our living or our clothes or the smell or -" " Niven, please, please, stop. " I rush to her, clenching her cold fists in mine, and force myself to form an affectionate smile, " You’ve done for me more in one hour than most did in years, you brought me a glimmer of hope. How could I do this to you? I owe you all the years I am to live from now on, ‘cause I could’ve died on that field without your compassion. " Peace settles inside her fox shaped eyes, transforming her whole face in a pretty mass of youth. I remember all the things that people used to say in turkish dramas: may your hands be healthy, fare a well, may the God be with you. I could adapt to this way o living if it meant that I could survive long enough to find someone who could truly help me. Was Niven able to help me find a way home? Could I really put my life on her hands, give her the truth, and expect her to not kick me out or beat me with rocks or whatever this lads did to the humans that fell from the skies? Was I ambitious enough to adapt and live like this? Would I be at peace with the thought that maybe I could never ever get home again? " Can I make the fire as you wash? " she asks me shyly as I peel my itchy clothes from my skin. " Of course, I am not that bashful. " As I scrub the mud from my body and clean my nails and hair, I feel her quick glances on my nakedness. Like she was searching any kind of signs that I was not human enough, a tattoo or to be certain I didn’t have fingers stuck together like the ducks had. Once I get out, she patiently hands me a towel and braids my wet hair. Apparently, she didn’t have any panties on either, because I didn’t receive any undergarments that looked like a pair of those. I was thankful for the chamomile soap that seemed to be home made, it helped me to get rid of the cadaveric smell that was stuck in the fabric of my old clothes. " This is not your real hair, is it? " she questioned while she tucks my braid under a scarf, then quickly goes to the nightstand. " No, it’s dyed. " I form a straight smile, dismayed by the fact that she wouldn’t understand what the chemical treatment was and take it as a satanic ritual and somehow burn me at the stake. " Oh, the girls from here dye their hair too. " she comes back with a small bottle of perfume and puts a few drops on my neck and underarms, " Never red though, no one wants to catch the eye of an unwanted attention. You can boil walnut leaves to make a satiny brunette or crush some coal in oil for really dark hair or boil red onion, but the smell lingeres quite some time. This is what my mother uses, but you can find much more elevated and expensive methods on the market. " " What do you mean by ‘ unwanted attention’? " I ask while we get rid of the red water and help her clean the droplets from the floor. " Well, few men know how to respect women and also, the royals and… you know, the creatures that I told you about, the ones from the woods and fields and stories. But no worries, you keep it covered and you should do just fine. " Her smile faltered and a sting of anxiety made my stomach to twist. I retain myself from making other comments about the matter, but held the idea inside my head, considering I should try and ask again about it, in the future time. Outside, the sun already hid behind the mountain peak, leaving in its trace only violet rays and a powerful smell of firs. The night sky brought with it a chilly wind, rummaging through the billions of stars stacked on top of each other. It was and odd view, like they tried to hide something underneath them or tried to hide themselves from someone. Not a single constelation was to be seen tonight and even though everything was bright from the abundance of white dots, a feeling of loneliness and crushing sadness engulfed me. This is the first night I spent here, far away and despite everyone surrounding me, alone. I wonder if someone looked for me back home. If someone cared enough to call and realise that something is wrong. But I had no more power there and it made me no good to sit and think about it more than I already had. Once inside the kitchen, I smack a shy smile to my mouth, praying that I could make it trough the dinner, the shame and the desperate need to stick a knife in my throat. Here, it was warm and almost comfortable, a caress for my pain. They had no tables, but a low one in the middle with round small chairs surrounding it. Near the entrance, the whole wall was filled with brown furniture: a cupboard where Niven’s mother was cutting bread, a glass case filled with plates and cups and a large hob where the meal was boiling. On the other side, a boy I suppose was Niven’s brother, was stirring the fire on the fireplace. The shame intensifies as I notice two other faces observing me. " C’mere, dear, have a seat. " the old man signals me to the chair in front of him. " Thank you. " I whisper and stick my nails in my palms, trying to not make the situation any more awkward. His accent was more obvious than Niven’s or Niven’s mother. It was actually harder to understand what he said as the words came together. They didn’t seem disturbed by my presence, they had a peculiar patience. The youngest, I presume Niven’s brother, was so much like her and their mother, the only difference was that his skin was much darker due to the hours he spent outside and his eyes, a pair of flaming green eyes, full of life, exactly the ones of his father. The priest, their dad, had somewhere between fortyfive or fifty years with a beard already grey and a tanned complexion. His black hair had silver strands through it, tied in a low tail. He wore a black robe who made his tired eyes more tender. Wrinkles were all over his face: on his large forehead, on his high cheekbones, at the corner of his eyelids. The only thing he shared with his daughter was the pointy nose.
" We have been waiting for you. "
His words makes my skin tingle with anticipation, holding a powerful meaning behind. I blink a few times, dizzy and put my hands on the table to steady myself. His voice was made for telling stories, sweet and cultured and honeyed. I feel their eyes on me, expecting, waiting… worshipping. I frown and clear my throat. Where they into a form of religion that required sacrifices? Where they cannibals? Was their father a pimp? God forgive me for saying this about a priest, but a girl is free to make as many claims as the danger is still unknown. " Her name is Cyan, papa. " Niven gushes, taking a seat next to me, " I found her on the field near Dupnitsa. " " You treat her like she’s a dog you found. " the boy snortes, ripping a piece of the fresh pita. " Don’t say that to our guest. " their mother scolds him, pouring hot tea in our cups. " You have a beautiful name, Cyan. " the old man laughs, helping his wife with the hot pot, " We are used to strangers. I guess Niven told you every story about the meadow and all the lost people. " I watch the sweet vapors rising from the sauce and put a little on my clay plate. Chicken with mushrooms and boiled potatoes, everything seasoned so densely that made my mouth to water just by the smell of it. I bring a piece of sauce and meat to my nose, feeling rosemary and turmeric and no trace of any illicit element. " It is not poisoned. " the woman smiles at me, touching my shoulder, " We don’t kill our guests. " " I’m sorry, is just a habit. " I explain, licking my lips from the few drops of tomatoes, " I like to smell the food, it brings much more aroma to the meals if I enjoy them with my nose first. " " It might be from the hot weather. " the boy says, watching me behind his lashes, " Or maybe they’ve thrown you away because you are a terrible thief. " " Shum! " his mother shouts, banging the ladle on his plate, " Who taught you these manners?! " " What if it’s not her, mother?! Must we welcome all the skimpy bastards for a lost myth that never came true in all these centuries? She left us waiting, she abandoned us and let the people that fought for her to die and disappear. We are hunting the ghost of a queen, we are praising the queen that never was. " Everybody watches Shum go from pink to red, an amount of mixed feeling clouding his eyes: rage, fear and sadness where circling his green irises. A pair of veins where pulsing angrily on his temple and even his short hair seemed to rise on top of his head. The pit from my stomach grows wider and I force myself to swallow the piece of meat I’ve been crunching for minutes now. The chicken started to taste too much like chicken, so I take a sip from my tea, trying to stop the occuring vomit. " You’re not eating tonight, Shum. Leave my sight. " his father orders, his voice filled with the same composure. Shum steals some bread from the table and throws me a heavy glance before he strides outside in the night, " I hope I don’t wake up with a knife to my neck tonight. " " Excuse him. " Niven recovers fast, putting in front of her a chicken leg, " At his twenty something years old he acts like he rules the farm. " We eat in silence for a while, before the priest breaks it again. " My name is Kallus, I am the priest of the village, Thaibar is the name. My parish is a little further from here, you can visit me tomorrow. She is my beloved wife, Cynthia. She’s the village most skilled seamstresses. " " I would love to see Thaibar, I’ve never been here. " I say, letting a little bit of truth to come through. " Marvelous! I haven’t had a grocery shopping partner since- " Niven stops abruptly, like she was struck by a rock in the back of the head. " Since I broke my leg, a year ago, and I wasn’t able to walk long distances anymore. " her mother explains, with the same straight smile on her face. I stand up to help Cynthia clean, but she interrupts me with a hands gesture. " Don’t worry about it, I can handle it. Go to sleep with Niven, you might need every minute of sleep for what’s to come. " " Are you certain? I can at least wash the dishes or sweep. " " Cyan, be at peace, as long as you stay here you’ll have plenty to do. " Kallus giggles, gathering the crumbs from the table and stacking the plates on top of each other, " I can find you a job, if you desire. What did you do before? " Here it was. The first trap question. The first question I had to give a good lie and an honest answer at the same time. I couldn’t say I used to work in the IT field, I don’t think they had that here. I was not an engineer either and as it seems, on this realm it wasn’t a job for women to do. So the right answer was the truth. But what truth? Was I a doctor? No. My knowledge in this field was still limited to more theory and less practice. I had barely caught the vein of the last patient. Even so, I knew minimal things. And I was spared of using injections as I don’t think this society even knows what an injection is… I guess. " Apprentice! " Niven exclaims, grabbing my hand under the table. " Exactly! I was an apprentice at a local drugstore. I worked for a doctor: made cures, clean wounds, stitch them under supervision, took blood pressures. " Goddammit! I over exaggerated a little. " Wonderful! I have an acquaintance at the palace. She also works in the village sometime. She needs an apprentice. " A few seconds pass before I can fully process what Kallus said, " Palace? " Cynthia turns from the dishes, splashing the soap on the cupboard, " Yes, the palace of His Majesty Draegan, bastard son of the last King of Hybern. " Her face molds in a disgusted figure, but she hides it quickly, continuing her occupation. She hits the plates a few times, her hands shaking almost imperceptibly, " You don’t have to work there if you don’t want to, Cyan. " For a second I have the weird impression that I am in a play, waiting for the curtain to fall and the drama to be over. " Forgive me, you mentioned… you really said Hybern? " I blink like a dumb puppet, fidgeting my hands on my lap, ripping the skin from my nails. God. What the fuck. I was so behind with everything that was happening around me that I didn’t even realize when I stood up and brought the last dishes to Cynthia. Being so close to her right now, I study her ears, expecting to find the inhuman sharpness, but all I see is the elegant round shape and a pair of small silver earrings. " You heard well. " the woman watches me with doe eyes, an older version of Niven, with sweet and motherly features, " But no one forces you to work there. We know the environment, Kallus can find anything else until… you’ll be ready to search for your parents, for your home. You do have parents, no? " " I… " As the last remains of air left my lungs, the room begins to be too warm for my likings and to small to contain the three of us. I never experienced claustrophobia, I never suffered of it, but now, I could feel an unfamiliar sensation filling my head. The walls seemed to tighten at the corner of my eyes and the oxygen was slowly running out. Memories burn my scalp from the inside, and an image of my mother’s face covers Cynthia’s for a split second. They had so many things in common. I never noticed. The eyes, the mouth, the maternal feeling of protecting you with her own life. My throat start aching from the attempts of stopping my tears. " I have a mother. " I admit, letting Cynthia’s soapy hand to rest over mine, watching the bubbles soaking my sleeve. I have a father, as well, but I couldn’t say that I missed him as much as I missed her, that I could give my life for him as fast as I would do for my mother. No hesitation. A tear escapes my face, dripping on our locked hands, " I don’t know where I can find her. " The truth leaves my lips and Cynthia’s face goes trough a series of emotions: fury, sorrow, helplessness. She reaches out to hold me in her arms and I stiffen, dismayed by her mercy and unused with the act of showing affection, but I lay there, with my head against her shoulder and my hands frozen midway. I collapse on my knees and start crying, muffling the sounds in her shoulder, feeding my energy with hers. " I’ll help you find them, my child, I will do my best. " She promises, crushing me in her hug.Kallus turns and gently caresses the scarf covering my hair. I can’t look at him, I murmur something that even I can’t understand. He nods and smiles sadly, contemplating. Fear and pain take away the tenderness and happiness of his green eyes, and for a mere second, tears gather on his lower eyelid. A tragic note takes over the room, as if foreshadowing misfortune and agony. " Go get some sleep, Cyan. Tomorrow morning we’ll get to the village’s healer, to make sure you don’t have any serious injuries and see what we can do with that apprenticeship. " When I lift my head I see Niven patting my back, a brief kind smile on her face. Somehow, her support helped me so much to find back the strength to stand back on my feet. Her aura was so bright and resilient, drawing me toward her, showing me the full half of the glass. " You can stay here with us, until we find a way to solve this or you wish to leave… " Cynthia wipes my red cheeks of tears and gives me a tender kiss on my forehead. " I can work, I want to work. " I didn’t want to be trapped here and do nothing, be taken care of. I want much more than that, I am much more than a fragile human falling from the sky. I want t to try and find my way home, try to adventure in this world, find answers, solve my problems. After all, to be more tough. " Come on, you need sleep for tomorrow. " Niven whispers, resting her palm on my shoulder. " May your hands be healthy, Cynthia, the meal was delicious, and much honor to you, Kallus, for such a heartwarming introduction. " The priest laughs, signaling us to leave. An emerald necklace glides from underneath his black robe, stealing my eyes for a moment with it’s shine. The walk to our bedroom is covered in silence, digesting the events from the nights, both of us wondering in secret what will happen with this charade that we created. Niven’s face was shadowed, even with all the lights from the stars shinning above us. She seemed touched, like a brick of her sweet façade went to dust. Since I was a child I was overwhelmed by other’s feelings, gifted with such an intense empathy, almost drowning in other’s anger or depression. The moments where the emotions belonged to me only were rare, scattered and forgotten, ‘cause they still bring me back to a dark place. So, seeing my savior, should I call her like that, in a questionable mood, made my anxiety rise. Was she going to kill me by daylight? We shall see. Was she going to stare at me as I slept? Probably, maybe she’ll even imagine murdering me. " Good night, big brother! " Niven’s shouts, but doesn’t receive any verbal answers in return, only a displeased grunt. She offers me a simple, white nightgown, twin to hers and she moves to button up my dress and untie my hair. " My mother will make you a more practical line of clothing and a nightgown. I hope you don’t mind wearing mine until she finishes them. " " I must thank you again for your kindness, Niven. I’ll take anything you can give me and appreciate it as if it was my own. " I gather some courage and hug her lightly. " I’ve always wanted a sister, you know? Maybe The Mother finally makes my dream come true. " We giggle and I take my place in the bed, guiding myself after her: I on the right, with my face facing the window and her on the left, towards the door. I was hungry after sleep, but the hard mattress wasn’t really helping me too much to find a comfortable position for my sensitive cervical. I always had troubles with pillows. They gave me terrible headaches in my sleep if they were too hard or too soft. Anyone would say that maybe I was spoiled, but it really was a menace sleeping sometimes. A thought kept giving me a hard time. " Niven, I don’t seem to remember but, can you remind me of what’s further from Hybern? " She turns her body towards me and I do the same, with our knees gathered up and touching under the blanket. " Well, I never went to study. My father taught me and my brother, alongside some other children with no financial possibilities a few things about geography and history, so please don’t laugh at me. " she pauses, putting her pillow on a more comfortable position and continues, " There are two other continents: Prythian, right next to us and the Faerie Realms, farther away. I never travelled, you know, women are not allowed on ships as it is said they bring misfortune on the sea, but my father went in many trips to gather people for his church, The Saint Mother’s church. He’s not like the The Old Nuns, you know? My father tries to bring back an old cult. " she stops, eyes wide, like a pigeon got out of her mouth, " Don’t mention this to anyone. I don’t really have someone to talk to, it slipped out. " I smile, half asleep, and give her reassurance, " I won’t tell anyone, I promise. " I search for her hand under the sheets and put my little finger over hers, making a pact. Her brown eyes shine and she blushes. " I have a cousin in the Faerie Realm, in Scythia, actually, we have seen each other very rarely. People speak she is a witch. I asked if she could show me some tricks, but she makes fun of me and scolds me for giving rumors too much attention. " Witches? I rummage trough my memories in search of this species. Was it mentioned in the books? I can only remember the faes and the half-faes being mainly mentioned. Also, The Weaver, The Bone Carver, Koschei and the one that kept scaring Cassian. I can’t remember his name. But there was another problem. In what book was I present? Cynthia mentioned there was someone else ruling Hybern now, the dead king’s bastard son. If the king was dead, than I must have fallen sometime after the third book. Also, this situation wasn’t all the way sure, as the king’s name was never mentioned. Maybe I was present before the action from the series even occurred. My brain stopped working for a second, and tiredness crept inside me, blocking me from thinking more. After all, I have no certainty other than some names that I truly am in Maas’s universe. Maybe all the other circles I fell through must have been the other book’s realms, Aelin’s and Bryce’s. " Do witches exist? " " Oh, yes. " Nivy raises her thin brows and nods her head, " There are plenty of other creatures luring around these realms. That’s why the meadow is dangerous after the sun sets. But no one wants to admit the truth. " " What kind of creatures are in Prithyan? " I ask, pretending to be stupid. " Mostly Faes, higher and lower faes, or at least I know of. But don’t worry, they are all barbarians. They killed the last King of Hybern during the war, but the court from here put Draegan on the throne almost immediately, to exclude any other competition or complications. " " Are there any boats that travel to Prythian? " Niven blinks often, confused and thinks for a few moments, " There is, but I told you women are not allowed to travel the sea. That’s why I’m trapped here. The handful of people that still live on these lands are fewer and fewer and more corrupt, the new king is even crazier than the last one. " " Aren’t you afraid? " " I am, especially for Shum. " She whispers and turns her face to the ceiling. " Why? He works at the palace? " " He does, he brings a lot of money to the table, but the palace is not a safe environment for his temper. " she clarifies and watches me with teary eyes, " He has good intentions, I know it inside my heart, but sometimes harsh words escape his mouth and says the wrong things at the wrong time. Yesterday, he stole a mare from the kingdom, brought her here. They were going to kill her ‘cause she’s not able to give birth, she’s weak and is a half-breed. " My heart tightens in my chest and I bite my inner cheek, mimicking her position, " I can’t say I blame him, I would do the same if I had the courage. " " I wouldn’t. I have reasons to live, I have a goal. I want to achieve it while I’m still breathing. " " What purpose? " " Peace. " Peace. It sounded forbidden and out of place. These lands never saw peace, as far as I can remember. So I understand her wish: to live in serenity with your family, to have no fear for what tomorrow could bring. This world was not for the weak and even if everyone kept praising the fact that dreamers could survive and rebuilt, is the hope that often killes us from the inside. " Take me tomorrow to see the mare, please. " " I promise. " she laughs softly and closes her eyes. Author’s POV: The night of the Summer Solstice was almost over. A cryptic deity seemed to watch over the waken world, waiting, lurking inside their dreams, feeding from their nightmares. The honeyed air held the same thickness, piercing like a bewitched dust through Velaris’s barrier, causing it’s inhabitants to toss and turn in their beds. Tormented from the unusual temperature, many of them opened the windows, letting the amber aroma to fill their rooms and draw them into a profound sleep. The weakest of them burned bay leaves in their chambers, overwhelmed by the state of anguish floating in the atmosphere. Not even the magpies with their cursed song didn’t held the courage to sing. The River House was quiet after the late discussion of Nesta’s future. Feyre and Rhysand were long asleep and Cassian flew to the House of Wind to have some space before he needed to face the elder sister’s rage. Even the Spymaster’s shadows were sedated. Only the nightmares seemed to find Azriel’s barely enough sleep, seething his mind, poisoning his only hours of rest. He fell into a deep state of unconsciousness, something unusual for him to do, leaving his back towards the ajar door and his scattered hand placid on the dagger underneath his pillow. His senses abandoned themselves in the amber aroma, subdued and unresponsive, guided by a velvety feeling in a tumultuous dream. His heavy wings were scattered on the large bed behind him, twitching from time to time, and his right leg hanged inert from the edge. Azriel was half dressed, getting rid of his shirt during the night, tortured by the warmth, even his pants were too much to bear on his sweaty, sun kissed skin, but he had no will nor power to take them off as well. The Shadowsinger slept facing the window, letting the starry sky to caress his marble carved face, leaving the Goddess the rare opportunity to devour his beauty. His cheeks trembled and a permanent frown was tattooed between his full brows. A few drops of sweat fell from his wet curls, caressed his temple, his neck, spiraling down his flexed shoulders and ended on the damp white sheets beneath his massive body. An inaudible sight left his dry lips as a pair of malicious eyes appeared behind his eyelids, soothing and alluring, making his chest to halt in agony and longing. He thanked the Mother for sending Elain into his dreams, but deep inside he knew it was not her who visited his mind. For she tasted like honey and fresh spring and this other…thing left his mouth salty and his tongue thirsty for wine. He felt like he was drowning in a green sea, in foamy waves and sorrow. Azriel could almost touch it, could feel it wrapped around him, pressing on his chest, swallowing him whole.
" Wake up… "
Azriel’s eyes snapped open, feeling the nausea falling over him and his body stiff. He scanned the room alarmed by the sudden emotions asphyxiating him, wary of the presence who watched him sleep not long ago. The shadows where still gone, but he could sense the lingering aura the creature left behind. Forcing himself to leave the bed, he searched the whole house, gripping Truth-Teller in his fist, tasting his sweat in his mouth. Azriel was determined to rip the guts from the thing that made the whole house smell of musk and amber and… burned skin. He knew that in the shelter provided by darkness spells bound more easily and the effects over people where swifter. Even before he went to sleep he could tell something was wrong with the nature and the course of time, as if the hours were as bewildered. The fact that he managed to fall asleep was a big question he had to think about, but as he examined room after room and the gardens outside, his intuition grew foggier. There was nothing to be found or if it truly was something in the house, it was long gone before he woke up. Watching the full moon come into sight behind the multitude of stars, Azriel swallowed hard. The ache in his chest grew bigger, stronger, bringing him to his knees and making his senses go crazy. He touched his torso, feeling the warmth spreading across his pectorals, crawling up his neck.
" Wake up, it’s a trap… "
He couldn’t see anything but the same pair of eyes, pleading again and again for him to wake up, begging him to be aware. He opened his mouth to scream in despair, he forced his mind to send a message, but he was bound, his mind, his heart, his arms. Invisible strings biting into his skin and his soul. But he was awake, wasn’t he?
" Wake up! "
Azriel jumped from his bed, standing on his feet, growling and bearing his teeth. He was awake now, he was aware, but the only thing that remained from his nightmare, was the feeling of him being bound. Amren got out of the bed she shared with Varyan, who was still fast asleep, and frowned at the illuminated towers of the City of Dreams. The sweat running down her spine made her aware of the tight feeling inside her chest and her naked body that felt submerged in tar. The feeling was familiar and a shiver made her matted hair stand on her neck. Something had happened somewhere in the world, something of such magnitude that pierced through the barrier she herself created and endangered the atmosphere of Velaris. Amren knew enough people capable of such power, but to her peace, they were all stuck in another world or as she hoped, dead. But her instinct whispered something else and the centuries she lived made her much wiser than to rely on some hopes she made. Turning on her heels she pulled a satin robe from the back of a chair and stepped into the darkness of her house, finding her path without any need of candles. Her eyesight was still almost as good as when she had her full powers.♤♡♤♡ Amren stopped for a second with her eyes resting on the floor. Her pride forbade her of complaining or show her true emotions, but she had to be true to herself and admit, at nightfall, that she was still struggling with this body. From head to toe a High Fae, useless, without powers and without the desire to consume blood. It disgusted her the way she had to use a toilet and eat fried meat. She gritted her teeth and entered her office. It was not the first time she thought of accessing the hidden safe, hoping she’ll find something to help her, but just as many times she had withdrawn the idea, knowing that the sacrifices required were far too great and too dangerous. She couldn’t take them, not when she finally had something to be happy about, a family. Not when she had Varian by her side, accepting her as she is. But tonight she failed. A fear settled in her stomach and she knew where to turn if she needed ancient information. Amren walked to the massive desk and fumbled for the charcoal key, hidden inside the pages of a book about Old Gods and stuck it into the rusty frog under the desk. Careful not to trigger the magic dust trap she had set to protect the object inside, she took the aspen wooden box and wiped it the palm of her hand. She searched with her fingertips the hidden cavity and placed the ruby pendant from around her neck in it, opening the lid. The whispers immediately reached her sensitive ears before she even saw the petite book. The heady smell of bergamot and jasmine almost made her sneeze. The scent of angels made her wince. She knew this was a cheap façade and that they stank of clotted blood and battle powder. She also knew that the pages were visible during the night-time, in the moonlight or during an equinox. Candles perturbed her and manipulated them to her will. A smart grimoire. As she flipped through the pages, she found the name of her old master and her heart stopped while she quickly read the information. The heath did not foresee his coming, nothing like this was inscribed in the hieroglyphs of the ancient language or through the pentagrams. The apocalypse was still far away. Something else caught her attention, in exchange. The grimoire chose a few letters and made them float at the top of the page, dispersed. Amren quickly pulled out a paper and a quill and dipped it in the ink, writing down meaningless sentences after sentences. She spent a hours inside the office, until the east birthed the sun forcing the letters be to erased and the pages to wrinkle as if they were burned. No information came forward. Amren knew she had to report this to Rhysand. But as the sun descended to the page on which she had written all the word and sentences, the ink darkened in some places revealing a single clue, insignificant and leading nowhere. What was that? A village? A city on the continent? A flower or an animal? Who bears this name?
" Vesper. "
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 4
The Countess
When the first sign that the sun peeked through the mountain ridges appeared, I had already been awake for almost half and hour, fully aware that I had visited someone else's dream. It wasn't my purpose, on the first place. I lacked the skills and the determination necessary for such an... abnormality. Not to mention that I had no idea something like this was possible. Sleep found me immediately after I put my head on the cold pillow and, for a long time, I dreamed nothing but rhythmic undulation of darkness. Behind my eyelids, there was nothing but a black void with colored fireworks, from time to time. I think my sleep ' adventure ' took place much earlier in the morning. I knew a little about the REM cycle and how most dreams happen in the last part of it. I could swear it wasn't just a figment of my imagination: the fragrances, my steps, the house, the burn. It had to be real. Nothing surprised me at this point. You could tell me you were a little elf in disguise and I would believe you, no second thoughts. However, I was not entirely sure of the things I had seen. Sequences after sequences were chained together, but in an order that seemed to be constantly changing. I was aware only about the suffocating atmosphere and the feeling that time was passing so slowly, that even my actions were letargic. In my head, there is a clear image of a large room, with tall ceilings and mint green painted walls. Were they actually green? It was nothing like the ones I saw in my old world. I could sense various perfumes, mixing and becoming one: fresh roses, jasmine and something more... strong, metallic, something that reminded me of iron. I remember how simple the furniture was arranged: fluffy armchairs, the recently extinguished fireplace, the polished floor that didn't make any squeaking sounds, even the few remaining cups left on the table, as if the residents had just gotten up and left. Through my eyes, everything was dressed in black and blue, like I had a thin veil over my face, preventing me from seeing the truth. I studied a few paintings that were hanging above the stairs. In one of them, a young lady was wearing a delicate crown made of stars over her complicated braided hair. Could that be?.... Maybe, I can't recall exactly her description but... She was so different from how I imagined her. Was I actually in their home? Would they know someone was in here? My attention is captured by a sudden glow near the fireplace: a letter-opening knife, wrapped in black leather. I grab it, without thinking much further, and I jolt back, caught off guard by the burning sensation that stained my right hand. The dream shifts again, before I am able to make any sounds of protest, and I end up in another part of the house: a long, black hall, filled on both sides with unwelcoming, closed doors. I desperately examine my palms, still feeling the dreadful sensation of my skin being ignited by the blazing blade, but nothing was there anymore. Raising my head, I search the harsh atmosphere of this place. Even the glamorous black wood of the furniture seemed unfriendly. A sweet aroma hits my nose and I almost grunt, indulging myself in that masculine scent. It was like stepping outside, in the pouring rain, and taking the first breath of the freshly watered environment. I had no clue if it was the barely breathable air that was bringing to the surface all these fragrances or if it was only in my mind. My own skin starts to tingle when I touch the cold handle of the door placed right in front of me. Closing my eyes, I exhale, ready for the things waiting for me on the other side. To my disapointment, I wake up before I am able to discover what was hiding behind the door. The only detail I left with was the aching memory of a firm and sweaty body, trapped under my fingertips. Contrary to all these senses that brought me to a stage of ecstasy, there was the salty taste of seaweed, covering my tongue and dragging me outside my head. The little room was the same as I left it when I drifted off to sleep. Me falling through several circles and ending in a weird dimension was no nightmare. So was the fact that I was an orphan. As pleasing as it was pungent, the smell of hay and grass was still a dull reminder of the place I was captive. The doused fire no longer prevented the coolness from creeping through the cracked door. Giving him free will, his teeth sank into my thigh, causing it to hurt even more. Standing up, I look at Nivy, still deeply asleep, turned with her back towards me. Her pale skin shone almost transparently in the dim light of sunrise, contrasting with her brunette curls. Strands of her hair came loose from the braids she made before falling asleep and were stuck to her neck. She resembled Snow White so much, radiating innocence and kindness even when she was unconscious. A strangely familiar pain makes my heart drop in my stomach. I contract my right hand a few times, letting the shock to diminish and the truth to sink in. The universe was crossing a line here. Pulling my arm from under the cover, I evaluate the satisfying weight of the object: a marvelous knife, still icy against my fingers. The silver handle was wrapped in smooth, dark leather, and in the middle laid a petite blue stone. A sapphire? The freshly sharpened blade glimed blindingly even in the obscure rays of sunrise. It was of an harmless simplicity, but it held in its vibration a violent beauty, as if the former owner had imprinted his own personality in it. To make my suspicions come true, I search the palm of my right hand. The tip of the knife stained my skin with a furious red, as if it was accusing me of stealing it on purpose. Abscess bubbles stained from place to place my wound, giving me a hard time closing my fist without eventually bursting them. Was it going to stress me out the whole day? Surely. Was there anything else that could surprise me? Most probably. This was the kind of world where everything was possible if you had enough ambition and if you were able to manifestate. It was a world of magic and supernatural. It would be a great thing to stay alive until I find a way back home. If I can manage to do that too. Now, a phone would have been amazing, even a laptop or a computer. I would be able to do a quick research about Thaibar and their ways of living. These guys didn't even had a car that I could borrow. On the outside window's sill, the shadow of a thin cat makes my heart race inside my chest. I exhale, full of hope and muster up the courage to remove my feet from under the warm sheets. I firmly stick them to the wooden floor, trying my best to not be defeated by the cold morning chill. I hide the knife between the clothes Niven gave me yesterday, constantly checking on her. " Icarus? " I whisper, somewhat affected by my own delusional conviction and gently pull the muslin curtains. On the other side of the fogged glass, a gray shadow studies me, its chest and upped lip stained with a white patch. He doesn't recognize me and sniffs the window in disbelief, trying to expose my intentions. Disappointment is a much easier word to say than to feel, because more often it affects your lungs, drowning them in breaths that are insufficient in oxygen, making you unable to fully live in the present. Icarus was not on the other side of the barrier, obviously. He was lost somewhere down the line of time, in another world, waiting for me to come back home. This was my greatest fear and it came true: losing the animal that had truly loved me from the beginning. For a second, I press my forehead on the cold glass, remembering the black fur and the way it felt when I ran my cheeks over it. Even his distinctive smell was present in my memory, the only thing that made me feel like I was home. Carefully, I open the window, finding myself nose to nose with an unwelcoming stare. My skin tightens under the action of the bleak morning wind and my teeth chatter on command. The cat sniffs me again, surprised by the unfamiliar gesture. " I am... Cyan... " I hesitate, still unable to recall my name, and dare to caress his pink ears with a finger. " Do you have a name? Maybe I can call you Misty, as the weather we met in. What do you say? " She doesn't reject me, the only sign that she agrees with my presence are the slight ups and down of her nostrils. " I have.. " I stop, aware of the mistake I was about to make and reconsider my words, " Had... I had a cat as well, Icarus... " The cat considers me with her wide orange eyes, blinking slowly. She tilts her head to the side and starts purring, looking at me with the same curious expression. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Niven's mother carrying two buckets to the chicken yard, then she disappears completely, drowned by the fog. I offer another warm smile to the cat and close the window, quietly starting to get dressed so I could go out. I put on my clothes the way I had seen Niven do it, taking the piece of wool on top, for an extra amount of warmth to my back. When it comes to my hair, I'm barely able to tie the red ribbon as easily as Nivy. Undecided, I ponder the elegant knife left on the chair. I couldn't leave it here and risk raising more suspicions. I wouldn't know where to hide it, to begin with. It was enough that Shum had the impression that I was going to murder them all in their sleep. He didn't need any evidence too. Without another word, I raise the hem of my skirt, wrap a handkerchief around the blade and tuck it into my tights. If I was lucky enough, it would go unnoticed. I take one last look at the girl's still and even breathing body and gently close the door. Crossing the dimly lit hall, I take a quick glance towards Shum's room. He was the one who was going to kill me if he found out what I had in my pants. Once outside, I take a deep breath of the humid atmosphere, feeling the faint scent of amber tickling my nostrils. Niven's mother raises her forehead from the buckets of water and signals me to come to her. With another red kerchief clutched between my fingers, I awkwardly step forward, covering as much as possible the faint limp. I loved the mountain air even when I was at home, but here it was different. It seemed fresher, richer. Even the thick fog covering the mountain peaks in the distance was perfect, as if I was watching a bitter painting about the end of winter. The majority of animals had woken up and Cynthia had already started her morning routine. The woman was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, with her skirt tucked into the waistband of her pants and a brown woolen vest to cover her torso. A hoarse ' meow ' prickles my ears and I notice the small skinny creature following me closely. I get on my knees and try to grab her, so I can warm her inside my clothes, but she avoids me, contenting herself to just follow me from a distance. " Good morning, Cyan! " Cynthia greets me with a big smile and a pair of rosy cheeks due to the morning chill, "I hope you slept well. Do you need my help with the kerchief? " " Good morning to you too, ma'am! I..." I'm at a loss for words, forgetting about the soft scarf in my fist. I nod my head, not really knowing what was I doing with it or why I hadn't arranged it myself. " Come, give it to me. Was it warm enough last night? Did Nivy push you out of the bed? I noticed that there was no smoke coming out of the chimney for quite some time and I thought that it must have gotten terribly cold inside. " " Honestly, I didn't even realize when the fire ran out. And no, Niven slept on her side of the bed all night. " I admit, enjoying the soft touch of her fingers on my scalp, " It was warm under the sheets, the problem appeared when I got up. " I giggle carefree and turn to face her when she finishes arranging my kerchief. Her icy fingers run down my face, then to my shoulders, caressing me. She adjusts my woolen scarf around my waist and takes my hands in hers. I barely contain a grimace of pain when Cynthia squeezes my right palm, digging her short nails in my burned skin. A tortured sound comes out of my mouth and I try to mask it, by clearing my throat. " Done. This will help you with the cold. " She smiles again, rubbing our palms together to warm them up. " How did you wake up so early? With Nivy, I have to fight wars to get her up at seven, at least. " Biting my tongue, I happily endure the stinging sensation, if it meant seeing Cynthia joyful. I loved making small talk with her. Her voice resembled my mother's, and I ached to hear it again, even if it was another woman in front of me. " I'm a morning person, in general. I used to help my mother with chores around the yard. " I admit, thinking about how every morning, Icarus woke me up at 5 am by laying on my chest and purring quietly. He used to lick my face and wait for me to get up so I could change his water and give him food. Not even the mother part wasn't a lie. When I was at home, every Saturday, we cleaned together and after we finished, we went into the kitchen to cook. It was one of the things that united us and helped us forget about certain problems. My father was one of them, and we both used to suffered because of it. " Your mother is lucky to have you. " Cynthia lifts one of the buckets and empties it into one of the pig's water bowls. " Let me help you. " Rushing to another bucket, I pick it up and do the same thing as her. " Oh, ha, there's no need. " She chuckles, looking at me in a motherly way, " I do this every morning, I can handle it, it calms me. It's my only moment of peace. " " I believe you. My mother used to say the same thing. " " Alright, then come help me with the grains, then we have to feed some hay to the horses. I will teach you. " I agree, feeling a ghostly joy settle in my chest. God, at least I was a little useful. " When you have time, maybe you'll show me how you make the bread. It was one of the best things eaten. " Cynthia turn towards me, pure shock written on her face, then bursts out laughing, " Gods! Of course! I'd love to teach you! " For the next two hours, I learned to be Cynthia's shadow. I carried buckets, raked leaves, I fed horses and I found the courage to touch them. I've never had the privilege of being so close to such a majestic and imposing creature. They smelled like hay and spring water and their hair was shiny and healthy. I knew from articles online that they were one of the most intelligent animals. There were four horses here: two stallions, a white mare and another one, a smaller one, the one I assumed Shum saved from being killed. The mare had matted black fur and was so weak that she could not stand up. Her left eye was constantly watering and seemed slightly infected. Shum had taken care of her as best as he could: her stable was freshly cleaned and she had more food than the others. But it was in vain if she didn't eat at all. " Hey... " I greet her in a whisper tone and reach out my hand, pressing it to her dry muzzle. " You're not feeling very well, are you? " Her breaths were shallow and heavy and she could barely keep her head straight. However, the horse didn't seem to have a problem with me touching her, so I pluck up the courage to brush her and try to remove some of the dead hair. Shum was sure to be angry at what I was about to do. I grit my teeth and ask Cynthia for some instructions. According to her, I find the chamomile on top of a shelf in the kitchen, alongside some apples and carrots. I put some of the leaves in an already boiling water and leave it for a couple of minutes. Then, I go up to the attic and get some torn and unused clothes and a small block of salt, that I break into tinier pieces. After I gathered everything I needed, I got down to business. I made a bed for the mare, with hay at the bottom, to make it softer, and all the old clothes on top, to keep her warm. She didn't seem eager to sit on it, but I wasn't discouraged and gave her space. After all, she was still too weak to move. While the tea was still warm, I wiped the mess from her eyes, disinfecting the area. She didn't have any strength in her to resist me and she didn't even try to. She left her heavy head in my lap, allowing me to take care of her as best as I knew. With what was left from my tea, I brushed her hair again, giving it a glossy shade of black. Using one of the knives I had stolen from the kitchen, I cut the apples and carrots in tiny pieces, so she wouldn't have to make too much effort to chew on them. The mare sniffed the food and refused them vehemently. I set them aside and reach for the salt. A thrill of happiness revived my souls and tears gathered at the corners of my eyes when she ate all of it, getting the necessary minerals for her muscles. She'll be strong when she recovers. " Be brave and trust yourself, we will get you to feel better. " After I said my goodbye to the mare I went outside again. Misty followed me around all day, so from time to time, I stole a piece of raw meat or bread and sneaked it to her. Around eight in the morning, Niven made her presence felt in the yard, walking out of the house with Shum. He was wearing a minimal outfit: a white shirt, a vest on top, a pair of loose trousers and worn boots. " Oho! Good morning, ray of sunshine! " Nivy chirps, hugging me as if she's known me all her life, " Mother! Where's papa? " " To the parish. He'll come back to get you to the medic and then see if he can find Cyan some work to do. " Shum walks past me scowling and grumbling under his breath, avoiding my gaze. " Who fed the dogs?! " He shouted, staring frantically at the empty bowls in front of the cages. " I did. " I admit, feeling somewhat guilty for something I still don't know if I should be or not. Shum turns his obsidian locks towards me, his face contorted by hatred. With his fists clenched, he rushes towards me like an uncontrollable whirlwind. " Witch! Disguised witch! You want to poison my dogs! " He screamed, throwing his arms in the air, " Their diet is special! They don't need to eat fats, we don't want lazy dogs around the farm! They must hunt and protect us! " I take a few steps back, raising my hand protectively. My mouth drops open and I frown, still stunned by the reason he was angry with me. " Shum, what has gotten into you? " Niven steps between us, blocking him with her own body. " Even I feed the damned dogs sometimes. They are not always meant to hunt! " " You think you're smarter than me?! " Drips of drool fly into the air as the two brothers push each other wildly. " Step aside, Nivena. You're as blind as our mother and I have a feeling you'll end up just as crazy as her. " " Right now, you are the crazy one, brother. Do you even hear yourself? " The girl fiercely knocks him against the wooden fence that separated the horse stalls from the rest of the yard. " You are wasting your brain cells among all the scumbags you consider friends and you forget why we came here in the first place. Do you really think it would have been better for us to go back to where we came from? " " Yes! Yes! We would have been home! " He yelled back coming closer to her face and grabs Niven's vest in his fist. " Shum, I'm terribly sorry. I had no idea... " I start, keeping my hands in the air, feeling all the joy their mother gave me evaporating from my system. " Don't say a word to him, Cyan. One who doesn't believe in what he sees doesn't deserve your apology. " Niven slaps his hand and moves away from him. Shum doesn't stop and grabs her forearm violently, " Let me go, you bastard! Don't forget that at our old home we were only servants, not people. " " Are you all blind? She's trying to get under our skin. She's a fucking witch, an energy sucker! She's got you all in a daze! " " I only tried to help Cynthia, to make her work easier, to make myself useful... " " You are a pitiful orphan! " He spat in my face, pointing with a finger in my direction, " A thief, a face carved in blood, a pagan! " " A face carved in blood? " Niven asks, astonished by her brother's words and moves closer to me, holding my hand. " What the fuck are you saying? " Her unexpected rage throws me off-guard, witnessing another side of her. The girl's once soft features shift into sharp ones: her deer eyes take on an agile glow, much like a hunter's, her eyebrows arch high on her forehead and her body suddenly tenses up, seeming to explode through her own clothes. A sense of danger creeps inside my head and I feel unsure of how to react. " That is enough, son! " Their father's raucous voice makes us all startle, taken by surprise by his sudden apparition. " Go to you sheep and don't come back till sunset... ". The priest grabs Shum by the elbow and throws him a few steps away from his sister. It was an odd situation to witness. An old man, with an appearance shaped by life's hard challenges, fully clothed in his parish attire and barely holding into his tears. The green in his eyes diminishes, as if his own strength abandoned him by cursing his son. The boy seemed so much younger now that he was being stripped of his selfishness by his own father. The madness that took over him suddenly leaving his expression hollow. The air around him changes, heartbreak being written all over him now. Kallus takes off his black hat, clenching it tightly in his fists as he watches Shum drift off into the distance. A golden ring shines on his pinky finger, revealing the circular spirals of a snake. How odd to see such a cunning creature on a man who preaches god's doings. I raise my eyebrows and bite my inner cheeks, feeling like an intruder even more. I had to get out. I had to find a way home. But how the fuck will I do that without raising any suspicions? I need to get my hands on a map at least. Would that be of any use, actually? I read these books a long, long time ago. I only remember some of the major plots and... that's it. Entranced, I squeeze Nivy's arm tighter. My presence here was breaking apart a family and I couldn't be the one responsible for it. I promise myself that I will stay here only a couple more days, then I will leave, with or without the map. Maybe if I died I will be transferred back to my old world, even though I doubt it will be that easy. Cynthia's rosy cheeks wither away, revealing a handful of translucent veins under the skin of her eyelids. Her fragile neck looked like it was going to snap at the first gust of wind. Puzzled, I realize she's been here all along, listening to her own son's insults. With her lips trembling, she swallows hard, hiding her delicate hands behind her brown skirt. A ghost. Cynthia was a ghost. A relic of something that used to love life not long ago, who trampled among the ethereal curtains of time, losing herself among worlds and without purpose. My body feels heavy as I contemplate her existence. She turns on her heels, gloomily entering the farm, like someone had just crushed her last remaining hope. She doesn't turn to watch us anymore, keeping her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. Her soul was a great abyss of sadness and I was afraid she could drown in any minute. " Cynthia, my love... " Kallus mutters her name, a bitter pain etched in his posture. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, trying as hard as possible to not cry as well. I felt tied to a barbell and thrown somewhere in a deep sea. Unable to swim, I sink and suffocate and suffer and enjoy the feeling of letting go. I feel my skirt pulled down by a corner, and notice the little gray cat sitting still next to my leg. She stares deeply into my eyes, as if distracting me from the pit that was slowly swallowing my positivity. I count the vapors that form in the air due to my breathing and raise a silent prayer along with them: may everything end quickly and well for everyone. I give Misty my most sincere smile and thank her for the piece of serenity she tried to bring me. The priest takes a deep breath and gently touches Niven on her back, " Come on, girls, we have a hard day ahead of us. " He awkwardly tries to lift our morals, smiling slightly in the corners of his mouth, a smile that doesn't meet his cheerless eyes. Niven quicly wipes a tear from her cheek, reviving the same gentle and naive face. Even the pets had remained silent in the courtyard during the fight between them. The air around us changes, being filled with lies and bitterness. The impression that something wrong was going to happen never letting my thoughts rest. This time, I didn't know what to predict and how to prepare. Everything was filled with chaos here and the situations seemed to get out of control quickly. A clear proof was the very knife that I felt hanging heavily from my hip. God forgive me, but in this position, I didn't look like a saint either if they ever find what I was hiding. We don't make any conversation as we wait for Kallus to collect some things from the house before heading to Thaibar. Niven hugs her father before we leave, a silent promise that she will always be by his side. I smile and wrap my arms around myself, trying to offer me the same kind of relief. The girl detaches herself from her father's body and wraps one arm around me, rubbing my back in a warm gesture, " Don't worry, my brother... He's always been like this, with aspirations greater than what he can carry. " She whispers in my ear as we move forward, leaving Kallus lost in his thoughts, a few steps behind us. " I have a friend, in Thaibar. She works at the flower stand opposite the potion store where you're going to be. " Nivy informs me, somehow trying to erase from our memory the last twenty minutes, " Her names is Aoife. We met when we were a little younger, at one of the village's spring rituals. " I remember this. The Spring Court had something... similar, if not the same ritual. I just couldn't remember what it was called and what his purpose was. " Ao-.., what a complicated name. A-o-i-... " " No, no. It's pronounced Ee, that is, repeat after me. Ee-fa, Eee-faa. Did you catch it? " " Eee-faa. " I chatter my lips a few times, guided by Niven until she agrees that I won't make a fool out of myself in front of a stranger. " She's one of the main claims of the Resurgence. " " Resurgence? What's it about? " " It's exactly what the name means: a spring ritual, a celebration of the world being revived after the cold winter, The Resurgence... " Niven dramatically gestures the word, using her long limbs to draw a circle in the air. " Young girls are put in the river that springs from the mountain ridge to wash away their sins accumulated over the year. They get ' cleansed ' for marriage. In their hands they hold a bouquet of corals and the one that attracts the golden fish, the symbol of the ritual... " She says, adding the word ' cleansed ' between two mimed quotation marks, " She's chosen the most beautiful woman in the village. Aoife has been the winner for several years now, but she doesn't seem thrilled by the thought of getting married. " I frown, swallowing any retort related to the misogyny of the stereotype of virginity and the nonsense of ' washing away your sins '. Apparently, nothing was different from my own world, so far. " A very big bullshit, if you ask me. " Niven huffed, arranging some curls that had come loose from her braids. " Each woman in the village has her own assets, and they may or may not be beauty. Everyone is special and everyone is good at something. Beauty is relative and ephemeral and it is always in the eyes of the watcher. " I agree with her, proud by the way she was thinking. I didn't know if it was just her naivety speaking or her experience with life, but I was thrilled by the fact that not every girl here wished to be a servant for men. We were far enough from the farm and now, the first forms of Thaibar could be seen: a few houses of varying sizes, all in the same dreary shades of gray and brown, with little wisps of smoke coming of the chimneys. Some small figures walked outside the wooden walls of the village, getting in and out of the unguarded doors. I was expecting to see soldiers with swords and armors, like I used to see in those ancient movies with princes and princesses. But, apparently, it was not the case here. Maybe the village was too unimportant to be protected. Thaibar was actually small, according to the dimensions that we could comprehend from the high point we were on, and was surrounded by two hills, large enough to hide it from the strangers. " So... " I begin, noticing the smoky clouds that were blocking the sun's rays from shining above the settlement. It seemed as if whatever divinity they were worshipping here, punished them, depriving them of the astral body, cursed to never feel the warmth and beauty of the green and fruitful meadows. Maybe that's why they were all so pale. " So, what, Cyan? What where you going to say? " Nivy reminds me, searching my face with her sweet eyes. She raises her hand and covers my ears with the kerchief, " So you don't get a cold... ", she adds, running her finger through my eyebrows, arranging them. " So, um, you also have rituals here... " I start again, passing the low gates, with the same height as me. I could already notice the shops lining up ahead of us. With my ears, I catch the noisy bustle of the town. " Oh, of course! Who doesn't? Tell me one of yours. " I stare at her with wide eyes, feeling like I was caught again in my own lie. Pecking my lips, I smooth my dark blue skirt and pick some invisible dust from my shoulders. Someone yells from afar that he's selling mudstones, benefic for bone disease, which I quickly interpret as some kind of rheumatism. We used to suffer from that too, in my world. Feathers begin to fly around us when a handful of children chase a brown chicken before us. " The Dead's Saturday. " I remember, smiling pleasantly when Kallus greets some acquaintances from the village. The crown of people seemed to swallow me and Nivy, throwing unpleasant faces into our direction. I watch them back, trying to understand their behaviour towards us. Was it something I did? Or the problem was Kallus and his daughter? Poverty is a soft way of describing these people. They walked barefoot, through puddles of rainwater and horse shit, through piles of mud and garbage left behind by the vegetable stalls. They were miserable. When I caught them talking or smiling, more than one tooth was missing from their mouths and the ones that remained, were decayed and purulent, infections spreading to their gums. Some of these people had swollen face, distorting their features. It wasn't getting any better when it came to their clothes, either. A clear sign of their way of living was the lack of bodily hygiene. They spread a harsh smell of sweat and filth that made you dizzy. The mud was the least of their problems. Patches of clothing were moth-eaten, skirts were torn and holed and so were the men's trousers. There wasn't a wider palette of colors in this world, just brown, black and a washed out red. " The Dead's Saturday... " Niven humms thoughtfully, grasping in her long fingers what appeared to be a soft grapefruit. Please don't eat that... I pray inside my head. My stomach flutters uncontrollably and a lump forms in my throat, threatening to come out in any minute. " Ten habgis, miss Aldo. " Nivy raises her soft eyes to the thin and scantily dressed salesman. He was not dressed accordingly for the cold weather, either. She hands him the requested money and we move on, gifting the fruit to an old woman who sat in the mud, begging for coins. She thanks Niven, returning a toothless smile. " What do you do on this holiday? Besides celebrating the dead, obviously. " The village was disturbingly similar to those depicted in movies like Outlander and The Witcher. I swallow hard, overwhelmed by all the surrounding information and let myself be guided by Niven's bony elbow. Some of the taller, and probably more important, buildings, were made out of stone, while the rest of the houses were built from creaking wood. On both sides of the narrow street were shops with colored dresses displayed in their windows. A symbol was printed on some of the constructions: a spiral leading to two entwined swords. Kallus signals us to follow him, while he manages to slip amond the elderly women who were chatting and exchanging duck eggs. I raise my woolen scarf to my nose, trying to dissipate as much as possible the smell of dry sweat. " We make a cake out of barley in their honor. We enchant it with incense and after that, we go to the cemetery where we surround the grave three times and give the food to them, in the afterlife. " Niven turns to me in awe, as if she was capable of reading my thoughts and drops her innocent feline mask for a few seconds. " It sound like a pagan ritual. ", she whispers, motioning with a finger to be silent. " These things are forbidden in these lands. Only the old deities are glorified here in a futile attempt to awaken them. " I bite my lips, hypnotized by her black eyes with golden iridescence, and I nod my head, obedient. Insecurity settles in my soul and red flags pop up in my head. I must be more careful with these people. What the hell am I thinking? Ancient deities, paganism, rituals with virgins, obscure stories about redheads, nothing I should get involved in. The problem was that the possibility of a connection between my departure from home and myths like this was something that was implying me too. " The immortals! The immortals have come to town! I curse you! " A grumpy old man pounces on me and Niven. He manages to clamp his fist around my wrist, smearing me with soot. A horrifying tremor grips my body as a bloody scene unfolds before my eyes: A burning Thaibar. " In the name of the Mother... " Niven whispers as I rip my hand from his hand. " You brought famine upon Thaibar! " He screams again, bubbles of foam appearing at the corners of his mouth. His white locks were soiled and covered with a hat eaten by moths. Several men, dressed in black armor, surround him and force him on the ground, kicking him in the ribs with their iron shoes. Their faces were covered by a black helmet, not even their eyes could be seen. The same symbol crowned their shoulders and chests, marking them as part of the royal house. " Shut up, you disgusting waste of breath! Find a way to pay your debt to the palace. ", bursts out one of the three men, slamming the poor men's head on the mud. " Niven, they're going to murder him! " I push against her, trying to look over her tall shoulder at the old man's body, now lying inert on a putrid puddle. " He's mad, Cyan... " She snarls at me, managing to get me out of the circle of people gathered to see the slaughter. " It's a fucking human being! " I shout against the loud crowd, watching her reach for her father. " You'll always see these kind of... atrocities here. Get use to it! " Niven lectures me. Kallus stops in front of a cramped house, with a barely legible sign that said ' Potions '. " He's not sane, Cyan. He's always causing trouble for the parish and to village people. " I stare at them, bewildered by their reaction and for a second, I realize how alienated I am from this world. A priest without resentment towards and old man, no matter how crazy he was and his innocent daughter, ignoring him completely, telling me these was common practice. I was going to faint. Biting the inside of my cheek, I close and open my fists a few times, trying to focus on the jerky throb in my leg, only to suppress the emotion that had gripped me. The knife's blade had moved imperceptibly during the time I had been shaken by the old man, and now, it was stabbing my thigh. I rearrange it as imperceptibly as I can, then straighten my back. When we enter the small shop, the heavy smell of freshly burnt bay leaves makes my head spin and I stumble on my own feet. Kallus quickly supports me with both arms and grabs a wooden chair. " Oh my... Cyan, you look so pale... " Nivy pressed her palms against my forehead, checking my temperature. Of course I was. I just saw a man beaten to death while everyone was starring and last night, I was in someone else's house without even trying to do that. I am more than dizzy and pale. I am utterly lost and the risk of me losing my fucking mind has reached alarming levels. The easiest way out was killing myself, but I was too afraid some smartass was going to bring me back to life, not even leaving me to enjoy my time in the afterlife. The vomit rose high in my throat. The ringing in my ears was terribly annoying and in front of my eyes were only smoke of bay leaves. " Nimue! Nimue, quick! " Several silhouettes come to life in front of me and I inhale the vapors, feeling them burn my neck on the inside. Frightened by the winged figure that flied towards my face, I hit them with my hands, making them burst into hot steam. A chocking sensation overwhelms me and I stick my tongue out in a desperate desire to throw up what I've swallowed. It felt like my pharynx had swollen and my lungs had collapsed, inert, leaving me completely breathless. Was I having an anaphylactic shock?! " She's chocking on the smoke. " The priest announces, alarmed, blowing the clouds away from my face. " Nimue! " " Let her throw up if she feels the need to. " Niven says in panic, rubbing my palms into hers, then massaging my chest. I stumble forward and catch Nivy's skirt with my nails. My head feels like it's on fire and my scalp itches terribly. An angular face emerges from the bay smoke I exhale and considers me for a few moments. Or rather he looks through me. The man's elegant features float in the air, waking something inside me, clawing at my rib cage to get out and answer the call. " May the sky give me strength, Kallus! You cast all the devils of the earth upon my head! " A hoarse female voice scratches my eardrums, descending like an angry purple cloud above me, " This girls has the evil spirit inside her! " The wave of air dissipates the saturnine face, caused by the austere woman who now sat in front of me, analyzing my mouth, nose and eyes. I mumble, watching with wide eyes how the smoke splits one last time, changing and unfolding a whole scenario of two people that seemed to be making love.
" The Mother of all we feel... "
" Please... " I gasp, hearing the same song that woke me up inside the oasis, pass my ears briefly. My skin tingles and the burn in my palm sends violent electric waves through my arm. A bony hand grabs my face, digging it's uncut nails in my already wounded cheek. " Open your mouth! " When a sweet drop touches the roof of my oral cavity and trickles down my throat, the song and the smoke stop their torment. My vision clears right away and I finally catch the form of a lady about thirty-five years old, who beholds me warily. " What's this thing doing here? ", she asks, turning my head to inspect the pair of claws I had acquired before I fell through the worlds. I swallow all my ideas, feeling myself seized by her dark violet eyes that seemed to eat you up from the inside out. She licks her thin lips, contoured with a burgundy pencil on the outside, and smiles broadly, " I feel sorry for you soul, little girl. " I blink often, watching her leave me and go behind her work table, covered by mountains of notebooks and bottles, knives and herbs. The berry scent turns my stomach upside down and I can't hold the disgusted expression that slips on my face. I hated berries. " She's the girl I told you about this morning. She says she's trained in the art of medicine. " Kallus begins, getting up from his kneeling position he'd taken when he sat me on the chair and places a protective hand on my shoulder. I still can't find the courage to look at the soul eating woman so I focus on the knife on my hip, it's weight giving me a sense of peace. " I don't need weak disciples, especially not like this one. She's the first branch to break at the slightest breeze. " Nimue responds strictly, dipping one of her small fingers, the one without a nail, in a clear liquor, then smells it. " Do you recall what happened with the last one and the one before him, and so on? No one lasts long enough here. " Kallus takes off his black hat and steps towards her silently, blocking her image with his own body, " I swear, Cyan is not like the others. Not even close. " Dizzy enough, every fast rotation of my head made my balance stagger, even while sitting on a chair. Passively, I scan the gloomy corners of the store. The peeling walls were full of pictures with pentagrams and lists of names of plants and animals. On a far wall, behind the slender woman, there were three pictures hanging, all of them related to the anatomy of a raven, a snake and another that explained how the light protrudes through the eyes. " Ugh, spare me the pleads. ' Chosen ' this, ' Chosen ' that, and yet, the only purpose for which they are ' chosen ' is to die, over and over again. When are you going to learn your lesson, old man? When will you end this mad circus? " The woman props herself on her hands on the table, coming closer to Kallus's face. The hems of her purple velvet dress swept the dirty floor, turning black. The edge of the sleeves were embroidered with a thin layer of golden thread, knotted like thorns up to the elbows. On her left wrist, Nimue wears an elegant golden bracelet, with numerous precious stones attached. " It's the last time, Nimue, we don't even have the energy anymore to keep it like this. " The priest acknowledges her, putting his hat back on top of his black tail. They both turn to me and Niven. The soul eater studies me for a good few moments, then back to Kallus, holding up her imperial posture. " This is the last time. I can't hide the things we do anymore, I don't want to put myself in danger anymore. I want what's left of my life to go down in peace. " " You know why she's here... The silent prayers, even you raise them sometimes. We don't have another purpose here, Nimue. We have been partners for so long, served each other. You, me... Cynthia... " " Haven't I done enough for you and my-... your wife? " Nimue swallows half of her word, causing a bitter taste inside her mouth. " Get up, girl! Let me check you. " Shit. The knife. My back straightens and I let myself be inspected by the weird woman. She held a strange charm in her sharp features. I wouldn't call her beautiful either, she had something special buzzing in her aura. It was the mean behavior that made me dislike her. She unties my scarf from my head with violent movements, pulling a few strands of hair from the back of my neck in the process. She looks inside of my mouth, eyes and ears, then moves to my hands and sternum. Kallus excuses himself and goes outside, seeing that Nimue was about to undress me. Begging anyone willing to listen to help me hide the knife, I start to take off my clothes. I still had no plausible explanation for him. It doesn't even look like a kitchen knife... Left only in my nightgown and a pair of socks, now surely dirty from the floor, she inspects the bruises from my ribs and legs, palpating the violet patches of skin from time to time. Her actions were much more gentle than I imagined them to be and her skin soft enough to barely be felt against my limbs. " You stink of amber... " Nimue mentions, her words full of venom, and she looks at me through her thin eyelashes. " The concussion might affect your memory. I can't tell if it's for a short or long period of time because of the inflammation. I can give you some medicine that you must take at night, before bed. Maybe it will help you dream your memories and discover something about your past. Also, where did you say you fell? The wounds on the thigh and the scalp are swollen and wet, most likely infected too. I'll give you some Echinacea ointment. " " I think somewhere on the meadow. " Shamelessly, I lie, and pull my nightgown back over my legs. We all know I didn't fall in the field. Besides, no one knows how exactly I got out of the oasis and didn't drown. Nimue's eyes sparkle with interest, dissecting my words in her head. Her face twitches as if she's digesting the information. She grins, knowingly, then leaves me get dressed up and signals to Kallus come inside when I am done. " For your happiness, the girl can stay. She'll work with me every morning from 8 to 5 o'clock in the evening and if it's necessary, she'll follow me to the palace and stay past her schedule. I don't want you to talk without being asked and I want you to get rid of that amber perfume. It gives me headaches. At this point, you are not my apprentice, but my servant, until I figure out if you can reach my standards. " Hoe. My perplexed looks turns into a repulsed one. I was used to this kind of humiliation from my former doctors in university. But here, reached another dimension of insensitivity. " Are you dumb or deaf? " " Neither. " I answer, putting my hands behind my back like an obedient little soldier, " Thank you, for your... " Kindness? Reception? Help? Humiliation? " For you help... " " On my life, you're so tiring. Kallus, she's quite fine, just a few bruises and a nasty scratch that'll leave a mark. I hope you don't mind, you're not much of a bless for the eyes. " Niven opens her mouth to object, but I frown at her, not giving her the chance to screw this up. " I give you my gratitude, Nimue. If there's nothing more to add, I'll take the girls and leave you to your duties. " " Aha, no, no. " The soul eater interrupts, raising her head to stop us from leaving. " Let the girl stay, I want to test her before I send her back to you. " The priest nods approvingly and squeezes his fist to his chest in my direction, showing me to have courage. Confused by the situation, I don't even perceive Nivy's light touch on my wrist until is too late. " What can you do? " Nimue asks while tying an apron around her wasp like waist, then starts rummaging around the room, replacing the old books from the table with new ones. Nothing, right now, I knew nothing. I'd rather be a doormat or wash the floors. " I, a... I know a little about everything. " My answer comes out much more skeptical than I intended, feeling my hands shake behind my back. My memory was way behind the things that were happening now. It was still stuck in the trauma I suffered when my parents found out I had a relationship with a girl. So, to try and force her to help me right now, was in vain. I felt exactly like I used to in my old university, when someone asked me a specific thing that I had learned about and I would have a delay. " This is not an answer, redhead. You see, you either pull yourself together and start taking advantage from this service or you realize, early enough I hope, that you're incapable and leave me alone. It is not possible to work with me and have no idea about things like: speaking elegantly and managing situation to come out as you like. Especially, if it's the palace. Come, firstly, clean the place: the tables, the floors, the shelves. After you finish, there are plenty of bottles and jars waiting to be washed and filed in order. " Before she could finish her sentence, I rush to take an apron and tie it around me so I can begin with my chores. " Arrange the potion books according to the level of effectiveness and also, depending on the difficulty of obtaining them. " She stops and makes a revolted face, " Oh, and take that scarf off your head. We're not in the damned yard here. Don't make me look bad. " I felt like I was back in my pharmacology class. Only if she knew I failed the exam on the first semester. But, I doubt she'll have any idea about what pharmacology was. " Of course, ma'am. " I accept, removing the red kerchief I tied back after i was undressed, and stuff it inside my shirt. " Miss. " Nimue corrects me, without turning to face me, and continues her quiet work. " When you're done, come back here and I'll teach you how to make your own potion and ointment. " " Excuse me... " I stop in my tracks, weighting the idea I was about to expose, " If you don't mind, how can I treat an eye infection? One of Kallus's mares has a problem and she's tearing up- " " Do you think I look like a caretaker at the farm? " She questions me, sarcastically, and puts a hand on her hip, " We're treating humans here, not animals. Now stop humiliating me like that. " She finishes the conversation and turns her back to me. " And besides, you should already know what's the treatment for infection. " Yeah, I should. Unconsciously, I squeeze a book between my fingers until I feel the covers break in my palm. Fine. Don't give me the information. I'll find it in your books, witch. And so, the most horrible hours of my life began to unfold. Initially, I cleaned all of Nimue's work tables that covered the walls, collecting her written recipes that were scattered around, and placing them in stacks. I even tried to move the furniture so I could sweep the floor, but it was in vain. They were built from massive wood and were incredibly heavy. This action only lead to a mocking smile from her. After washing her floor from mud and other interesting fluids, I go to my next task: shelves. " No, you fool. Don't touch the potions on that shelf. " She scolds me and takes the wet cloth from my hand, starting to clean herself that portion of cabinet. I leave her be and start sorting the potion bottles. I manage to place them alphabetically and in such a way so that the label is visible. My heart trembled the whole time. What if my finger slipped and I dropped them. Nimue would have had my head on a plate, probably. When I moved the bigger jars, although I was used with aborted fetuses and bits of human organs from my anatomy laboratories back in my old world, I was still unprepared to see animal parts floating in green juice. In other vials, she kept bats in formalin or eyes and teeth. The most shocking part was a small uterus, that was labeled as ' monkey '. She even kept kept nails, human nails in a dry jar. I need a break. This woman was a sadist. Is this what doctors did in this society? Collecting human and animal parts and making medicine out of them? Somehow, it didn't shock me that much. I read a book, actually, with a very suggestive name ' The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers '. I learned about how the Chinese population used placenta and mummies as ointments and pills. So, it wasn't something new, we just become more moral over time and chose not to exhume the dead for supposed healing recipes. Going down to the basement level of her house to collect the last jars, I discovered much more terrible things than a monkey's uterus. She had macerated pig hearts, next to which sat quietly a braided tail, made of a real woman's hair. Among the black strands you could see little reddish cockroaches that hat matted the hair and created a nest. Then, in another silver box, were frog legs, stripped of their skin. Placing my hand on my forehead, I feel my temperature begin to rise and the slice of bread I munched on this morning come in my throat alongside my bile. " Poor thing... You're going to let some frog ruin your dream of becoming an apprentice? " Nimue giggles behind me, grabbing a jar with yellow eyes in it, as if it was no big deal. " Are those real? " " Do you like them? " She asks happily, bringing the transparent vessel closer to my face, " I collected them myself from the community corpses. " Fuck me. Why am I still in this shit hole? " That's what I wonder too. " Nimue answers, wiping a speck of dust from a blue iris. " Excuse me?... " My eyes widen, thrown off guard by her repsone. Did I really said that out loud or?... She shrugs, smiling and sprints up the stairs to the store above. I purse my lips and clench my fists. The impression that she tries to get rid of me is not a supposition anymore, it was a certainty. " I haven't even started. " I reply, taking the register from the floor and starting to clean and organize the witch's materials. She doesn't say anything back, but I can hear her laughter above the floor. By the end of my shift my eyes were dropping in my mouth and some of my bones cracked at the slightest move. I couldn't even smell anything rather than formalin, mold and fetid elements. I wasn't expecting to be paid, I didn't do anything other than act as a maid here and there, without showing my limited knowledge related to the medical field: injections, a few incisions, sutures. This job didn't correspond at all to my training and, to my dislike, tested the limits of my understanding. But it wasn't only about the job, but about this universe in general. Even if my working hours were officially over, I still had plenty to do. Tomorrow is another day. I say in my head, slapping the wet cloth against the bucket. As I walk past the stacks of books I had to arrange in the library, I notice something that really sparked up my interest: ' Guide to treating infections in cattle and sheep. ' Damned reptile. Of course she also had manuals about animals, considering the fact she collected parts of them. I borrow, borrow not steal, the book and hide it behind my woolen clothes, then I make my way to Nimue. " Rayna, come here. " She hoarsely calls for me, making room at her table so I can join her, " Let's prepare you medicine. " " Cyan, miss. " I correct her, rolling up my wet sleeves. " Whatever you say, Shyna. Look, you've got two paragraphs here: the echinacea ointment for wounds and lavender potion for sleep. " I sigh and begin to follow her instructions, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she leans her hip on the table and folds her arms against her chest. Nimue's hair was tied at the nape of her neck in a simple bun, making her features sharp. Even this witch was a fairy-tale beauty and I didn't like to say it out loud. I begin my job by crushing the plants in a ceramic bowl. Of course I was criticized for the fact that I pressed too much on the dry leaves and that my movements were lacking finesse. She pushes me aside for a few moments and shows me how to do it. I couldn't deny it, her actions were more fluid, hypnotic. She had the hands of a pianist: long and slender, feminine, with clean and short nails. Nimue knew what she had to do and how the end result should be like and, apparently, it worked. Even her face held a serious mine, a slight satisfaction written on it. Everything seemed like a sacred ritual that Nimue loved to perform. " Here, your turn now. " She invites me to the table and places her palms over mine, guiding me, " Gentle, smoothly, press firmly and take your time. Think of the leaf as a piece of ash, running from the fire. Imagine it crumble under your touch. " Nodding, I envision all the properties of the herb coming together in my bowl. A childlike joy blooms in my soul when the plant cuts itself into pieces easily, like it was satisfied of the way I was using it. " Making potions is not that simple. You must use all three elements that create a man: the body for strength, the mind for the necessary information about the ingredients and the soul, for a touch of magic. " While turning the mortar, Nimue adds a few teaspoons of fat and a few drops of some kind of essential oil. " This is shea butter. Very, very rare and very, but very expensive in these places. I would give you pork fat instead, it is much more nutritious, but not very useful when dealing with infections. It could actually worsen the condition. Is full of glucose, too sweet, and you know how germs love the taste of carbohydrates. " She explains as she wipes her hands with a towel and studies me with the same pair of cold lilac eyes. " The essential oil is castor oil. Considering that your wound is on you scalp, it will help you hair grow in that place and stay healthy. " Damn, she really was smart. I knew everything she said was true because I learned it in university too. " Also, never put lotions on fire, you destroy all their properties. Only teas and certain potions, the ones that contain green plants, not colored. " Nimue informs me, testing the texture of the medicine. " Colored plants contain spirits that enjoy the heat and sabotage your cure. Better to drown them in water for a couple of hours or freeze them if possible and only after that, let them dry. " With an almost invisible appreciative gesture, she pours the cream unto an iron box. " Good. Now, let's prepare the night potion. " My conclusion after this day was that, as much as I despised Nimue, she loved her work enough to teach it good. " Are you coming back tomorrow? " She questions me from the doorway, her rough voice being carried away by the wind. " Unfortunately. " I joke, turning my face to her. " What? " She laughs, showing me a pair of impeccable teeth. " Well, if you're so determined to show up, then I expect you to explain me all the information from the book you've stolen from me. " I freeze in the doorframe, with a hand on the hip the heavy manual was hidden. " Oh and, I know you didn't fall in the meadow, as you lied, and you should find a scabbard for that dagger you keep. " She smiles crookedly and approaches me, " What I don't know is how you got your hands on it. " " As long as I don't use it, there's nothing you have to worry about. Miss. " I reply, taking a few steps back. " Do you even have any idea of how to wield a dagger? You barely even managed to properly crush a handful of dead leaves. But twist a knife into someone's heart? Never in a million years, my sweet little star. " " We all have secrets, Nimue. Do you want me to make my own suppositions about how you got your hands on this pretty dress or that shining bracelet? " Her eyes become alert and her upper lip twitches. " I respect yours. " She resumes and twirls a finger through a wine colored piece of my hair. " For your mare it is enough to wash her eyes with chamomile and linden tea, feed her salt so she can rebuilt her muscles and some grains mixed with red apples. After she begins to eat well and can hold her weight on her own, give her hay sprinkled with basil. It'll keep curses away. The mare will be fine by the time you're gone. " " How do you know when I'll leave? Will I get home? " I step forward, hearing the floor groan under my shoes. " The future is not for us to see. " Nimue chants, slamming a fistful o metal keys in my palm and making a brief contact between our skin. She's stunned for a moment, as if she sees for the first time who lays in front of her. " You can use the lotion for the burn in your palm, as well. And be careful what path you take by night. You have green eyes and red hair, the traits which the old gods relished most in mortal females. " Nimue leaves me in front of the store, waving her ass from side to side, sweeping with her purple skirt the dirty streets. I don't get to say goodbye. I'm left on the sidewalk, with my mouth open and barely able to understand the last five minutes of our conversation. Redheads and old gods. The same thing Nivy mentioned the other day. If that was true as well, I might use the knife earlier than I imagined... This night was going to be a well-deserved break between the two of us. Moving slowly, I take my time to try and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere. The sky had taken on a rosy hue, a sign that it was already beginning to lose its power and the air smelled of crushed nuts and dust. Was I watching the same sky as my loved ones back home? I lower my head. I couldn't watch it anymore and not feel empty. This silence, this lack of people, of Niven, was draining me, squishing my heart. I stop, trying to banish all my dark thoughts and make room for some rational ideas. If by the end of this month, I was not going to find a way home, I knew what had to be done with my life: throw it away. I couldn't live between strangers, run from house to house. God knows what I have to endure if I even stay on the streets for too long. Someone grabs my waist, waking me up. Unprepared and with my nerves stretched to their full capacity, I swing, ready to fight whoever dared to touch me. " Whoa, whoa, calm down, Cy. It's me, don't break my nose if you don't know how to fix it. " Niven comes out from the shadows, with a huge smile on her pretty face. " You scared the soul out of me. " I breath, putting my palm on my chest to feel my heartbeat, " I'm sorry, my head feels so big after today. " " Does the Countess approves you? " The blond girl that was by Niven's side asks, running her hands through her beautifully braided hair. " Countess? If you mean Nimue, I have no idea. She's expecting me tomorrow. " I explain, analyzing the feminine and voluptuous features belonging to the stranger. " It's only temporary anyway, I can manage. " " You haven't changed you mind. You still want to leave me. " Nivy says with an accusing look on her face and takes us both by the hands, leading us slowly down another path with broken stones. We make way among the few people still left on the narrow streets, noticing that we are heading in a different direction than the one we came from. " You can't adopt me, Nivy. I would like to go home after I remember where I come from. " I look at the stalls with empty baskets and the few stone buildings that rose behind them. " This is not the way home. " " It's a surprise. If you want leave, at least let me show you how we secretly have fun. " The brunette chuckles, jumping from one feet to another. " I'm Aoife. " The beautiful stranger with the face of an angel introduces herself, showing off her big blue eyes. " Nivy told me that you have and unforgettable face and that's right. I've never seen features like yours before, I swear. " My cheeks start to burn and I can swear I'm blushing. I was not a beauty. I wasn't even a natural redhead. I was using a cherry box dye, so that my roots could go unnoticed when they grew too much. Not even my oval face or my prominent cheekbones were not helping much. I looked childish and way younger that twenty-three. Here, the standard seemed to be a heart-shaped head, thin lips and way, way more skinnier than I was. My tighs were full of flesh, due to my short height and I had some hip dips as well. My stomach was soft and hid a little belly below. It was the reason I hated wearing tight dresses. I didn't even have boobs in this shirt without the help of a push-up bra. I was pear-shaped and the only thing I really liked about my body was my quite alright behind. " Thank you. She told me you are the spring's favorite, as they say. " My attempts at making conversation were as poor as I was. A trace of regret saddens her eyes. She doesn't say anything, but puts on a joyless smile. " How was your first day? " Niven asks, like a mother who questions her child about the first day of school. " Do you want me to exclude the grotesque elements? " I sigh, aggressively massaging my forehead. " How dare you? Those are the best! " The black smoke from the chimneys were intoxicating the already precarious atmosphere, filling it with the smell of wood and coal. While listing the types of stuffed animals that the ' Countess' seemed to collect, the emotion of not belonging oppresses my soul again. The dull pain in my whole body somehow anchored me in this reality and made me much more aware of the situation I was in. I felt the need to drown my sorrow in a drink. More than ever, actually. This was something that happened to me lately, due to stress and unhappiness. It was a fact that scared me terribly: I could become and alcoholic. Just like my father. But he was now in another world and my weak heart, unable to hate him, made me think of him. He threw at me so many calumnious words that I can't even remember them all. Does he know that I am no longer among them and that my soul aches? Yes, even now, after he beat me and threw me out of the house, after he cursed me and told me he regretted the day he conceived me. Does he know that I can't breathe being so far away from them? It's not even a cliché anymore: we were worlds apart, but I still carried the scars in my chest, buried deep enough to last for a lifetime. I sigh deeply, hoping that I can release some of the weight that was making me move slower than usual. " Something wrong, Cyan? " Nivy asks me quietly, raising her delicate eyebrows, " You're upset, all of a sudden. " Aoife smiles like in those movies I used to watch, the ones with Marilyn Monroe in which she was so delicate, elegant and beautiful. They even looked alike: blonde, small face, a dimple in the chin, small and pouty lips and a pair of eyes as blue as spring water, sharp as those of foxes and overflowing with vitality. " Aoife, I'm sorry to interrupt, Nivy, but I can't help it: you have a beauty that I've only heard existed. I've never... um, I've never seen anything like you. " I swear I wasn't hitting on her. I wasn't into girls that looked like girls. It was hard to explain even to my parents. I felt attracted to the girls that looked like boys, and that is because I was into men. Even if I despised the majority of them. So complicated. A blush creeps on Aoife's neck, getting in harmony with her already rosy undertone. She brushes some loose strands of hair away from her face acknowledging my admiration towards her. " You have such a way with your words... But, you should know I am lectured, too. In maths and geography. " Niven laughs lightly, tenderly grabbing her shoulders and positioning herself behind her. " Yes, Cyan, she is among the few people who can do arithmetic and read in two ancient languages. " As I applaud, I lift the hem of my skirt to avoid an area full of brown water. We turn on some narrow streets, until we get far enough from the view of Thaibar. From this point, up on a side of the hill, we could see the black towers of the castle, rising high on the air and puncturing the grey clouds. " What's there? " Squinting my eyes through the darkness that was beginning to fall over Thaibar, I make my own presumption. " The kingdom of Hybern, the metropolis of the region. " Niven informs me, cursing them under her breath. " I work there. As a maid. " Aoife speaks, not looking in our direction and kicking rocks with her feet, " My shift starts in a few days. " " I can't understand your ambition to work between those... worms. " " I have a family to feed, Niv. My mother suffers from madness and goes on the road at night thinking she's a prostitute and my brother has school. The palace is the only place where I make enough money. " Her nose wrinkles, as she finally lifts her head towards the horizon. Narrowing her eyes, she looks like she is about to go and spit on everyone on the palace. It was the same expression as the one that appeared when I brought up the Resurgence. Visible disgust and wrath. I wonder what made her react like that, besides the people. Was she forced to do something? Maybe participating to that competitions was nothing more that an attempt to put herself out there. Gain a husband, steal his money... Empathy was deeply rotted in my character. It's always been like this and, sometimes, it was a curse upon my existence. Being able to read the room or the person in front of you, not like an expert would do it, but like a human being that's been through the same, was consuming. Aoife was as readable as an open books. Her shoulders were pulled back in an effort to prepare herself to return to those monsters and her eyebrows were dropped, the hope of escaping being lost long time ago. We cross a small field of plain, barren field, with scattered earth dunes that scratched my feet through the slim shoes. Rays of light emerge from the forest in front and a dull sound of music tickles my ears. " We might not have enough time to speak tonight, Cy. " Aoife catches my hand and leads me through the tall rows of trees, " But I wanted to say that you should prove the Countess what we already know about redheads - they are the fiery women that even the dark is afraid of. " She throws me a toothy smile and waves a kiss towards me and Niven before she throws herself into a chaotic pirouette around the campfire. The flames burn high, almost reaching the naked branches, and sparks jump between the dancing bodies, amplified by their energy. Even the crackle of fire seemed to intertwine with the music, setting the rhythm. Children and young people screamed and threw themselves into the crowd, others played at the drums and whistles. The more experienced ones sang, not with words, but with sounds and interesting notes. The girls squealed and danced barefoot, twirling flower crowns on their forearms, and the boys accompanied them, circling them with specific dance moves. It reminded me of a Georgian dance. The kind where the females were gracious and their moves were delicate and refined. Some others played cards on a trunk tree, betting their money on luck, not interested in dancing or admiring the silhouettes and others, kissed, passionately as the fire, hidden between the trees. A heady atmosphere of fairy tale and goodwill rejuvenates me, and I find myself laugh and spin my eyes around, trying to eat all of the picture so that I can feel full again. Nivy watches me, just as happy, and gestures me to take my shoes off. Gladly following her instructions, the sharp grass stings my heels. It was an atypically pleasant sensation. It eased the tension between my shoulder blades, absorbing all the stress collected from the day. Several tables were lined up one after the other, filled with platters of bread, ham and cheese and a few seasonal vegetables like green onions and tomatoes. Nearby, several barrels were arranged, some already emptied by the amateur drinkers of white and red wine. " Follow me, let me give you a taste of the best wines from the continent. The wine of Thaibar, made from grapes ripened in the forest, watered by the river that flows from the ridge of the mountains and lulled by the song of nightingales. " " They should put you in charge of sales after this commercial. " I joke, and confidently bring the red liquor to my lips. A smell of licorice and sour fruits makes my nose tinge. Honey like sweetness overpowers my tongue, and my mouth waters instantly. I was about to get really fucking drunk. " Foreigners say it's actually fairy wine, forbidden to humans. " Another girl smiles at us, bringing the carafe to her mouth and sipping thirsty. Her kerchief was tied around her neck and her skirt was pulled up and tucked into the trousers underneath, a style that all the workers here adopted. " I heard about it. They say it holds you hostage in their realm and makes you their servant. " I recall, savoring the mixture of flavors on my taste buds. Maybe there were drugs in this. I doubted they didn't have cannabis or marijuana. Maybe they didn't knew their properties but, this wine, the aroma, it warmed you from the inside, from the first sip and boosted your morale instantly. Another girl, leaded by Aoife, joins the discussion, speaking somewhat outraged about the world beyond the ocean, " Our wine is served in great palaces among the world, by those sharp-eared shitheads, clashed above their war tables and bathed in at those parties. But no one gives credit to the real people who know the recipe of the wine. " " Don't start, Zuleyha. " The other female pleads, rolling her eyes as she unties her kerchief, revealing her long neck and voluminous chest, speckled with hickies. " Thaibar is on the map thanks to us. No one can steal this wine from us. " " Shut up, Minodora. You know I'm right. Those damned rich creatures drink our sweat and then brag that the people in the palace made the wine, not us, the peasants. This wine - " Zuleyha says and hits the glass with her purple stained fingers, " It's been made by my father since he was seven. Fucking seven. Honey and grapefruit peels, a very rare ingredient, and the vines must not be planted or moved, they must be left to give birth alone, in the forest, near the river. They have to be gathered by birds and protected by the leaves of oaks. Nothing is by chance, everything is a gift from above. That is why our wine is divine. " " That's why Thaibar is divine. " Minodora corrects her. " Sounds like a ritual. " I add, already intoxicated by the richness of the alcohol. " It really is. " " Cyan, finish you drink, let me teach you how to dance. " I grab Niven's outstretched hands after I finish the last drop of wine in one gulp and let myself be carried by her to the burning fire. Although Nivy was an amazing instructor, holding my waist and moving me to the drums, this dance was something more about learning to feel it, not the steps. It required more than a glass of wine and a little more debauchery and revelry. I took the opportunity to teach myself to move slightly gracious, to raise my hands while twirling them and move my hips soft enough to not make it look vulgar. It was like learning a small part of belly dance too. You had to lose yourself in jumps and cross steps, pirouettes and undulations. Everything came together: from the sweat provided by heat and the small gusts of wind that made you fly through movements, from the ground that anchored you when you landed. It was a dance of nature, elements and people. Shum also makes his presence felt in one of the dancing circles. While we exchange partners, he comes face to face to me, to his horror. But I am the one taken by surprise. " I'm sorry for my behavior today. " He admits, making me raise my eyebrows high enough to reach the stars. I frown, and refuse to let him lead the dance. One of my biggest problems when having a pair was this, not letting the man guide me through the steps. He mimics me, and raises his thick eyebrows too, pulling me closer to him. Shum holds my palm and my waist, with a soft, boyish grip. His green irises were flooded by alcohol. " Don't worry about it, Shum. I hope we can get along. I'm sorry for feeding your dogs. " The boy hesitates for a minute, then looks at me, " I didn't think to say this but I am drunk and... Thank you, for taking care of the mare this morning. " I step on his foot, stunned by his words, and murmur a clumsy apology with my lips. I anchor my hand on his shoulder and try my best to not break his confession. " She managed to crawl onto the bed you improvised and even ate the fruits you cut... My mother told me. " " You gave your mother an apologize? " " Yes. It was unfair of me and I felt... terrible. Let's start over again. What do you say? " Nodding, I accept his proposal. This was a nice ending to a tiring day. I could see a shy light at the end of this tunnel, but there was something holding me back, preventing me from feeling free: something was wrong, something atrocious was going to happen and I couldn't shake the sensation of my shoulders.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 5
Haunted
Author's POV:
Amren abandoned herself in study, after the phenomenon from a few nights ago. She went through manuscripts after manuscripts, emptying her library, and still didn't find any explanation to satisfy her. She couldn't imagine how something of such magnitude was not felt by Rhysand, with his incredible powers or Feyre. Her High Lady travelled the underworld when she was only a human, she should be touched by this kinds of changes, especially because of her variety of assets brought by the courts. Why was Amren alert? Why did she wake up? Was this something to do with her old form? It was precisely the reason she took this mission upon herself, feeling responsible for excluding any danger that could threaten the Night Court and her loved ones. Even more, she felt that the message was addressed to her, that she could play and important role in what was to come. Amren enjoyed feeling important, actually, but she wasn't quite ready to go through the same trauma in such a short period. Destroying The Cauldron and dying, it wasn't something easy to do, she didn't want to sacrifice anything anymore, she couldn't give anything else but herself. The information shown by the sun was bothering her more than she admitted. Amren found it useless, considering that there was no village or person in the region who bears this name. It lead nowhere, dead end. She asked for the registries of the population nearby, where parents go and write their child's name, so she can be sure. She hadn't yet resorted to the somewhat darker methods, but that was because she didn't give Rhysand any report about what she discovered. Mostly because she didn't feel like her restlessness had a sure cause. Her High Lord had enough on his plate, the fact that a grimoire sent a message was not something to bother him with. He was far too preoccupied with rebuilding the kingdom after the war, his illyrians, the continent and even Feyre, he felt her pain caused by Nesta, so it was his problem to deal with too. On top of that, he always disliked the type of magic brought into the world by witches. He believed that the powers that came from within a person were as pure as his intentions. Instead, what the witches did was absorb the energy from the environment and then use it. The final result consisted largely in the type of charge that energy carries, positive or negative. What Rhysand didn't know was that witches were connected to the chaos of the universe, and the most experienced ones could transform even the evil charge into a good one. " Kingdom comes first. " His father used to say, when a group of lesser creatures came to his palace, searching for protection in exchange of their services. Even if what they offered was a great help for the court, he drove them away: orcs, witches and a handful of fauns. He didn't want to be associated with such beings, lesser fae. But right now, this was a matter that could involve The Night Court, sooner or later. She felt it in her bones. Although the name was meaningless, it held a great weight when whispered, melting on your tongue and poisoning your mouth. As second in command, even now, that she'd lost her powers and was no longer as useful as she liked to think, Amren still had a word in the concerns of welfare of the Night Court. Regardless of his opinion, she had to seek the meaning of what the universe revealed to her. He had Feyre by his side, and if her husband wouldn't approve the search, she would be willing to do whatever it took to win the peace. Sipping from her glass of dry wine, she savored the sour aroma on her reddened lips, trying to remember of how blood used to taste. She tapped her dark fingernails on the time-worn pages and closed her eyes for a while. The thought of getting back to the River House was unpleasant. The last time she was there was actually the last conversation she had with Nesta, when their sliver of friendship dissipated in front of her. She didn't have any burning desire to return, but it was necessary. Amren had to present this issue to Rhysand and Feyre and see what the next steps are. She had to let the fear aside: the name had nothing to do with her past. Or was she mistaken? Angels used to take names crowded by Cyrillic and symbols, with a hard pronunciation, often leaving you deaf just by hearing them. On the other side, the evil entities wouldn't reveal themselves in the sunlight, but rather in the rays of the moon. Vesper. Vesper. If she was to go to Rhysand, might at least boast with a somewhat more accurate discovery. An idea suddenly dawned on her as she watched the light reflect in the dictionaries of dead languages. Amren blinked a couple of times and stood from her burgundy chair, a decisive look written on her silver eyes. Did she not read those first? She grabs the manual covered in green leather and inspects it for a second, taking in the waves that elevated in the rays of sun. It was not dust, she kept her books cleaned and tried to protect them from the destruction of time. Smoke, diaphanous threads of white smoke, as if the pages were burning. Amren quickly noted near ' Vesper ', the word ' Sun ', linking them, then opened the pages of the dictionary at the V-Y interval. As relief flooded her posture, relaxing her limbs, she couldn't believe her eyes. With her fingers, she searched numerous sentences, until she reached the word that brought a victorious smile to her tanned face. Vesper – lg. old, used in the Asf. Kingdom, æcləstīąstiķ - Vespą. Def. Star, evening star, prayer raised by ' The Eyes of The Mother ', unused. Amren's smile disappeared. She didn't need to write down thin information. She knew what the books were talking about. ' Vesper ' was passed down as a mere word in literature, but her manual about the future didn't see it, which was rather bizarre considering the powers her grimoires held. She also remembered this sisterhood, a group that divined The Mother and were versed in prayers, protection and healing. They were fierce and scary and nothing stood in their way when it came to protecting the ruler of the kingdom. The sisterhood had no scruples and didn't care about the costs. They were capable of anything. But they weren't the only one capable of unleashing massacre on earth if they were stepped over. Even the Illiryans couldn't compete with their wrath and vengeance. But for the sake of everyone, they disappeared, all of them, all gone long ago, together with the land and many more sisterhoods who fought for peace. Guilt poisoned her mind, creeping deep enough to reach her soul. She angled her body over the desk, supporting herself in her hands and dropped her head. Amren and her battalion were to blame for the eradication of the women, the land and their religion. A great power had been lost with the rebellion of angels, with hers, a great betrayal had occurred and stained her hands, her reputation. Many orders, as well as thousands of people from that court, suffered. They never recovered, and so they died, buried underground, lost and never to be revived. Amren had to compose herself. This ' Vesper ' did not represent any danger at the moment, it seemed like it wasn't born or formed yet. Quickly rearranging her stuff on the table, she hid her books in the secret drawer and took a few notes with her, before leaving the room. Immediately after closing the door, she found herself staring in Varian's brown irises. He was wearing his traveling clothes, all blue and green, with the emblem of his court embroidered on his suit. A serious expression hardened his dark features. " Varian. Is everything alright? " Amren greeted him, unprepared, forgetting to use her senses, " I didn't expect to find you here? " " Amren. You didn't expect to find me in our house? " The man chuckled stoically, with a slight delight on his chocolate skin, " I would say you look as beautiful as every morning, but unfortunately, I didn't have the pleasure to wake up with you next to me, lately. " " Well, I feel productive in the morning, so I try to help Rhysand with some political issues. " Amren avoids spilling the whole truth, smoothing out her gray, two-pieced suit, " Looks like I've lost plenty, considering you're ready to go back to the Summer Court. " She points out, leaning her small hips against the wall adorned with valuable paintings. She wasn't much of an art collector, but Varian was, and she liked to please him by bringing him all the oil portraits, vases and woolen rugs she found. Moreover, she had her own gain: many of them, such as the frames and carpets, were sewn or painted with gold and precious stones. " I didn't plan anything. A situation occurred back home and I came to talk to you about it. " Varian reaches out and grabs a strand of Amren's brunette hair, twirling it a few times before kissing it. Her heart raced at the sight of the romantic gesture. He did it quite often when it was just the two of them, and she was starting to like it more and more each day. " Tarquin sent me a letter about some strange events that took place across the land. He didn't mention much. He's probably cautious considering how often the messages ended up being intercepted. " Varian pauses for a second, brushing his fingers to Amren's chin, " However, he told me enough. The sea is agitated and brought to the surface some ancient creatures. They started to kill the fishermen and the people who have houses near the shore. And... on the night of the solstice, Tarquin was nearly killed in his sleep. " Amren blinked, barely able to digest the information. " An assassination attempt? " " I'm not sure. As captain of his guards, it is my job to protect him. I failed this time. " He clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed, a sparkle of guilt darkening his brown eyes even more. " The Samsars, his secret guards, his shadows, slept soundly, all night. " " I thought The Order of Samsars disappeared with Tarquin's father. " Amren rummaged her memory for the information about this group of men. They where trained in an underwater legion, a small group, willing to sacrifice much more that their life to protect the High Lord of The Summer Court: their voice, their shadows, every sound they made, sold to the Old God of the Sea. " Not really. A handful of them are still alive. Tarquin tried to make them go and live their own life, but they already lost too much to go back. He said he's never going to make another generation, they're training is... brutal. " " But some are still willing to become Samsars, right? " Varian shook his head, a silent approval. Amren knew the capacities of The Shadowsinger: stealth, silence, efficiency, loyalty. These were only a few of his assets, but a whole group, devoted to this kind of work... They might catch up with his power. " I still don't understand how they fell asleep. The oath they take at their final test takes their ability to ever sleep again. " A restless eternity in exchange of an open entry to the God's underwater domains. " A spell hit the palace. A damn powerful one. Half of the servants went to sleep and some never woke up. Tarquin escaped. That is why I have to go, urgently. " She knew he was afraid: for his court, his cousin and his sister, Cresseida. " How's Cresseida? Did she escape? " Amren remembered her dark features, a more sensual mirroring of her brother, Varian, with her fierce face and complete devotion to her home. " She took care of my position while I was gone, but she slept as well. " " I'll talk to Helion, he could be able to help us. I have a suspicion it might be related to the Summer Solstice. " " If you want do discuss this with him, do it without attracting too much attention, please. " Varian withdraws his hand and smoothes his short, white hair. He take's Amren's palm in his own and starts walking towards the entry of their home. " The Summer Solstice is an occasion of joy, a moment of rebirth and overcoming our deepest fears. The light at the end of the tunnel. It shouldn't unleash on us like this. " " Varian... " Amren cut him off, sensing his tension from his muscles, " You have the best astrologers from the area, ask them if they saw any... curious event on the sky, that night. " She knew she wasn't being totally honest with him, that a part of her, the one bound to the Night Court, was using him to gather this piece of information for her own plans, but it was something innocent. Moreover, if the events from the Summer Solstice had repercussions over them too, maybe what she found was also including them. " I will do as you asked, Amren. " Varian replied, his words a soft whisper of devotion to her, " Now, come on, let's get you to your friends and then I'll be on my way. " They shared a short kiss, their way of saying ' Goodbye ' and ' I'll be waiting for you ', then left, holding their hands. When they arrived in front of the River House, Varian spoke again, " I know I'm asking a lot, but please don't mention anything to Rhysand for the moment. " His brown eyes locked into hers in a silent plea, " At least not until I know for sure what happened inside the castle. Tarquin still feels betrayed and he'll think only the worst if he finds out you knew about this. " " The thing we did to him was necessary. " She commented, only to satisfy her desire of having the last word. " My cousin would have given Feyre the book. She only had to be honest about her intentions. " " Are you lecturing me? " Amren paused, striking him with her grey eyes, " The last time someone dared to hold me a moral, he lost his minds. " Varian offered her a cunning smile, leaving two dimples to stain his cheeks. That was one of her weakness, right there, written on his face in plain sight. " You already made me lose my mind, Amren. " He said, before disappearing slowly in cloud of steam. He winnowed without another word, leaving her in front of the tall house. She felt weak in the knees. An effect Varian had on her every time he used his humorous come backs to try and calm her down. She smoothed her short, brunette hair and took a deep breath, still smelling the sea salt and lime fragrance up in the air. She watched behind, to the buildings that were slowly reconstructed by their inhabitants and the stone path that still held holes in it after the attack on Velaris. She had to prevent something like this from happening ever again. When Amren got to the front door, she didn't waste energy on knocking, but made herself welcomed into the large dining room. She instantly sensed that something was off with the atmosphere. The mint green walls were the same, so were the windows and the furniture. An unknown fragrance floated in a very limited portion of the air particles, giving their house an unfamiliar buzz of energy. As usual, there were flowers, lilac, for the most part and jasmine, but also mist and... something spicy. No one she knew had this particularity. She took a few steps around the room, lifting several objects and inspected them carefully, testing their weight and how they felt when countered by her senses. The fireplace held another odd resonance. She let the perfume settle on her tongue. Here, it wasn't spicy and sweet, it tasted like pain, like burned flesh. Amren blinked a couple of times and studied the grey mark a knife let on the marble that surrounded the fire. She wiped it, then rubbed her fingers together, bringing them to her nose. Someone else set foot insider their home. An outsider. Leaving the dining room, she inspected the rest of the house. The sweet cologne lingered lesser and lesser, totally extinct by the time she reached the kitchen. Here, something else overpowered it, something more soft, a forest of coniferous trees. Cedar. So, Azriel felt it too and searched for an answer. Nuala and Cerridwen greeted her with a head bow, as they glided pass her. Two barely felt specters, visible to the eyes only if they had the desire to be seen. Elain's sugar-coated tone resonated like a breath of spring within the walls, barely audible even for the fae ears. " Nesta refuses to train since she went to Windhaven. " Feyre informed her sister with a barely restrained irritation, trapped between her vocal cords, " She stands in the middle of a rock with her unsatisfied face and humiliates Cassian in front of his subordinates. " " I heard. " That was all that Elain said, her only focus being on moving the purple flowers from the table up to the window, where the light shone more brightly, " At least she started to eat and went easy with the drinking. It is a win, too, Feyre... " Her High Lady did not seem satisfied with the so called ' achievements ' of Nesta, considering the way she had been self-flagellating in the past few weeks. Her vehement refusal to eat anything other than crusty bread and restaurant leftovers was getting her nowhere. Sometimes she took a step forward, not eating anything at all, days after days, as if the punishment was for their sisters, and not on her body. Her hobby was worse: drinking and going to pubs where she gambled on Rhysand's money and after all that, she fucked all the men she found agreeable. Feyre didn't know what hurt more: either that their older sister became a wreck after the war or that their relationship completely fell apart. Their last night as a united family took place in a tent, all cuddled up together in each other's arms and the moment they said their last ' Goodbye ' to their father, now buried meters underground. Elain, on the other hand, was not so torn between pleasing the court and loving Nesta. For a long time there was only her older sister, protecting and loving Elain like no one else ever had, although Feyre was the one to sacrifice herself for the family, for their well being. The bond between Elain and Nesta was deeper. The fact that Nesta refused to meet Elain, to see her, was crushing. Only because she begun to resemble the Inner Circle, their habits. It hurt her more than the transformation from human to High Fae. " I trust Cassian. " Feyre recovered, getting ready to leave the kitchen, " He's trained a lot of illyrians, some even more difficult than my sister. And of top of that, he cares about her. It's so much more in the middle. " " Feyre... " Elain cut her off, rustling her dusty pink dress between the legs of the chairs, " Is there another way to bring Nesta back? I fell like we're limiting her decision-making power. " Amren remained frozen in the room next to the kitchen, carefully pricking her ears. Elain didn't talk nonsense. Nesta was more or less constrained by other people's decisions, but only because hers were made out of grief and suicidal desire. Guilt made her stomach hurt. She took part of that, too. In fact, she was one of the people who refused to meet with Nesta again, her friend, out of desire to make her suffer enough to get a reaction out of her, to make her reach back. ' Keep reaching your hand. ' She advised Cassian, a mistake she learned from something she didn't do. Amren had no idea at that moment that Nesta was unable to see the full part of the glass. Feyre, on the other hand, was aware of the kind of help she received from the circle, in a similar circumstance. The only problem was the type of character they both inherited: while she was more understanding and ambitious, Nesta was a whirlwind that destroyed first, and then regretted. The same strategy wouldn't have worked. " We are all different and we all suffer in the way that brings us enough healing to make us forget. I didn't want to allow Nesta to destroy herself, so I did the most thoughtful think at the time. It was out of love... " " It's not very thoughtful of us to let her train among the creatures she dislikes the most. " Amren spoke for the first time since listening quietly, sharpening her smoky irises as Feyre's head appeared from the kitchen. Her chestnut hair was twisted in a high curled ponytail, no jewelry to adorn her features. She wore her monotonous clothes, designed to be worn outside, in the village, while she tried to help the citizens to restore their broken goods. Amren was bored instantly by the dark colors. She had her bag with her, the one where she transported her pencils: she was going to her new painting studio, as well. " The discussion ends here, Amren. Nesta needed a way out and we offered her the best option. " Amren pursed her lips at her High Lady's scolding tone. She had enormous respect for the girl, after what she's done for their realm, breaking the curse and doing what she could during the war. Amren knew it was mutual for Feyre, too. But this line, this limit, never prevented her from calling things out when she knew something was wrong. Not even when it came to Rhysand. Feyre avoided the tall dining table, and left the house without saying anything. For a moment, the room stood silent, an uncomfortable cloud falling over the two remaining girls. Amren ignored Elain as best as possible, never having a problem with her presence, but always trying to avoid their interactions. It wasn't like the youngest sister ever created issues inside their house, she was always silent and obeying. But that was the problem, her lack of response, the absence of fighting in her. The little creature was speechless at the sight of Amren. Her hazelnut eyes wide and her pupils constricted. Elain didn't move at all, her hands still suspended in the air, over the flowers. It seemed like she hadn't gotten used to Amren's terrifying presence and it didn't look like she was going to, anytime soon. Amren grimaced slightly at the extravagant chastity that Elain exuded from every pore. Maybe that's why Azriel was head over heels for her, he felt like he needed to shield her from the world, to save her and keep her away from every creeping looking man. Just like a baby. She cleaned her teeth with her tongue and shifted her weight from one leg to another. Oh, how much she hated the people unable to protect themselves. " Have you seen Rhysand by any chance, today? " She asked, willing to break that weird look that was passing between them. The girl's hair had come lose from her top knot, secured behind her head with a golden clip, falling elegantly over her eyebrows. " No, not at all. " Elain spoke in a broken voice, wiping her hands from the cream apron tied around her. " Feyre said he's gone for a few hours. He'll be back by sundown. I can... I'll send him whatever message you need, if it's urgent. " " No, I'll manage. Beautiful flower, by the way. " Amren complimented, then set off to the library. Maybe she'll find some answers there.◇□◇□ A few hundred miles away, Azriel watched vigilantly as several messengers left the court of the human queens, all of them taking a separate path than the other. A pretty diversion for a newbie, but he was no beginner in this art. He passed easily from branch to branch, dematerializing and jumping through the shadows. This was the maximum of his powers he could use here, just a droplet of it, so close to the palace and the Queens wards. It wasn't the first time they detected someone's magic, so he needed to stay as low as possible. His whiskey irises searched the five men, all dressed in the same black outfit, spreading like ants. Follow the small one, master...A shadow whispered, peeking over his armored shoulder, then circling the sword he held on his back. Azriel didn't hesitate, he trusted his companions more than anyone. He had not changed his position for more than four hours, waiting for the committee to break, and the muscle fever in his thighs had begun to impose it's point of view on his body. But he would never allow himself to jeopardize the mission just because he was numb. Things had been hectic here, too. The last surviving Queens had moved their army closer to west, near the line that separated the borders of the faeries from the human ones, but none of the females had left their palace since they bathed in The Cauldron. His spies had informed him about the fact that they often all gathered in one room and stayed there for hours. The Shadowsinger glided easily through the trees, silently taking every step so he could stay as close as possible to his target. It was like hunting a deer. He studied the prey, noted their habits, their day to day lifestyle, their weakness, planned his way of approach, and barely after that came his favorite part, the chase. The primal instincts it rose inside him, the way it made him feel glorious and in control, the satisfaction it brought when he took them by surprise, their terrified looks. Everything made him feel alive. The veiled movements the Queens made could only mean three things: either they were preparing to be invaded by Vallahan, an agreement was signed or maybe they were plotting something else. All suspicions were put under the question mark: why would regions like Montessere and Vallahan accept the Mortal Lands? Where did they have resources from, and if they had some, who made this offer to them? Mor still tried to get a peace treaty with the Vallahan region, but they didn't seem very eager to grant it to us. What seemed even more suspicious was the desire of the stronger regions to unite with the humans, a species they believed to be inferior. With Hybern now out of the game, there were two other forces left to worry about. And most importantly, they didn't recover from a war. The political situation in Prythian was no better, either. The Night Court was still somehow halved into that of Nightmares and Rhysand's actual kingdom. With Keir leading the army of darkbringers, a strong bonus in every fight, his High Lord couldn't control something that wouldn't submit to him. The Summer Court also suffered, even before Tarquin, but their situation was somewhat better, materially speaking. With the help of their ships, they managed to do enough trade to support their economy. The problem was the relation between Tarquin and Feyre, who had stolen the Book of the Breathings from under his nose, and he sent them back those blood rubies. Of course, there was Helion's court, still prosperous by nature and with whom they were on good terms. He would always ally with them in case of trouble. The Winter Court was in the same situation, with Kallias as High Lord. Then, there was Beron, the inept Beron, who would rather see his whole land burn than make peace with Rhysand. The Spring Court was the worse, becoming a ruin of that it used to be. Tamlin lost control, and with that, everything went downhill, becoming a ghost in the flesh. The population dropped drastically, leaving only those who had no families in other places. Azriel couldn't say he felt sorry for Tamlin, not after he'd put Feyre into a depressive episode and stolen Elain from under his nose. His jaw clenched, the only sound he made for several hours now being the grinding of tooth enamel. Thanks to his excellent memory, he could recall even the smallest patches of dirt that stained Elain's body, during the moments when she had been kept in chains. His pupil dilated, the black swallowing his hazel iris, and his nostrils flared. The mask he wore was suddenly too much to bear on his face. She was not a suitable subject to think about in a mission, so he focused instead on the steps the tiny man made, travelling through the forest. Still shrouded in shadows, trapped between the thick branches of a tree, he watched as the emissary came to a halt, carefully assessing the terrain. Azriel froze as the man raised his head and studied the blue sky on his direction. He knew he couldn't see or smell him, he diminished his own fragrance and absorbed the habitat's perfume, totally sheltered by the rough smell of blooming buds and wet leaves, trampled in the path. The mortal was around forty, short legged and stuffed into an unfitting suit. With Azriel's trained ears, he could hear the man's rugged breathing, like he just finished running a hundred miles, not only two. A gust of wind made him stumble on his bloated feet, raising particles of sweat and burned chicken in the air. The Shadowsinger didn't even flinch when the unpleasant smell rose up to his nose. Another figure came into view shortly after the Queen's emissary stopped in the middle of the woods. Azriel couldn't say that he had seen Vallahan's people often, but his features seemed far too common for someone who spent his time by the ocean. The Fae doesn't belong to Vallahan, he bears the fire ot the Autumn Court. A bolder shadow curled around his ear and crept under the mask covering his mouth and nose. Though so... Azriel responded in his mind, blinking once, letting his companions know he understood the message. The stranger was tall, but slender enough so that his indigo attire would be lacking at the edges, leaving his wrists visible. His blonde hair had a reddish undertone outside the sun's rays, betraying the place he came from. On his silver decorated jacket, lied the three-triangle Valknut, symbol of Vallahan. The Shadowsinger sensed the stirred state of the human, as he rubbed his hand over the leather bag he held under his arm. He probably administered a few doses of sedatives, so as not to be suspected if he was going to betray them. Azriel remained silent, like a beast lurking in the dark, with his lips pressed roughly together. Only his eyes glowed, like molten gold, underneath the black hood that covered his brunette hair. If he went a step further and kidnapped any of the emissaries, it would mean a warning that Rhysand specifically ordered not to send, yet. He could knock them both down in the blink of an eye, without them even having the time to realize who hit them and from where. There was no point in a war declaration after they just came out of one. He couldn't infiltrate the palace personally, either. The land around the kingdom was fenced off with an old spell, uniquely designed for faeries. When they stepped on that patch of cursed area, uninvited, it could turn them into stone, permanently. This inconvenient didn't scare Azriel off. He was a man full of resources and too ambitious, he liked to have his mind put to work. Through his web of spies, he contracted old acquaintances who owed him their lives, and they put him in touch with a group of human mercenaries, willing to do anything for the fair price: jewels and money. The work? Five men managed to break into the kingdom, each positioned at different distances, so if any of them was ever caught, the information would reach the last one, near the gate. Some became guards at the entrance, other maids, coachmen, salesmen and servants, and all were glamoured by a spell Amren created, so that their thoughts could not be read and their intentions sensed. Information flowed much more easily that way: humans were always unconscious by nature, that's why inappropriate knowledge always slipped out in the presence of a maid or a servant serving them coffee. Then, there was and awful lot of work to do: laundry to be washed, carried by a coachman and taken to the store where they took care of the items. Because they don't have a sewer for water, the workers from the magazine left, obviously bypassing the guards, and collected the amount of water they needed from the river. This was the way the data came for Azriel. All roads were open to him, just as he pleased. A crease appeared on Azriel's tanned forehead when the man offered a letter, alongside an iron box, inscribed with symbols. The Fae man asked the Queen's emissary to open it." Show me the emblem. " The human said. The Shadowsinger sharpened his senses, looking intently at the stranger. When he opened his dark blue tunic, on his left pectoral was imprinted the symbol that all the warriors of the Autumn Court received at the end of their initiation: a leaf made with a fireplace poker. His suspicions were correct: the Mortal Queens were not only flirting with Montessere and Vallahan, but also with Beron. The question remained the same: why? When the man finally opened the box, a small map, tied with a velvet ribbon, lied inside. It's bewtiched. His shadows whispered, slowly wrapping around his contracted torso. " These are the instructions to find what you need. " After they parted, Azriel left out a loud gasp, glad that he could finally move from that irritating position. The leathers he wore blocked the splinters from entering under his skin, but didn't helped much with the rough terrain he had to sit in. Flexing his wrists and ankles, the tension begun to loosen up, enjoying the pain that came with the movement. He put his elbows on his knees, taking the amount of rest he craved before flying back to Velaris. Pulling his mask down with a gloved finger, he savored the forest ambiance, rainy and green, helping him calm his nerves and quiet his mind. He remembered he still hadn't talked to Rhysand, or anyone else, about the nocturnal visit from a few days ago. Not because he had anything to hide, but because he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it all. Remorse stained his pride. He made a mistake. He fell asleep and wasn't aware that a stranger came inside. He didn't even rest. What if someone else was in the house with him, Feyre or Elain, and they suffered because of his carelessness? He is the one who should take care of them, to assure no one got hurt under his watch. If someone was going to suffer, Azriel should take it all upon himself. Physical torture was something he had gotten used to a long time ago. The only thing that disturbed him were the mental and emotional agony, which he had no idea how to manage. He ran his palm over his face and pressed two fingers to his eyes. Azriel uncovered his veined wings from the shadows, and flexed them a few time before setting off, feeling their enormous weight on his large back. No one else mentioned feeling strange on the evening of the Summer Solstice, and he didn't want to alarm anyone with the nightmares he grew used to. It was an issue that Madja could solve with a sleeping potion of some kind. No, not a sleeping potion. But something that could prevent dreams and nightmares. That would be more useful than a deep unconsciousness that a sleeping pill would have brought him. The smell of magic evaporated by morning, as his sleep. Azriel patrolled the whole night, searching every centimeter around the River House, then flying over the sleeping city. But as the sun begun to shine and the people to appear, reopening their stores, he knew that the peril was gone. He was left empty-handed. The imprint the nightmare left on him felt as heavy as if the whole sky fell on his back and dragged him underground. Captive behind invisible bonds. His mind was always full, always calculating and planning, and when a small moment of peace found him, the same pair of green eyes came back, haunting, and his nostrils were filling with a ghostly smell of amber, intoxicating him. He hated that fragrance. It was far too strong, too spicy for his preference, which leaned more towards something floral, like jasmine. Especially when it came to women. Of course he prefers flowers, for fuck's sake. He snorted and sharpened his movements, fleeing as fast as possible from the Human Realm, as if he could leave his problems behind. The dull ache in his chest remained. It wasn't a sensation to get used to. Every night, the loneliness became more intense and the bed colder. The urgency for a body to lie next to him, to hold and to squeeze until morning, was unbearable. This was a different kind of punishment, it could drive him crazy, it made him more unpredictable, fiercer than before. Even he was aware of that change in his behaviour. Azriel spent the following nights inside the ring, hours on end, until the skin on his knuckles cracked and bled, and the number of destroyed swords began to increase. His body acquired a more defined shape than usual, being subjected to tougher and longer training. He had muscles before, but were more lean, more specific for the kind of job he had, but now, his waist grew larger, his shoulders more round and his abdomen started to created the pack most of the warriors who used brute force had. All this just to feel free from those damned shackles that bound his soul. Was he bewitched? Amren could answer most of his questions, but was he willing to address them? No. The little devil had a big mouth and was too sly for his taste. No matter how competent she was in this matters, Amren wouldn't have helped him with anything other than to annoy him. The next solution was the library. He could either ask one of the priestess or document himself. Amren was an extreme choice. " Azriel. " Rhysand's voice filled his brain. He didn't feel like answering right of the bat, he still had that tinge of guilt for not telling him about what happened that night. His High Lord should have been the first to sense that something was off with Velaris. After all, Rhysand created the city. And yet, perhaps Azriel's powers made him more sensitive to these small changes in the atmosphere. Even the shadows, his trusted guardians, were sedated that night. The next morning, they hummed on and on, attracted by the last remaining energy in the living room. Green amber... Green amber... Come back... They chanted, as if an electric field sustained them, called them in a hypnotic song. " Azriel, hurry up, Amren found some interesting information to share. " " I'm on my way. " And with that, the buzz produced by Rhysand's ability retreated from his head, giving him the peace he needed. It doesn't take much longer until the River House comes into view and he lands on the arched balcony. Fortunately for him, the living room was free, no mating smell, no cringe interaction with others. The tension made his muscles spasm rhythmically and his jaw to twitch. He moved silently, gracefully skirting the couches and wooden floorboards that he knew creaked under his weight, and waited a second outside Rhysand's office door. Ever since he passed the barriers surrounding Velaris he knew who awaited him in the room: Amren, his High Lord, and his protégées, Nuala and Cerridwen. However, he didn't feel ready to face people. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't escape the irritation boiling in his blood and the overwhelming need to get it out. Is rooted in our existence... A shadow snaked on his bicep, and snarled, making Azriel's head to spin Let me find her ...Another begged, the same brave one who often climbed into his ear and whispered truths he denied feeling. Shut up! Azriel howled in his own mind, showing his clamped teeth. Impulsively, he walked in, interrupting the conversation. " Are you well, Shadowsinger? " Amren's flat tone teased him, waking him up from his madness. Her smoke like eyes nailed him to the ground, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. They were both bent over Rhysand's desk, reading a pile of old books that impregnated the room with naphthalene. He suddenly felt dumb. He never made mistakes like this. Azriel pulled up his mental shields and hid his scent, then shifted his weight from one leg to another and came closer. " I am good. I have something to report. " Azriel informed, using his frozen mask. " You felt it too, isn't it? "The little devil spoke again, her voice a hollow echo between Azriel's temples. The room seemed too small to keep three people inside, the atmosphere to oppressive, as if in their palms was the most crucial discovery. They exchanged looks between them, and it was enough to understand the answer. An obscure presence seemed to infiltrate among them, listening intently to their conversation. The Shadowsinger searched the room, expecting to find some ghost in the far corner, but no one was there. Did Amren experience the same nightmares as his? Or the amber smell? Even the sunlight dimmed, obstructed by the thick window of Rhysand's office. His companions grew thicker, swirling around his tense shoulders, tightening around his massive chest in an attempt to shield his heart. He took of his hood, revealing his structured features. In his amber eyes, the only readable thing was caution, alert, as if someone could discover his secrets. " Amren noticed an incident, a rather special one, on the night of The Summer Solstice. " The High Lord broke the silence, frowning his violet gaze at the mountain of papers on his desk. " A comet crossed the sky and landed to west from our position. " " Hybern. " Azriel concluded, quietly approaching the ominous manuals, " How did you get your hand on this information? " " Varian helped me. I asked him to have his astrologers look for events that took place on the sky in the past week. " Amren explained, pointing with a red nail at the calculations and the estimated position of the crashing. " Something tells me this isn't all. " He muttered under his breath, more to himself, grasping a torn piece of sheet between two gloved fingers. " Vespertus... " He rubbed his teeth together, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. His shadows deepened, darkened, becoming sharp tongues around him. " What's this? " Azriel asked again, feeling his voice choked. " The Vespertus is a prayer. " The gray clothing, adorned with intricate patterns of red, fussed as Amren turned her tiny body towards him, showing a paragraph from a thick book called ' Darkness of Days '. " Sounds promising. " He let his humor out, unfazed by the doomed title. It sounded like they had to confront another life threatening situation, and he wasn't very happy about this. " It is, actually. " Rhysand chuckled, brushing the dust from his sleeves. " So, some bored individual really prayed for a comet to hit us? " Azriel wondered, a wrinkle becoming visible between his dark brows. " No. Vespertus is a prayer that is not spoken, it's a type of salvation that occurs when people in unison feel the need for deliverance, for freedom, cleansing and peace. " Amren clarified, showing him a symbol with a group of women, all dressed in robes, like the priestesses. Their open palms were raised above their covered heads, praying to a seven-pointed star that sat imperially upon them. " Meaning this isn't the last war we've faced. Something worse is coming, and this comet is here to help us. " Rhysand added, crossing his arms over his black tunic, covered with the symbol of the Night Court, " Or, in the worse case scenario, condemn us all. " So, Azriel wasn't the only one who went on mission today, his High Lord also had his own role to play, considering his impeccable suit and the heavy crown placed above his hair. The fatigue played over his cheekbones, the only sign of the weight he had to carry since the end of the war: gatherings, the illyrians and the ones they lost, their families, the women who were still subjected to inhumane treatments from those bastard. Everything rested on his and Feyre's backs, and everyone from the Inner Circle contributed as best as they could to ease their work. " The Vespertus is in the middle of a scale. " Amren began, showing them another drawing of a balance, with a feather on one end and a drop of blood on the other, " A prayer can be directed either for good or for evil. It depends on the people around: those who use it, those who raise it to the sky and most importantly, the ones who form it. " " How do we get to this comet? " Azriel questioned, still holding the note in his hands, looking at it intently, as if it was going to combust, " And how can we be sure that someone else hasn't discovered it yet? " The room went quiet again. Nobody was sure of anything. The Shadowsinger wished Cassian was here to lighten up the atmosphere, but he was caught up in other problems, the ones with a sour face and long legs. " That's the issue, we don't. " Rhysand huffed, looking at Azriel, then at Amren, " The thing is, this comet might be a human being. " " Why would that be a problem? It's much easier to catch and carry a man that a real comet. " Azriel argued, clenching and unclenching his left fist, still sore from the training. He still hadn't used his power to heal himself. The throbbing pain was a welcomed distraction from the world around. " Because this person may not have been born yet. Spiritually speaking. " Amren smiled, proud of herself, and showed them another page: a naked woman, kneeling before a bloody sword. " For a Vespertus to be born, to be formed, it takes a tragic event to radically change the way she sees the world. The kind of event that sets her on her journey to become was she was sent to do. Her spirit wasn't broken, she is not a revenging prayer yet, but a mere mortal. It is very difficult to trace her, we don't have her name or anything connected with her, something that belonged to her. " " Are you telling me a woman fell from the sky and survived the damned crash? " Azriel asked skeptically, the wheels in his head starting to spin, " And mortal, on top of that... " Not even the illyrians, trained in all types of weathers and under all conditions, would not come out unharmed. " Yes. " Amren approves decisively, placing a hand on her hip. " It was a rift in time. Her fall was cushioned enough for her to escape without fatal wounds and with minimal damage. It's possible that the place where she landed to turn into an artifact: an oasis, a temple, a forest. Anything of this kind, but with unimaginable powers. " Azriel remembered how time felt that evening – like tar, unbearable. But that didn't explain the tension he felt, the fact that someone had broken inside their house and sent him to sleep, then hexed him. " If she fell into Hybern's territory and they get there before us, then it's not just Montessere and Vallahan we should worry about. Such power would help them establish their army. " The worry on Rhysand's face seemed to age him more than usual. " Maybe we're lucky. Maybe they didn't feel the phenomenon, yet. " Amren said, flipping through the pages, " It's not something many people experiment, only special ones are affected. " " What do you mean, Amren? " Azriel asked, his interest being caught even more. " The High Fae will be immune or maybe they'll notice something common enough to overlook. " She picked up her wine glass and finished it in one gulp before continuing, " Those who feel the pressure in the air or the fact that hours pass differently are creatures made somewhere else, not the ones created by The Cauldron. " " You observed it too, didn't you? " Rhysand spoke, affected. " I only know that it was too warm and I craved sleep. " Amren shook her head, before answering, " I couldn't breath. I might be more receptive to these changes due to the form I had before. " " Where do we begin the search? " Azriel broke the little devil's embarrassment, placing a hand on his hip. The illyrian skins hung heavy over his body, as did all the weapons he carried all the way. He was used with a large amount of equipment, but now he felt exhausted and still had information to give to Rhysand. " The only direction we have is an approximate one, searched as accurately as possible by the Summer Court. They are among the few who can measure this coordinates. " She pulled another piece of paper from her pocket, with several village names on it.Ozana
Nyzim
Thaibar
Valencia
Bismezym " I want you to go find her, Azriel. " Rhysand demanded, putting his hands on the table, " I can't leave the court right now due to our political situation. Amren must gather more information on this Vespertus and the amount of power is in the game, and Cassian... he has Nesta and Vassa to worry about, and above all of that, this mission is not of his competence. " " I am spying on the Mortal Queens. I can't leave my people alone and risk their lives. I won't be able to communicate with them. " " I know. Find a way do deal with them, you are the only one prepared and mannered enough for this. I can have Morrigan come with you for any future political issues that may arise with your arriving. " " I need some time to think. " He cut his High Lord off, irritated. Rhysand blinked often, caught off guard by Azriel's refusal to please him, then nodded, giving him his free will. The Shadowsinger stuffed the two papers into the pocket of his jacket. With this gesture, he already knew he accepted the order, otherwise he wouldn't have taken those objects for further studying. Maybe this woman was going to take him out of his dark thoughts, for a moment or two. Not her, per se, but the search to put his hands on her, planning the abduction and the infiltration, surveying the territory. He had to meet with Morrigan as well, think further through any problems with the palace. If they entered the land, after they just killed their king, it wouldn't have been a sign of peace. But he was already thinking like he was going to leave. " Give me an answer tomorrow. " " I have news for you. " Azriel changed the subject, putting his hands behind his back. "The Mortal Queens exchange information with the Autumn Court, not just Montessere. One of their people came dressed in the formal tunic and the symbol of Vallahan, but he was asked to show the mark and on his left pectoral was the leaf their army gets after they finish the training. " Two shocked pair of eyes studied him. " Beron has always been a leech. " Amren spat, gathering her books and preparing to leave. " But I didn't expect him to make a deal with someone he was at war with. " " What do you know about Eris? "
" Nothing at the moment. Cassian has a meeting with them in a few days. " Rhysand clarified, sitting back in his black chair. " These waters aren't going to calm down anytime soon. " " They exchanged a note and a map, closed in an iron box with several symbols on it. " " A map? Did you see how it looked like? " Amren pursed her lips, covering her body with a cape. " Very small, old, wrapped in velvet and it smelled peculiar, sweet and muddy. In the coming days I'll meet with my spies for more details. " " Our problem is that Prythian is in the middle. If we are attacked from all three sides, we will get down faster than we anticipate. " Rhysand took off his crown and threw it on his desk. " Let's hope it doesn't get there, we're not even at half of our capacity. " " Maybe the Vesper will help us. " " Let's not put our hopes in myths. " Azriel snapped, preparing to leave. " We're not sure we'll find her or if she's still alive. We don't know where she came from and how she looks, if she's mentally sane or not. We don't know if she's willing to help us. This woman could very easily be tortured now and we wouldn't know. " " Then hurry, brother. Help us gain this small advantage. " Rhysand whispered, bringing his fists together at the level of his mouth, watching him with his purple eyes, like he was trying to read Azriel's mind. The Shadowsinger made a small gesture with his head, then turned on his heels and left, with Amren following after him. " I know you want to ask me something, Shadowsinger. " She caught him, her ancient voice echoing down the long hallway. " I know your shadows sensed it. " " My shadows were sedated. " He turned to her, enveloped in the darkness. " And so was I. " " What did you see? " The little devil pressed, taking a step forward, " An entity? Did she bewitch you? " Amren's deep red lips stretched into a smile, " Don't worry, whatever effect the solstice had, it will pass. Even I feel uneasy, like I'm being watched. " " Everything was fine, I checked the whole house. " Azriel's heart pounded between his ribs. " Really? " She continued, stopping a few steps away from him, enough to let him smell her ancient perfume. " I suppose you were aware of the scent of burning flesh or amber. I know you didn't tell Rhysand someone was inside. " " I don't have to explain anything to you, Amren. " He replied, entering his room and roughly closing the door behind him. Azriel pulled out the papers from his pocket and studied them in the light of the candle. His breath hitched as he felt the familiar fragrance on his fingers. His blood roared inside his veins, furious, then smashed the pieces on his nightstand.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 6
Decisions. Part I.
An arabic quote I read months ago that stick with me so far said: " Some say its painful to forget someone, other say it's painful to wait for someone. But I say, the worst pain comes when you don't know wheather to wait or forget. " It made my body tremble with an unsettling feeling of chaos. My life was an untamed, catastrophic tornado since my parents threw me out of their house and suddenly, the situation went from bad to deadly when I got thrown here. It felt like I had a personal vendetta with life and the universal powers that controled us. I've been here, with Niven's family, for almost two weeks now, working and trying to be useful. Half of what i promised myself to wait before I find the courage to kill myself. Not much changed, I just grew used to the wound I had in my sould. I had no new horizon, no signs from the deity that brought me here, no shooting star to make a wish upon. Nothing. Only my pathetic body to count on. My old lifestyle was just a reminder of what I never cherished when I had the time. So I took what I had at this moment, considered the time I had left as well, and made the best of it so far. Every morning I woke up around 5 a.m., disturbed by my dreams. The potion Nimue gave me helped me grab with force some shattered pieces of my previous mind. I can remember faces better, my old university and one single name: Nadia. The girl I talked lastly on the phone before I got pushed here. Altough the medicine had some good parts, it had repercusions as well. While I gained more knowledge about my past, I forgot other dear to my heart details: my father's eyes, my mother's voice, the smell of my cat's hair. There were moments of clearence, when I watched the crystal empire of the skies and a fugitive image of my dad's irises runned through my head. Other times, I listened to Cynthia's soft voice while she hummed a sad rythm, and tears stung my eyes as I recalled my mom. When Misty was around and climbed on my dress to find her spot next to my chest, underneath my clothes so she could get warm, I used to sniff her furr and close my eyes so I can picture Icarus's joyful personality. I grabbed with my nails whatever small detail mended my bloodied heart. But those where passing moments, fast as time itself and they were rare and prone to be forgotten easily. Sometimes I even had this feeling that maybe I can't go back because my life there was finished. I had no purpose anymore, nothing to give and nothing to receive. Other times, I hopped I was more useful here, working for money, feeding the animals, helping the people from Thaibar as best as I could. But feeding the pigs and cleaning Nimue's desk wasn't something I felt blessed about, either. I wanted more. It was hard to believe that everything was a damn coincidence. I fell into a book, for god's sake, one full of magic, of adventure, of wars and a little romance. I had to do something for this universe. I bought some other clothes as well, at Nimue's request to stop looking like a homeless cowgirl, and learned to style my hair in braided buns, so I could hide its colour better from curious eyes. Everyone warned me about my looks several times, and I grew a little conscious about my complexion. Not to mention the three rosy digits, forever imprinted on my cheek. A parting gift from the sly deity that sent me here. Even with several hours of working under the sun, my pale skin refused to get darker and I received only red spots of sunburn. Nimue offered me a potion to darken my wine tinted hair, so I could go unnoticed by the palace servants and mythical creatures who roamed the forests. To no avail. The red dye was hardly getting replaced by the jet black one. The change would last until the next time I washed, when my hair would reject the color, bringing back its shiny burgundy. It was like he had a mind of himself. Not to mention the fact that it seemed to grow with the same color, not my natural chocolate brown. So we all grew use to it and I learned to put a handkerchief around it. I started to help Cynthia around the farm every morning. Sometimes I cleaned the kitchen, other times we washed clothes by the river and chatted, like mother and daughter. I started to deeply care for her. I felt like she filled a part of my mother's empty space with her peacefull presence. She wasn't her, but it helped me ease my pain, little by little. She taught me some of their traditional dishes: fried venison, lamb soup, pork sauce with mushrooms, bread. I even got the courage once and described her the person I was in love with. Of course, masculinizing her, and she laughed at me and advised me on how I shouldn't jump at every flower he brings me. That I should have my nose high and let myself be chased, to test his patience. " A man who desires you should leave everything behind and follow you like the light of his eyes. He should kneel only to you, pray to you like you were his saint, his goddess. Never settle for less, or you will have a miserable life ahead. " I would listen carefully to her words. I was still a newborn in this world, basically, and I craved every piece of instruction so I can learn to manage. I wasn't going to tell her that I knew everything she told me. I learned enough from my mother's miserable marriage. We got along good, but from time to time, a dark cloud covered her eyes and she would watch me and ugly cry, without saying another word. Her face would distort in a silent plea and she would shiver violently, like the cold claws of death sank under her skin, dragging her to the Underworld. We were alone when that happened, and I didn't know how to react so I hugged her through her episode and whispered that I will be by her side, no matter what. Cynthia would sob heavily, making my body tremble as well, and she would clutch my arms like she was about to drown in her sorrow. It worked, rarely, but when her mind was too absorbed by her thoughts she whimpered like a baby: " I won't be here anymore... You'll have to carry yourself without me. I am so sorry... I beg you... Please give me your forgiveness... "
" I trust him... That man tied to you by the tongue of Death... Trust him... I promise you... Don't run from him anymore... He is your fire, that man surrounded by darkness... "
Then her vision would clear and ask me what happened, with no memory of what she said. I never told her either. She seemed quite unstable and I was afraid I'll make her sadder than she already was. So, I always resumed in only cleaning her face from tears with my blouse, smiling as sweetly as I could. I lied to her multiple times, but she disturbed me with her words and I always tried to forget so I could move on with my task: searching for a way home. Only I knew what lied in my heart every time I heard that. It made me wonder if my crashing here was actually meant to be. If I had a role. Nobody told me anything, but I never had the courage to ask, either. The worst part was that I started to love them, slowly, surely. They all were dear to me and I tried my best to thank their kindness by sharing my hardly earned golden coins, buying dresses and shoes, flowers for Cynthia and even cheap jewelery, like an iron sun I gifted Niven a few days ago. Even Shum and I got along. Some days better than others. We wouldn't talk much, but every small conversation was polite and innofensive. He let me take care of the mare, and it was more than enough to burry the hatcher of war. But even with his nice behaviour, I felt him off. I was always super sensitive to people's energy, I could feel their emotions, I could read them fast. Back home I used this gift to learn and read tarot cards for me and for my closest people. I felt like my intuition was helping me guide the reading session. It seemed to work. Instead, here, my higher self was always alert every time Shum made a move. He seemed to focus all of his attention on me, as if he tried to combust me with his gaze. I often felt his presence close behind me when I went to work. I didn't know what he planned, but I knew it wasn't pretty. The horse felt better and better. She could stand on her own and ate more than any other from the stall. Her black hair was always shinny and her growing muscles were visible under her dark skin. I treated her eczema and her external and internal parasites with several creams and herbal remedies. I washed her properly from time to time to keep any mosquitos away from her other healing wounds on her hooves. The stallion became sweeter, playful even and when Shum gave me his permission, I went with her on walks around the fields, holding tightly her ropes. She loved to be kissed by the sun, she loved to feel the grass and smell the sprouting linden trees. As time passed, I started to love her like she was my adoptive child. I could always hear her gretting when she saw me opening the door every morning, with a bucket of food for her. The mare would let her massive head down, waiting for me to kiss her nose and brush her long hair. Misty would follow us like a faithful guardian, jumping on the horse's back when mud stained her silver furr on our walks or watching me as I cleaned the mare. I usually kept long conversations with them, and when we were alone, several miles away from the farm, I told them all the stories I remembered from my past life. Sometimes I would cry, as I felt the stallion's merciful brown eyes on me, like she could understand me and pitied me for my suffering. The cat would climb onto my lap and catch my tears from my face, silently acknowledging my fears. Niven became my sister quite fast. She would gossip about everyone in town, about whatever her family did that annoyed her, about her past boyfriends and how they had no idea to please her. I would cringe and laugh, telling her about the memories I had, adapting them to this world. She was gracious, pure-hearted and such a good soul. Sometimes, her desire to help every lost spirit made me worry for her safety. I became attached to her more than anyone else, loving her like she was my family. I was around her equally as much as I was in Nimue's shop, preparing medicine. Once, when I hugged her, I remembered she resembled one of my dearest cousins from my old world. I knew her name on an instant, Claudia. They had the same dark looks and pale skin. I clutched her to my heart even tighter, fealing a piece of relief in my chest. I wondered why I still didn't have the courage to ask her about a library, to tell her my story, how I got here. I wanted to know more about the world beyond the ocean, about Prythian, about the seasonal courts and their High Lords. Maybe that way I could figure out the time inside the plot I fell into. But it was never the right moment and I was always so afraid of being rejected. Aoife was like the younger sister of Niven and I. We would always meet in Thaibar when I got myself a pause from Nimue and visited her store. We would talk about her family, about how her mother's situation was getting worse. I asked her to bring me to her once, so I can consult her, see if I can give her any medicine without making Aoife pay for anything. I knew she lived in a less than modest inn and that she was the only provider. Their living space was tidy and smelled like fresh dandelions, but it could trigger claustrophobia for the ones faint of heart. Even so, there was enough space for a chamber with two beds, the main room was also the kitchen and the place where they would bath. I laid my bag on the rusty table next to the simple clay vase filled with fresh flowers. There were three chairs, covered with a brown sheet so it could cover the cracks. Her windows where half painted with something that looked like glue, a pair of worn out red curtains covering them. Her mother's illness, Lydia, was quite advanced. She would be delusional most of the time, talking nonsens and walking naked around the house. When she first saw me, she bowed deeply, her forehead touching the ground and chanted a prayer like an obedient nun. It took me by surprise, even if Aoife warned me about what I was about to encounter. I blinked a couple of time, shaking the surprised figure off of my face and I smiled swiftly. " Like mother, like daughter. " I complimented, searching her blonde locks and deep blue eyes. The girl was a devoted image of her mother. Both small, with a slender figure and elegant features. Aoife approved with a tiny gesture, her heart-shaped face holding a sad mine as she watched her mother's sanity drifting between her fingers. After I asked a couple of questions and examined the woman myself, I had a strong feeling she dealt with what I used to call in my old world: schizophrenia. I would have said that maybe dementia or alzheimer could be involved as well, but it was not only a short term memory loss. Her odd way of acting, how she saw things, how she spoke to someone who was not in the room, all of these were more common for this type of mentall illness rather than anything else. Her mother was not with us anymore. She was lost in her own world and only a miracole could help her. " I'm afraid her mentallity is trapped inside it's own. " I explain, taking an elegant shaped bottle from my brown bag, " Pulling her outside of the dimension she made to protect herself might be dangerous for more than one reason. " " Can you be more specific? " Aoife pleased, placing her small and slim fingers on the table. " I know she's crazy, if your words are just a sophisticated way of saying it. I need to know if there's something I can do to either ease her pain or heal her. " She had been working at her flower shop and cleaned in a hurry when I came. Her wrists and nails were stained with mud and bits of grass and she radiated earthly tones of perfume, mixed with chrysanthemum. " I'm afraid she has no sense of pain anymore. " Speaking, I sting her mother's bare foot in several places, watching as her lost expresion never falters. " Her illness might be a protective mechanism against a traumatic event. Did she experince something like that? Do you remember? " The woman smiled at us, wide, crystal blue eyes piercing us both, like she saw something floating around. " There is so much gold! I want that in my pockets! Oh and those tongues of Death!... " Lydia rocked her thin body from side to side, laughing like a naughty teenager. Her clothes were disheveled and a few sizes too big for her sudden lost of weight. " I have no idea... " Aoife frowned, examining her mother causciously. " She was like this before my father left us. The only people that know are probably Niven's father or Nimue, as she was the one to tend to her. " Ah, great, so no one I could ask. " Alright, I'll see what I can find out and depending on that... Maybe we can find a way to help her. " The blonde laughed soflty, brushing a tear that escaped from her peacefull eyes and embraced me. " That will be wonderfull. Even if you don't find a solution, only the fact that you were willing to help means so much to me. " I smiled, holding her shoulders in my hands. A sudden thought passed my mind: I used to hold my lover like this before. I broke the hug, like her skin burned my hands and rushed to give her the bottle. " When she starts having her episodes, pour a few drops in a glass, enough to fill the bottom, then water. It will calm her and she'll sleep soundly. " " Thank you, again! " Something caught our attention outside and we stilled in the position. The noise made by a large crowd seemed to grow bigger and louder as they aproached the door to Aoife's place. It seemed like a revolution started on the streets and they wanted to burn all the houses. A few expresions passed our faces as we tried to decide what to do. In my humble opinion, I had no idea what a noisy crowd could mean here. In my dimension, this was either a protest or a wedding. Here, maybe someone sold his daughter and was throwing golden coins or someone was getting hanged publicly. Two different ideas I gathered from two different shows: Game of Thrones and Outlander. And francly, both of them had too much sexual assault for me to stomach. With a growing fear inside my bones, I tried to decide if I should be the one to check or let Aoife be the bait. I studied her for a few seconds, taking in her tiny silhouette and angelic features, just two of the reasons someone would jump her with no remorse. It wouldn't be fair to her. It was her world and I had a dying wish. And between the two of us, I was the one with a scar on my face. I was the one to check. I put my index on my lips, gesturing to remain silent and I moved closer to the window curtains. Lydia started to clap and laugh. " Mother, please. " Aoife asked, grabbing her from the bed and trying to hide her in another room. Peeking slowly over the glue paint, I only saw the streets swallowed by men and women, pleading and cheering. Colors of brown and black blocked my view, like a plague covering Thaibar. It seemed like a funeral. The image of that old man being beaten to death by the guards appeared before my eyes, the hollow and sick looks the people gave him as he drew his last breath before me. " I don't think it's safe. " I announce and must the courage to open the creaking door just enough to throw an eye outside. Aoife comes to my side and studies the events from the town. " A royal parade? " She questiones, both in awe and horror, pushing past me. A royal what? Several dark knights walked proudly through the corridor made of people, sharp swords on their backs and the royal emblema shinning on their iron shoulders. They looked terrifying in their black costumes, with their face covered, spreading a smell of death and blood in the air. Some of them had arrows as weapons and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the famous ash wood that poisoned their edge. Their horses seemed as dangerous as they were, with red pupils and dressed in heavy armours. They seemed wild and aggressive, their galop loud and synchronised. " I don't think it's wise to get out. " I whisper, trying to grip her arm and pull her back inside The same hole digged between my lungs as my fingers roamed in the air, unable to find her in time. " Who's that? " Aoife asked again, standing on her toes to see over the peasant's head. " I have never seen him inside the palace. " As I stepped next to her, I locked our hands together. Alarmed, I studied the people passing, overwhelmed by the loud shouts and the amount of information coming my way. My intuition told me to run far away from that demonstration of power, but the blondie's feet were deeply rooted inside the earth. The first one I saw was the new king. Or at least, the one I suspected to be, thanks to the massive, golden crown engulfing his chestnut locks. His sharp face held a machiavelic expression, filled with victory and superiority. The man's trimmed beard and moustache was perfectly alligned with his high cheeckbones and black eyebrows. I felt like his beauty was speckled by harshly cut features: small eyes, straight eyebrows, angular mouth and a square chin. He didn't wear any armour, only a fine tailored brown and gold suit that matched his tanned complexion. It looked like a cheap version of the High Fae's. " Is that the king? " I whisper in Aoife's ear and she approves, ducking her head so she wouldn't be seen by him. Her eyes remained locked on the stranger that followed close behind the crowned man. I raised my head and something inside me stirres. Red alarms rang inside my brain while I try to get a grip of my balls before I faint. It was like a deja-vu, eerie and unbelievable. I knew this man or... I felt like I knew him. The first thing I noticed over the sea of humans was red, a natural dark red, slightly auburn when the few sun rays hit his hair. It was kept at the back of his neck, leaving the long strands to carress his round shoulders. His face was long and arrogant, slightly ducked, so he could see every dirty peasant who asked for a few coins. Moving slowly, he dug his left hand inside his horse's bag and threw a fistfull of money in the air. His thin eyebrows frowned at the disgusting image of humans searching the mud. He was noble as well and the colours of his tailored jacket were more than enough to guess who he was. This, and the grey morality of the character visible even now, by visiting Hybern. Green and orange, embroided with heavy, shinny buttons. He must be Eris Vanserra, the heir of the Autumn Court. I swallowed and checked the dark handkerchief around my head. What should I do? He might be my ticket to Prythian, to my possible salvation. But how the fuck would I get close to him with so many guards and the high chances of getting fried by his powers. I wasn't even sure that going to the other continent would help me much, who would listen to me there? What was I even going to say? " Hi, I fell from the sky. Please help me get home. " It was a possibility though, even if it meant to start over... Of course, if I made it alive there, if I convinced Eris, the shadiest motherfucker from the series, with dark morals and high standards. Why wouldn't he make his way with me, trick me, then leave me like trash, nailed to a random tree? He was a Fae, after all, and I've heard enough not to trust him at all. But he did make it clear in the series that he tried to help Morrigan by breaking their engagement. I pressed a thumb to my temple, and focused on him. He was not a bad man... fae, whatever. Maybe... Pull yourself together, you're acting like a child! " Lower your heads! " Nimue materialised from thin air, dragging me and Aoife away from the show. " What's the matter? " I asked, almost breaking my legs on the slippery streets. " You adore being the center of attention, little demon? " She snickered, pushing us inside her shop. " The man from the Autumn Court eyed you for minutes on end and you didn't even had the shame to avert yours. " " I was... No, I didn't realise... " I started to apologise, rubbind my hands. " Maybe he was watching me. " Aoife said, gathering her dress and peeking out the window again. " No, that gruesome king was watching you. That's even worse. For fuck's sake, stay away from the window! " Nimue screamed, grabbing the girl from her shoulders and pushing her aside. " You wouldn't want their attention drawn to you, trust me, these are fae creatures. They are aggressive and possessive, and really, really powerfull. What bussines do you have with him? " Aoife opened her mouth, but quicly closed it, ashamed. " Who are they? " I asked, trying to calm my breath. " The king's name is Draegan. He is a bastard who crowned himself and his mother after his father died during the war from Pryhtian. " " Who killed the last king? " This, this was the piece of information I needed to be sure of the timeline. " There are three sisters, the youngest one is the first High Lady in history. She reigns with her husband, Rhysand, over the Night Court. The first and second born sisters beheaded the King of Hybern. " Nimue confirmed my suspicions, giving me a solid point of where I was. So I fell in the fourth book, or somewhere right after the third. " And the redhead? " Aoife pursed her lips, swirling a blonde strand on her finger. " He is the oldest son of Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. He is heir to the throne and is very, very unpredictable. " She wiped the concerned look from her face and shushed us. There was no doubt of what I had to do next. Risky or not, I had to talk to Niven. When the voices of the crowd slowly died, Nimue pulled two black cloacks from her drawers. " Both of you go back to your houses. Don't come outside untill tomorrow. Draegan is mad enough to put spies to follow Aoife if he caught his attention. " We circled the working table, filled as always with books and potions, and went to the back door. " This will help you leave unnoticed. Take Aoife to the farm. " Nimue commanded, her lilac dress swriling aroung her feet as she hurried us down the dusty path. " We'll meet after the weekend passes... Hopefully. " I stared back at the woman, noticing the concerned air surrounding her. A bad taste filled my mouth as grey clouds covered Thaibar, drowning the houses in a darker haze. A growing fear held my breath hostage between my rib cage as I studied the Countess's beautiful features. Deep down, I felt like it was the last time I would see her sour face. " Go! " She hissed again, throwing her hands in our direction. I bit back my anxiety and made a few steps behind. Our eyes met and in that weird moment, a cryptic thought passed between her mind to mine. The iminent sense of danger. I took Aoife by the shoulders and put her head down, just as a shadow moved above the houses. Nimue's lips moved quickly, whispering, then blew the air upon us. I felt my skin tingly, like a thousand bugs crawled and nipped at it underneath my dress. " I feel so damn itchy. " Aoife started, scratching her face and neck, " The Countess has lices?! " I shake my head and push a finger between my lips, telling her to be quiet. As I moved my hand in front of my vision, I catch a glimpse of my aged, pale skin, covered with patches of darker spots. " She glamoured us... " I murmur towards the blonde, feeling the gravity of the world pulling me inside the magma center. " She really is a witch. " And the magic does exist. The child inside me danced with joy at the simple realization. Peeking again over my hood, I saw my master talking to two tall men. The third one was coming after us. " Aoife, someone is coming after us. Follow my lead. " I whisper, falsely tripping over the uneven road. " Oh... Haha, silly me, Gertrude... " The girl watched me skeptical and I nugged her with my elbow, " Your knees might be better, sister, but I took my father's vigorous genes. " Her laugh scratched my ears, sounding like a veritable crow. " Ladies. " A rough voice caught us from behind and we slowly turned, putting a hand over my hunched back. " Oh, look Gertrude, maybe you won't die an old lady after all. " Understanding shines in Aoife's blue eyes, and the satisfaction of the game crosses her now old face. " Shut up, you old hag, you know I've always liked blondes. " I could feel the knight's smoldering gaze even through the iron mask he wore over his face. The man was at least two heads taller than Aoife and I, and his oppressive energy was like a knife in the back of my neck. " Ladies... " His voice was tinged with a hint of cunning and brute force, as if he had also trained his vocal cords to resemble his massive body. " Miss! " Aoife corrected him, brushing her now white locks with her bony fingers. The man looked back, as if he could barely contain his irritation, then turned to us, " Have you seen two young women walking around the village: a blonde, works at the palace and another wearing a blue headscarf? A few peasants said they came to these fields. " I can feel the muscles in her face tighten, squeezing my forearm tighter. Her eyebrow twitches, but she manages to keep her innocent appearance. " Sir, I can't see with my right eye and, obviously, the left one is crooked and suffers from glaucoma. I'm practically blind, I haven't seen anyone. " I laugh loudly, then suddenly stop, faking a backpain. " I can see... I won't keep you from your work, then. " The knight's dumb joke didn't pas unnoticed. As he left, he did not bid us farewell, nor did he look at us a second time and hurried to the witch's hut. From the distance, I catch Nimue's lilac eyes staring at me, and a slight warm breeze ruffles her brunette hair. We're fine. I try to tell her through telepathy, as if my magic would just pop out of nowhere. " Actually, sir, I think I saw something. " Aoife finds herself speaking and I can barely keep myself from throwing her off the hill, " The blonde is preparing to bury her mother, it seems she died last night. She was going to the forest to collect flowers, but I have never seen the one with the headscarf, can you describe her better? " " Unfortunately, all we know is that she always covers her head and wanders around the village. The king thanks you for the information. " We both turn to our way and walk slowly to the forest where the parties were organized. When we are surrounded by pairs of tall trees, I pull down my hood and stop Aoife. I didn't even realized that spell had dissipated, so now I could look at the young version of the girl. " What was that? " I question, pulling my hand from her wrist, " What was with all those explanations? What if we got caught? " Aoife doesn't answer right away, instead she takes a deep breath and tugs a few strands of blonde hair from her head as she combs it with her fingers. She spins around a patch of grass, aggressively trampling over a handful of healthy marigolds, good enough for making tea. " Aoife, please stop... " I speak again, much calmer now, and put my hands on her shoulders, turning her face to mine. " I can help you. " The girl's physiognomy had completely changed: from hope to sadness, from ecstasy to agony. Tears stood on her lower eyelids, clinging to her blonde eyelashes. " I'm pregnant. " Her testimony hangs between the leaves, long enough for me to process the information. " With who? " I manage to keep my face solemn, trying hard not to make her go back into her shell. She doesn't answer me, but puts her hot hands over my palms and sobs jerkily. I remember our first conversation, in which she acknowledged that working at the palace was not all about cleaning and servitude. " I asked about you because I wanted to know that being seen with me won't put you in any danger. If you change your handkerchief you will be fine, but I... I must either erase my own existence from the earth or someone else will erase it for me. " She puts her hands on her pelvis and falls slightly to her knees. "I'm so sorry, but I can't hold you, you're made with a monster..." I wipe a few drops of newly formed sweat and suddenly feel sick. Her child was made with Draegan, hence those languid looks, her searching, her desire to get into someone else's bed to hide whose child it really was. " If you're sure that's what you want, I can help you. " I admit as I sit on the ground next to her small body, then cup her face between my dusty fingers. " As long as the pregnancy is not far enough, I can help you get rid of it. " My mouth felt bitter talking about an unborn child like that. I didn't know which one was a more appropriate term for abortion: 'to kill him' or 'to get rid of him'. In either case, it sounded as if we were talking about a parasite, not a being in the process of becoming. But all these aspects were held by the age of the pregnancy: if it was less than a month or two, we couldn't talk about a life. It was very much an embryo, no heart, no lungs, no first breath, it would have been like any failed pregnancy. But if the child was much older, four, even five months, we were about to kill our first human. " A few weeks, three, maybe even four... " " Can I take a look? " I ask her cautiously and examine her abdomen as much as possible through the thin dress she was wearing, then feel her belly carefully. Everything was imperceptible. I couldn't tell just from a physical exam how advanced the pregnancy was. For a proper determination I had to separate her legs and look with a candle in her vagina in the middle of the forest. It wasn't medically ethical. But, again, nothing in this word was ethical. " I'm going to speak to Nimue as soon as possible to give you an abortion medicine. You must remain under her care for a day or two to make sure that the embryo is safely removed and that we can stop any bleeding that may follow. " " I can't pay you. All my money went to my mother's treatment. " " You don't have to, I have some money. I know Nimue. I'll solve it for you... " I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking about the bag of golden coins I'd painstakingly gathered during the weeks I'd worked for Nimue, waiting for me inside the nightstand that was now intended for the few clothes Nivy's mother made for me. I always had a little selfishness in me, I hated sharing my material goods and food with my younger cousins. Being the first niece in the family, I had to offer to others, without my will, much more often than I would have liked to. I was often left without the things that I enjoyed or with too little of them to satisfy me. That's how I ended up underappreciating myself and eating much less at our dinners, so that I could leave more to my parents. I thought about how they always worked to maintain our family and how they needed much more strength than me. The same thing occured with my younger cousins. If there were more of us at the table, I would take the wings, to leave the rest of the chicken to them. It was a small sacrifice for the things they gave me over the years. My father also taught me to save money and to avoid buying too many clothes, books or other things that in his eyes were useless. He gave me a small business from which I made enough money to be able to support myself and not rely on him anymore. It was not always prosperous, it mostly depended on the season, summer and autumn, when wine was made and people needed to preserve it over a longer period of time. Of course, other people appeared to whom I would have given my flesh in exchange, but they could only be counted on one hand: my mother, my girlfriend and my cousins from my mother's side. So no, I couldn't say that I would give my skin for my father, even though I knew deep down that he had done so much for me. The emotions that connected us had either rusted with age or dried up and petrified due to the many painful misunderstandings between us. " I'll find a way to pay you back. " Aoife sighed, wiping her eyes with the lining of her cloak, " You may think it's horrible that I have to give up the child, but I have no financial situation, nor a good mental state. I can't raise a poor, innocent soul to be happy. " " Don't think of me as an executioner. I am not putting a stigma on you and I don't see you differently. As an apprentice in medicine, I appreciate your rational side and I will try to help you as best as I can." I try to calm her down, while brushing her blonde strands that had stuck to her wet cheeks, " If it makes you feel any better, I would've made the same decision as you. You don't want to see your child barefoot like the ones in Thaibar. Let's just hope that he too will understand this when you both reach the skies. " From an early age I was taught, or whatever, I taught myself not to show my feelings: not to cry, because I would be weak and annoying, not to be happy, because in the next two seconds my father was going to crush my happiness, not to ask for bicycles, phones, laptops, because I would be constantly yelled at about the sacrifices he made for those money. All I had to do was wear the sickly smile, stuck with force in the middle of my face and a sterile dessert in my soul. However, my heart silently ached whenever I was hurt by those around me. Now, hearing such words even about an embryo that was going to be cut off from any chance of becoming a child, it shattered in my chest, throwing its sharp glass into my stomach. I place a hand on my own uterus, thinking about my words. I never wished for children. I wanted to live the life I didn't get until I was 23 years old, happy and without worries. I liked saving animals and taking care of them. I loved giving my hard earned money to adoption centers and volunteering there. I loved nature and theater, old music and opera. I could appreciate absolutely any kind of beautiful art and I could be cerebral at the same time. I always fought for what I loved, a living proof was my relationship from my old world. Would I be able to fight for a living for my child? Did I knew enough to teach him as well? Where would I get the money to dress him, to buy him something to eat? Could I offer him a roof to protect him from the cold and the rain? No. And I think that's what Aoife was thinking now. " Come on, get up, clean your face, we have to get to Niven and stay at the farm. " My words pass by her while I try to lift her from her mohammedan position. Sobs came uncontrollably from her already dry lips and her hands were shaking. She raises her eyes, now blue as the depths of the sea, and opens her mouth several times, trying to convey something to me. " Shh, shh, we'll be fine. I promise. " The girl places a hand on her sternum, burying her black fingernails in the white shirt she was wearing. I wrap my arms around her and rock her back and forth, like my mother used to do to calm me down. " After I kill my child, I'm going to sneak onto my uncle's ship and go to the continent. " Aoife explained, her voice barely rising through the broken sobs. I remain frozen, with my ears glued to her head. I don't know what shocked me more: the words she chose, the frankness of it or the fact that she had a chance to leave. " Where do you want to go? " " Far from Prythian, on the northernmost continent, right near the shore where many immigrant ships anchor. There is a place where only women and a few children are allowed to stay. " She watched me with a spark of hope. " Not many people know about this place. It's a refuge for all species of creatures, protected by several layers of spells. Rosehall. " Rosehall. Rose-Hall. Another name I had heard of but being such an insignificant detail, I had forgotten about it. " You should run away with me. I can feel you don't belong here. " A second passes as I stare at her, with my mouth half opened, waiting for her to admit that she knows who I am and how I got here. I slowly roll my eyes around, waiting to see the farmers coming out with pitchforks and hammers from the trees. Not only was I an outsider, but I also had red hair. A flame for moths. And I also admitted that it was okay to want an abortion. Some people would torture you alive just for the last mentioned aspect. " What do you mean? " I ask cautiously, raising myself slightly in a more advantageous position for running away. " To be honest, I don't know what I wanted to say either. It's just that... " She looks at me carefully, with warmth, as if she knew me for a lifetime, as if she had seen in my soul something that no one has read before. " Don't mention this to anyone, but either I have a vision problem or I inherited it from my mother... I can see colors around people, my mother used to call it an 'aura' and yours is something I've never seen before : a dazzling gold, as if you were the daughter of the Sun incarnated in a mortal form. You are the first and only one so far. " I blinked a few times. A lot of compliments in one sentence. They were compliments, right? Golden aura, daughter of the Sun, the only one with such a color. Should I feel special? Because if the answer is yes, then I was definitely totally in the wrong direction. I wanted to make myself small and unimportant, as I was two seconds ago, before she told me what a strange color I have around me. Thinking about it, Lydia did mention something today: enough gold to put in her pockets, tongues of Death. Was this all connected? I believed Aoife. I've always had an unbreakable faith in supernatural things, chakras, wicca stuff, crystals, tarot, aura, palm or coffee readings. How many times have I been with my mother to a weird old woman to make us reads in coffee beans. And above all of this: I fell through layers and layers of worlds, piled on top of each other. I could believe anything at this point. I was also very sensitive to the energy of the people around me. I could feel them from a kilometer away with what intentions they came towards me, who is bad or good, who is hidden or just introverted. I didn't take it as some superhuman quality, but only as a repercussion of the traumas at home when I learned to recognize the person by the steps and developed my peripheral view. " You'll say I'm crazy. " She stated, aware of every expression written on my face. Of course, my eyebrows had risen to the middle of my forehead, but I couldn't control myself. "My mother could see the Shadow People roaming around Thaibar late at night. You've probably heard that you shouldn't go near the forest unless you're in a very large group. It's good that Nimue and Niven's family warned you to cover your hair: these creatures have a weakness for stunning, red-haired women." " No, I'm sorry, I take your word for it. I've also seen enough in my life. Thank you for trusting me. " I smile at her and try to pick her up. " Before we leave, can you tell me if you see anything else? You know, in my aura? " Aoife seems caught on the wrong foot, but she quickly balances herself and frowns, as if she is trying to move an object with the power of her mind. " No. I've tried before, but I keep bumping into something when I want to dig deeper. It feels like you have a shield around you, sometimes they appear like sharp, shadow tongues. They intertwine in a thin thread with your aura and they go somewhere, but the trail is cut, like it was severed. " I nod, half satisfied, half confused. I take her forearm in mine and gently lead her down the treaded path that led to Niven's family farm. The road through the woods was a very devious way to get to their house. It came through the back of the village and led to a large door, hollowed out in the surrounding walls. I glance at Aoife out of the corner of my eye, weighing on my tongue the question I've been dying to ask her ever since I heard that her uncle has a ship. This meant two things: if Aoife managed to filter herself in, either she could help me too or women were allowed on board as well. It was my ticket out of Thaibar. Of course, I had to think about several things if I wanted to run away with blondie. Well, if she ever let me come with her. Where I was going to go, money, how to reach the characters I knew from the book and how to persuade them into helping me. And all of this only if someone doesn't suddenly decide to kill me in all the other stages. I could get my hands on a map of Prythian. What I couldn't do was get to Velaris, where many of the Inner Circle spent their lives. Let's not talk about the fact that sexual assault here was something that occured often inside every court I had to cross to reach the night one. And not only that: it was the killing factor, as I said, thieves, creatures and faes and I had close to zero military training to deal with them. I didn't know how to handle a knife beyond chopping and cutting herbs and meat, I didn't know how to fight with someone. I only knew how to struggle and hope that I manage to do some damage. They had no guns here, just bows or swords or daggers. And on top of that: I had no powers to use. It was phenomenal how I had fallen into this universe, survived the crash and received no special power, no unique ability. Nothing. I was just a simple healer. The only thing I could use to my advantage, if I was going to travel, was to search through Nimue's manuals and get myself some poisons, sulfuric acid, something that could have resembled firecrackers or bombs, and all this had to be carried in a purse and in sufficiently resistant containers. Dear good. How complicated it was to get back to my own shitty life. If I must say one thing: I don't even know why I'm fighting so much to get back. No one was waiting for me except Icarus, and my life was as precarious as here. At least in this world I had something to eat. I raise a hand to massage my temples and sigh. I didn't know where to start the plan and where to end. My mind was broken. What I needed now was a second opinion: Niven. I was determined, today I have to talk to her, to convince her that I'm not crazy and that neither is she and that I'm not from this world. " Something is bothering you. " Aoife observed, who now seemed a bit more relaxed, " Is it about our discussion earlier? " " Not at all. I promised that I would help you and I will do so. It's just..." I grimace, refusing to look at her, focusing my gaze on Niven's house from a few steps away. " If you were to leave, as you said, can I come with you? " Aoife measures me from head to toe. Someone calls us from afar. " I thought you were happy here. Why would you want to leave? " " You were right when you said I'm not from here. I have to find my way back home. " I confess as I stop on my tracks, my black cloak sweeping the ground around me. " I can't stay here forever, I need help and I think I can find it on the continent. " " You mean Prythian or the northern continent, right? " Aoife says cautiously, her blonde hair shining brightly in the light. I lightly nod my head and see her understanding passing in her eyes. "Something happened here... " " Girls, you're on time. Some of the workers from dad's church brought some bags with books they found there. " Niven speaks excitedly, moving her gaze from me to Aoife, who were staring at each other. " Um, since mom has work and Shum is away, I was thinking you could help me organize them and take them back when I'm ready. Did something happen? " " I think Cyan has something very important to tell us. " I finally look at the most important person in my life for the last few weeks. My savior, who was either going to think I was crazy or kick me out. Sweat was running down her temples and upper lip and the sleeves of her gray shirt were up to her elbows. " Niven, it's time to tell you the truth." " You finally found the courage... I have been waiting for you to talk to me. "
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 6
Decisions. Part II.
( +18! )
Prythian
Author's POV:
To Azriel's dismay, it took three whole days for the witch's stench to dissipate almost completely from his skin. He changed several rows of clothes, most of which he gave to the people who suffered after the war. During his little free time, he volunteered to go and help reconstruct buildings, where strong men for tough work were needed. He even found some time to go and make other pairs of suits at his favorite tailor. It was quite difficult to find attires in his measurements, so he resorted to other methodsIt almost always happened in the middle of a training session to find his pants ripped between his wide thighs or to wake up with the sleeves of his shirts too short. Or maybe they were too narrow to fit the entire base of his wings. He took even his Illyrian skins to be adjusted. There were far too many belts and laces to do and undo, so he tried to make everything as comfortable as possible for his spymaster duties.In the few days when the amber seemed to dissipate into the air around him with every beating of his heart, Azriel had the urge to replace the skin from his bones. It felt like rubbing sand against him. A strident odor that unfazed his senses, weakening his spy assets. He felt desperate.It was pathetic how such a little problem threw his cosiness upside down. Maybe it was so derranging because he wasn't used to the smell. It was uncommon for this places, so it ruined his routine, his rules. Maybe it was the fact that it remembered him of his failure from the Summer Solstice night. Or only the mere thought that a witch's odor imprinted on him, and not the flowery one he wanted.But, to his dismay, it looked like his entire body had been submerged in a cauldron of amber. It wasn't going away so easy.Of course, the rational part of his brain knew that it was very likely that the lack of sleep drove him crazy. But it was not in his nature to deceive himself. He was a master of concentration and self-control, but this breach in security sat like an abscess on his nerves.Not only had someone been clever enough to get past the sophisticated protection of Velaris, but apparently he'd made both the magic of the house and his shadows submissive. If she was capable of such control over immaterial things, he didn't want to know what she could do with material ones.Azriel's blemished fingers traced his tanned temples. The ambiental temperature became too hot for his strict preferences and the darkness that cocooned the chamber unsettled him. With a few large steps he crossed the room and pushed aside the heavy, blue cotton curtains, then opened the windows wide.A shy breeze blew through his white, linen shirt, caressing his intercostal muscles and exposed collarbones, then kissed the rounded tattoos on his neck. With the help of his sensitive and trained hearing, he perceived the voices downstairs and the muffled laughters from the city. The precipitous atmosphere had subsided and Velaris fell back into comfort and routine.Barefoot, the Shadowsinger made his way back to the cluttered office, looking at the diagrams and information he gathered. He already passed the time limit Rhysand gave him to make up his mind. Even so, they both already knew the answer to the challenge. It was a matter of time until he was going to put into action what he decided to do. Azriel couldn't wait any longer, he couldn't ignore or pass on the mission when another war was knocking at their door. No one knew between who the final battle was to be fought and what the costs were.His brunette eyebrows joined on his elegant forehead. The longer strands of hair casted shadows over his handsome cheekbones, giving him a ruffled look. The man's gaze remained locked on the candle flame, whole drops of wax had spilled over the clay plate and dried on the black furniture.Azriel couldn't give up on anyone inside the Inner Circle. They barely found eachother. No one would die at the end. He could leave this role to anyone else, but not his family. Even if he sacrificed another life. Yes, he was capable to make this decision. If the price of peace was this " Vesper ", if she had to learn to fight, endure and win, then he was more than satisfied to find her and let her do her duty, with the cost of her life.Not even his own ghosts could stop him. After all, who was he running from? Who was he so afraid of? He faced enemies far greater than a poor, ambitious witch, he suffered wounds far worse than the overpowering smell of amber, and on top of that, she entered the house on his watch.A smile stained his plump lips. Azriel stood up decisively from the table, signed a few papers in a hurry and then arranged them in piles. Discipline, that's what he was going to teach the little thief. Order, discipline and pain. Especially the last one.But, before leaving on the mission, he must take care of a part inside that was grinding him. The primal part that was making him unpredictable and aggressive.Azriel knew who was to blame for the way his blood seemed to rush through his body, to his pants. He tried too many times to give himself some satisfaction and now he'd come to the opinion that his hands were not enough. Neither the small tortures he'd submitted himself for more pleasure, nor the games of edging and denying his climax. Nothing was enough. He wanted to fuck it out of his system.The man stopped visiting brothels for some time and that was just out of self-esteem. Besides, he didn't need to pay any woman to approach him. It was enough to go out to Rita's or take a leisurely walk in the evening and someone would surely be there to make sweet eyes at him.But now, he didn't feel like hanging around or waiting, his patience was gone, an unusual and dangerous thing for a man in his line of work. Azriel didn't have anyone to torture to release his anxiety from his belly, and we couldn't go into the ring now that Cassian was still praying for Nesta to join him in training. Rhysand had avoided giving him any more missions just to give him enough time to think about what mattered. Either that or he wanted to torment him long enough with boredom.He quickly took off his tunic and pants, then snapped his fingers, preparing his bath. Lately, he was boiling his water so much that he went dizzy, with visions along the way. Azriel rubbed his skin until it started to turn red. It was the only way to get rid of the smell of blood, torture and amber. It wasn't as if he couldn't stand a little discomfort, he was trained to withstand much more than a tiny violent wash.The steam floated inside the marble bathroom, creating bodies and faces. The Shadowsinger realised it was time to get up and satisfy his last need before giving Rhysand the good news. He lingered for a few moments, curious about what his own consciousness could shape this time.A brave shadow snaked out of nowhere, and leaned over the edge of the tub, watching curiously. A more playful one danced near Azriel's wet body, waltzing through the smoky vapors.It wasn't anything new. For the most part, there were just scenes from his past: fights, the cellar he was imprisoned in, sometimes even Elain. He gritted his teeth as the eager heat surged lower than he would've liked to admit, burning like hot coals beneath his tight muscles.The molten gold inside his irirses sensed the slight shift from the white clouds. He ran his wet palm over his face to make sure that what he saw was real. She was not the woman of his fantasies, he was sure of it. It was a stranger, with her head almost the size of his palm. Azriel's interest hiked when he recognized her features. Or at least that's what he felt. His instincts told him that he'd seen her somewhere. It wasn't her face, but her eyes seemed to speak to Azriel: Big, round and sad." Wake up. "Had it really been her voice that shook him out of the trance?A few shadows jumped to his aid, memorizing the shape of her oval face before the vapors dissipated: a pair of round cheeks, one of them stained with a birthmark. thick and slightly arched eyebrows, a small nose in the middle and two full lips, with a defined cupid's bow. Stunned, Azriel realized the contradiction. This might not be the same person who sneaked inside their house after all, but someone else. Her human traits were at the opposite direction than the ones of a witch: curvier rather than arched, softer, not sour, life radiated from her, not the stench of death.This girl... Could she be the female he's looking for? Vesper? But if so, why was he the one to see it?With a slick movement, Azriel stood up from the tub, leaving the water to fall in waves on his stiff body. His joints still ached from his rough training. He made his way back to the desk, undressed and dripping. Azriel used his powers to sketch the portrait of the unknown woman on a blank sheet of paper, then put it in the folder prepared for the trip.Yes, the Shadowsinger made his homework even if he initially refused the quest.Downstairs, the voices grew louder. He could hear Rhys's mannered tone and Morrigan's sensual one, then Feyre's soft laughter.Azriel dried his body, then changed into a casual evening suit. He chose a navy blue tunic and a pair of trousers, that he could easily take off if needed, tailored to hug his strong thighs. Azriel's mouth curled in a small grin. He put on his black, leather boots and ran his long fingers through his still damp hair to dry it in the place he liked. When it came to perfume, that was an easy decision to make: something fresh, earthy, lile rain hitting the pine cones.Dark smoke played between his ankles as he was preparing to leave. Out of habit, he checked his antechamber where his desk and cupboards with his own volumes of books were. Anxiety rose in his chest when that gentle face looked back at him from the slightly damp paper.Who are you? Azriel spoke for himself and his companions. Sharp tongues of darkness curled helplessly on his shoulders, trying to comfort him.The answer seemed unknown even for them.Azriel crossed the wide hall with silent steps. The faelights lit the high ceiling, making the golden ornaments to spark. Heavy, carved doors layed closed, one after the other, shielding the empty rooms behind them. The Spymaster looked through the huge stained window at the bottom of the stairs, admiring the playful lights of the city.Tomorrow at dawn he was leaving to find that woman. An ace in their sleeve or a hatchet above their heads.Once in the living room, he nodded towards Nuala and Cerridwen and poured a glass of red wine from Rhysand's collection. It seemd that his brother was determined to make him go on that mission just by taking out his favorite bottle from the cellar." Azriel! " Feyre began, decorating her elegant face with a sincere smile, "I had no idea you were here too. I thought you were staying in the House of Wind until you finished your research on the Mortal Queens. "Her thin eyebrows arched higher on her forehead, almost meeting the hairline. She was wearing a simple makeup that brought out her tanned complexion." It seems my brother has finally made up his mind. " Rhysand sang, lifting a corner of his mouth, " You wanted to surprise me? "His High Lord smirk turned into a smile. Azriel noticed the coincidence. The young couple wore almost the same attire: Feyre in a black dress, embellished with silver stars around her neck and shoulders, and Rhysand in a loose suit, sewn with the same type of thread, but the stars where around his sleeves.As they both sat, pressed against each other on the mahogany, velvet sofa that reigned in the living room, they looked royal, untouchable.Azriel felt droplets of jealousy staining his confidence.Morrigan sat on the other side of the room, cushioned by big, fluffy pillows. Her long legs were hanging over the armchair, playfully taking on and off her red sandals." I've made up my mind, yes. " Azriel stated, swirling the alcohol in his glass and admiring the bouquet of flowers. " But I have one condition... "The Shadowsinger went to his eternal place, near the window and made himself comfortable. In the 500 years since he knew his brothers, there were frequent fights over seats, so each one made a sacrifice. In the end, the way they sat remained the same since they remodeled the room. He absentmindedly looked around the familiar chamber and let loose a breath when he no longer felt the traces of magic." Anything, as long as you accept. " Rhysand said firmly, resting his elbows on his knees." I'll go alone. " Azriel concluded stoically, finishing his last sip of wine." It can't be. You need me in Hybern. " Mor spoke for the first time, one of her slippers falling noisily on the wool carpet. " I can help you get inside, I can help you out, I have some acquintances where you can lay low if needed. "" Give me some credits, Morrigan. I can get inside as easily as you can. I can't risk your life too. I know what I have to do and on top of that, I'll be better on my own. "" Are you saying I'm a liability? " The blonde woman raised her thin eyebrows at him. " Sometimes I think you forget who you're talking to. "Azriel felt a smoldering flame ignite in his stomach. He looked her frankly in her blue eyes. Mor backed away quickly.Something ruptured between the two of them the moment she admitted to Feyre that she liked women. The Shadowsinger had never felt so stupid. Only then did he realized how easily certain feelings could blind him. It got to the point where he could completely ignore everything around him for the sake of an illusion. He never managed his positive emotions, he thrived in a deathly, mortuary stillness. Azriel was better when he had to make cold, rational decisions, and his patience was his greatest asset.Morrigan fumbled in her armchair. She brushed a strand of her splendid hair behind her ear and looked away" I know who you are. You're third in command in the Night Court and Rhysand's emissary for a reason, but you're also my family. Right now, you have more important things on your mind than finding a simple woman. " Azriel explained, linking his long fingers to his abdomen.Rhysand nodded and slammed a piece of paper on the table. " As neither Montessere nor Vallahan want peace, we have to find another solution. "Azriel eyed the treaty now thrown on the table. It had taken Helion's entire library to compose it. " Make peace with a kingdom whose king we just killed? "" Might not be the brightest idea, but it's a safe pass for you inside. "" Well, if it works and you don't get hurt the moment you set foot in Hybern... " Feyre contemplated, when Amren opened the front door and greeted them with a macabre smile. " But, they don't want to sign the treaty? "" No. Those ancient creatures and pirates are too slick and too full of money to accept such a deal. " The little devil added, then poured herself a glass of wine, " Besides, it's below their level to associate with humans and lesser fae. "Cassian appeared shortly after Amren, with a docile Nesta following close behind. Azriel silently watched the tension between the two and remained silent." I've already gave you a heads up about the comet, that Vesper. " Rhysand said, standing up and positioning himself protectively behind Feyre. He gave Nesta a nasty look then eyed Cassian, " You look good, brother. "" I'm trying. You're talking about the human comet? " Cassian grinned, leaning his shoulder against the stairwell, " That's one hell of a woman: you fell from the sky, you don't die, then a bunch of people try to capture you and use you for something you might die. "The older Archeron sister came closer to the main table, listening. Her dark grey dress held her shoulders tight together and her spine as stiff as a sword." That sums it up. " Rhysand joked lightly." We don't know what her role is at the moment. If the armies of Hybern can rise at any moment, we need as many aces up our sleeve as possible," Amren concluded, claiming a seat on a couch opposite Rhysand and Feyre.Nesta looked at her coldly, measuring her from head to toe, " Is this another innocent being you want to use for your own good? "Cassian let out a labored breath and scanned her out of the corner of his eye, but it was Amren who spoke before him. " I hope not. The Human Lands are in great danger. We are the only one willing to ally with them and protect them. We are put at risk. "Determined, Azriel stood up drawing all the attention to him. " When I get back I'll dig deeper into all this flirtation between the Queens and the Autumn Court. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. It will take me a day or two to get to the west shore, then probably a few more before I manage to find the right village."" In which one will you stay overnight? " Mor asked, already listing in her head the acquaintances she could reach to." If all goes well enough, I'll probably survey two villages a day and stop in the third. "" Be careful. Three of them surround the kingdom. You'll be very close to the palace. " Amren warned him while cleaning her red fingernails." Don't worry about wings or laws. If anyone asks, you're just a messenger. Everyone knows you as my spymaster, so as long as you don't kill anyone, you'll be safe. " Rhysand explained as he look at everyone around. " I've prepared for you a peace treaty similar to the one made for Montessere. "" That won't take away the stares and insults you'll get for killing their king. " Feyre interjected, somewhat tense." I prepared a potion for you. " Amren stood up and handed him a small velvet bag. " The moment you feel in danger just break the bottle and you'll be automatically teleported here. This is an extreme case where maybe your powers are blocked... "" Perhaps it would be better if he hid his wings. " Cassian's hoarse tone was thick with fear." It won't help. Everyone knows how the famous Shadowsinger looks like. " Nesta finally spoke, from the corner where she had retreated. " That means you have to hide your face too. "" That's why I told you that I should come with you. I can get the information easier. I can sense the truth. " Mor countered, sulking at Azriel's decision to exclude her from the mission." My shadows are as effective as your gift, Morrigan. Besides, I'd say I'm pretty good at extracting information from people. " Azriel's shadows swirled around his shoulders, loyal companions ready to strike." No, no, don't go around torturing people. " Rhysand flinched and waved an arm in the air." I'm not going to. I was proving my point. " Azriel nearly rolled his eyes at Rhysand's affected gesture." Keep the wings. It's a warning for everyone trying to do you wrong. " Amren suggested, a wicked smile written on her thin lips." Now if you'll excuse me. I have something to solve before I leave tomorrow. " Azriel bowed his head and went to the door." Take care of you. " Feyre said, keeping her hands tight against her dress.Cassian patted him on the shoulder before looking at Nesta.A slight melancholy made Azriel take a deep breath. It was always tough leaving them behind, thinking that maybe he won't come back.This is what Rhysand had to live with for fifty years, only faith keeping him on tracks.He looked back at his family, their faces full of hope, of expectation and concern. The spymaster could excel in any field of work where his presence was necessary, but with all the pressure of the war pressing on him, with all the tension enveloping him in a tight cocoon, he couldn't disappoint them. He had to get his hands on this woman and bring her safely to Velaris, then Rhysand and Feyre would know what to do, and he could retire from his role as babysitter.Not that the one of a chaperone would fit him better.Walking towards the crowded streets of the wonderful city, a strange emotion of impatience knotted in his lower stomach, pulling him into a narcotic state of excitement. Danger turned him on, sharpened his senses, that's why he loved his work and did it without regrets. Being an executioner, it wasn't something that aroused him, but it gave him enough satisfaction and pleasure, feeding on someone else's suffering.He passed by the many pleasure houses that were located in a more obscure part of Velaris. The streets here were bathed in safe darkness, where people could satisfy their needs in peace, covered only by the languid night sky.His sensitive ears caught a few jerky gasps and moans immersed in pleasure. Azriel rubbed his teeth together, clenching and unclenching his fists. There were no inhibitions here, only desire.The Shadowsinger never liked to reach this point of despair. That doesn't mean that in the past he hadn't satisfied his desires with anyone who came his way and was eager to ride a man with wings. In fact, many times he didn't even took into account that he shared a room with Rhysand and Cassian. He gave himself free rein to his fantasies with the woman who fell into his trap. Somehow, he managed to stir the primal impulses in his brothers as well and they ended up sharing the female.In his youth, his sex drive was much higher than any of his brothers, mostly due to the fact that he'd been locked up and had not managed to discover his sexuality until much too late. As he got older and realized what he preferred in terms of women, what fantasies excited him and how he liked to do it, he'd become very strict. First of all, he refused to share his women. Of course, his brothers could have the females after he was done with them, and very rarely did he end up having a threesome with Cassian or Rhysand and a woman willing to accept them.Secondly, he no longer went to the famous pleasure houses, he'd come to disgust the lightness with which many accepted him. Azriel despised the easyness of some, preferring instead to let his primal instincts rule, to hunt his women, and not just any women, but only those cold enough at heart, the mean ones, those who wanted just sex, hard , bruising, no strings attached sex.The Spymaster was by nature too methodical and too focused to allow himself to be distracted by anyone. He didn't follow a certain diet, but he trained in a rigid and ruthless way, he liked discipline and efficiency in absolutely everything that surrounded him. His sexual life included.That's why he had Victoria or Tory, as she called herself when she was working. She was well trained to allow him to maintain the amount of control over their relationship that he sought. She understood what he liked and how he liked it and never asked unnecessary questions, unless he allowed her to discuss personal things. ' ' Relationship ' was a big word to use for the attraction between them, it was just a physical transaction that kept them both close enough, but at the same time far enough so that his family was not included.When he appeared in front of the luxurious brothel, a few scrutinizing eyes followed his steps inside. It was unusual to see him enter such a place, especially as he exuded self-confidence and demanding masculinity through every pore. He slid effortlessly through tables and tables full of empty bottles and semi-nude people, searching for the one he needed. Azriel didn't even bother to look at the ones around, he just made his way to the torch of bright red hair that was spinning on a table littered with glasses.A handful of drooling men watched her swaying movements with lewd eyes. Azriel towered over them from behind, studying Tory wide hips and muscular thigs. She looked dangerous, with fox eyes and thin lips, like a mythical creature ready to eat your soul.The music chords were so erotic that the crowd didn't even bother to reach the specially arranged bedrooms, beginning the dirty job right here, in the huge room. Faelights were dimmed so that the faces of many were hidden in shadow, a sensual ambience playing among the heated bodies.Azriel felt his skin itchy. He grimaced when he encountered the sea of intoxicating and heavy smells. The man hated other people's sweat, feeling them rubbing against his fresh clothes, seeing some of theirs dirty faces buried in some girls breasts. He grimaced at the sound of skin against skin, someone's balls hitting one of this girls's asses.He raised his noble face to the thin body of his bed partner and extended his scarred hand. She smiled boldly at him and downed the last drop of alcohol from the glass. The man grabbed her by her narrow waist, lifting her smoothly and placing her back on the marble floor. Her skin burned where Azriel touched her through the cheap, translucent material of her dress." I knew you'd come back. " The viperin woman whispered close to his neck, then pulled his shirt aside to bite his collarbone.The Shadowsinger gave her a menacing look and led her through the sea of heated bodies. Tory licked her lips, intoxicated by the fresh taste of his skin. She thought it was better than any type of wine or hard liquor from the brothel.She rearranged her gaping dress over her large breasts and followed him obediently. Azriel's hand was big and warm and felt safe like that, wrapped around her slim fingers. His calloused thumbs scratched her soft, creamed palm, sending a bolt of electricity through her already excited body.The woman scanned his tanned nape, covered in swirling tattoos that rippled down to his ribs and his majestic illyrian wings that she was never allowed to touch. Tory knew his divine body as well as her own. She would never admit it, but Azriel was her favorite customer. Although he used her, just like everyone else did, she appreciated the respect he gave her before, during and after they fucked, as well as his cold tenderness that somehow soothed her sadness.She knew his tastes: he never choosed the sweeter, softer women around the house, the ones with warm hearts and pretty, pleading eyes. He ran away from the petite ones like they were poisoned. Tory knew why: he was to afraid they could get attached, that they couldn't handle his manners, his size. And who wouldn't? She almost fell for him every time they met. Azriel's presence felt like the forbbiden powder she took before she came to work. She couldn't stop chasing him, feeding off of his precise touches, of his burning skin, of his sombre eyes. Tory wasn't in love with him, but she loved his persona, more than she would like to admitt.During the days he wouldn't visit, she felt everything bland, the meat seemed unseasoned, the air felt thick, the world was grey. Azriel was the salt and pepper, the aroma of pine trees and summer nights and the blue haze everything was missing.Tory guessed that's why he always came after her when he wanted to lett off some steam. She drew a line between work and love: he preffered the fact that she fucked rougher, colder, calculated and she loved the pain that he brought to her sometimes.Entering the safety of their favorite dark room, Tory already felt her juices leaking from her little panties. They couldn't even be called panties, they were covering little to nothing from her shaved pussy. There was only a thin string between her ass cheeks and a small triangle on her clitoris.When Azriel finally turned around to watch her, she felt his burning amber irises tearing her see-through dress to shreds. Tory felt her insecurities leave her body under his severe gaze. This man always had this effect on her, making her feel like she was the goddess in the room, not him, like she was in control over the situation, not his presence. She had the power." Take your pretty dress off for me, Tory. " He demanded, his rough voice making her legs shake and her nipples hard.Azriel wasted no time and she hurried to achieve his wish, working to undo the golden circle on her shoulder that kept her grey dress on." Easy... " Azriel instructed, tilting his head to the side, exploring her body curves through the translucent material.Tory admired his painful beauty for afar: the dark blue complimenting his brunette features, his soft hair falling on his forehead, his strong forearms and veiny, long fingers. He was carved from the gods. A deadly temptation among this world.His lazy gaze become predatory when she managed to pull her dress at her navel, freeing her nipples for him. The Shadowsinger made a step towards her and pulled her hair to the back, leaving her on full display for him. He traced the back of his hand between the valley of her full breasts, watching her bite her lower lip.Tory's skin ached at the barely tactile sensation of his cotton shirt over her pink, oversensitive rosy buds. The woman angled her head upward, searching his numb expression for any available emotion for her. Tory wasn't short, she had a pair of legs many other females envied, but with him watching over her, a handfull of centimeters between them, she felt tiny under his scrutinizing eyes. Azriel could crumble her in his agile hands.The woman let a breath escape her thin lips, already full of desire. She barely met him, less than ten minutes ago, and she was already eager to jump on his cock like a profesional horse rider. He never even touched her in a sexual manner, only took her hand to lead her to the dormitory like a sly gentleman. She didn't dare to drag her thumbs along his beautifull features either, too afraid that he would end all of this in a second.Tory worked to unclasp the second ring then let the material fall around her feet. The small golden bracellett around her ankle rang when she stepped out of the circle. Her conscience told her that she should feel ashamed for the obscene pair of panties she was wearing, a millimeter piece of red lace, but her thoughts flew away the second she noticed Azriel's appreciative figure.She knew he was dirty, she knew he loved skimpy little lingerie under elegant dresses, she knew he liked to dream of what was under a woman's clothes and she knew he loved to undress a woman with only his eyes." Good. " His soft whisper came in a baritonal note as he sat in the plush sofa, right in front of the bed. " Make yourself comfortable, I want to see you pleasure yourself tonight. "As exciting as the proposal was, Tory felt a little dissapointed that she was, in fact, not going to ride anything tonight.With only a small, ambrose tinted candle to light the large room, Azriel was half enveloped in shadows, like a ominous presence looming over. His lustful mouth curled upward in a viperin smile, like he could see it all on her face, " Be patient. We'll get there later. "She could only count on one hand the times she got to devour those full lips.Tory bit her inner cheek hard, tasting the blood on her tongue and she climbed the high bed painfully slow, making a show of her perfectly tanned body and her bouncy, round ass. The woman learned a few sessions later that he prefered a handfull of asscheeks rather than big breasts, even if he always gave them the same amount of attention. As she finally sat between the black silk sheets, her thong rubbed painfully against her." Spread your legs for me. " His order made her bones shiver and she complied, bending on her elbows to give him a view as fruitful as possible." Wider. " Azriel's tone was so low, so dark, that she barely heard him. " Move your panties to the side. They look cute on you. "Tory's cheeks burned red with ecstasy. She snaked a slim hand down on her thin abdomen and pushed the tiny material enough to let him see her pink sex, leaking for him. Her heady scent morphed with his strong, pine-like perfume and hit her nose. Azriel's tongue brushed his lips, wetting them. He never ate any of the women out, she could understand why, she had the splendid opportunity to be devoured by the Shadowsinger only once.It was a godly experience.A new wave of heat ruptured through her tummy and she circled her clitoris, gathering the wettnes. She whimpered lowly, her breating becoming uneven. Tory imagined his calloused fingers instead, every edge and every scarr bringing a new spark of pleasure. She bucked against her white, velvety fingers and moaned. Azriel's eyes watched every motion of her wrist like a hunter, wary of how her body reacted to her touches." Put two fingers inside your cunt. " He shifted in the chair, adjusting the growing hardness of his cock.When Tory conformed to his commands, arching her back, Azriel growled gently. "Good girl, Tory."It was hard enough to take his mind off Elain, to let his body have such reactions to other women, but he repressed his instincts so much lately that he could barely keep himself from jumping on Victoria. With parted lips, he passed his large palm over his pants, greeted by a wave of pleasure.The woman's brown eyes lit up at his gesture and she moaned, extending her fingers with long nails towards him. Azriel was breathing shakily, feeling his skin on fire. His balls strained painfully at the sight of her gleaming fingers pumping in and out of her cunt." Do you think you're pussy is ready for me, Tory? " He asked, a mischievous tone curling around his raspy timbre. " Do you think you can handle me, now? "She nodded eagerly, stretching closer to the end of the bed." Use that beautiful mouth. " Azriel demanded, getting up from the chair, closing the space between them." Yes, Azriel. " Her breathy voice went straight to his aching groin. " Please, take me here, I crave your touch. Please... "He towered over the bed, letting her slim hand stroke him through his tight pants and her pleading feed his ego. The woman's lips fell apart as she felt him hard under her palm, long and round and thick. His neck constricted at the pleasure, large veins appearing under his skin.Azriel always made sure his women were ready for him when he fucked them, he loved the prelude, he wanted everyone in a safe and controlled enviroment.He began undressing himself as the women worked them both. " Let me help you. " He simply said as he ripped the thin material from her hips, leaving furious, red marks on her white skin. He bent and captured her mouth in a ferverous kiss as he pinched a nipple between his two fingers. There was nothing soft, nothing intimate about his mouth, how he sucked her tongue demandigly, how he bit her lips, bruising them.Azriel's other hand went to Tory's fingers, bringing them to his mouth, sucking each one of them dry. He hummed apreciative at the taste, then replaced her hand with his giant palm who covered her whole sex.He coated his long, elegant fingers in her juices, then pumped three digits inside her already elastic cunt, working the bundle of nerves with his thumb. Tory trashed against the sheets, clamping her legs. " Keep your legs apart or I'll stop. " Azriel warned, spanking her sex.She mewled under his unforgiving touch and unbuckled his pants, greedily freeing him. The muscles in his thighs flexed as she stroked him in awe, barely able to circle him with her fingers. His cock was beautiful, with a dark pink crown and a soft skin. Azriel gritted his teeth as she moaned in apreciation and hungrily licked the underside of his shaft from his base to the tip, trying to taste as much of him as she could from this position.Tory's happiness of having him in her mouth was short lived as she felt her climax building in her belly. Her tongue slid into the small slit across it's tip, then sucked the beads of precum gathered there. Azriel panted, and brushed a hand through her hair. " You take me so well, Tory. You're so fucking behaved. "Her brown eyes rolled in her head as he leaned and harshly sucked one of her nipples, bitting lightly at her underboob. She almost chocked around him as her orgasm shivered through her, making her legs shake. She tried to clamp them shut again, barely able to sustain herself on one elbow, but two shadowy hands kept her ankles still on the bed." Turn around. " Azriel's command came out breathless as he traced his burned hands along her spine.He stroked himself a few times before easing inside her, groaning silently at the way she clamped around him. Patiently, he slided slowly, giving Tory enough time to adjust to his considerable size. The woman arched like a profesionist, presenting her ass for him, letting him fill her whole.Azriel never made love to any of these women. He wasn't an easy lover and he never knew how to fuck like one, either. The only thing he could offer them in exchange was patience and tenderness, making them feel less like prostitutes and more like actual women who enjoy their sexuality. He always fucked them within the limits of what they could take, of what they wanted.He tangles his fingers between her fiery locks again, beding her back at a painfull angle. Tory moaned otherworldy, pinning her hands to the headbord to sustain her body. " Azriel. " She pleaded as he landed a harsh slap against her round ass. " Do it again, please. "He hit her again, harder this time, untill her skin was tainted a sexy colour of red. Azriel pumped roughly inside her, like he could abandon all of his suffering here.She felt him stimulate a burried spot within her belly over and over, until her legs began to shake against the mattress. Her doe eyes rolled in her head, enjoying both the pain of her hair being pulled mercilessly and her pussy being used senselessly." Have you been fucked like this today, Victoria? " Azriel's voice was thick and intoxicating, breathless even, as he burried himself faster in her gleaming pussy." N... Oh, oh... No, no " Victoria's brain was drowned in cedar perfume, too full of hormones and pleasure and overstimulated by everything he offered." Do you want to come all over my cock? " His dirty words made her orgasm come closer to her, within reach." Yes... Yes... Please, I want to come... " Tory's breasts bounced painfuly with each of his hard thrusts. " I didn't have any orgasms today. Help me, please... "" Poor thing... Let me satisfy your needs... " Azriel purred, placing a large hand on her lower belly, pressing lightly. Tory braced her hand on his strong thigh, unable to think straight from the pleasure.She came all around his cock, she barely had the chance to register when all of that happened. Azriel thrusted inside her a couple more times, groaning lowly. He withdrew from Tory's cunt, pumping himself untill his seemen painted his abdomen." Thank you. " Victoria said, a big smile on her lipstick stained mouth." I'm the one who should be thanking you. " The man admitted, as he made his way to the bathroom to clean up his mess." I'm leaving tomorrow. " Tory found the courage to announce him while wrapping the sheets around her naked body.Azriel stopped in the middle of the hall. Tory sipped the erotic sight of his huge back and chiseled ass.The woman wondered how sensitive those wings were, what reactions she could draw out of him if she licked them." Where are you going? " He asked her, slowly turning towards Tory." I've collected enough money and I'm going to move with my mother and sister somewhere further away. Maybe we'll see each other again if you ever need me. "Azriel said nothing, just nodded slightly and closed the bathroom door. ♤ The chapter is not edited. ⚘️
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Chapter 7
A Tale of Time
" Thousands of years ago, before there was Prythian with its faes or the humans with their concept of time, even before the original death creatures who haunted our legends ever existed. Before the veil between the worlds fell in place and the universes started to build on top of each other, there were only two brothers, two geminis, two separate faces of the same coin, two sharp ends of the same blade. They were made by a Higher Power, an androginous specter of dust floating alone into the void, overlooking his kingdom of nothing. They were treated as his children. The two of them played together, ate at the same table, wore clothes made by the same hand, but they grew bored of the emptyness surrounding them. Always icy and friendless. So they asked their parent figure to make new beings around them.
Because this High Deity loved his children so much, he indulged them and made several other creatures. But before he began his creation, he asked each one of them what kind of friends they'd like to have around them. That's when he realised the dramatic difference between his kids and the terrible mistake he'd made.
The boy was the first one to be molded out of clay, but because his parent was in a negative state of mind, stroke by sadness, loneliness and surrounded by darkness, the child came out... hollow. His skin was olive and his hair and eyes were made with the most abysal black, so black that sometimes smoke seemed to dance around them. His beauty was ravishing, poisoning, unforgettable, like a dark temptation creeping inside your mind. That's one of the reasons he had many wives after he grew older. But his personality was sour, his gaze was ominous and his mouth was mean. A hyena in disguise.
Because he missed his son's love and warmth, he sculpted out of marble a daughter. His pride. His power. She came out at the opposite end of her brother. The Deity just came out of his depression, so the girl was carved with love, hapiness and light. She was as beautiful as her brother, but she held a golden crown of blonde locks around her heart-shaped face and her eyes were full of patience and kindness. A smile was always decorating her full mouth. The Joy of the Void, her parent used to call her.
No doubt who was the favorite child.
To the Deity's luck, he made them powerless. Immortal, but no magic to pass through their veins. So, when they asked to have their own pantheons, their preferences came through.
The son wanted a black castle, shielded by obsidian mountains and surrounded by bottomless rivers, so no one could disturb him. He wanted the power to make his own servants and people, shaped to match his wicked soul. So his parent, aware of his mistake and willing to make things right, gave him a tiny bit of magic.
Big fucking mistake. Those were the first deities ever created to rule over the underworld, Hel, as the boy liked to call his new home.
The daughter didn't need any magic to change things in her favour, but wanted her parent close as she made her choices. She learned the art of spellcraft throught plants and books and incantations from the Deity's whispers. She learned how to properly draw a sigil and how to infuse it with her intentions. She showed her friends what she learned and teached them how to use this magic for good.
Those were the first Gods to rule over the kingdom in the sky, Elysium.
But one particular night, after the son grew power hungry, he asked to have a meeting with his sister and told her his plans: to murder the Higher Deity, their parent and steal his power for themselves.
The woman was shocked and denied giving him any support on his idea, trying to convince him it was the wrong path to choose. She even wanted to show him how to gain his own power through his own work, through their own beings. They were a direct bloodline to this Primordial Deity, the magic was in them, they just needed to know how to access it.
Good thing she didn't get to.
They argued and fought each other and by mistake, with the minuscule power his Father gave him, the man blinded his sister.
With their brotherly relationship wasted, they both went to their palaces.
The woman tried to regain her vision with her spells. The other deities tried to help her, but that was raw magic, her Father's magic. It couldn't be broken. Knowing what her brother wanted to do next and knowing there was no way she could stop him, she created a protection spell for her father and drew the mark under his bed.
She never had the chance to alert him of what his son wanted to do. As he came back from his latest creation, a poisoned arrow, imprinted with that tiny specle of power he gave his son, pierced his heart.
With a last beat, his heart exploded, shattering into an infinite of pieces who grew and created universes.
He knew what his son's plans were. He had eyes and ears everywhere, so before the man came and collected his powers, he transfered as much as he could into his crying daughter, then urged her to hide. Before she left, he handled her his latent creation: humankind.
After this, the battle over this artwork started. The dark forces wanted manking as their slaves, another conquest to his territory, while the daughter tried to save and protect them.
They fought long and bloody battles, they created several armies with different powers, they crushed the ballance in the human world. Until the daughter sigilled the dark forces below, in their dark terittory, using her own blood. Everything with a cost: she sealed herself as well, in the skyes. This was the only way the humans were never to be touched by their evil power.
To thank her, the people called her " The Mother of us all ", the protector of their kind, " The Joy of the Void " , " The Banisher of Ghosts " .
But years passed, the veil started to crumple and with a mistake, Prythian came to life. The Cauldron was spilled and with its spilling, negative energy floated like mist inside the world and people and faes began to be corrupted by the dark forces. Peace was gone. As humans were slaughtered and brought to slavery, they gave the King of the Hel a name, " The Destroyer of Peace ", " The Butcher of Life " , but only one remained sealed into our minds, burned with fear inside our very core. " The Devourer of Worlds ".
Because her powers couldn't have a direct effect on our race, she tried to help them and gave them the knowledge of The Wall and how to be created and a promise. She prayed for them and that prayer was sent. You are that prayer, Cyan, " Prayer of the Lost " , " The Vespertus " , the tale of salvation, the sword of revenge.
She promised that she'll send her first daughter to bring peace to our world. To kill the evil. To restore balance. A Vespertus, a Mother's Sacrifice for her mistakes.
So she sent several families to wait for your coming. A burning star across the skyes. But The Devourer found out and sent creatures to kill them. We are one of those families, Cyan, one of The Benefactors. We've been waiting for you for thousands of years. Many like you came through the dessert where I found you, but none of them were you: The prayer.
This is why Shum kept saying all of those hateful things. He lost his hope. I'm afraid the darkness might got to his head, but he made peace with you.
You are our hope, girl. And I am here to guide you to the next point. We need to find you your next guardians. "
Standing there, listening to their story, I felt overwhelmed with contempt. I wasn't used to the idea of being the one. My whole life I was a second choice, a side character in someone else's story. I felt displaced and unsure, despite of my dreams of finally being chosen for something great. These people threw a handfull of great compliments: the saviour, the prayer, the first daughter of the Mother. Silently, I denied each and every one of these titles. I wasn't worthy of them. At least not right now when the only thing I did was cry myself to sleep and attempt to kill myself in the process of hopelessly trying to find a way back home. Cynthia mentioned that I was some sort of legend long forgotten, deleted even from the oldest of oracles, erased from scriptures and sculptures. " The Benefactors ", as they were called, had gone great lenghts to hide me from prying eyes and evil spirits that might seek me out to kill me. Cynthia also stated that her mental health started to diminish after the Mother herself sent her dreams and premonitions of me. That's how Niven found me in that deserted field. That's why Cynthia never left the safety of the farm. The stove didn't produce as much heat as I felt in the air around. Maybe the news turned my hypothalamus all the way up, messing with my thermoregulation. My cheeks were burning so hard that I could feel them with my tongue from the inside. They were probably as red as they were hot. A part of my fervent refusal was also the fact that I didn't recall such plotlines in the conflict of the other books. I was aware of the Mother being real, so was the Cauldron and its spilling and the formation of Prythian, but a daughter was never mentioned, The Devourer of Worlds was also new. How much did everything change with my coming? Suddenly, that ominous voice that haunts my dreams chants again in the back of my head, his only condition before he pushed me here: ' you'll change the course of events '. Although I tried my best to not interfere with anything in what was going to unfold, maybe my mere landing here was itself an interference. Or maybe the fact that Eris saw me in Thaibar. That's why things had changed so drastically. I open my mouth to tell them about that creature, the unsummoned one, but the words feel heavy in my throat, burning like hot coal between my vocal cords. I swallow them, feeling every letter like a bunch of unchewed food forced down my esophagus. I tried again. Every word I thought about was blurry, the vocals kept mixing, like I suffered from dyslexia. My mouth felt smeread with pitch, impossible to get it to open and form the sentence. That son of a bitch bewitched me so I couldn't expose him. That's why only Nimue's potion had managed to bring up some of my memories. After their speech was over, eight pair of eyes followed me with expectation. Not once had I moved my body from that wooden chair. The cotton robe hanged heavily over my shoulders, black as a raven's feathers. I looked like I was taking part in a funeral, not a family gathering. Honestly, I didn't know how to react. If I smiled, it would seemed sadistic and distasteful for the context, I was running out of tears and depression. I used them all in the beginning, while grieving my old life which, apparently, wasn't any better than this. I couldn't even be completely shocked, I would be a hypocrite. I always hoped to be more than a secondary character, even if it suited me quite well to be a healer. I was good at it. After all, that's what I was preparing to do for several years now, in my previous life. I was confident in my abilities and the classes with Nimue only helped me develop further on the practical side. But to hear that I, a mortal doctor, can save them from a so-called '' Devourer of Wolds '', well, excuse me if I want the chance to refuse or to rethink my life decisions or if I need a second to properly shit my pants. I wasn't able to put myself in opposition with a damned God, not when he could snap my neck with a flick of his fingers. There were two major aspects to consider. First of all, I was human, my life spawn was of maximum seventy years, I had fragile bones, my hearing was not as developed and I was not fast. I bruised easily, I was sensitive and the only weapon I truly owned was my sarcasm, which could also be used against me. The only formidable thing I did was fell from the sky and somehow manage to not fracture my pelvis. Very weird, I must admit, but even this made me question a lot of aspects. Starting with the fact that every time I tried to end my line of life here and hoped to restart back in my other universe, something, someone, seemed to hold my head over the water, forcing me to stay alive. Mockingly enough, every time I tried to swallow Nimue's death poisons, I seemed immune. Other than a terrible stomach ache and dizziness, I felt numb. Every time I tried to slit my veins near the river where I was washing clothes with Cynthia, the knife got blunt on the way, magically. Not even the dagger I stole in my dreams didn't do the job, my skin growing thicker every time I put the cold blade on my wrist. However, if I ever cut myself by mistake with something sharp while preparing our dinner, I would bleed. If I ever hit myself by mistake, it hurt like hell and the next day I would have a pretty nasty bruise. Secondly, as I mentioned, I was just a doctor. My skills went as far as my mind could process the information in books. I couldn't fight in the front lines in any form. I had to master the art of healing before going further and starting combat lessons. And I needed a master. I didn't know how to use swords, I didn't know anything about close combat, I didn't know how to use a bow and I lacked strategic logic. I didn't feel magic running through my veins, neither electricity pinching my fingertips. I couldn't cast spells like Nimue did with me and Aoife while we ran from the town, I wasn't telepathic or a necromancer. The only time something had reacted to me was between those black diamond mountains, when a bolt of electricity shocked my muscles, charging my core. But that could very easily be from the oasis itself and not from me. That place seemed spiritualy loaded, full of religious symbolism, sacre to the animals that live in that place. I remembered the stag: glorious and tenacious, trying to guide me out. In my previous life, I read tarot cards and loved to use crystals. My intuition was fairly developed and everyone for whom I did a reading for said that my facts about them were true and that what I predicted happened in the next days. Could this classify me as a witch? Doubtfully. Was I a fraud? It depended on how you wanted to look at the matter. I also liked to curse the shit out of people and situations when they pissed me off. The weekend after our ' family ' talk, I remained as silent as a tomb stone. Kallus and the rest didn't push me either, leaving the decision to be made only by myself: would I step in the game or would I choose to step out of it. The only problem here was that eventually, even if I was passive, everything would come after me. Destiny doesn't forgive anyone, after all. If I was pulled here to achieve something, things would start to happen in that favour, forcing me to go with that flow. So this decision makind bullshit was just a facade, a placebo, to make me feel less burdened. I very much knew what the outcome would be. I remained locked in my head, turning the situation upside down, thinking at every possible end. I didn't get the courage to ask if I would die in the process. I wanted that, after all. Might as well have a saying in my life, fight a little. I already changed the course of events. I received sympathetic looks from everyone those few days of silence, shy smiles, encouraging touches. Maybe I was getting them before too and only now I was aware of them. It was clear they knew more than they told me. I went outside several nights, when I was sure everyone slept soundly. I had only one companion, Misty, who now was my cat, following me nearly anywhere, admiring me throughout the day exactly as my Icarus used to do. She wasn't a cat that liked physical love. I wasn't a touch starved person either. But I appreciated her omnipresence, the way I felt a little more protected with her near me. Misty made my loneliness more bearable. There was no pity and expectation in her yellow eyes, only patience and adoration. At this point I wasn't even mourning my fate anymore. I needed guidance. Find the guardians, this was the next step on their list. I looked at the moon for a long time, waiting for an advice from her, a call, anything to enlighten my mind. It is easy to imagine that I received nothing, only dead silence. Maybe that was what I needed after all. I started my next day with a little more energy. I made notes from the books collected from Nimue during my aprenticeship. I found something interesting: a potion able to make you imperceptible to faes. They couldn't sense your intentions, nor smell you emotions or read your thoughts. You were somehow immune, indetectable. As a spark bloomed inside my chest, I felt like I was going to use this piece of information. I took it as a sign. After feeding the animals around the farm, I went to the stables. The mare I healed was waiting for me, hapilly snickering at me. She had grown beautifully, forming an impressive mass of muscles under her now shiny hair. Misty followed me, perching herself on the hay. I rested my head on the mare's muzzle and prayed for the same sign. That's when it truly hit me. These people had been waiting for me for so many years to help them. They warmly welcomed me into the privacy of their home, fed me, disguised me, gave me a job, protected me and helped me learn their way of life. I would be selfish to not return the favor. Just the way I did with the horse in front of me. And although I didn't expect anything in return, they didn't either, they left me a chance to decide. I gritted my teeth. I was wasting precious time if I didn't start working for what I came here to do. Instead of wasting my life as I unsuccessfully tried to do several times, might as well put it to good use. Fight and die, if that's what I wanted anyway. Maybe this is the only way to get back home, fulfilling my goal here. Aoife had stayed with us. I secretly called Nimue to come and perform the curettage procedure without anyone in the family finding out. I paid. Nimue didn't refuse my money. After that, I announced my decision: I was going to do my best and help them. Today was the fourth day we went to that castle, placed in the heart of Hybern's territory. Of course, Nimue refused to send me into the wolf's mouth, but there was no other way to find what we were looking for: the prison. Kallus mentioned that the person we must find is locked up in a cell.When I asked more about this matter he explained that we were trying to find a woman, a fae, to be more specific, old enough to be present at the creation of Prythian and downfall of several kingdoms. She used to be a part of a long eradicated race of blood thirsty warriors, a beloved and respected leader amongst her kind. But all her titles have no use now that they're all gone and she's the only one standing.I can't even imagine what lays inside her soul. If she has one anymore, now that she's been locked for hundreds of years in Hybern's prison, subjugated to God knows what treatment they gave her. I bet it wasn't lovely. We don't know what torment she had to endure, physical and mental, if there is still some fight in her left, some will to live on or if the woman is even breathing anymore. All we knew is that she was the next step. Nimue instructed us about what behaviours we should have inside the palace, about the dress code and what should or shouldn't be done. She even made a map of the rooms she visited during her service for the King. It was the only map of Hybern's castle to ever exist as well. Aoife helped Niven and I to sneak inside and choose our work. She stole two pairs of servant clothes and wrote false names inside the ' Working Register of Slaves '. The book held a pretty name. It made my blood boil. Also, we couldn't be seen together, if one of us was ever caught, the other will be put in danger as well. So we separated: I was working as a general maid, cleaning, serving the meals, become a prostitute over night, made into a human chair for fae feet if there was necessary. It was one of the most shamefull jobs I have ever had in my entire life. It wiped out every ounce of my decency and ego. It was... pathetic to say the least. But we had to do what we had to do in order to get our hands on the map. Now I started to see why mortals despised this creatures. Niven became a chambermaid, cleaning the rooms after orgies, throwing their bed potty, ironing their clothes. It was disgusting as well. Lucky she never ran into one of their sex parties, otherwise she would have been forced to join. They were so satisfied to put us in dangerous and embarrassing positions. We were also surprised to hear Aoife's wish to join our cause. I wasn't. I felt her need for revenge, I saw that spark inside her eyes die the day she killed her child, how her youth has been stolen from her, how she needed to repay the struggle they put her through. Also, she worked in the kitchen. This way we had a large part of the castle covered. After a few days of training with Niven to ride a horse, I started to get the basics. I still wasn't good at it, but I could manage if I ever needed that piece of information. However, she expressly requested that we both go on the same horse, considering I wasn't fully ready to do it on my own. We travelled like this for the next few days: me behind Niven, Kallus on his own stallion and Nimue on her mare. On the bridge that separated the surrounding land from the center of Hybern's castle we were asked to present our entry tickets each time we passed the gates. We were noted on a book covered in leather by our names, our entry and exit data. I was in a state of anguish every time I crossed the stone bridge and looked down at the abyss waiting below. Not to mention the fresh smell of rotting corpses that rises like steam on warmer days. Even if we were separated by a bunch of meters from an imminent death, we could see what happened with the ones that had mean intentions. Mounds of lifeless bodies and bones laid on the ground beneath, shredded by starved animals. All around the high stone walls marched entire troups of black knights, following every movement made both inside and outside. Archers, swordsmen and other types of regiments patrolled at well-established intervals of time. No delay. Even down here, guarding the huge, black iron gates there were at least ten of them watching vigilently. Some of them owned an unseen type of dogs, beasts as large as a horse, with cruel eyes and layeres and layeres of sharp fangs. Their fur was so black that not even the light didn't shine on it. They looked like they were dragged from Hell. Good luck with the potion I found. I dosed it carefully, so that some part of our human perfume to still be smelled, so that our fear could still be distinguishable. But out thoughts were impenetrable, The obsidian palace, with tall and sharp towers, held a sinister aura around. It was guarded by circular streets and wide town squares with many decorated stalls, rich in vegetable, fruits, silk or velvet. You could find so many things here. Fae kids played loudly outside their homes, adults chatted vigorously, dressed in so much gold, with perfectly tailored clothes. They seemed to have no worry in this world. They walked proudly, with their sharp features held high, pale as paper, as if they owned everything and everyone. I felt a strange emotion every time I passed these places. Behind this perfect portait, if you looked closely, you could see the blood of the mortal servants it was all built on. They were starved in a corner, waiting for the kids playtime to be over so they could take them back inside, they were following a few steps behind the fae couples, with their eyes glued on the ground and their head lowered. They were working their asses off for a few golden coins, sweeping the streets, watering the trees and flowers, wiping the windows of their shops, arranging merchandise on the shelves. It disgusted me every time. Waves and waves of hate fueled my desire to help these people to be free from their slavery. I wanted the faes to suffer as much as the humans. Those creatures came out of their luxurious houses, built in the same gothic style as the castle: gray brick walls, beaten with black, shiny stones. Even the pointed roofs towered menacingly. Everywhere laid a blancket of numbness, of uncertainty and falsity. Now I could clearly see why no one liked them in the books. They were thirsty for power, ready to crush and steal any shred of gold, every high position in the court. Despite their dazzling beauty, they had a dirty and poisoned soul. Every morning I bit my tongue, refraining from any spiteful comment, averting my eyes from any suffering human that was asking for help. Niven was right to not interfere that day in Thaibar, when that old man was beaten to death by Hybern's knights. I needed to help them in another way. Slowly, we parted our ways. Kallus walked towards the small church meant for humans. A barelly allowed luxury. Nimue followed us all the way to the palace, then she nodded her farewell with a glassy fear in her violet eyes. Between the cold and bare walls, covered with tapestries embed with jewels and silver thread, I felt a shiver run down my spine. I looked at Niven briefly, searching for a glimmer of hope or courage in her, but she was as deserted as I was. Her hostility towards the fae race was burning wilder than mine and this rage was sucking the life out of her. The massive chandelier hung like a dusty weapon of justice above our heads, ready to sever them if needed. We didn't even look at each other before leaving the main hall, joining the other servants. It was the fourth day of listening behind closed doors, staring intently at paintings and letters, lingering longer when pouring tea, hoping that one of this dumb faes would spill some precious informations. It was in vain, I was looking in the wrong direction. My action were limited anyway. At every corner of the corridors was an armed sentry. They didn't allow you too much, not even to turn your head to stare at a gorgeous necklace on some lady's neck or a splendid tailored dress. I knew these hallways as my own palm, looking at Nimue's sketches hours and hours, studying them in case anything bad happens. I knew the print on the carpets that covered the black and white marble, I knew when the corridors splited and how many doors were on each side of the wall. I also knew what type of mosaic was on the ceiling depending on the windows I passed. I was really damn motivated to do my job well. I watered flowers, I refrained myseld from spitting in their food, I carried trays and filled glasses with fae wine, I accepted every ' innocent ' indecent touch from the guests who got drunk at the courtyard celebrations and prayed everytime that things would not escalate. You couldn't say no. You kept you mouth shut and took it like a good slut. I was lucky enough to not be their type. But even my luck could run out at any moment. We all knew where to find the map of Hybern, but none of us was ready to say it. I had to go in Draegan's chambers. In essence, anyone could go fetch it, but I was the one with a death wish. They had to live, my fate was unknown anyway. Altough the most important thing now was finding the prison, something else was on my mind. Where was Eris? I hadn't seen him since I came inside the palace. Neither Draegan was to be found. This made me wonder if they knew something about me, if they saw me on the sky that night, if they were aware of any anomaly. Maybe they were on a hunting trip, just like all masculine fae liked to do in the books or in movies. Or maybe they were discovering new ways to torture humans. The most persistent question was still the same: What business did Eris have with Hybern? Were they trying to sign another treaty? Maybe his father forced him to come here... If the Autumn Court is planning to betray everyone from the inside, the odds are against Prythian and the Mortal Lands. Was I able to get in time to them and tell them about this matter? Would they believe me? It's not like they couldn't test me by getting inside my head. I place my cotton veil over my nose and mentally prepare to another risk. Aoife explained to us that the uniform here was very misogynistic. We were not allowed to show our faces, so we wouldn't tempt anyone with our beauty. Our hair must be tied and hidden under a scarf and also, we were covered from our necks to our toes in a black dress, with a red apron attached to our waist. Even our palms were covered with thick, abrasive gloves. Just in case we were clumsy and dropped the silverware on the floor. So toughtful for them. I don't look at the servants who pass by me and neither do they. We weren't allowed to make eye contact. I sneak into the servants corridors. In the few days we stayed here, three royal tasters died after it turned out that the food for the guests was poisoned. All of them were humans. Three wasted lives. The kitchen team continued to change and those who had left somehow disappeared without a trace. Everyone knew what happened to them. The palace seemed to be charmed: every peeling painting followed you on the hallway, even the ones with a sunny meadow on it, every hole in the wall was like an ear thirsty for gossip, every creacking floor was a voice accusing you of something you didn't do. The knights who prowled every corner or lined the length of the main hall seemed an empty shell, no body underneath, only an evil spirit. No wonder you could never truly see their eyes: the mirror of the soul. I was afraid to even approach the gloriously exposed armor used by an old fae they worshipped, carved from glittering gold and rubies as red as the blood of fallen enemies. Even if it was empty, I expected it to move at any moment. Shielded by the darkness of the servants passages, a wave of courage guided my feet towards what I knew was only doom: Draegan's north wing. I grab a set of fresh sheets from the laundry room. Although he didn't visit his rooms lately, the bed had to be changed daily. It was the perfect cover. Even if I didn't know what was the path to his chambers, I followed the ' N ' carved in the stone walls. The entire North part of the castle was claimed by him after his father's death. I step as quietly as possible on the jagged slabs of the tiny corridors and get a candle on the way. The halls were not as luxurious as the ones Faes used. They had rounded and really low ceilings and in some regions you had to lean forward to pass. The torches were so rare, that most of the way you were spending it in total obscurity. There were no mice yet, but among the dusty stones appeared roots, mold and some herbs that thrived in humidity. Someone coughs behind me and I turn, holding the candle like my life depended on it. There goes my crumb of barely gathered courage. I squint my eyes, cursing my bad vision, but I don't see anyone. The last light was more than twenty meters behind. The feeling that I was going to be caught was suffocating. I remember living with the very same sensation in my former relationship, with the fear that my parents would catch me and punish me. I let out a cold breath, still searching the hungry darkness. I turn and quicken my pace, following the carvings. I was alone in this area. Very few servants wanted to clean this wing. Nobody was crazy enough to find a workspace in the lion's den. The doors line on both walls, some of them required me to go up a few stairs, others to go down. I listen, biting the dry skin of my lips. Nothing. I don't know if my torch was shaking so bad between my fingers because I was afraid or because the cold chilled my poorly protected soles. I clench the other fist, bracing myself on the ground. I move to another door, located lower than the previous one and listen again. Feminine voices gossiped on the other side. Someone pours tea, another one cuts something on his plate. I stick my cheek closer to the wet door. I couldn't decipher the topic of conversation, they were too careful of the ears in the walls. Clever. Fuck me life decision. I walk further and stop at another door: someone is clapping, lots of applause actually, pause, a moan, another woman moans louder. '' You liked that, you dirty whore? '' A harsh voice makes me startle and I take a few steps back, '' We should bring a servant. I'd be so horny to watch a human eat you out. '' . That's my sign to get the fuck out. On my tiptoes, I run for a distance of a few doors without looking back. The candle was already extinguished from the suddem movement. I forgot that in the North wing Draegan allowed his escorts and his narrow circle to live. The only time luck hits me is when I notice a sign with a crown carved on several doors. I don't even think twice before sticking my head inside. ' Well done!... ' I whisper to myself. I look back, noticing the superbly maintained tapestry. The door completely disappeared in the drawing, revealing a gorgeous tree with ruby and quartz flowers, woven on an azure background. All around, a crossed mosaic frames the tree. It was one of the most spectacular things seen in the palace. I spin on my heels, facing the immensity of the room. Abandoned, the bedroom seemed deadly silent, like it was inquiring me of my presence here. There were no splashing sounds in the bathroom, the wide, arched balconies were open, leaving the orange curtains to flow in the cold wind. The huge, wooden carved bed had a canopy over it made of flowy, white veil. Above, there was a carefully painted portait of the last King: shoulder-length black hair framing a pale, rubber like skin, angry, black eyes. He seemed quite young, maybe around his forties. Next to it, almost sketched rather than painted, was a smaller drawing of Draegan: a faithful image of his father, but with gentler features. I leave the sheets aside and take a few steps forwad. This chamber alone was as big as Kallus's entire house. High ceilings with different faces carved in white marble. Several thick wooden stools lay scattered, covered in red velvet. I move towards the curved nightstands. Nothing, just a few letters from his mistresses, a ruby ring that I slip inside my bra, a letter knife and a golden comb. I crawl on my knees on the balcony, trying to not make my head visible from the outside yard. I quickly flip through the religious books on the short table. In none of them did he mention any shooting star, not the two brothers: the Devourer or the Mother and neither was the Prayer of the Lost. There were mentioned reforms of the human lands, of the farthest continent, Pryrhian and Hybern. How the oceans were created, on the next page was a chart with several deities and what they brought to the world as gifts. The Benefactors really eradicated any notion of a fallen star. If that was true, in the end. In my world, there was this saying: Believe and don't search. I move to the bathroom from which I steal a platinum hairpin with jade and agate flowers. I always loved to collect semi-precious crystals, charging them, cleaning them with smoke and fire, then use them in my tarot readings. After I finish, I move to the last door in the room. Here, my luck ran out: it was locked. I turn the brass globe left and right, hoping to hear a click, but I spent my energy in vain. '' Shit. " I mutter, cursing in my mother language and refrain myself from hitting the door with my leg. The key might as well be with him, around his neck or in his pockets, or maybe he hid it in this room, in this fucking huge room. I put my fingers on my temples and concentrate on the dust particles swirling in the setting sun. A gorgeous orange pours through the thin curtains, bringing an air of melancholy. I turn my back on the scene. A familiar pain settles in my lungs and I breathe through my mouth, forcing the stress out of my system. I focus my attention on the lock, carefully drawing the key in my head, my salvation, made of shiny metal as precious as the items I stole from the room. I visualize the gesture, how Draegan turns the key in the lock, opening the door and revealing the antechamber, an office. I feel filled with peace and hope. I try my best to manifest, everything is going the way I want. I open my eyes and swear again. The door was just as closed as it was a few minutes ago. '' I'm losing my mind. '' I raise my palms and wipe them on my skirt, then point them on the lock. I keep my muscles contracted, then twist my hands, imagining how waves of magic come out of my fingers and open the door. Nothing happens. Maybe the gloves were the problem. I put them away and try again. I imitate the movements I saw in movies like Marvel and several other series. Nothing. I curse once more, a string of unorthodox words swirling in my mouth. I take another breath in my lungs and raise my hands, close my eyes, feel the warmth on the surface of my skin. I picture the type of power the author used to describe for Rhysand and his brothers. I imagine it working in my favour, not against me, then contort my forearms and let the energy flow. '' For fuck's sake, I'm going to punch someone. '' I had no powers. Not even the smallest shred of energy, of magic to come and spark like a firecracker on my fingertips. I didn't feel any ancient whispers cursing through my veins. I actually felt dumb. I came this far, worked up the small amount of courage to reach this wing. Maybe I really wasn't the person these people were looking for. Maybe it was a mistake. I hadn't even asked what happened with the ones before me. Is not like I didn't knew, if they survived, I wouldn't be here. I swear again and hit the door. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I watch the floor. The key, a rusty contorted metal, laying in front of my eyes. '' So my powers have a delayed effect or it needed a little kick to start showing? '' I ask myself and grab the cold metal. The door opens with a heavy sound, as if it had been closed and opened too many times. I put the gloves back on my fingers and erase any prints from the key. I was finally inside Draegan's office. Or the dead King's office. Three out of four walls were covered with shelves upon shelves of perfectly maintained books. It smelled like leather and ink inside. As much as I hated Draegan, he kept his scripts in impeccable condition: leather spines, exceptional handwork, fresh strings, not eaten by moths. In the middle of the room was a big desk, full of paperwork and a majestic chair, made of black wood covered in red and maroon velvet. On the empty wall was an extinguished fireplace, cleaned of embers, with two elegant red armchairs placed in front of it. I rush to the office and search through all the drawers: documents about inheritance, letters from allies from another courts and continets I have never heard of, maps of oceans and lands, registers with numbers and series of soldiers in the army, who died, who was injured and who was still alive, able to fight. I look at the amount of people at the end, where they had summed up all the resources: more than half of their force was destroyed and most of the kingdom's treasury was empty. I look deeper, but all I can find are a few notebooks full of sketches and papers stamped with the initials A.F.. It came from Prythian. I couldn't calculate the beautifully outlined dates at the bottom of the page, because I had no idea of the time I fell in. This story must've happened over a long period of time given the stacks of sheets stamped with those initials. I twist my mind in all directions, hoping that some clue would appear out of nowhere. I had a vague idea, but the ' F ' initial was making me feel unsure: Amarantha. There's details of her status in the court of Hybern, about her work as a general, about her sister Clythia and her relationship with Jurian. She talks about her suspicions and about the revenge. There is a list of ships and the routes they followed to reach Prythian, what they transported and to whom, the payments form each High Lord. A detailed description of a treaty, how she searched for a mistake inside it to cancel it. Then, at the end, a terrifyingly large number: ' MORTALS '. I wet my lips, feeling a drop of cold sweat falling on my neck. This woman killed almost two thousand slaves. The ones she refused to set free or tried to fight her. Amarantha talks about her strong ties with the Spring Lord, Tamlin's father, and how they shared ' their honest opinions about what to do with the increasing numbers of the lesser creatures and their despise for the human race '. My knees start to shake and I have to sit down on the carpet for a few moments to regain my balance. How can you hold such hate towards someone that didn't wrong you? On other pages she writes in great details about a recipe stolen from the King and how she used it to take the powers of every High Lord, about how she managed to build her kingdom from Under the Mountain. Rhysand is mentioned as well, how she took him as punishment for his father's actions, the sexual abuse and how she gouged out the eye of the Spring Court emissary. On the last pages, there are payments for a ball and a list of guests. There was also written the fate expecting everyone. The woman was totally out of her mind, power hungry, evil and bloodthirsty. I close the registers. It's enough for me. There is so much death in this world, so much torture, so many irregularities, too much people with power. And nobody does anything to stop it, to prevent it from happening again. I had a strange feeling that the history was about to repeat itself. Another five hundred years of torture, of human genocide and slavery. Was I here to stop this? How the fuck could I put up with faes, with whole courts and kingdoms? My ears rang loudly. With trembling hands I arrange everything the way I found it. I pick up a scroll tied with a velvet ribbon and open it. My head was spinning and my hear was pumping fear in my body with each beat: fear of getting caught, fear of enduring torture, fear of punishment, fear of pain. I hug the paper to my chest. A very detailed map of Hybern. I found it. I close the door behind me in a hurry and push the lock back in the space it felt out of. Hot lava bubbles in my stomach when I hear heavy footsteps approaching. What were the odds for Draegan to come right fucking now? I blink. Torture, torture, torture. '' Oh... What is it that you're looking for here... human? '' A masculine voice rings from behind me, warm like a hot day of summer. I feel my body temperature ranging from hot to cold in the spawn of seconds. I keep my back to the fae, curled up on top of the white sheets that I had to put on the bed. I count in my mind: one second, two, three... five... seven. My breathing doesn't calm down and droplets of sweat fall from my forehead on the ground beneath. '' I'm not going to hurt you. '' His tone is cunning, hardening with a few octaves. He comes closer and I can smell fiery embers all around me. '' I... I'm changing the sheets, sir. '' My voice sounds like I was strangled, held by my throat by invisible hands. '' Where? Inside the office? '' I can feel the words leaving his smiling lips. Fuck. Shit. '' No, I was also cleaning the dust. '' '' If that's so, you're doing a poor job. There's some of it flying everywhere. '' He notices, a trace of humor laced between his sentence. '' Turn around. '' I exhale and do as I am told, but keep my eyes on the ground. A few moments pass before he speaks again, '' I remember you. We met in Thaibar, in the market. '' Double fuck. I look at his perfectly polished black boots, then at his tailored emerald pants. '' Look at me. '' '' I'm not allowed to. '' I excuse myself, trying to find a way out of this conversation. '' I allow it. Come on. '' Slowly, I rise my head. Why was everyone so tall around this place? A sense of calmness passes thourgh me as I finally see who I was talking to: Eris Vanserra, proudly staying right in front of me. I might have been a little overwhelmed by his beauty, because I don't hear the next few words that come out of his thin, pink mouth. Now that I was getting a closer look at one of the most controversial characters from the series, I was a little bewitched. Eris had no equivalent in the human world. His face was royal, high cheekbones, strong nose, cold, amber eyes. He was well built as well, tall and rather thin, with graceful amount of muscles to stretch his gold and green tunic. '' You might be wrong, sir. '' I defend myself, knowing damned well that we made eye contact in Thaibar. He laughs, unamused, showing a pair of white teeth. '' I doubt my eyes deceive me so bad. What do you hide there? '' I frown and turn my head to see the map on the floor, '' I have no idea. '' '' Liar. '' Eris whispers, knowing that he caught me red handed. He inhales and I thank god for the potion, because he can't feel the mixture of emotions driving me crazy right now. '' What are you looking for in King's Draegan chambers? Sex? '' I open my mouth, then close it. '' No. I was just about to leave. '' '' Without your scroll? '' He give me a cheeky smile, then grabs the paper from the ground. '' A map. Feeling patriotic? '' No, just a little chaotic. Eris circles me like a lion would with it's prey. I straighten my back, following the map held by his long fingers. '' I'll give it to you, don't worry. But only if you tell me why do you need it so badly that you put yourself in such danger. '' '' I need it. '' I admit. '' Can you please give it back. '' '' I thought it wasn't yours. Why do you need it? '' '' I changed my mind. '' His smile falters when he hears something I don't. His eyes catch mine and I see something pass behind them. '' Get under the bed. I'll conceal your scent. '' '' I need the map. '' I press, coming closer to him. '' Fuck the map. '' He rasps, catching my arm in his large palm, then guides me to the bed. '' I'm trying to save you mortal ass. Do as your told and I'll find you and return it after. '' My eyes search his whole face for a sign of betrayal, but his features are serious and fairly worried. I know I was going to regret this, but I lay low and push myself under. Eris hides the map inside his jacket and winks at me before the door opens and he regains his composure. '' Eris, I'm glad you arrived. '' Draegan steps in and pats the redhead's shoulder in greetings. '' I have news for you: tonight we're dining with one of our old friends: a winged emissary from the Night Court. ''
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 8
Jane Doe
𓆩✴𓆪 " So, do we have a deal? " Impatience. Impatience was written all over King Draegan's voice, like a child ready to receive his Christmas present. " As you can see, our lands are really going to waste. There's almost nothing left to save. Our fields are barren, our rivers are poisoned by irreparable amounts of waste, our birthrate has plummeted and our workforce has dwindled alarmingly. We're no longer a threat, if that's what's stopping you from making a decision. " I look at the copper-coloured ornament that protects his toes and think of all the poverty he described. Those perfect boots, cleaned by the hands of a man whose salary wasn't even enough to feed himself and his children. Sell all your gold to those who need it, save the nation from poverty, do something to prevent it, not increase it, you fools! I was expecting Eris to say something similar to what I was thinking, I wanted him to be a good character in this situation, to finally fight for this cause, but I knew there was more to it than a simple gesture of kindness between continents. " The best I can do for now is to send someone to help you with the water, it would be a first step towards restoring the wells and rivers. " The redhead steps sideways, blocking the bed with his tall body. " My father will be happy to help you. I believe there's still hope between us, the new generation of rulers. " I press my face to the ground, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who made Aoife pregnant. The tassels caught by the guild hung low, blocking most of my view. I could barely see up to their knees. " It would be an immeasurable honour to have High Lord Beron in the palace. He and I have shared some grand ideas for the future of our lands, for the best use of the consumable races that seem to multiply every day. " I grimace, feeling the dark, malicious smile spread across Draegan's pleasant features. " And with the scientist your father sent me, it would be much easier to test the limits of our horizons. Wouldn't it, Lord Vanserra? " A ball of thorns blossoms in my stomach, accentuating the guilt, feeding my anger. I bite my inner cheek, tasting blood on my tongue. What did he mean by 'consumable races'? What's the horizon that both Draegan and Beron aspire to? I struggle under the bed, waiting impatiently for Eris's answer, hoping he wasn't involved in this plan, wishing he was faking it. Eris's silence is loud. He was caught on the wrong foot. Is what I needed for him: let him be shocked by their own wickedness. He remains near the edge of the bed, forgetting that he had to follow Draegan inside the antechamber. " Excuse me, yes, it would be. " Eris takes a deep breath, steadying himself. " I was just thinking about the stability of Prythian. Politics have gone mad lately, my father is buried under all the paperwork and I believe he will not be able to honour any of your invitations to dinner. " Draegan's laughter chills my blood more than the icy black marble. " I've heard about it too. A friend of mine from Vallahan informed me about all the damage. We are all suffering, right? Why not suffer together, strengthen each other's weakness. " " But curiosity gets the best of me: what do you mean by consumable races? " " Ah... " The King's black boots, perfectly fitted to his muscular calves, turn towards Eris. " It's just something I mentioned to your father on his last visit. It's a delicate subject, I can't discuss it with you between so many hungry ears. I'll tell you when the time is right. And the soldiers of your court have done a wonderful job with the new recruits to our army. " Eris takes a few cautious steps towards the small wooden table where I left the white linen sheets. He seemed to be looking out over the balcony at the vast gothic empire, as if realising the damage already done. " And the soldiers... Of course. " His tone was even, cold, an unmistakable tension in his words, as if he had been slapped across the face several times in the space of ten minutes: his father, the cursed friendship between their kingdoms, all the help Beron was sending behind his back. These soldiers could be seen as a sign of betrayal to Prythian and their shared interest in these consumable races was a bad omen, too. As far as I remember, the Autumn Court was to the east, on the outer side of the land. It probably wouldn't be much of a blow to the continent, given its external position. The only problem is that, with the right help, they could easily split Prythian in two, all they needed to do was wipe out the weaker surrounding courts. At the moment, that weak link was the Spring Court, which, with few inhabitants and a seriously ill ruler, would be just the place. And most importantly, it was on the border with the people they wanted to enslave. Something is boiling in my chest, sour and malicious, threatening to consume me completely: injustice and weakness. Two feelings I'd become familiar with, but still not used to. This wasn't about the unfairness of my university, about working my ass off just to get the same grades as another kid who didn't work half as hard as I did. No, this was worse, it was about people's lives, innocent people who didn't even seem to know what was about to happen to them. I try to steady my breath as best I can, afraid that his sharp hearing might catch me sneaking inside his bedroom. It was difficult to breathe properly anyway, due to the fact that I was lying on my stomach with my weight crushing my lungs. " You mentioned earlier that... we were expecting guests? " Eris asked carelessly, strolling noisily into the waves of grey light pouring over the open balcony. Waves of dust rose into the air, whirling seductively. I place my hand over my nose and mouth, hoping to prevent any of those particles to activate my allergies. " Are you afraid of being seen here? " There was something strange in his tone, as if he expected Eris to betray him in any moment. " Under no circumstances. My business is mine alone and no one has the right to accuse me of anything. I don't really give a flying fuck about other people's opinions, Draegan. I'm just curious who I'm going to meet tonight. An Illyrian, then? " I don't dare move closer to the edge of the bed, to watch the exchange of glances that pierce the silence of the room. Clinging to the frozen floor with my entire body, I felt my heart beat wildly, accelerating at the mention of the winged man. If it was someone I knew, was there any chance of talking to him? Could I catch him alone? Draegan chuckles slightly and I hear him bang his fist on the door the way I died earlier. The key doesn't fall as it should and I swallow dryly as he bangs another fist, waiting for the familiar clang of metal, " Very peculiar. " His brief comment makes my mouth drool and the bile rises in my throat, bringing with it a bitter taste. " Is something wrong? " Eris pauses with his heels turned towards me, summoning his nonchalant demeanour. " You didn't happen to notice if anyone was here before us, did you? " His tone changes completely in the blink of an eye, his words flowing through his teeth, full of violence and tension. " Perhaps one of your maids? She forgot these old sheets as well. " The redhead sugests warily, feeling the wave of negative energy coming from Draegan. " Hmpf... As for you question... " He abruptly changes the subject, stopping on command his other personality from rising to the surface. " I have no clue, either. The letter I received doesn't mention a certain name. A precaution for highway robbers. I guess the both of us we'll be just as surprised. " Draegan steps into the antechamber, then seems to signal Eris to follow him, because after a few seconds, the door closes behind them, leaving me alone under the bed. This is the time to get out of here and run for my life. I follow the corridor back to the central room, where most of the servants leave their clothes and bags and take on their servant personas. Rivers of words flow through my mind, trying to make connections, to link what I learned to what I already knew from the books. One of my problems was that the next book in the series wasn't written yet, so I had not idea if the Autumn Court would really betray Prythian, and secondly, it didn't matter what the book said, I changed the course of events. From now on, it depended on the choices everyone was going to make, including me. Our fate was sealed. I felt blood on the tip of my tongue. My old habit of bitting my lips came rushing back. I found the map and lost it in less than ten minutes. I had to get it back, and that meant following Eris closely, which also meant getting too close to Draegan. It wasn't a secret that I was terrified of these people, of fae and their dumb ways. Draegan and his ill mind was one of my greatest fears, for now, and not just because of his slippery fingers and overly suggestive looks, but apparently he was smarter than he seemed. I'd rather be trapped underground and suffocate than feel this man close to me, touching me. For this reason only, Aoife was a hero. She endured too much and only because she needed those money for her family. Could I ever reach this level of devotion? My fears weren't even my main problem, Eris Vanserra was. I can't begin to comprehend what has gotten into him, what sort of devil possessed him to help me. I knew he wasn't totally evil, like some people around here liked to portray him, but he wasn't good either. He went to great lengths to hide me, to conceal the scent I left on the objects I touched. I knew faes where michievous, their help was never to be taken for granted. Was I prepared to offer him what he wanted? Failure after failure, I couldn't even find out who the winged visitor was. There was a clear antipathy between the kingdoms, even before Prythian gutted the former king. This meeting would not end well. I hide my hands between my skirt and make my way through the servants. Niven and I had certain hours when we could sneak in here, when most of these people would go up and prepare the main room for the upcoming guests. I do my best to arrange napkins and to clean their silverware, waiting for the clock tower to ring three times to announce lunchtime. A breeze of fresh grass and sunflowers makes me aware of the presence next to me. " Have you found anything? " Niven's whisper is so low, that I can barely grasp the sentence through my stupid hat. I nod, slowly raising my head to see if there are more people around. " There's a detailed map in Draegan's antechambers. " I point my finger at the brunette before she has a chance to scold me for going into the king's wing. " But there's another problem that has arisen. I'm trying to solve that as well. " " Don't tell me you've been caught sneaking around his chambers! " Her doe eyes are wide open, black and dilated with shock. " Fuck... Did he?... " " No! No... Don't worry, everything's under control. " My lie caused her eyebrows to touch slightly and if I didn't know her better, I would have known that she was scolding me with that look. " I have to meet with someone to get the map back, that's all. " " Who caught you? " I smack my lips together, tasting that bile from earlier still lingering between my teeth. " Eris Vanserra. " A napkin flows to the stone floor, slipping from Niven's gloved hands. The tension in her body makes her tremble slightly and I see her swallow. " I'll go after the map. " I can't hide the surprise written all over my forehead and eyebrows, the only visible parts of my face. " No. Never in a million years. Your familly has already done their part. I'll be the one to do the nasty things from now on. " " You're not a spare part of this mission. " Niven bites back, glaring at me furiously. " You can't put yourself in any danger! " " I beg your pardon? If anyone has to come out of this hurt or dead, it's me. You have to keep your family under their radar and safe. " " Under their what? " Niven asks skeptically and for a moment I forget that we're not in my old world, where a ' radar ' was a common knowledge. " Under their curious eyes. I lost the map, I'll get it back. " I declare, throwing the silverware back in their baskets. Niven rolls her eyes and catches my shoulders between her rather strong palms. " If you die somewhere along the way, we're doomed. You need to get that through your head, Cyan. You die, we all die. Finished. You can't throw yourself around, hoping it'll work out in the end. You must stay alive untill the end. " Good God. How do I talk her down of this bullshit? " Look, Eris saw me in those rooms, he knows me, he will only give me the map. Not you, not anyone else. Let me fetch it and then you can do your part of the job. I won't interfere... " I can see her thinking deeply, her eyes moving frantically around the stone chamber, focusing on every small detail of this cold room. Her dark lashes were so long that they were shielding almost completely her eyesight, resting beautifully on her cheeks. " Very well. Do what you know you need to do, but it's the last time. " I smile behind my mask and without thinking if anyone could see us, I throw my arms around her, embracing her warmth and the feeling of familiarity. She wanted to carry my burden, but she had her own and for that I could only love her more than I already did. It hit me just then how deeply I was about to miss this woman, my sould sister. 𓆩✴𓆪
Author's PoV
' The Three Dead Kings are waiting for their Daughter. ' Somehow, Elain had managed to creep back into his mind, like a persistent trickle of water carving a path through a rock. She hadn't done it on purpose, the lone fae had been tending to her garden all morning: watering, digging holes, moving flowers from place to place. She hadn't sought the attention of anyone in particular, nor had she struck up a conversation with any of them, as if her noisy mind was enough to seek refuge in the peace of her safe space. And the winged man, like any respectable spy around town, was content to watch over her from the window of his room, satisfying his need to have her from afar. Even if he was only making a fool of himself, putting salt on a wound he never knew he had. In the light of recent events, Azriel understood why she was acting more strangely than before, and that left him with a bruised ego. In the small remnant of hope he had so carefully guarded, the Shadowsinger thought that perhaps, deep down, she was suffering from his dangerous journey, that perhaps she was plagued by worry and dark thoughts, for him, for his safety. But he was a selfish prick, utterly blinded by the need to project his desire for belonging onto someone else. Azriel huffed from under his black hood, disgusted with himself. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the world, it was begging someone for attention. After all, that's what he did for eleven years, trying in vain to win his father's affection and what did he received? A dark, cold cell, under a house full of happy laughs. He despised that with all of his wicked, hollow heart and funny enough, that's what he always found himself doing: begging to eat trash. Elain's strange behaviour was later explained: her gifted power demanded to be let out. She kept it under control until she lost her ability to keep it in check. It seems that for both sisters the benefits of becoming Fae came at the cost of less desirable things. The sun's head slowly peeked out from behind the Night Court's sacred mountain as he left his chambers. Azriel glanced back many times, his weary eyes resting on the sleeping city he used to call ' home '. Lately, he wasn't sure if ' home ' was Velaris anymore, ravished by the feeling of not belonging, of missing something he longed for for nearly three hundred years. He understood the message his body was sending: he would rather be away from the House of Wind than with his family. He'd left before six in the morning, having been awake from his sinful thoughts since four. He had time to warm up his muscles in the ring for half an hour, then cleaned up and got something to eat. Azriel never said goodbye to anyone, he never did that before a mission. It was what motivated him to keep coming back. Besides, there was no way he could: Cassian was fast asleep, tired of his futile attempts to get Nesta to train and their bickering. Rhys had given him the task of extracting information from Vassa, Jurian and Lucien, which somewhat compensated for the fact that Azriel was now busy with something else. Even Nesta wasn't awake at those hours, his hearing was far too fine and his brave shadow, who often chose to be his companion through sleepless nights, knew everything that went on in the corridors. So the reason the older sister slept late was the delicious wine she stole from Rhysand. Two days had passed since he landed in the vast and desolate western continent, two days of hopeless searching, of questions with no answers. The nights weren't any better. He camped in the woods, with no fire to warm his flesh, only his shadows as friends to watch his back. It was good when he could steal thirty minutes of sleep. It was even better when he didn't have that tingling sensation that he was being watched when the night fell. He was thankful that the amber perfume vanished. Amren was right when she told him it will pass. But the one who followed him closely through both cities he visited was another presence, someone who smelled of berries. Azriel ignored it. He wasn't the one to do that with his problems, but he already had too much on his plate. This seemingly deserted land, with all its goods left to rot, was already a threat to his life. The words from Elain's vision were on a loop in his head, keeping him aware, trying to focus on solving that riddle. Amren was contacted in an instance, she was the only one with enough knowledge on this obscure spectrum. After all, she was the one who discovered the fallen woman. Squeezing his wings tighter around him, Azriel slipped through the crowded markeplace of Nyzim, the second vilage on his list. He was disgusted every time his massive wing touched another civilian, feeling their filthy clothes brush against the thick membrane. The man tried to think of them as harmless people who hadn't had the good fortune to wash often, due to the lack of water in this place or the lack of hygiene that seemed to be a basic rule here. He tried his best to watch over them with patience and serenity, but it was almost impossible when all he got in return were frowns and dirty looks. He'd grown accustomed to the more than shocked, even horrified, stares of the surrounding humans. Still, he thanked himself for the view, and enjoyed the fact that all the people ran away from him, making room for him between the shabby stalls. It was better for his wings. With the hood of his cloak pulled low over his piercing eyes, he watched every movement without having the need to turn his head. His shadows waited meekly on his round shoulders, also hidden beneath the black cloak that covered his Illyrian costume and weapons. There was no need to ask questions, not always. His loyal companions would bring him all the information he needed, both wanted and unwanted, without him making too many moves that would attract more attention. The squinting looks he received were not uncommon, nor were the mean whispers his braver shadow provided him, coiled in his ear like a domesticated snake. Azriel was used to being insulted and treated inhumanely since childhood, so he knew how to fend off all these unspoken attacks, shutting himself behind an iron, impenetrable mask. His far too long activity in the field had made him a calculated, well-behaved and, above all, rational man. So the fact that Azriel already passed through two villages without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary was an expected and already digested knowledge. Nothing surprised him. Azriel also suspected that the palace was already announced by the winged silhouette that haunted the villages around the kingdom and that made him stand stiff as a bow, ready for any approach from the new rulers of the continent. Azriel shifts his gaze to the village priest, silently directing his shadows at the old man's temples. The Shadowsinger could sense him from a few metres away, even without the aid of his dark tongues. He noticed his slippery hands, his red nose and the rhythmic ticking of his head: a chronic drinker who had suffered a heart attack. He also seemed to love the villagers' money more than his children, who lay barefoot and dirty around him. The shadow came back unnoticed, rippling faintly in the damp atmosphere. Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the base of his nose. No one sensed a change in time, no one noticed a woman who didn't belong, no one slept more than usual on any given night, and no one smelled the haunting scent of amber. The other day, he sat for hours on several rooftops, enveloped in total darkness, listening, analysing, sending several shadows around the place, inside these people's houses, intruding their privacy, searching under every rock, only to find nothing. He realised soon after that this was not the place he was looking for. All the women looked the same: pale, hungry and dirty. He even read statistics about the female population of Hybern, looking for a pattern to help him distinguish the one he was looking for from the rest. They all had brunette features: dark-haired, tall and well formed enough to carry the hard work of the field, brown or black eyes and their foreheads wrinkled with worry. Many couldn't read or speak, all had two or three children behind them, and when Azriel tried to read their minds, they seemed just as confused and burdened by their daily lives. His attention was heightened when he spotted a rare blonde, and watched her with interest, but soon realised that her energetic imprint was deeply rooted in this place. It was harder than he expected. Amren tried several solutions to the problem of finding the woman. She searched hard for spells and even insisted on bringing Nesta to help them, relying on her connection to the Cauldron. To no avail, for they had absolutely nothing that belonged to the stranger, and since she was apparently not yet 'formed', as Amren had put it, they could not track her at all. She could be in the depths of Hel itself, they wouldn't know, and they couldn't help her. For once, luck had somehow smiled upon them. When Elain appeared the other day, at exactly seven in the morning, hands raised above her head as if waiting for a ray of sunshine to slip through her slender fingers, everyone seemed to be biting their tongues. Her eyes were filled with a bright white smoke and her face was set in a grimace of satisfaction. It was as much relieving as it was terrifying. Her voice had taken on that mystical hue as she pronounced the syllables, thickening a few octaves and capturing a shuddering effect on all who wittnesed the event. Even his shadows went mad, swirling around him like a dizzy vortex. " When the remaining ruins bathe in her blood and the Onix Oasis cries out her name, the earth's womb will open and darkness will flow. She leaves with a promise, returning with a crown carved from the ancient bones of her fathers. There are three dead kings waiting for their daughter. " Azriel was there to catch her when she collapsed, exhausted of her own strength, touching her almost tenderly on her cold, supine cheeks, silently encouraging her. Rhys was the first to prick his mind, waking him from his reverie. He felt as if someone had thrown cold water on him. This prophecy was bigger than the ones she had uttered before, broader, more difficult. Everyone in the room knew what it was about, or rather who it was about: the Comet Woman. Amren almost danced with joy, glad to have something new to decipher, like a dog with a bone, running to find everything she could while the sentence was still fresh. The dreary weather in Hybern did nothing to improve his low morale.He couldn't understand how people could live in such conditions, without natural sunlight, without colourful, ripened fruit. Azriel slipped nimbly through a group of men, tempted to grab an apple from a blind woman's stall. He reached for his silver coins and took three between his gloved fingers, more than necessary, and threw them on the woman's counter, so that she could hear the clink of each coin. " It's too much. " She mutters hoarsely, seeming to watch him very closely with her strange, purple, parasitic pupils. " The guards will come and collect them if I make more than what my shop has to offer. " Azriel considered the old woman for a while, his whiskey-like eyes boring into those of the fourth-aged lady. A strange smell rose to his nose, old and pungent, of medicine and strange potions. Berries, he sensed, but it seemed highly unlikely that a sixty something woman could follow him through the forest. Her wavy white hair was covered by a wool hat and she had several layers of blankets and petticoats folded on her back. " If they come, tell them that I stole from you. They'll be too busy coming after a thief and you can take some of your food back home. " " Then be a good boy and cover me. " The old woman gave him a wry smile and took the money from the counter, stuffing some of her vegetables back inside her rusty bag. Azriel used his magic to darken their position, creating a nice glamour for those around. " Go now, and keep your pets close, there's something bad waiting at the end of your journey. " The man didn't have time to process as some children's cries pierced his sensitive ears, causing him to nod in the direction of the sounds. He turned back to the mysterious woman, trying to get more information from her, but the place where she stood only moments ago, behind the stall, was now empty. Azriel clenched his fists, calling upon every rational cell of his body. The shadows hidden beneath his travelling robes murmured, equally dazed, unable to sense the old woman's aura. The situation was uncomfortable for a spy, as if he were talking to a ghost. But it was impossible, the conversation had taken place, all her vegetables and fruit lay untouched in baskets, but the furs and money were gone, as was the smell of dead leaves and berries. Maybe she was the one following him, after all. The people around eyed him. Azriel felt like an animal in a cage. An imaginary circle formed around him, like a shield, which everyone tactically avoided, not wanting to challenge him. " Have you seen the woman sitting here? " Azriel directed a question towards the peasant sitting right across him. The man he was addressing quickly went from shock to horror and backed away a little. With outstretched hands he reached for a knife hidden under the counter and whispered, " No one was ever here, sir. " Azriel looked shaken and took a few minutes to recalibrate. Since the comet had fallen, the universe seemed even more enraged against Azriel's being, as if what he had to endure was not enough. He nodded resignedly, trying to maintain an outward calm. How did she vanish into thin air? He couldn't ever trace her using her stench. There were few things that stretched his patience to the limit, and being taken for a fool was one of them. He had no idea who the old woman was or what she was trying to tell him. Maybe she was a spy for the kingdom, maybe she was a witch, or maybe she was just a simple woman trying to play a trick on a man who had shown her a mediocre amount of kindness. That seemed to be the pattern in these places. He hurried his pace, eager to escape this damned village as quickly as possible. This place was forgotten by the saints. Next on his list was Thaibar, a few kilometres to the east, a distance he quickly decided to cover on foot, hoping that he might still find something interesting, something that would lead him to the woman. Amren mentioned that the place where the comet struck should be turned into a monument of some kind, from which ancient magic would flow. It could be anything: a temple, an oasis, a hole, anything energetically charged to the brim. Azriel relied on his senses to locate the place, but nothing of this magnitude had appeared. Surely the one who had fallen was no longer there, if she was conscious and able to walk. Even though they had speculated that time had looped around her to help her survive, her unharmedness was not a certainty. Azriel crossed the dense forest that separated Nizym from Thaibar without incident, allowing his shadows to spread freely between the slender trunks of the trees. He enjoyed the oppressive silence that hung over the thin branches, using this hour of travel as a kind of mini-vacation before facing the outside world. A few metres to the right lay a vast and barren plain, as if the earth had been cursed so that no fruit would live long in this area. He came to a halt and frowned, feeling like there was something amiss with that meadow. There was something... peculiar in the air, as if the dust particles were full of their own life, floating into those little rays of sunshine, bathing in that small, warm glow. Azriel could hear it, buzzing like a million bees in the distance, like a song hummed by the birds. The Shadowsinger was suddenly overcome with serenity, his companions danced around him, thrilled by the same mute music. But there was nothing on that field, only a lonely dogwood tree marking the middle of the land. Azriel knew in that second that this was the place he was looking for, Thaibar. He became slightly optimistic, bewitched by that intense feeling. The trees, no matter how many they were, were thin and dry inside, with few leaves hanging almost withered from the branches. He removed his hood for a few seconds, letting his brunette hair fall loosely on his forehead and bravely looked around. Listening carefully, he came to the interesting conclusion that this forest was home to an impressive number of animals: bears, wolves, foxes, squirrels, including snakes, as if they had all been attracted by something. Azriel became interested in this place, sending a silent question to his shadows that now stretched across the forest, hidden in every dark corner. One thousand three hundred species of animals had left their hibernation and come here almost a month ago. A time that coincided perfectly with the Summer Solstice and the fall of the comet. Most of these wild animals were female. However, they had not attacked, killed or caused any harm to each other, living in total harmony. Perhaps even the people of the village were unaware of the danger that lurked in the forest. Maybe they had just gathered here to watch, to... protect? As he approached the edge of the forest, Azriel noticed the dense mixture of smells in this place. Nearly a hundred people had gathered here, repeatedly. The yellowed grass was stuck to the wet ground, trampled as if someone had been dancing here for hours. In the centre were the logs of a campfire, with many more improvised chairs and to the left was a thick tree trunk, cut in two and placed in the shape of a table. He walked around a few times, looking at the area where the party had been held, noting in his mind that it had been held near the edge of the forest, avoiding the dense part of the woods as if they knew it was not a safe place at night. Azriel stopped, planting his heavy, muddy boots on the ground. The murmur of his shadows suddenly died in his ears, as if they felt the same thing as their master. He took a few steps back, careful not to tarnish what he felt. Azriel felt the blow in his neck before it reached his lungs. He took a deep breath, sniffing again and again, trying to kick some ration into himself. He tried to convince his body that it was not true, that someone was still spying on him, tricking him, but there it was, that devilish, atrocious smell. But instead, it was his brave shadow that admitted it: Green, green amber... Those tongue made of darkness dissipated around him and took the form of a person, a woman, a few metres in front of him, small and faceless. He felt a pressure settle on his chest, heavy and poisonous, bringing Azriel's bad temper to the surface. He swallowed hard and spun around his shadows, as if to imprint on his retina the body of someone he had not yet met, of that someone who haunted him nights after nights. Only then, amidst the mixture of grass, flowers, jasmine and ashes, did he detect the distinct scent of amber. The perfume that held his nightmares on a leash, who ruled over his mind for far too long, this woman was the one who, for who knows what reason, had sneaked into his house and stolen from him: his knife and his sanity. Azriel wanted them back. The man could barely contain the hatred and contempt that was now rising in his chest, as if it would overtake any logical thoughts. This woman would be brought to justice, with the same cruelty with which she commanded over his restless nights. As he left the place, he tried to unravel the traces of other people's scents one by one, to follow only the amber, like a mad dog on the hunt. The scent did not go very far, stopping at a more secluded farm on the crest of a hill. He glanced cautiously at the lone woman going about her work through the fence, quietly carrying several sacks of flour, unaware of Azriel's dangerous presence. It's not her. One of the shadows spoke harshly, wrapping itself around his muscled forearm as if to stop him from slaughtering anyone on sight. The truth was that the man's mind was drowning. Amber floated everywhere around the farm, like a shield, trying to protect the houses from any unknown, uninvited guest. He could see all the routes that woman had taken inside and outside the farm, which houses she entered and which stables she visited. Azriel watched the tall mare graze peacefully, black as night and shining like a lucky fish just caught from the river. His gaze was immediately drawn to her companion, a grey cat, thin and attentive to everything that moved around her, carefully watching everything that happened around the mare as if she were her protector. A shiver ran down his spine as the small animal suddenly turned its questioning gaze on him, as if to ask him what he was doing in her territory. What piqued his interest was the fact that both the mare and the cat were wrapped in the scent of amber and bergamot, as if they belonged to the one Azriel was looking for. The Shadowsinger had too many thoughts in his head, he couldn't find any logic in any of them either, his mind too foggy and heavy. By the Mother, he was going to snap. This was where the woman in question lived, these people had brought her here and taken care of an unknown woman. But why? How much trust can you put in a stranger? It is not difficult to recognise a person who does not belong to the place, so how did this part of the story unfold? Azriel suspected it was much more than an act of kindness. A muscle in his jaw twitched at the thought that maybe they weren't the only ones who knew about the woman's identity, what she was supposed to become and what powers she could gain. If that was the reason, it was clear who had already earned the individual's trust. " Sir? " A soft voice addressed him, " Are you all right? What are you looking for? " The woman who took care of the farm, who had been watching him from a few metres away, had noticed him sitting there, staring at her awkwardly. Her small face was elegant with determination written all over her delicate features, but she was too pale and rather ill-looking. The woman was about forty years old, she had a palpable tension in her forehead and her fingers were clenched, ready to strike if necessary. She was gifted with a subtle maternal air and a special gentleness, it felt like flowers could bloom only by her touch only. She didn't approve of his presence so close to her own home and was about to pull out her claws. Azriel appreciated her ferocity. " I was wondering if you could show me where the palace is. " Azriel spoke in a steady tone, " I think I got a little lost on the way. " The man knew he couldn't trick her, not when she was watching him like she was about to bit his head off if he made a wrong movement. Azriel bowed his head, trying to show her that he was no threat to her. " I find it rather hard to miss it, with those... wings attached to your back you can spot it easily from a distance. " There was no fear in her tender eyes, only vigilance. Azriel looked at her for a long time, reading her from the inside to the outside, noticing the sorrow that had settled over her features, deepening the slight wrinkles, along with another feeling, helplesness. She looked him in the eyes and smiled with restraint as she pointed to the barren plains and some distant towers beyond. " But I'll endulge you, sir. You should also know that people around Thaibar are not fond of your kind, maybe you should watch your back. " " It means you can understand why I can't use my wings to my liking. Arrows are hard to duck and even harder to get out. " " My son is a good archer. " " Do you have any other child good with bows and arrows? " Azriel dared to ask, sensing the warning in her tone. " Three, actually, all very skilled in their own way. " The woman hapilly announced, ready to return in the safety of her garden. " All yours, I supose... " The man made a simple guess, trying to find more about where the stranger could live. " Born with blood and sweat. Mine. " She smiled, but that smile never touched her eyes completely. For Azriel was enough of a sign. " Then I shouldn't keep you from your duties any longer, have a nice day, madam. " The woman only bowed her head, then returned slowly inside her house. Azriel knew she was watching from her window. Also, there was something else laced around her being, something he grew familiar sincer Elain became a fae. The same trace of magic linked them both, the same tormenting and sad air enveloped around them: a seer? Azriel raised his eyebrows in surprise, but it was the grey cat that surprised him most, scrutinising him with her yellow eyes. She stood inches away from his boots, sniffing him. Azriel could swear the animal was frowning as well. The shadows deepend, trying to get closer to that strange cat that now started to circle him. Azriel ordered his companions to retreat, but that brave one came too close to the cat's round head and tugget at its sharp ear. The animal spat, surprised by the sudden attack and bared its claws. Azriel chuckled, leaning down. " I'm so sorry for their behaviour, they're not used to meeting cats very often. ". He tries to pet it, but to no avail, the cat was already running away, frightened by his shadows. " You should tell your master I'm coming for her. "
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 9
The Third One
𓆩✴𓆪
Author's POV:
Venom... A chilled shadow crept through his sweat-soaked hair, whispering velvety in his ear. Azriel turned his weary gaze to the obsidian weapons, hanging at the guard's hips. Their equally dark armor, probably made of the same cursed material, glowed faintly as they passed any candles or windows. The moon watched over him like a stern mother, hoping for the best for her son.
Faebane... Another companion spoke directly into his mind, snaking quickly down his searing spine. He subconsciously thanked her for the icy path she left on his clammy skin, cooling him enough to allow his mind to think more clearly.
It had been more than twenty hours since he had eaten or had ten minutes of deep, uninterrupted sleep. He was used to these episodes of insomnia, he knew where his limits were and he knew how to help his body survive exhaustion, but with the hunger gnawing at his stomach he could hardly cope.
He was so getting a vacation after he went back to the Night Court.
Azriel stumbled to keep up with the guards escorting him from the gate. They were a head shorter than him, and perhaps those bulky armors hindered them in every way. Still, they were probably cleaner than his Illyrian skins, which seemed to mold over the film of sweat that had formed underneath. Azriel refrained from wrinkling his nose. He hated feeling stinky.
As he considered the color mismatch between the exceptionally clean burgundy carpet and the brown velvet curtains, he also noticed the way the mosaic on the windows and ceiling changed as they moved through different areas of the palace. It smelled nauseatingly of burning incense, sage, and something rotten and damp. Azriel searched until he reached the corners of the marble floors, where he noticed the musty flowers they tried to hide.
There was death inside the palace.
Azriel thought about the list of dangers he had made up in his head that would prevent him from getting out of the royal court alive if he had to escape. Not even his wings would help him, as they would be the first target of all the trained archers in the outer court.
He didn't have to turn around to count the scars that stretched like a mosaic along the hard Illyrian membrane, the way the brown was patched with dark red spots, aerodynamically weaker than the rest of the healthy tissue. He could still feel some of them, running deep into the marrow, like a ghostly rash that constantly reminded him of past nefarious circumstances. It sounded like he was adding another five hundred centuries to the ones he already had. Azriel knew that torn ligaments and sword wounds could heal too tightly and viciously, restricting certain movements. All of this ached during training, or in his prematurely short hours of sleep, even when it rained, thanks to changes in barometric pressure. He knew with frightening accuracy how, for whom, and when he got al those scars. He liked to keep track of everything, it was in his nature.
Azriel felt his wings a few pounds heavier, and he fought to keep his tired shoulders straight so as not to drag his bony tips across the marble floor. He wouldn't have minded scratching at the perfection of this palace, but to the Illyrians it was a sign of weakness he would not allow.
Turning his gaze back to the glass, he saw them again, shining under the crescent moon. Four pairs of towers surrounded the main hall of the palace, and as far as he could tell, the archers were only mounted in the outer towers, relying more on being useful over a longer radius. In the smaller towers, huge bells lay black as night, no natural light reflecting in the darkness of the material. In Azriel's mind, the worst-case scenario emerged. He imagined that the sound it produced would be loud enough to overwhelm the delicate hearing of a fae, loud enough that any danger in the vicinity would be killed in seconds by guards on the walls armed with sharp spears, swords, and daggers.
And he hadn't seen their magic system yet.
These were just a few of the small details that made Azriel sit as stiff as a bow and as still as a river, ready to turn at any moment. He was pleased with himself, his plan had worked. It had been easier than he had expected, setting himself up as a target in front of the bridge and allowing himself to be escorted by six guards into the heart of the palace, relying perhaps too much on the fact that those in charge had been tipped off by the winged man haunting the surrounding villages. His ego seemed a bit bruised, considering the small number of guards around him.
He counted the curves and doors that stretched from side to side, analyzed the thick glass and the type of fastenings in the walls, and made sure that all the ropes tied to the ceiling were there to support the heavy chandeliers and not for some who-knows-what trap. He was sure his shadows would have warned him of any imminent danger, but now they were just as vigilant, listening, watching, like hunting dogs.
Azriel knew the rules: he was to be presented to an emergency council unless they had time to raise another king to the throne. He had everything ready, the letter from Rhysand was his ticket in, but the problem was how to escape and how to find the so-called Comet Woman. He hoped no one else knew about her, knew what she could become. If someone found out in the meantime, things could get very, very problematic. It meant he wouldn't be coming home with his hands clean.
The man knew she lived here for the past month, retracing all her steps by the scent of amber that lingered in the atmosphere. There were certain areas so much more concentrated, so much more filled with her presence, so tangible that Azriel could almost see her faded face, as if he were standing behind a curtain in which he could just make out her outline. The shadows had led him to a wooden threshold with a barely legible sign carved with the simple word 'Potions'. Azriel caught the humor and almost snorted: the one he sought was indeed a sorcerer, which was why it had been so easy for her to slip past their protection, to sneak into the house when he slept so soundly, to haunt him for weeks.
He wouldn't have left without her, after getting so close that he could feel her brittle bones crumbling under his strong fingers. If he played his cards right, like a true diplomat and not a thirsty assassin, he could walk out of the wolf's mouth with his head still on his shoulders and the great trophy won.
He paused for a few seconds in front of a polished wooden door, surrounded by ancient phrases carved into the holster. There was a brief exchange of glances between the man to his right and the guard in the hallway. He allowed himself to roll his stiff neck. He had been in the palace for more than ten minutes and still no sound, no servant, no Fae of any rank. What was everyone doing?
" Raise your arms! " The man to his left commands as he rests his hand on the scabbard of his sword, his eyes quickly scanning Azriel's body. " Remove your cloak and slowly present your weapons. "
Azriel made no gesture as he nimbly unbuttoned the gold button that held his traveling cloak, then removed his knives and swords from his armor and placed them according to size on the low table by the door.
A guard comes too close for Azriel's liking, counting the equipment in the torchlight. He lifts his eye shield over his head, revealing tawny irises and the smell of sour wine. " Are you planning an uprising? You brought an arsenal. ''
'' No. '' Azriel said casually, rearranging the crooked line of daggers with a finger, '' I just can't sleep without them. ''
The guard gave him a puzzled look, sensing Azriel's wry humor, then shook his head and put the torch away. He hoped there was no spell inside that would block his access to the other realm, where he had left allof his most important tools, undetectable and ready to use at a moment's notice. The colleague, who smelled of cheap wine, took his hand off the sword and pulled on his gloves, then began to search Azriel's body.
''Don't touch my wings,'' he warned them coldly, watching their slow movements closely.
The individual paused for a second, trying to decide whether or not to take the mountain of a man in front of him seriously, then seemed to make the right decision and carefully circled the base of his wings on his back. He was aware that his life was not important enough to be judged by the royal court if the famous Shadowsinger decided to break his neck with his bare hands. Besides, there was his reputation: no one wanted to mess with the fragile nerves of a torturer.
The Shadowsinger didn't take his fierce gaze away from the guard's curious hands. In fact, he was annoyed that they were hovering too long over places he certainly did not want to be touched, but he could not afford to lose control when he was so close to fulfilling his plan. No one could test his iron patience. He could feel his skin soaking with sweat and dust as it ate away at his equipment. He hadn't had a hot bath in days and craved the feeling of cleanliness. And this touchy-feely examination was making it worse.
After making sure he didn't bring in a butter knife to slit the throats of the entire council, the door was opened and Azriel stepped through, this time accompanied by only two of the six guards.
He paused for a moment to take in the new scenery. Surely he had entered the gilded palace street, where the king's closest allies made their home, judging by the imperial colors of bright red, the spotless view and, of course, the lack of musty odors. Gold chandeliers and scented candles were screwed into the marble walls, along with dozens of paintings of portraits and battle scenes.
A couple of women, the first Azriel had seen in the fifteen minutes he had been in the palace, emerged from a side room and did not shy away from looking at him from head to toe. Azriel refrained from rolling his eyes, content to look straight ahead without giving them any meaning. The ladies whispered to each other long enough for him to realize that he was the subject of the discussion, more specifically his tights and something about his waist. Even though Azriel was more than used to female attention, even male attention, that didn't mean he wanted it from everyone and everywhere.
Still, he threw a bone to the dogs and bowed his head like a courtier, eyeing the ladies like a predator disguised under the skin of a gentleman. Oh my, how the perfume of the hallway had changed to something sweeter, more... enticing. Azriel's lips curled just a little as a loud giggle escaped them, enchanted by his attention.
Azriel doesn't get to take a few steps before an all-too-familiar smell hits his senses hard: nutmeg and... burning coals. Azriel sighs deeply and prays to the Mother that he won't find what he already expected to find somewhere nearby. His instincts rarely failed him. Maybe he'd finally found the reason to end this male's existence after the meeting of the High Lords months ago. His discovery would only add fuel to an already smoldering fire that could reignite any second back in Prythian, And possibly make Azriel's job a little more difficult if this redhead started sticking his nose into his affairs.
The muffled voices seemed to contradict each other just after the left turn where the smell of fresh food came from. There were many more people on this side of the palace, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to locate the source. The scent, which could only have come from a fae, given how strong it was, began to intertwine with something softer, barely tangible, as if this person had no personality or will of their own. It had a subtle hue, barely discernible, like plants and leaves. No, not just the kind you grow everywhere, but the ones that love dry summers and cool winters, a plant that only the most special person in the world would know how to plant and grow for him. Saffron, he concluded, a plant that lives in the mountains and that for him meant freedom, however temporary.
He didn't dare close his eyes to block out the memories. Every moment of weakness was just another knife between his shoulder blades. Azriel gritted his teeth and pushed every thought away. He subtly sniffed the bittersweet scent that took him to the same place where those sunken voices could be heard.
The first guard stopped in front of him as he rounded the corner, probably slightly startled by the image he saw in the next corridor. Azriel stepped cautiously, his eyes taking in every detail of the stained glass until he came to a familiar clump of red hair. He couldn't help but sigh.
An awkward moment of silence fell over all the participants. Azriel felt the urge to hit someone, especially the one who was now standing there nonchalantly, as if he had done nothing wrong.
'' Well, I see Rhysand has sent his brutes out to play. '' His words, laced with mocking humour, did him no good as Azriel tried hard not to step on his throat again. '' What wind blows you here, Shadowsinger? ''
The raven-haired man didn't respond to his challenge at first, watching the intimate scene unfold before them: an insultingly small body trapped between Vanserra's tall frame and the marble sculpture of a naked fairy. The woman struggled to cover her face with the red mask he knew all palace servants wore for some reason, then pulled the folds of her dress tighter, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. In his mind, he guessed the reason they were forced to wear that uniform. It was easier not to know who was disappearing, it was easier to kill someone who was lost in a landscape where a thousand others looked the same. It was easier to get murdered.
'' Are you all right, girl? '' Azriel deliberately ignored Eris, any conversation with this traitor would only end in blood and not otherwise.
The woman didn't answer, didn't even look at him, as if she hadn't heard him at all. He was slightly offended by the lack of response, but overlooked it as she was probably on edge from whatever magic Vanserra had put on her.
One of the guards approached the maid menacingly, ready to strike. " Our guest gives you permission to speak by engaging you in conversation and you dare not answer? You disgusting human! "
Eris jumps up to stand between the guard and the woman, smiling sardonically. " She can't speak, Draegan cut out her tongue. "
" Of course King Draegan cut out her tongue if she doesn't know when and how to use it! " The other man shouts from behind his mask.
" Calm down! There's no need to throw a tantrum because a woman rejects you. " Azriel intervenes, freeing himself from captivity. " I think I can find my way from here. "
" I don't think is wise... "
" You're not here to think, you're here to guard, and I'm inoffensive. Lord Vanserra can vouch for that. " Azriel intensifies his look, turning his back to the guards. " And I left my entire arsenal by the doors, remember? "
" I'll take care of him, don't worry. " Eris grunted, crossing his hands over his green tunic. " Men like him are as harmless as a bear: they don't bite unless you find their lair. "
The men nodded sceptically and turned back. He felt Eris stiffen beside him, as if he'd been waiting for someone to catch him cheating at cards.
" Let the girl go. " Azriel spoke grimly, not turning to look at them. " She shouldn't be here. "
" She's where she's supposed to be. " Eris replied dryly, already irritated by Azriel's tendency to twist his words, then left a theatrical kiss on the woman's cheek.
The girl seems to push him away for a second, then pulls her hand back, hiding it between the thick folds of her black dress.
" I don't think you're where you're supposed to be. " Azriel didn't seem to want to back down, so he turned his full attention to the Heir of the Autumn Court, irritated by his idiotic answers.
" True. " Eris admitted, covering the woman almost completely. " But I could say the same about you. King Draegan is waiting for both of us in the dining hall. "
" Oh, you already share a bond with these criminals. " The man concluded, nodding slightly. " You still haven't told me why you're here. "
" Go, little human, I'll find you later. " Vanserra hugged her too lovingly, resting his huge palm on the woman's small face.
A violent feeling ran through Azriel as he watched these gestures: fear, fear for this woman who didn't know what she was getting into, who was always in danger of being crushed by Eris or someone else from this cruel continent. A fragile human once again caught between the fingers of a fae. These stories caused a sick feeling of anxiety in his stomach, not because he cared, but because he knew history was about to repeat itself. He watched her short legs move hastily to the servant's door, avoiding eye contact with the fae around her, trying her best to pass unnoticed. Azriel was almost nervous for her.
Don't be clumsy. Don't be loud. Leave as soon as you can. I'll pay you ten times your salary if you just leave. Azriel sang in his head, but it was in vain, she couldn't hear him and he couldn't do much more for now.
" Do you hear me? " Eris's voice grows a little louder, but something else catches Azriel's attention.
The woman stops suddenly, eyes wide with shock as if she had seen someone naked, and looks around in confusion. Azriel frowns, Eris' words flying past him. She turns slightly toward them, and for a brief moment Azriel can finally see her troubled eyes: round as a full moon and fiery as a burning sun, but their color was what set them apart - gray, like an inviting sea that hides treacherous dangers.
Then she disappeared, like a ghost between the walls.
A few moments later, he realized that his shadows had become silent, resting, waiting, as if they were hoping, and then vanished from his surroundings completely. It seemed bizarre to Azriel, and he felt lonelier than he would have liked.
" What are you doing here, Eris? "
" Same as you - business. I know you're not here for pleasure or anything, you won't find a happy place here. " Eris Vanserra seemed to slap him as he gave him a tight smile. Azriel stiffened his mental, emotional and psychic shields and the shadows reappeared. " I want to know more about Hybern. They are weak and few. I want to have an advantage when the time comes. "
" Just say you're here to spy on them and cut the crap. " Azriel strode after Eris, who knew the palace corridors disturbingly well. " Except I still wouldn't believe anything that came out of your mouth. "
" I don't need you to believe me or the approval of the Night Court. This isn't about the Morrigan anymore. " Eris turned abruptly, almost bumping into Azriel who was behind him. " Another war is coming, something worse is happening right now, and I want to know how we can win. If we can. "
Azriel's alarm rang in his ears. Did Eris know more about the Fallen Star than he was letting on?
" Hybern was our enemy months ago, don't tell me you want to have them as allies. It's like trusting a rabid animal. " Azriel stopped him with a gloved hand before they stepped through another huge door. " They are the reason more than half of our armies have been destroyed. "
He wanted to say a few more words to Eris, but that was a discussion he would have another time, in a much more secluded place and under more permissible circumstances, where he could use acts of physical violence. He couldn't ask him enough questions to find out what he knew, or if he knew anything.
" I'm aware of that, but they don't have the Cauldron to do that kind of damage again. Anyway, this is not the place to discuss the matter in detail. Give me more time before you turn me in. "
He didn't want Rhysand to find out that Eris was here, actively betraying everyone. He couldn't do that, it was a luxury he couldn't afford.
" This new king, Draegan. He knows something we do not. He may have an advantage we do not. Let me find out what it is. "
As another pair of huge doors opened before their eyes, Azriel suddenly felt tired. A huge table lay before him, decorated with plates and glasses far too full for his taste. Oriental flavors and far too much food awaited him, and the servants - both women and men - moved around in disturbing circles of clattering, chattering, and chopping.
Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to them, hidden in that semi-obscure atmosphere of burning candles and the barely audible strains of a violin. Azriel wanted to turn around and leave, he didn't have the energy to go through all that was about to come, but he had no other choice.
" Sometimes I hate it too. " Eris whispered, with the same smile that now seemed forced, and started to walk to the only two empty seats that were too close to the already occupied one at the end of the table. The big chair that actually mattered.
Azriel couldn't really see him, the king, hiding behind all this charade of music and dimmed lights and fae. But he could feel the sudden change in the air around him, too heavy to breathe and full of something evil. His shadows circled his vital points like a vise, shielding him as best as they could.
" Glad to hear it. " Azriel spits back at Eris and turns away, unfazed by the reproachful looks.
Azriel noticed the ladies from the hallway, watching him with lustful glances and scandalous promises. The creatures already seated at the table, all different kinds of fae, smiled at them all knowingly, bowed their glasses to them like hyenas tempting their prey. Indecent dresses, precious stones, tunics sewn with gold and silver thread, violinists with handcuffs on their feet and pianists with bandaged fingers. An unpleasant and painful sight. Someone proposed a toast and silence fell over the room. The two suddenly stopped, side by side, as if they had been caught sneaking into the banquet.
" My dear friends and advisors... Tonight I'd like to introduce two special guests. Two soldiers who are willing to present their offers of peace for our kingdom, offers that I intend to accept. " A dark-haired man with square features rose from the imperial chair at the end of the table and gestured for them to sit beside him.
Draegan... The brave shadow crawled through his hair, sitting on his head like a crown of darkness.
Azriel takes a deep breath. How stupid of him to think that the Night Court would try to win a place next to those abominations of faes. He hated talking to men of high rank. They were far too full of themselves, they spoke coded most of the time, and the part that really drove him crazy was their facade. Far too much politeness, far too many fake smiles, and duplicitous opinions. He was too old for all the political games, but tonight he had to get into his role.
" So you're here to make peace with these? " Azriel whispered so quietly that only Eris could hear, and began to push himself toward the red velvet chair. " They slaughtered our people. "
" You slaughter people for fun. At least I'm productive. "
" I hope your productivity kills you. " Azriel almost pointed his sharp canines at Eris, but refrained at the last moment. "And I hope it kills you before you leave this place. "
Azriel walks to the farthest place from the so-called king. This man seemed unfit for such a title: too young, too vulgar, and too innovative for a land deeply rooted in tradition.
" At least you're here with me and I won't feel alone in my dying moments. " Eris smiled jockingly and bowed his head.
" I am more than happy to find you in such a festive mood, King Draegan. " Azriel bowed very slightly, as if any bowing would cause him terrible knee pain. " May all the year be as prosperous as you are at this moment. "
A muscle twitches in Draegan's face. If he had made it this far without anyone standing between him and the throne, he had convinced his people that he would be a trustworthy leader. Who knows what means of persuasion he had actually used.
Draegan smiled knowingly and gestured for Eris to take a seat at the table. " May all your blades be at hand when you need them the most. " A wry smile almost crept across Azriel's face. The game started earlier than expected.
" You have no idea how pleased I am to have not one, but two emissaries from Prythian at my table. " The man smiled, showing his straight teeth, and poured the red wine into the golden cups himself. " You must be Azriel, the trustworthy and last of his kind Shadowsinger. I've heard enough about you and... your loyal companions. "
" All wounds heal. " Someone from the table interjected, raising his cup. " May this meeting heal us all. "
" Indeed, Lord Charon. " Vanserra agreed with the former, older participant, then turned back to watch Draegan.
His shadows swirled around Azriel's neck, stirred by the ease with which the king spoke about them. The Shadowsinger eyed the speaker, noting his many medals and muscular frame. In return, Lord Charon gave him a compassionate smile, toothy and wide, showing all the wrinkles on his round face.
By the Mother, Eris Vanserra seduced half the court of Hybern.
" After hearing so much about my business, I find it hard to believe that you are very excited about my unannounced arrival. " Azriel replied monotonously, placing a gloved hand on his crystal goblet. His boldest shadow jumped from his forearms and surrounded the glass.
" No poison. " Draegan announced displeasedly, drawing his dark gaze to the dark tongue of shadow circling the freshly poured wine. " This is no way to greet your guests. "
Safe...
The Shadowsinger turned his head cautiously, looking for some food on the table, which was barely holding together due to the numerous dishes. Did the people outside the palace have as many goods as those inside?
" What determined your unannounced visit? " Draegan leaned back and gestured for the others to continue their conversation. " I must admit, I was intrigued by the rumors. "
Azriel knew that though they all seemed to be deep in their own discussions of land, property, and business, their hungry ears were tuned to the three of them, their senses were intoxicated by his ominous presence, and every fleeting corner of their eyes was focused on him.
" My High Lord and High Lady wish to send you a letter - of peace. " Azriel rolled out the words as sweetly as possible and handed him the envelope marked with the royal court seal.
" So many offers. " The king chuckled lightly, but didn't open the envelope. " Why didn't they come themselves? "
Among the many candles melting on the tablecloth, he caught the glances of the diners around him. He noticed the cautious way they had begun to behave: eating in silence, wearing straight smiles and speaking in hushed tones. Some glanced at him out of the corners of their eyes, while others dared to admire him fully, allowing Azriel to sniff their disgusting fear.
" Well, it's no secret that everyone is rebuilding their kingdoms after the devastating war. Politics and people can't wait, their homes are ruined and laws are old and terrible, they don't apply anymore. So they're doing their best to solve these problems. "
" What about Velaris? The Hidden Treasure, is it as destroyed as the rest of the Night Court? " A question flies across the table, raising the hairs on Azriel's neck.
" Who determines what people can live there? It's unfair for some to get the chance to stay safe and happy and other innocent lives to pay the price of not being lucky enough. " Lord Charon throws the hardest question at Azriel,
Azriel bites back an angry reply. These people were talking about innocent lives when they were killing dozens every day, not to mention that bitch, Amarantha, their own, worse than all of them.
" Like I said, the laws are old, the city is as old as the law. Everything needs to be rebuilt. Everyone needs a chance to survive, to be happy, to be safe. The Night Court is working hard to rebuild everything from the ground. "
Vanserra almost spits his food on the table, trying to hold back a laugh. " Let's not dig up the graves. Both continents made mistakes. The Night Court is working hard. " Eris backs Azriel up only to speak under his breath, using the music so only the winged male can hear. " That's why the Night Court is divided into the one of Nightmares and the one made for Dreamers. "
Icy rage fills Azriel's veins, and it takes everything he has not to stab Eris with a real butter knife found on the table. He knew that the way people were allowed to live in Velaris was a flawed system, as were the Illyrian camps and the way women were treated there. But his words on these matters meant next to nothing if no one actually listened to his or Cassian's opinions.
" Everyone needs a second chance, I think. " Draegan interjects as he raises his goblet to his mouth. " It's better to have friends, not enemies. I'd like to visit this place once. If I'm allowed, of course. "
The Shadowsinger only nods, drinking heavily from that shitty wine, hoping to calm his stretched nerves.
" To what occasion do we dedicate this meal, Draegan? " Eris began as he eagerly carved a piece of lemon-glazed lamb, trying to ease the tension around the table.
Azriel plunged his fork into a well-browned potato, passing through numerous spicy condiments. He'd forgotten the etiquette of high society, so he'd forgotten how polite it was to actually take food, not just look at it. He sniffed the piece of vegetable lightly, guessing pepper and something resembling turmeric, a spice grown exclusively in the Montessere. He popped the potato into his mouth and enjoyed the burst of flavor.
He was starving, but he couldn't afford to eat everything on the table. If there was the slightest chance of being poisoned, at least the vegetables would have been digested faster and everything would have been disposed of even faster.
The king laughed. Azriel cringed. " Well, aside from celebrating new bonds... Remember I told you today that someone broke into my room? "
Azriel raised an eyebrow and looked at the man at the head of the table. He was glad the topic of conversation had changed. Shadows continued to swirl around him, clinging to his thighs and forearms, seemingly ready to draw his daggers at any moment.
Draegan's golden crown decorated with rubies sat on his head full of brown curls. The burgundy tunic he wore and the shadows cast on his face by the candles seemed to send him into a realm of madness.
There was a sudden movement as the guards closed the doors and the diners began to stir, startled by the turn of events.
Eris stopped eating and resigned himself to look around, stunned and dumbfounded. More guards appeared from behind the stone columns holding up the balcony above, pointing crossbows at everyone's head.
Azriel, though stiff, leans back in his chair, like a deadly weapon latently waiting to be used. He knew from the moment he walked inside that something would go wrong, that someone would die tonight. Maybe that's why he felt this urge to save the servant, this pity for her.
A few screams rang out in the high room as the guards ruthlessly grabbed the maids who were bringing wine and food to the table and ordered them in a line down the hall. The silver trays tumbled to the floor with a dizzying high-pitched clatter, the cups now empty, and the red wine that had once filled them quickly spread everywhere, soaking the carpets and seeping through the cracks in the marble.
" Dear participants, I don't want to give you a bad first impression, but I despise stealing. You see, one of those whores came into my room looking for something. " Draegan rose from his velvet chair and took a few steps toward the women, who were trembling. " You stole from me. "
Suddenly, he slapped the first servant in line so hard that the silly hat she was wearing flew off her head, revealing her aged, white hair. The woman was off balance for a second, stunned by the powerful blow, but did not react. Her legs had turned to jelly and she was now hovering above the floor in a half genuflection, so the guard behind her tightened his grip on her forearms, forced to support her.
The armored man behind her was as cold as this entire palace. Azriel felt no hint of guilt emanating from him, not even reproach, not even pleasure. Azriel quickly realized that there was something different about the guards here: the material of the armor was covered in onyx from head to toe, a trick to keep the Daemati out of their minds, but also to keep the smells they gave off from being detected.
The Shadowsinger clenches his fists under his chair. " Shouldn't Your Highness solve your problem somewhere private? ". Azriel tries to ease the tension and give these women a chance to get as far away from the palace as possible tonight, but he doubted they would make it out alive. He looked at the burgundy stain of drink that was now all over the place and horror gripped him, there was really nothing he could do to stop the next events from unfolding.
He couldn't do much without losing his own credibility. His mission was at stake, to find the Fallen Star, and that was more important than anything else at the moment. Once again, he felt like a child trapped in a dungeon.
" Or perhaps more diplomatically, given the presence of our new guest? " Eris also jumped to Azriel's aid, standing up as if to climb out of his chair.
Azriel watched where Vanserra tended to peer from time to time, as if hoping to find an escape hatch for the person in question. Glancing carefully over all the participants in this atrocity, he sensed that something was off: there was a disturbing sense of calm among them, but who could be so.... detached?
" Don't you dare tell me how to run my kingdom! " Draegan's head turned like a whip on their table, his pointed gaze raised in accusation. " I have been nothing but kind, and everyone seems eager to step over me! "
For a second, he would have thought the king was the calm one, but he smelled like a sewer on a hot day, as if his irritation was boiling up all the hatred inside him. Vanserra hid his panic all too well, but his eyes usually spoke louder than his smart mouth, so all he could feel were smoldering coals, red as burning lava. Azriel put a gloved finger to his lips and calculated again. The participants at the table, though technically accustomed to such excursions, were as frightened as lambs at the sight of a wolf for the first time, sweat and mischief dripping from every pore.
Oh, that was it. Azriel tapped his forefinger against his lower lip in satisfaction. A devastating storm of sea-blue smoke was about to drown Draegan and drag him into the deepest oceans.
" Please, my king... " The first woman wriggled, palms outstretched and rosy cheeks pleading for mercy. " I would never do such a thing. I have children to feed. I wouldn't dare. "
" Charon, bring me her eldest child. " Draegan ordered grimly, without a second thought. " Lock them both in the dungeon, without food or water. I will give you further instructions. "
The woman wailed uncontrollably, falling to her knees and soaking the king's leather shoes with her salty tears. The guard could not restrain her, but Draegan did, sending her into a deep sleep with a boot in her jaw.
Eris closed her eyes at the breaking sound and took a deep breath. Azriel didn't allow himself to close them anymore, he needed enough hate to annihilate them all at the first opportunity.
He noticed the reason for Eris's panic as she stood one woman away from what was now a pile of flesh on the ground. Curiously, he rolled his eyes restlessly over the six women until he reached the third in line. She now shifted her gaze, keeping her head in the ground as if trying to burn a hole in the thick marble and get underneath. He studied her for a long moment, never taking his eyes off her reactions. Her heartbeat was so tightly controlled that neither the scent of fear, nor stress came from her. Azriel was slightly impressed. This woman could control herself very well, but he could see through her, the way her wrists were tense, the way her thick eyebrows were raised to her forehead, the agony she went through to keep her steamy eyes from rising, how difficult it was for her to control herself.
Azriel's eyebrows rose slightly. This was where that dangerous, deaf, wild oasis of calm came from. She looked as if she knew what everyone's next move would be, waiting for the inevitable to happen and free her from her torment. Could she be the woman he was looking for?
Azriel rested his elbows on the table and kept his eyes on her. A helpless, small woman, without courage, without the strength to save the situation, too slow to save herself, too timid, too weak. Disappointing, he thought, he expected more from a myth.
" What were you looking for? Sex? " Draegan clung to the second with all his might and began to fondle her breasts thirstily. " You wanted to have fun with me? You see brothers, the news that I have a big dick sends these ladies into a frenzy, looking for trouble. "
Azriel was deeply disgusted, and so was Eris, who took a generous sip of wine without taking his eyes off the third maid. A bond formed between the two as the woman raised her head briefly, generously giving him permission to be calm, as if everything was under control. The Shadowsinger almost snorted. It was as if he could hear those burning coals eagerly leaping from the fire, waiting to be summoned.
If Eris wanted to start a second war here and now, he had every reason to do so. And the worst part was that Azriel would help him, no matter what. Faes like that just cast a shadow on the ground for nothing.
The rest of the guests begin to laugh, making indecent jokes that seem to feed Draegan's ego.
" Be in my room after dinner. " Draegan made a show of whispering something in her ear, loud enough to be humiliating to the second girl, who was shivering like she was getting hypothermia by the second. " And bring the blonde, Aoife. She'll teach you what I like. "
Tears as bitter as the first woman's began to wet her burgundy mask. Azriel was beginning to feel he couldn't take it anymore, but something caught his attention. The third lifted her head fully and glared at Draegan with the most venomous gaze. It looked as if she wanted to tear the sky in two above the new king's head. So this Aoife was special for her and wanted revenge for whatever she had done to her friend.
When the king finally reached her, he was met by those gray, icy, murderous eyes. He stumbled over his words, as if he'd actually hit a wall of ice, and stared at her for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what the madwoman in front of him had just done. There was a silent conversation between them that lasted so long that even the roar from the table stopped to watch.
Eris swallowed dryly and covered his mouth with a hand. Azriel could swear he was trembling with impatience. Obviously he had warned her about her behavior.
Draegan tilts his head to the side, intrigued by her bold gesture. " You have pretty eyes. You should be more careful if you want to keep them. " He spoke after a moment, aggressively grabbing her jaw and bending her head enough to leave a wet kiss on her mask. " You're next tomorrow night. "
Vanserra looked lividly at her, at that disgusting stain of saliva on her mask. His agitation vanished, as if Draegan had poured water over the smoldering coals. She looked back at him with blank eyes and nodded slightly. She could handle it.
There will be no tomorrow night, Azriel suspected, either Eris will do something that will cost him his head, or this woman will do something that will burn the palace to the ground. Or maybe both. He was running out of time.
When Draegan moved on to the next woman, the third one no longer looked down, but stared at Azriel with her huge eyes. Azriel held her gaze for a long time until Draegan pulled a necklace from the fourth woman's pocket. None of the three looked at the stunning discovery. It did not shock any of them.
Eris dropped his head, tired of watching the next bloody minutes unfold among them. Guilt was written everywhere: on Vanserra's face, on Azriel's actions, in the eyes of the third servant, even on these damned walls. They all watched as that innocent woman was mercilessly killed for something she didn't do.
Another burden to carry, another soul wasted. No one was going to notice, they all looked the same after all. That cursed uniform... But Azriel knew immediately that the third woman was the one who stole from Draegan's room. And that Eris Vanserra was her accomplice.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 10
The Bloody Blade
" What do you know of the Deadly Nightshade? " Aoife's voice echoed in the basement room where most of the palace's laundry was washed. It was a small chamber, barely big enough for the five of us who gathered to change in the smelly uniforms of the palace guards. They reeked of fermented sweat and rusted iron, and the metal cuffs pinched your skin as you pulled them on. Kallus had the idea, thinking it would be much better if we covered our own scent not only with what was left of my potion, but with the unwashed stench of fae men. " What would a blonde like you want with the Nightshade? " Nimue cringed, her thick lashes framing her lilac pupils perfectly. " It's deadly. " The witch stood with her back straight as if it was nailed into the wall. Her lilac and herbs perfume wafted through the room like an aphrodisiac, overpowering the other, more disgusting scents. I move a little closer to her, the nothing in my stomach ready to spill up my throat at any moment, and take a deep breath. Not only did these clothes stink, but they were sticky and stained with God knows what. " Did you touch it? " I ask her worriedly, looking at her smooth palms. " I hope you didn't put your hands in your mouth afterwards. " Niven raises her eyebrows and leans into a corner, her oversized black shirt half unbuttoned, straining to tie a cord around her waist. Kallus is silent, only poking his head out from behind the curtain we have improvised to change in as much privacy as possible. The man looks at her questioningly, as if guessing what she's thinking, but his mouth remains tight. " I didn't touch it. I was just asking about it. " Her plucked eyebrows rose up to her unwrinkled forehead, scolding us. " I happen to have it in my garden, I want to know if I should use it in my tea or not. " The young woman looked like a deity poured down from heaven in the light provided by a few bitter candles. Even tired from a full day's work of washing the stinking clothes of the castle's inhabitants, her hair, tucked under that ugly hat, looked just as shiny, her complexion just as clean, and her blue eyes darkened by a few shades. " We're breaking into a prison and you want to ask about tea? " Niven's smile spreads across her sweaty face. " Are you nervous? " Aoife is silent for a while, looking at me, threatening me not to open my mouth, not to explain more than necessary. There was a glimmer of hope in her sky-blue eyes, a glimmer that I didn't want anyone to extinguish. I suspected that the maid who had witnessed the humiliation during dinner had already informed the blonde that Draegan had asked her back to his bed, but I didn't know that she knew I had been there and that I was technically supposed to take her place tomorrow night. The real problem was that she had no way of stopping him other than letting him fall asleep and sneaking out of the room untouched. I didn't even know what I was going to do tomorrow night, the thought left me completely cold and empty. I hoped he would see my naked body and squirm and then let me go. But Aoife might have a much better idea, one that we could both do in secret. That pain in my chest comes back, as if my heart is detached from the surrounding organs and falls into an endless void. Both men looked at me tonight like a zoo animal: one with a pair of eyes that had killed me so many times, and one with a hope that brought me back. Eris had sacrificed another human for me. I had sacrificed someone else for my own goals, which I put above all else. That's not what I was supposed to do here, I wasn't supposed to kill them, I was supposed to save them. And yet the first innocent life had just been lost because of me. " I'm stressed when we have to steal from the most dangerous, unpredictable, mad-man in the continent, yes. " Aoife puts her hands on her hips, perfectly hiding the fear she knows she wears on her body like a coat. " Atropa Belladonna is deadly, in the right dose. " I explain, pulling those huge, man-made pants up my thighs. " If you use too little, it can cause paralysis, pain, vomiting, muscle cramps, all sorts of horrible symptoms. " Nimue throws her fierce eyes at me and crosses her hands on her chest. " You finally made your homework? Is it from those books you've been stealing from me? " " I borrowed them and yes, I learned from them. A lot actually. " The witch's smile spreads like a serpentine river across her thin, almost proud face. " I knew you were a good thief. But I wonder how you got that map. I wonder what you paid. " Even though we had become close in a very strange way, there was this... awkwards connection between us, laced with bitterness, a hint of animosity and trust. Nimue still looked at me like I was about to grow a second head. But the good things had come after she'd saved us from Thaibar that day, when all the guards were looking for Aoife. I still wished I knew the limits of her powers, what kind of witch she was, if there was such a thing, what she could do, and if I could learn more from her than just potions and rituals, if I could steal some raw magic. Niven glares at me, holding the huge helmet under her arm, then drops her head. She knew about Eris, about him catching me with the map in Draegan's bedroom, and she also knew that I'd met him to take it back. She also knew what he'd asked for in return, and she knew that I approved. But I gained so much more: crucial information. Eris had told me that the prison still wasn't on very good terms with Draegan, and that they didn't approve of his leadership over the kingdom, which is why it would have been easy to get in, based on the fact that they wanted to get rid of certain prisoners he had also sent there. In addition, Eris had secretly stamped the letter Kallus was holding, requesting the release of a prisoner for a short period of time. Little did he know that the ultimate price was a woman's life. Outrageous or not, part of me was glad that someone had gone to such lengths to keep me out of Draegan's fingers. The other part felt a dark cloud over her head, like an impending curse about to break in her temples: she would pay for the death of an innocent life. I would have gladly paid anything if I knew it would have saved me a quarter of this suffocating feeling. I don't know what I was dreaming about, I don't even know why I had such high expectations. Whenever I read romance novels and the protagonist mentioned that she was breathless when she saw him, I preferred to roll my eyes and say that she was easily impressed. I had a bad habit of thinking that I would be harder to surprise, that I wouldn't be so easily struck by the beauty of anyone, male or female. All my life I have been firmly convinced that there is no such thing as a perfect human being, that this concept is really in the eye of the beholder, the one who describes or paints a muse who for him or her represents the sum total of subjectively excellent qualities. That's what I like to think about all these characters I read about in fantasy books. From the first day I started working at the palace, I had noticed how flawless these supernatural creatures could look: fine complexions, shining like porcelain, pointed ears, silky, shiny hair, dazzling eyes, full or thin lips, tall, athletic, well-shaped bodies, with roundness where it belonged and an appropriate amount of muscles, with a slightly icy aura about them, as if they refrained from blinding us with their natural light. I got used to all that. Then came Eris Vanserra. Nothing but cool and cheeky flirtation, wide grin, fiery brown eyes full of promises, high cheekbones with thin, tight lips, slim waist with just the right amount of muscle in the places that mattered. He smelled of nutmeg and the fires we made in the forest of Thaibar, and he dressed exactly as an heir to the throne should. He was unexpected in every way. The misunderstood anti-hero turned pale when he returned the map to me and I told him I trusted him enough to explain why I needed the map. I don't know if it was the fact that I had the courage to put my trust in his hands that shocked him the most, or if it was my idea to break into Hybern's prison to free one of its most dangerous prisoners. But I could feel his temper change, as if for the first time someone had placed their life in his hands and he was afraid not to break it. Well, I was impressed with Eris and what he did to protect me as best he could. But the winged one had me head over heels after I saw him once. And my infatuation cooled as quickly as it came. If I had butterflies in my stomach seeing Eris so close, Azriel made me hold my breath. No, literally lose it. And with my breath I lost my logic, my train of thought, forgot where I was and what I was doing, what I was saying. I felt no dopamine coursing through my bloodstream, just a tremendous desire to impress. A blanket of silence had settled around me at that moment, my ears were completely sunk in and all my attention was focused on him, my body was painfully numb and any emotion had been silenced. It was as if I was in that oasis I had fallen into for the second time a month ago, completely calm and at peace. Yet I had been as dumb as a virgin in front of the most beautiful man I had seen in two worlds. He spoke to me, but I ignored him. I didn't have a good enough sentence to say to him. I could have given him a sign, pulled him aside, asked him to help me. I couldn't even look him in the eye. And I didn't want to. They melted and froze me in the few seconds I allowed myself that luxury. He was so tall and imposing, so grandly contoured, painstakingly carved as if by two right, expert hands, merciless to those who might see him and be blinded by his beauty. He had a strong chin and a sharp jaw, lips full enough to be kissed if the opportunity arose, with a Cupid's bow cut roughly to perfection. All framed by wide, slightly arched eyebrows and thick, glossy black hair that grew slightly over the ears and high forehead. The piece de resistance were undoubtedly the eyes: hard, enigmatic, surprisingly gentle, yet agile and unforgiving, quick to take in every detail, like whiskey through a glass in a smoldering fire, like amber unraveling in the sun's rays. Not to mention that I shuddered at the sight of his famous shadows. They weren't just shadows, they were more than that. They were like slippery tongues of darkness, rising and dissipating like smoke, concentrated at a particular point on his intensely forged body, playful and subtle, the more you looked at them, the more you realized that they were living elements, with a consciousness of their own, capable of inflicting wounds like any sharp knife. I could feel them studying me closely, as if they wanted to take a close look inside my mind. They sniffed at me like guard dogs, eager to protect their master from any threat. Fear gripped me as I noticed them moving around my waist, where I held the dagger I had stolen in my dream. Fortunately, I retreated in time, or I fear they would have shreded my clothes there to see what I was hiding and how deadly it was. I had decided by then, however, that I would not be approaching Azriel anytime soon. I didn't have the courage, not after seeing his monstrous wings rise like mountains from his back: black and violently muscled, with scars and bony fangs piercing painfully through the shiny wing membrane. I don't know what I expected from him. The same protection Eris had offered me so quickly and without question? More attention? If I was the main character in this story and had to help this world, that didn't mean I was a beauty, that such an imposing man with so many other options would notice me. I sighed inwardly as I realized how ridiculous I was, trapped in my own fantasy with him. But I already knew he was taken. I knew his heart belonged to someone else, and there was no way I could compete with a beauty like Elain, even though I hadn't seen her yet and didn't know if I ever would. So, with an empty heart, I put aside whatever love subplot might have happened during my journey here and moved on. Then, during dinner, when he looked at me so disappointed, so silent and angry, like a father who disagrees with his daughter's actions, I felt like the sky was cracking in my head. It was as if he was expecting me, a mere servant to do something, to save them. Did he realize that I didn't belong in this place? I had still hoped that he would somehow save the day, as he had at the meeting of the High Lords, when he defended Feyre, or when he freed Elain, or when he saved Gwyn from Sangravah. I had waited for him to intervene when Draegan slapped the first handmaiden, when he invited the second into his bed, when he kissed me disgustingly, or when he killed the fourth. But none of that happened, and I returned his gaze just as sourly, allowing myself to watch him as disappointedly as he had studied me for minutes. " Nimue, it doesn't make any changes to the plan if we know how Cyan got the map. " Kallus talks slowly, pulling me violently from the thoughts that had gripped me like ivy. " We should go over the details again if we want everything to work. " " I have another, I'd say good question, if Kallus allows me to make assumptions: how much can we trust the information that you heard from Eris Vanserra? " Nimue helps me strap something to my arms, the same suspicion lacing her words. " They say their lineage is descended from foxes. How much can you trust a fox? " " It's all the information we have in a time that's running out too fast. My father has heard the gossip from the continent: that Cyan's landing has brought anomalies to the surface that others consider the end of the world. " Niven mumbles worriedly, tucking her map into her armor. " Many say the Devourer rebels in his tomb between worlds, others that a Dark King stirs the forests and lakes between the continents. " " It means they felt it too. " Aoife whispers, staring into the flame. " The Night Court also sent his Spymaster here. " Nimue spoke again, considering me. " It means they might suspect something is wrong too. " " The Shadowsinger is the one we should fear, not Vanserra. " Kallus concluded, not taking his eyes off Nimue. " He hears and feels things no one else can, he might have sensed the change in the atmosphere and it took some time to find the place the energetic charge came from. It won't take him long to find us, to find you, Cyan. " " The one from the other world surely knows your fate. " Nimue concluded, clenching her fists. " Amren. " Amren, of course, how could I forget her. She had been... something, something very powerful before she died and was brought to life in the books. An angel, most readers in the other world suspected. She should have been the first to figure out what was going on and how to find me. That's exactly why I shouldn't have been afraid of them, especially if they were trying to find me, maybe they wanted to help me. " We must find this woman and save her. If there's anything left to save. " Kallus rubs his overgrown beard and looks sternly at Nimue, a whole conversation unfolding between them. "I looked some more and managed to find her name: Malou - the Bloody Blade. " " That Bloody Blade? " Nimue asks sternly and it's the first time I see her shocked by something. We all look at each other, dazed, as if a ghost had suddenly came among us, as cold as a raging winter, entering our bones. The candlelight dances and I can feel the strands of hair that washed over my face dancing in front of my eyes. I stare at the door, expecting some huge creature to enter and crush us all. For minutes we are silent, aware of each other's presence, but no one steps through the door. " The temperature has dropped, do you feel it? " Niven asks, pulling the sweaty armor closer. " There's a spirit with us. " Nimue concludes, closing her eyes and extending her palms. " It's harmless, but she wants to listen. " " Who is it? " Aoife asks, drawing a piece of cloth over her shoulders. " The last true, living Valkyrie is with us. " Kallus sighs, happiness filling his features. " Is she the one we're going after? " I ask, overcome with adrenaline and excitement. " Why is she a spirit? " I feel her surrounding me, like a curtain fluttering in the wind, almost suffocating me. I feel her unpleasant eyes on the back of my neck, sniffing me. I feel compelled to stand as straight as a tree.. " One of their most important powers was their ability to cultivate different elements around them to improve their own strength. It's called Cultivation, it's a sub-power of Thriving, something only an extinct cult could do. It gives the wielder enough power to astral project. The Valkyries and the Eyes of the Mother were closely related, being the protectors of the Mother herself. But a group of beings brought their downfall far too many years ago. " Nimue explained as she looked around, as if she could see the silhouette of the one walking freely among us. " If she is Malou and still has this ability, it means -" Kallus was interrupted by Nimue, who smiled triumphantly. " That she's still in contact with one of the Eyes. It means one more is alive and waiting. " " Do we have to find her too? " I ask enthusiastically. " Only Malou can lead you to the last of the Eyes. They share a bond that allows them to use their co-dependent magic. " Nimue explains, equally excited as she looks at all of us. " That's how she survived all these centuries... It's wonderful... You were right Kallus, there is hope for us. " " After everything is over, we'll celebrate. " Kallus allowed himself to chuckle softly in that darkness, and with that, I allowed myself to feel joy as well. We can do it. We can get out alive. With that hope still imprinted in all five of us, we quickly recapped the plan we were supposed to follow. Aoife had been another important part of it, bringing us another item we couldn't have gotten into the prison without: the key. It was a single one, made of a hard, black material that would open all the cells. There were several sections in the prison, categorized according to the danger level of the creatures imprisoned there. So all the wardens had one. The problem was that we didn't know exactly at which level we could find Malou. Kallus suspected that she was in section 'S', the highest level of security, where the walls were carved with runes on the inside, preventing any magic, designed to weaken the inmate himself. They fed off their life force, their energy, their powers, so they were always on and they never failed. That's why we had Nimue, who had been working for days on a symbol and the ink we needed to use. It was a diamond with elongated corners cut by a straight line in the middle. I'd seen it before in the other world, used by self-entitled witches on the internet. I'd used it myself, but it never worked. Kallus was to provide transportation from the prison to the palace and then to the farm. Then, right after all that, we were to run away with Aoife's uncle. That evening. Malou was supposed to be one of the most important prisoners Hybern had kept forgotten in a dungeon for so long, and her absence the next day would set off a lot of alarm bells. " May we not shrink from our purpose. " Kallus whispered, looking at Niven with his sad, green eyes, now shining like emeralds in the candlelight. " May we not falter under darkness's terror. " Niven goes on, grave as a tombstone, looking at her father as seriously as if she felt this was the last road. " May we finally rest when we are claimed. " Nimue seemed to end, placing the palm of her long-nailed hand over her heart in a final prayer to anyone who would listen. Aoife lowered her head, respecting the silence and the prayer they had said for all of us. There's no stopping us now as we sneak out the door, finally ready to finish what we started a month ago. After everyone has left the laundry room, I stop Aoife with a hand on her shoulder. " Brew this tea tonight and put a cup in his wine. It should kill a man in less than ten minutes. I don't know what effect Nightshade has on faes, so you might want to add another cup just to be sure. And whatever happens tonight, don't let him touch you or the other girl. " I whisper and hand Aoife the most precious thing I had with me, the black leather sheathed dagger I had stolen in my dream. " How do you know I have it on me? " Aoife looks at me puzzled and taps her apron pocket. " No offense, but you smell like dead rats and you have pink stains on your shirt. Nimue know you have it, too. So don't falter tonight. " I place my hand on her cheek, encouraging her, and walk away. As if she didn't know us, Nimue quickly sneaks back to her hiding place on the ground floor of the palace, where the doctor's office is. Her purple velvet gown covers her hips, swaing them as elegantly as a proud cat. Kallus and Niven retrieved their swords and set off in that robotic way we saw the guards walk. A sudden pull binds my legs and stops me in my tracks. For a few seconds I am unbalanced, pulled down by the weight of the armor. Tingles spread across my shoulders, as if thousands of butterflies had flapped their fine wings against my cold skin, and suddenly I realize why. " I've seen you before. " A deep, deadly voice speaks a few steps behind me. I turn a fraction of an inch and see him again, the same man of my dreams, the same man I had lusted after not only in the other world, but here too. He grabbed Nimue harshly by the arm and demanded answers. Azriel was a few heads taller than the brunette, broader in the shoulders, and this time he was clean, his Illyrian skins now washed. He felt me watching him like a hungry animal and turned his head to me far too slowly, defiantly. Azriel had something murderous written all over his face, and he focused all his attention on me. " In your dreams, maybe. " Nimue answers proudly, unnafected by the Spymaster. My legs are racing, and with them my heart, as if they were competing to see who could go the furthest. All this infatuation mixed with disappointment and hatred and anger, and even though I knew that I shouldn't blame him for the girl who lost her life, but myself, my expectations demanded more and more from someone I didn't know at all. Azriel had his reasons for being here, and the way he was looking at me right now, I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before he realized who I was. Once we reach the stables, Kallus uncovers the imperial carriage the guards used to transport the prisoners. " I have been looking for one of these all day. Get in, I'll talk if anyone asks too many questions." Outside it was raining heavily, loudly and violently, like a bad omen, and suddenly I felt the need to be held, to be protected and to hide. " Wait! " I shout, stopping them before they get into the pitch-black carriage. The two horses whine and kick their hooves, but I don't hesitate as I throw myself into their arms like it was the last time. " No matter what happens tonight, I have the utmost respect for your family, Kallus, you have helped me more than others have in a lifetime, and I will forever cherish what you gave me: another chance. " " Don't say goodbye. " Niven whispers and I can feel those tears straining her soft voice. " This is not a goodbye, Cyan. We'll make it. " " I know. But I feel like I never had a chance to thank you and tell you that you have a place in my heart forever. " The hole in my stomach grows bigger and I regret that I can't say 'I love you' to these people, but I hope they read between my words. " I love you like my own child and I would do anything for you, Cyan. We'll make it through the night. " Kallus says in a final tone, sucking back his own tears. " Now hurry before someone sees some guards bonding in the barn. " As Niven and I go to close the door, someone calls after us. " Chief Carambian, head of palace security. Identify yourself and your purpose in taking a royal carriage. " Kallus presents a paper, torn and signed, then speaks in a deep, dark voice I have never heard before. " The king requests that a prisoner be brought to the palace. Tonight. " Through the open window of the carriage, I watch the other man carefully read the letter and then approve it. " You have clear path. " We stop stalling and set off at a fast pace. The horses gallop furiously through the backyard, stopping only for a few seconds, while Kallus is forced to show the false letter to the guards at the gates. The prison is a few miles away, in the opposite direction from Thaibar, hidden in the woods. At this late hour, only the lanterns attached to the cart illuminated the beaten path. The trees seemed taller and more menacing than those in the forest near Thaibar. Many of them had no leaves at all, just twisted trunks, as if they were in pain and had no one to comfort them. Outside it was still pouring heavily, soaking the path and making it slippery as Kallus turned. It smelled of wet leaves, cold and muddy, and the silence was so ingrained among the long branches that we were the only ones to break the seemingly sacred silence. We had that hope that we would make it tonight, that the first step of our plan would happen without anyone getting in our way. Even though my breath came in short and quick, like an asthma attack, even though the feeling of impending doom seemed to creep over my skin, the adrenaline I felt was more alive than anything else, burning my body from the inside out. I don't know how Kallus was able to stay out in the pouring rain, but he assured us that it was better for him to drive alone; too many people would have drawn attention to us. Sleep soothed my eyes, but I couldn't close them, I was too full of conflicting feelings. I don't even know what time it was, one, two in the morning? By now Aoife must have been in the imperial bedroom, pouring poison into glasses. The thought provokes a physical reaction of nausea in me, so I glance at Niven out of the corner of my eye to reassure myself. She's asleep, head down on the opposite couch, mouth open. She slept the entire twenty minutes we'd made it from the palace to the middle of this wilderness. There is a knocking on the metal roof of the carriage and Kallus calls from outside: " It's time, girls. " " Wake up, Nivy, we're here. " I shake Niven gently, pulling her hair away from her face and helping her out of her dream's grip. " I'm up. I'm up. " She mumbles, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth and pulling her hood over her head. " How long have I been out? " " Barely twenty minutes. " I answer as I open the door and jump onto the earth. A wet sound comes from the impact and I dive a little into the mud. " Here, take the declaration and Nimue's ink. You remember the sigil, right? " Kallus jumps out of the driver's seat as well, pulling all the tools out of his pockets, then continues when I nod. " Whatever you do, whatever they ask you, just say that Draegan sent you and that if they have anything to say about it, to come to the castle for answers. Malou might be in the last cells, just ask them to show you the Valkyrie. I'll wait for you in the carriage and keep an eye out. You have to understand that if you reach the basement level and something bad happens, you'll most likely be trapped down there. Move quickly and stay alive. Let's hope our Valkyrie is holding strong. " We both nodded, then poured what was left of my potion down our throats, then added a second one that Nimue had made to glamorize us. We needed to sound and look like men, not two twenty-year-old girls, so Nimue had prepared two extra bottles. I don't know how long her magic lasted, but I guessed no more than an hour or two, so we had to move very quickly. As far as I knew, there were two parts to the prison, the above-ground part, where the humans or not-so-dangerous prisoners were kept, and the underground part, where all the creatures and nightmares we were supposed to run away from were trapped. " May we not falter... " Niven whispers as we step out, away from the cover provided by the trees, and thousands of crossbows are aimed at our heads from the outer wall of the prison. " Amen!... " I mutter, already frightened. We advanced robotically, with the spears we had obtained from the palace in full view and with our backs straight. There was no turning back. The rain pelted down hard and furiously, seeping through the seams of our armor and soaking into the sweaters we had put on underneath to make us look more massive. Huge drops of water made a disconcerting sound as they made contact with the obsidian on our shoulder blades and helmet crest. The boots, five sizes too big, were playing havoc with my legs and the soles of my feet were already getting wet from the puddle that was forming beneath us by the second. Niven was no better, only a head taller than me, but much, much skinnier. She'd needed two pairs of pants and two blouses to fill the armor to the brim. " Legitimize yourself! " A voice shouts out of nowhere as we reach the huge gate. On the outside, it is lit only by two massive torches, which illuminate the rusty and bleeding spears coming out of the gate. I could feel the magic sweeping over me, from my ankles to the top of my head, raising my temperature and sharpening my vision. I felt more massive, as if I had grown a few inches taller, but also heavier, as if I had gained weight. I could feel my jaw tingling under the balaclava, and was surprised to find that I had grown a beard, and my ears were painfully pricked by the roundness of my helmet. We had already transformed. " General Charon. " I scream as loud as I can, feeling the witch's brew constrict my lungs. " Chief of the palace servants, General Carambian. " Niven shouted back, raising her head to be heard. A few horrible seconds of waiting pass, then a deafening screech almost makes me duck. The gate opens painfully, creaking on all sides and dragging heavily on the ground. Five fae await us at the entrance, shining swords, seemingly freshly sharpened, lying murderously on their arms, torches in their hands. The man who looked at us questioningly could not have been more than thirty years old, though he was a fae, which could mean he was easily five hundred years old. He was bald, his pointed ears protruding past the edge of his occipital bone, and his eyes were small and wrinkled, set in the center of his hateful face. He didn't smile, but his lips were thin and parted in a harsh, implacable line. He walks toward us, with his torch blowing in the wind and shows his sharp fangs. " It is past midnight, Lord Charon, what does His Highness desire at this obscene hour? " " We are not to judge King Draegan's orders or desires, so read for yourself. " I reply with how much coldness I am capable of, considering my underwear is shaking on me, and hand him the same sheet that Kallus had shown the stableman. " You wish to escort an ' S ' classed creature to the palace?! " His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had eaten forks and knives all his life, and his throat was not in the best shape. " I have to refuse. I can't let such fae out. It's dangerous. " " Sire. " Someone speaks behind him, and the man turns his head to the side. " Sir Lisko, if the Master wishes, we must obey. " " The prison still does not answer to its own self-appointed leadership. " Sir Lisko spits, obviously irritated, then stares at us for a second in silence. " Why would he want such creature free inside the palace. " " The creature must be bound and gagged. " Niven's words come out with a raspy, purely masculine timbre, and I smile under my mask, begging to get inside faster and get it over with. " King Draegan wants a spectacle for a guest - The Autumn Court's Heir and The Night Court's Emissary. " " You see, sire, he already has connections across the continent. He'll free us soon. " The same voice speaks, changing Lisko's mind. " Fine. You have one hour to take whatever you need. " He turns and gestures for us to follow. We obey without comment and the joy begins to grow in me. I hope that luck will be with us all the way. First, we crossed the small courtyard, where it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to go outside from time to time, judging by the number of tables and chairs arranged one on top of the other, balls and obstacle courses, probably made for training. Lisko, as the other man called him, lifts the latch on the huge, tree-covered building and invites us in. We enter the above-ground prison without much fuss, only to be bombarded with moans and groans. Darkness reigned over the smelly, cold cells, and for a second I wondered if anyone was alive in those cages. Not even the moon shone through the holes in the prison stone. At this late hour, everyone was probably fast asleep. Only the few candles in the walls lit the way for the guards. Niven looks around too, and I can feel the tension in her muscles and her disgust. There was an overpowering smell of closed air and unwashed bodies, feces and rotten food. All I could see were limbs: crippled hands half covered with blankets eaten away by rats, legs with gangrene that looked like they had been eaten by bugs. I almost vomited when I saw a man relieving himself between the sheets that should have been his bed. Someone screams above us, and I jump, stifling a scream of my own. Was it a prison or a sanatorium? " Don't be so scared, Charon. They're as good as dead and doped up. " Lisko says proudly as he grabs a set of keys from nearby and unlocks some doors. " What did they do? " Niven can't help but ask as she watches a woman write in stone with her fingernails melted and bloodshot. " You may think we put all people in jail, but there are real criminals here. " He answers, then we stop in front of a cell where a man is fast asleep with his back to us. " He killed his entire family in a manic episode, then he ate them one by one. " We walk a few steps and stop in front of another cell where a child was lying in rags. " Don't be fooled. He raped his aunt and hung her in the attic, then stole her money and lost it gambling. He paid whores to please him, then cut out their tongues when he wasn't satisfied. He's barely fifteen. " The boy's sardonic grin is all the confirmation I need as he bares his razor-sharp teeth like a hungry shark. " So you don't have innocent humans here. " I ask as I watch another man satisfy his needs under the covers. Lisko's wrinkled face turns toward us, cold and emotionless. He opens an obsidian door that leads to a staircase. "I'd say it's too late to seek your penance, General Charon. Freeing one prisoner doesn't make up for all the innocent lives you've taken. " He doesn't wait for me to answer, so he rolls his eyes and speaks again. " If you want to expand the cells under the palace, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the prison is full. I thought you'd put all the people you torture in there. " I try not to be too impressed by the way Sir Lisko, the last fae I would have expected, spoke with such disgust of the things Draegan and Charon had done to the humans. As if he really cared about the innocent lives lost within the palace walls. I look at his disheveled hands and my eyes widen when I notice the gold band that marks him as married. Could his wife be human? " We do. " Niven agrees for me and steps in front of me. " We need to find the Valkyrie. " "I don't know if she's still alive in this pit. You'll find her remains in the last cell on the left. Just stay in the main hall and you will be fine. I don't get paid enough to go into that hole with you at night. If you have what you need, I'll be waiting upstairs. " Lisko announces, and before he closes the door, he tells us one more thing. " Don't listen to the voices. " When the door behind us was unlocked, the silence washed over us, broken only by our intertwined breaths. It was hard to carry armor that weighed half as much as you, so I was out of breath every few steps. I picked up a torch leaning against the stone wall and stared tensely at Niven. Her helmet was turned toward me, as if she, too, was watching me in confusion. " We'll manage. " I speak and the echo answers me with the same words. We make our way down the spiral staircase, descending for minutes as if driving into the center of the earth, and at the bottom we would find the lava boiling. Occasionally we'd come to a window that once let in fresh air, but was now covered over. I looked down, careful not to slip on the broken steps that were missing large chunks of material. Not even the spiders lived here. Niven stops abruptly, both palms pressed against the narrow walls of the stairs for balance. " Did you hear that? " A shiver ran down my spine and I suddenly became much more alert. This was everything I didn't want to hear while I was buried in a grave. I frown from behind my metal helmet and sharpen my ears. Too bad the potion didn't give me their fine hearing as well, just the sharp look, maybe I'd hear the thing Niven was talking about. My heart raced, pounding so hard that I could see my chest heaving under those powerful beats. " I don't hear anything. I'm only really cold. " I say as we walk down a few more steps, then she stops again. " Strange, I'm really, really hot. But I hear them talking. " " Don't listen to them, Nivy, you heard the guy. " When we finally step onto level ground, the fog engulfs my ankles, and with it, panic settles in my chest, sinking its insatiable claws into my heart. Pitch black. A deep blackness, as if I could cut it with a knife, surrounds us and with it the smell of decay. I refrain from any sarcastic comment and just clench my jaw, trying to find the courage to continue. I swallow dryly and raise the torch even higher, trying to shed as much light as possible into the wide corridor. I would never have dared to venture into an underground graveyard alone, filled with creatures that had magical powers and probably loved the taste of human flesh. I probably reeked of fear, a smell I'd always heard creatures of the dark loved, as if it were an aphrodisiac for their nostrils. I look back and am relieved to see the stone wall, it meant we could start somewhere, that this was the main corridor Lisko had told us about and we didn't have to wander lost through this cursed place. " Do you still hear them? " I ask skeptically with a sigh as we walk down the muffled corridor. The cells were hidden in the darkness, and I didn't dare bring the fire near them, not wanting to disturb whatever was in that darkness. It was enough that I felt thousands of pairs of eyes in the back of my head, watching me far too closely for my own liking. I was sure that, unlike the inhabitants upstairs, those down here were not sleeping, but hunting at these hours. I stayed as close to Niven as I could, the same distance from the cells, to reduce the chance of being grabbed by one of the tentacles. Sometimes I even felt ghostly touches on my back and forearms and forced myself not to look back. I had heard that it is not good to look back when someone is calling you, whistling at you, or when you feel unseen touches, so I preferred to stick to my earthly teachin " Yes, they want you to set them free. They promise to obey. We both know they won't. " Niven encourages me not to listen to them either.. " What if they're innocent? " " I don't trust anything that thrives in the darkness. " When we finally reached the end of the haunted corridor, it took me a few seconds to work up the courage to put my flame in front of the cell. I knew the underground prison wasn't empty, not by a long shot, even if I didn't hear any voices. Niven probably heard them because she was one of Mother's benefactors. " Maybe is on another hallway. " Nivy whispered manfully from behind me, turning her head. " But there's no light anywhere, we could easily get lost in this labyrinth. " " It can't be. " I say, waving the torch back and forth as desperation begins to overtake me. " She can't be dead! She's here, she's close, my intuition never lies to me. " But as I searched for the uninhabited piece of land, staring in shock at the perfectly made bed and the unused dresser, hope seemed to leave me as quickly as it had come. I could feel it inside, the certainty that I would find it here, still alive, that reality seemed to be playing tricks on me. " You finally came after me, mighty Benefactor? " Someone is talking, and for a second I think the fire is casting shadows on the walls as I see a pile of clothes jerking around, trying to turn around. " I died long ago. Buried in my own grief. " " Are you?... " I ask in a whisper, as if I could wake the dead. " You were the one listening, back in the palace? " Niven comes closer, mouth agape in shock and hope and triumph, and before I can stop her, she lunges for the iron bars, clenching them into tight fists. " Malou? Yes, but I'm not a Valkyrie anymore. " An endless sadness poured from her timbre, which seemed so, so old. " I could never be one again, after what I've done... You seemed quite thrilled to come and die here for my sake. " We had come this far and planned how to get in and how to get out, and we were so blinded by the idea that the woman might be dead that we hadn't thought about how to convince her to come with us. I wasn't being absurd, I had considered her mental situation, but I hadn't prepared any emotional speech about life and death, I had relied on her desire to be free again. But what if she didn't want to be free? I knew from my experience with my father that a conversation with a traumatized person is a constant back and forth, and that it is very difficult to reason with them. " Please, I need your help. We need your help. " I manage to speak slowly, as if the woman was deaf. " Something bad is happening outside, and we need you by our side. " The woman laughs, jerky, hoarse, then coughs as if her lungs are filled with pus. In this cold place, I wouldn't be surprised if the creatures ended up with bronchopneumonia from these precarious conditions. I wasn't even sure if they were being fed or even offered a glass of water. " Oh I know. I've heard about you're coming - Ves-per-tus. " She takes a long pause, then continues. " I used to guard and train women like this. Tragic miracles... The world may need you, but it does not need me. The world has been nothing but cruel to me and my sisters. So why should I make another sacrifice for something that erased me? " " The world has changed, some parts have been rebuilt by people with hope. Kind people. They fight for the minorities, they try to help, they try to dispel the darkness. " I try to convince her, not knowing if what I said was the truth or a lie, but thinking of Prythian, I knew some of my words were sincere. " You've been locked up for too long and the world has moved on, but you don't need to be caged just because you're afraid of the outside. You deserve freedom. " She fully turns and for the thousandth time tonight I allow myself to be surprised. An old, chocolate, wrinkled face looked back at me as if I had insulted or slapped her. I could see how her white hair framed her bony face, how it accentuated her glassy eye, crisscrossed by a deep, still reddish scar. Her cheeks and chin were adorned with tribal tattoos, now faded to gray marks. The real, healthy one, however, betrayed so many emotions in the blackness as deep as the one in prison: grief, regret, and such low self-esteem. Her lips were still round, fleshy, and well-defined, but they had become discolored with age. " The prison is sucking the life out of you. " Niven explains, still gripping the bars. " You are not alone. You are a legend, Malou. My family and I have waited centuries for this glimmer of hope, please don't say no. " " I do not need the mercy of the Benefactors. You have chosen to wait and be crushed by the ever-growing forces of darkness. You never fight, governed by that pathetic law of not harming anything that moves. We lost the battle once because of you. I let myself be captured. I don't deserve freedom. I deserve to rot in this cell. " Malou spits angrily and approaches us. " Now get the fuck away from me. Every glimmer or nice word you tell me will make me vomit in my mouth. " Niven squirmed, apparently shaken by the old woman's words, but I didn't have time to ponder all that had been so casually thrown in her face. " Malou, I know you may feel hopeless and alone and tired, but you are a warrior at heart. I was alone too, I was dead inside too, but there's a way home for all of us, even for you. You have to fight again. We have to fight again. Don't let your potential be lost in Hybern's hands. " " My home is lost. I don't want to be a blade again. No one came to help us when we needed help. I lost the most important battle - the war. " " No, it's not. You can find it again. Home is not a place, you can find it in someone else's heart. And I know for sure that you still have a piece of what you call home that is lost somewhere in this world. Fight by my side, let's rebuild what was lost. I beg you, I will give you all that you need, all that you desire. But I need you, the Mother needs you, everyone needs you. You may not feel like a Valkyrie, but you're a strong woman. You have the power to begin again. I'll be beside you in this war. " She puffs, then a wry smile spreads across her dry lips. " It's easy to throw words, child. Wars are not won by a handful of trained warriors. War means blood, colossal losses, dying loved ones, strategic battles, and sacrifice. Are you ready to make that sacrifice when the time comes? If you had to kill ten people to save one important man who has all the advantages over the enemy, would you do it? When you find out what I've done, what I've had to give up, you won't need me anymore. And more than that, you're just a human now. You're still not a Vesper. You don't have anything I want or need. " " That's why I need you. You can teach me everything you know. " " No. " Malou almost screamed, snarling at me with her sharp teeth. " It takes years, years! Even more, to train one fucking soldier. But a living Vesper? That takes centuries. All the arts you must master to fight the darkness are no child's play. You won't be able to save anything. We will die under your clumsiness. " " You have to give me a chance. " I say, her words tearing the hope out of me piece by piece, slowly killing me. " Don't die without putting up a fight. Don't give up. Stop running from the past, stop hiding in the darkness, you are a creature of light, a symbol. You have a chance to right your wrongs, don't kick it away! I'll go out there and do my best, even if I die. But I'd like to have at least one small chance of winning. " Malou looked at me with her healthy eyes and frowned so hard that the wrinkled skin between her eyebrows formed a deep crease. Obviously I've pushed all her buttons, because I see something change in her hard look. The 'no' becomes a 'maybe if...' inside her and I feel her change as she stands on her two feet and stares limply at us and back at the greasy cell. I feel the frustration seeping out of me, my patience wearing thin. " The Mother calls your name into battle and you refuse? Your comrade, your Carranam is still alive, still suffering, Gods knows where, waiting for you, and you choose to be nothing but trash to Hybern. Their punching bag. You are no longer a Valkyrie, indeed. " " Nivy... Don't say that. " I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to stifle any harsh words, but she shakes away from my touch. " Don't stop her, she's right. " The old woman stands on her emaciated feet, dressed in a long robe, sweeping the stone floor. A new light appeared in her eyes, as if the thought of her Carranam had restored this last hope. " If you become a Vespertus, if you manage to survive the literal heartbreak, I would want one thing, but you must do it with your hands. No one else. If I protect you with whatever power I have and train you in the old ways, you owe me one thing. " " Whatever you need. " I promise, feeling in my gut that I was making a colossal mistake. " My word is law, and so shall yours be. When the time comes, at the very end, my life will perish under your sword. You will sacrifice me so that I may finally be with my sisters. " " What? " I look at her in shock, overcome with horror. " Why would I kill you? " " Because she can't kill herself. " Niven concludes nervously. " The Mother would never allow such a sacrifice. It's an insult to her for you to take your own life. So if her work on the material world is not done, the Mother will not call her to the skies. The only creature that can end their misery is the Mother herself, or... " " The Mother's own daughter, blood from her blood. " Malou smiles, satisfied, knowing she had us trapped, we couldn't refuse when her agreement to come with us was depending on this bargain. Niven's words settle in my head and I look at Malou, her cunning face still strong. That's why I couldn't kill myself, because my life was in Mother's hands and she wouldn't let me go. " That's why you couldn't do it either. " Mallou approaches me and smiles sadly. " That's why you couldn't kill yourself. " " Have you... " Niven turns her head, and I refuse to look at her, overcome with shame. " How did you know? " I ask her with all the emotions churning inside me. " I'm almost as old as time, I know a lot of things. Accept my offer or I won't come. " I look at Niven, who is as dizzy as I am. I realize that I'm running out of time when my skin starts to tingle and my facial hair starts to fade. " Tic- tac. " Malou whispers, covered by the shadows. " I'll do it. " But I will decide when the time comes. Malou slips her hand through the iron bars like a snake and steals a dagger from Niven's armor, which makes Niven fall on her ass. She cuts her palm, then hands me the bloody blade. " Seal the deal! " I don't think too far ahead as I throw down my glove and follow her gestures, feeling the sharpness of the knife nick my skin. Pain shocks my shoulder and almost immediately dark blood spurts out, spilling everywhere, running through the cracks in the stones on the floor. Malou grabs my hand aggressively, digging her unkempt nails into my blouse. A cold thunder rumbles in the distance, as if what we are doing now is against nature, as if we have broken the laws of the universe. I feel the clap of thunder as if it had struck me, a strange energy coursing through my whole body, invigorating and exhausting me at the same time. I refrain from screaming, the pain from the cut pumping through my muscles. I feel her dry skin rub against mine, our blood now bound together for what seems like forever. Tongue of darkness climbs up our arms, marking the bargain. Malou just grimaces, apparently gripped by this strange, piercing pain as well. Time stops for a few seconds and I watch silently as the black ink sprouts in my palm, closing the cut. A snake blooms from under my skin, while a bird, a raven, entwines itself on Malou's old palm. " I am the eye of the crow that watches over the head of the mighty serpent. " We say in unison, our voices possessed by thousands of ancestors. Niven stares at us dumbfounded, but doesn't linger long and begins to draw the seal on the cell door. Something crackles in the walls, disabling whatever was keeping Malou exhausted. The woman gasped, as if a pain had been removed from her soul. She quickly opened the door with the stolen key, then hurried to support Malou, who was barely holding on. " I won't always be like this. " She admits when I position myself on the other side and we start walking down the corridor. " I just need time to recover my strength and youth. " We'll wait for you here, when you need us the most. We'll feed from your blood, your sacrifice and we'll live. We won't forget your taste. I turn my head back when I hear the voices speaking to me. Malou looks at me with her different eyes and warns me not to pay attention to them. And so I do, throwing the voices out of my head, ignoring this warning and promise. Climbing the stairs with such a heavy weight becomes even more difficult. The magic begins to wear off when I notice that my height is beginning to decrease, Malou's shoulders are now suspended at different heights. Lisko opens the door when I knock on it with my boot and has Niven sign the register, leaving proof that someone had released the prisoner, then slips the King's letter into a file as well. He accompanies us to the gates in the torrential rain, along with five other guards, but he doesn't say much, as if satisfied that we've taken a nuisance off his mind. The gates close roughly behind us and I can hear the locks turning. The torches outside die before my eyes, extinguished by an unseen magic, leaving us alone in the woods. " Father! " Niven shouts into the night once she reaches the carriage. " Father! We're... here. " Her voice trailed off as she opened the door and saw the horror. Blood. Blood everywhere and Kallus nowhere. The red liquid was dripping from the horse's neck, their life stolen from them. I turn my head from the scenery, unable to witness that cruelty. We were trapped here. " He's not dead. " Malou shouts over the pouring rain, leaning painfully on my shoulder. " I would've smelled it. But he's far away from this place and I think he's hurt. Badly. " " Kallus! Where are you? " I scream, shaking violently, surrounded again by that doom. The emptiness in my stomach grows, and I feel like banging my head against a tree as I watch the desperation with which Niven surrounds the carriage, shouting wildly through the forest. Angrily, she throws her helmet to the ground and falls to her knees, screaming again and again, calling her father. I see her shoulders moving convulsively, as if she can't catch her breath, as if she's crying and laughing at the same time. I don't even dare look into her eyes. I am afraid it will break me, so I hide my eyes when she turns to look at me. " He is gone. " Niven says, crying, and as I watch the night creep through the wicked trees, I know the truth: Kallus was the price I had to pay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
END OF PART 1: Pit of Despair
Chapter 11
The Vespertus
Author's P.o.V:
The night wasn't as merciful as Cyan had imagined before the mission started, as she had hoped and as that dreadful feeling of impending doom was settling deep inside her marrow, the only thought she had in mind w9as that someone betrayed them. Someone who played his cards better than her little band of bandits and outwitted them, outfoxed five brains. Hypnotized by the moving shadows she imagined, Cyan stared into the pitch-black fog that rose between the scrawny trees. There was only empty silence in her eardrums, broken only by Niven's sharp gasps or Malou's heavy breathing passing by the side of her head. They peered at her from behind those lanky trees, dancing on Kallus' splattered blood, following Cyan's arrythmic heartbeats. Someone sold us out. Someone killed Kallus. No. He's not dead. He can't be. But his blood is everywhere. Maybe he fought back, he's really hurt out there in the forest. Of course he fought back, but Malou said there's no trace of his scent anywhere near. " We have to keep moving. " Malou gathered her strength, refreshed by the freedom, and watched the brunette, whose name she hadn't quite caught yet. She tried to muster some empathy, some compassion for the faith of the girl's father, for her grief, but these long, never-ending years, the losses she, herself had suffered, left her feelings freeze to death. When no answer came from the one she thought was the leader, she turned to the human who was barely holding Malou on her narrow shoulders. Is this the Falling Star the Old Word spoke of? Malou refrained from showing her distrust and studied the human's gentle profile. Tree digits were imprinted deep in the roundness of her cheek, rosy and anfractuous, murdering that innocent, smooth facade. By their color variation, from pink on the edges and fierce magenta in the center and the way they were perfectly aligned and symmetrical and the vague smell of sulfur, she guessed a creature gifted it to her. A departing memory. " The guards will discover us and your plan will fail. " She could feel the heaviness of her eyes settling on Malou's relentless features. This girl's green eyes did not know an easy life, her questioning gaze electrified Malou, somehow ravishing the last remnants of her warrior instincts she burried deeply inside her subconscious. Cyan's eyes reminded her of a long lost partner, of a forgotten devotion she had once bravely held. Malou's mouth went into a straight line, building back her strong, garnet walls. Cyan's eyes softened rapidly, letting the fragile side of humanity come back. " You're weak. " Malou felt the need to strike the girl with ferocity, wanting that second of bravery she held moments ago to come back. " This is not a world where pretty eyes and soft souls survive. I can smell your emotions a mile away. Imagine what it feels like when I'm so suffocatingly close to you, girl. Do something and get us moving! " Cyan's face fell, her insides twisted once more before she erased those shadows from the corners of her eyes and tried to put her brain to work. It must've been at least twenty minutes since Niven sunk herself to the ground, moving back and forth, trapped in a trance. Her knees were probably frozen, soaked with mud. Cyan grimaced as she heard the ghostly sound of a heart breaking and breaking again and again, washed by the rain that fell more gently, as if taking pity on their misfortune. The wind, however, grew wilder, entering the corners of their massive armor, making a home inside their bones. Cyan's jaw started to tremble uncontrollable as she struggled to move Malou inside the carriage, her iron shoes slipping on the mixture of mud and blood. Their only luck tonight was the full moon, which provided enough light for them to see the disaster around them. " I'll lock the door. Don't make a sound. If we lose you too, it will all be for nothing. " Cyan whispered so softly that even Malou's sharp hearing couldn't hear all the words, but she agreed, already reading her intentions to protect her at all costs. The old woman gasped, irritated at the way her body had grown heavy and useless. The only things that had remained untouched were her most primitive assets: her sense of smell, her sight, her hearing, even her ingrained instinct to fight. Malou gathered the velvet cushion in her bony fists and repositioned herself on the carriage floor. She sniffed her old woman scent and almost threw up, disgusted by her pathetic condition. But she should be back in shape in less than a day. If she even made it to the next day. Mother of all we know, keep my body agile and my soul free. Mother of all we feel, may my blade be sharp and my focus steady. Mother of all we are, let the path be hard and my enemy fierce so I can win my place beside your righteousness. Malou's prayer rose to the sky like a chanted spell, soothing the aching pain of the wind. A bandage on a stinging wound. Suddenly, she felt wrong as she thought about throwing those hostile words at the girl. A mentor shouldn't be angry and hateful, harsh, yes, but not hateful. She was showing hate towards a woman who came to save their world, who was about to experience the breaking point of her initiation tonight. A fatal heartbreak. Malou knew that the Vespertus could come in all shapes and forms: faes, half-faes, witches, elves, dwarves, even humans. But the latter died more easily during the transformation. The rate of a successful Passing was lower than that of any other species, but the powers they inherited when it was over could destroy this world as easily as they could protect it. Humans fed their fire with ambition and love. Malou gathered her palms and prayed again, this time for the girl who was fighting for their lives outside. In the middle of the night, Cyan's desperation flooded the area. Her hands shook as if she'd been drinking all night and her steps were hesitant. She felt the guilt eating away at her stomach, her lungs, her voice. In the back of her mind, she had a clue as to who might be the one to drag her through such misery, but she vehemently refused to admit that he was to blame for her failure and that she was guilty through him. She was the one who had betrayed them. " Niven. " She calls for the millionth time, trying to lift the girl's limp body from the ground. How could she be heavier than Malou? '' We have to go, we need to finish the mission, otherwise Kallus's sacrifice will be for nothing. '' " I don't care. Soon, I'll be dead too... " " Please, don't say this. You are my hope, Nivy. " The stinging in Cyan's eyes diminished the moment she let those hungry tears eat her face, the string in her throat grew tighter around her vocal cords. " We have to live! " Niven's hollow gaze took in the desperation in Cyan's features, her rich brows now tossed by the helmet, her well-structured nose reddened by the cold air, her parted lips now cracked and bleeding from Cyan's white teeth. Nivy's tearful gaze made Cyan glow in the moonlight like a true goddess in disguise, the planet perfectly aligned with her head. She saw a crown of stars dancing around the redhead's temple, the darkness only helping it to shine brighter. " It's already happening... The Mother of the Helpless. " Cyan began to cry harder, sobbing louder as she watched her soul sister slowly lose her mind. She pulled harder, digging her gloves into Niven's shoulder blades, finally lifting her large body. Something else made them stop. It seemed like the sound was coming from everywhere, a rhythmic gallop rushing through the night, a terrifying sound when you're left all alone in the woods. Cyan felt an ache deep inside her heart, a warning from her vital organ that it was reaching its endurance limits. She straightened her back and muttered a curse in her native tongue. Niven's bloodshot eyes widened, her posture shifted a fraction, becoming slightly more aggressive, but the fire she held a few hours ago was clearly extinguished, only embers remaining beneath her skin. " I'll take care of it. " Niven stumbles on her wobbly legs and raises her palms above her head with her last ounce of strength, bringing a weak, flickering golden halo to life around her wrists. Cyan lifted the spear from the ground, trying her best to concentrate on the sound and where it came from. She watched as it's sharp end glowed with yellow and white light coming from Nivy's moving fingers, reflecting her blossoming powers. The mixture of black wood and metal slid under Cyan's sweaty palms, shaking like a candlelight in the wind. Remnants of someone's blood got caught under her nails, raising the bile in her throat. The earth shakes beneath their feet, cracking and releasing thick tree roots, monstrous and twisted by time. Moles flee from under the ground, frightened by the sudden earthquake, and hide in the depths of the eerie forest. Wolves howl in the distance and birds of the night fill the sky, trying to escape. The redhead stares in awe as pure magic erupts from Niven's body, yellow as a sunny day, illuminating half the forest. A strong smell of freshly dug earth fills her nostrils, and she glances around, noticing the branches squeak as they are finally allowed to move, guided by the golden mist. By the second the sounds grew louder and closer, a shield had already formed around them. " Wait! Wait!..." Cyan cries, throwing down the spear. A familiar horse whine rises through the night, like a triumphant trumpet announcing victory. The girl almost kneels in relief, her nerves already stretched thin. " How is this possible? " The horse rose on her hind legs, as if to signal that she was no danger to them, and then, as she slowly approached them, another pair of small eyes came into view. Niven's hands remain suspended in the air as bewitched as her companion was, mouth slightly agape. " Did mom send you? " A small piece of content filled their hearts, knowing there was still a way out of this forest, a chance to find Kallus. Cyan rushes through the branches, not thinking clearly, and runs to hug her friends. A few thorns kiss the outside of her face, but she doesn't seem to feel anything as she presses her forehead against the horse's to show her appreciation. " Misty... What happened to the farm? " She asks, raising her palm to touch the cat's wet hair. " We have to go back! "
𓆩✴𓆪
As surprising as it sounded, the Spymaster managed to lose his only suspect faster than he expected. Or rather, faster than his hundreds of years of experience would have allowed. He let the girl go for a single reason: there were more important matters to attend to that required his attention more urgently than a deceptive hunch. Even if his instincts never lied to him, Eris and everything else could wait a little longer. By no means did he get rusty or too old. No. He just started the mission on the wrong foot. Everything tasted bitter on the tip of his tongue from the beginning, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had to see it through. Even if they were a family, Rhysand wouldn't allow him to start picking and choosing which missions he wanted to go on. Was this a bad time to consider that his younger brother was pulling rank on him? After that upside down turning stomach of a dinner, the Shadowsinger was led into the chamber that was to be his home. He quickly had his companions search the large, dark room, lit only by a few candles. When no spells or dangers were found, he disappeared, hiding in the dungeons beneath the castle. Azriel felt the dense layer of magic that prevented anyone from teleporting into the prison cells, but his way of traveling through shadows was no simple magic, and there weren't many wards that could prevent him from taking a look inside. After all, everything casted a shadow, from the most mundane objects to the darkest corners of the earth. Well, at least everything that was touched by a soul or had a soul. Wrapped in the compact layer of blackness, he followed the muffled sounds. No one was getting killed on his watch. With a deft finger, he covered the lower half of his face with his mask and drew two of his daggers from the shadows, ready to strike from the pitch-black corner. Two torches came into view and the other inmates began to shout and bang on the iron bars. The damp atmosphere grew louder with groans and the air became even harder to breathe, full of a fetid and cadaverous odor. A harsh line appeared between Azriel's brows as he finally saw two guards dragging down the chopped stairs the servants from earlier, both half-unconscious. A sense of justice boiled inside his nerves, frigid as a bleak winter. His joints strained under the pressure of his arched stance, like a bow ready to shoot. The Shadowsinger waited no longer, already full of their poor ways of treating women. The hulking men suspected nothing as one of Azriel's daggers sliced through the night, fast and steady, and plunged into one of their throats. Blood splattered everywhere from the small and fatal wound, aided by the gurgling sound of him choking on his own fluids. In the blink of an eye, he was writhing like a fish on dry land, franticly trying to cover his sliced neck. One of the women began to scream as red droplets landed on her uncovered face, waking her from her sleep. Two hands appeared from behind the iron bars, dirty and rat-nicked all over their forearms, and dragged the twitching body close to the cells. Everyone was horrified as another pair of hands emerged from another dark cell and began to rip the guard's skin off in a violent attempt to avenge the years they had been imprisoned down there and the horrors they had endured. Skinned alive, the man endured several minutes of torture, praying loudly to die faster. " Show yourself! " The other managed to scream, his black eyes desperately searching the empty halls. He tried to remove what was left of his friend from the cells, but the starving people they threw here were hungry for justice. The torch lay forgotten on the ground, sizzling in the pool of blood that was already forming. A riot broke out in the dungeons beneath the castle. Metal cups banged against the walls, people screamed and screamed as they pinned their limbs to the corridor separating the cells. Someone threw fecal matters on the guards armor, disturbing his stance. " La la, la la la, Death has come to collect the prize. La la, la la la, and he has you on his file. " A prisoner sings, laughing like a crow. The guard bangs his sword on the iron bars, trying to keep the situation under control, but he has no idea that Azriel could also thrive in chaos. The Shadowsinger reveals himself in the dim light, radiating power, terror, and a thirst to kill. His illyrian leathers were his second skin, molding into his muscles, instilling fear in his opponent. The only thing the poor man could see were the Spymaster's eyes, empty and sinister, like a dreadfull story told around a campfire. " I knew you were a bad omen. " The man squeaks, shivering. There was no point in wasting more time talking and as the man moves to deliver a blow, Azriel spins through the large opening created by the man's raised arms and stabs him between the ribs with lethal grace. The guard howls in agony, the prisoners cheering the pain, but the Shadowsinger has had enough of the show. To end the man's misery swifter, he silently moves behind him and breaks his neck with his bare hands. " Please don't hurt us. " The white-haired one speaks, holding the other woman tightly in her arms. " We are innocent, someone set us up... Please... " " I know. " Azriel speaks calmly and takes off his masks to ease the tension. All he needed now was to frighten them more than they already were, and he didn't want that. " I'm here to free you. I'll fly you to your homes, but you must leave the city tonight. Are you able to do that? " " There is a ship leaving for the continent tonight, but we are too many and I don't know if I can afford the price. " The older woman speaks, caressing the sleeping face of the other. There were no words left to say as Azriel places a bag of golden coins inside her fist, then winnows them both outside the castle, as far as possible from any danger. " May the Daughter spare you... " Is all that he hears before he vanishes back to finish his bussiness. The Fallen Star to spare him? How many people knew about the existence of this woman? How many people were after her? Funny, The Shadowsinger snorted, I should be the one to show her mercy, not the other way around. Well, the man knew that after his little circus trick, he only had a day or two before anyone noticed the real culprit who managed to start a riot in those prison cells. Now he could finally focus on his real mission. Worryingly, the only thing he knew about the girl was the color of her eyes, and frankly, not even that was entirely true. Were they slightly more blue, gray, or more green than usual because of the distance? Azriel shakes his head, feeling violated by the unexpeted toughts. Who cares what the girl's eyes looked like? Who cares why she was sent to their lands? Who cares about the girl's destiny as long as she tramples on the lives of others for her own sake? He was beginning to believe that she wasn't as blessed and holy as the pictures in the book made her out to be, how the stories he heard made her sound like a peace bringer. She was a ruthless human and all Azriel wanted was to finish the damn job and hand it over to Rhysand to take care of. As Azriel was striding through those empty halls, whispers caught his attention. He puffs, almost amused at how this night was going to unfold for him and anyone involved. He rubs his palms over his tired face, already tasting the last remnants of patience left in him. When was the last time he fucking slept for more than two hours without being disturbed by an emergency? Swallowing his dissatisfaction, he gathers his strength and becomes a shadow. By the Mother, this was going to be a long and tiring mission for him. Azriel hoped to at least get a good night's sleep by the time he returned to the Night Court. As he reached the next corridor, the illyrian noticed a slender boy haggling with one of the onyx guards the king always carried for protection. From the look of the wing, luxurious and well-lit with large candles, Azriel guessed that this was Draegan's side of the castle, the one he shared with his accolites and whores. The guard nods and knocks three times on the carved door before slipping his covered head into the chamber. The human grows impatient, his raven hair tied in a low ponytail beginning to unravel from his frustrating lack of steadiness. He raises his hands and tries to tighten it a bit. Azriel squints, spoting the drops of blood at the bottom of his blouse and the large stains that cover his pants and shoes. His movements are nervous, his posture tense, as if he had just murdered someone and didn't want anyone to find out. He turns his head from side to side to make sure no one sees him, as if he was about to reveal a life-threatening secret. The Shadowsinger inhales, sniffing his emotions and chokes: panic, hesitation, anger, rage, thirst for vengeance, and guilt, guilt, so much guilt that Azriel nearly drowns from the smell alone. " What have you done, boy? " Azriel whispers, detecting the dubious amount of sulfur emanating from the human's body. Draegan steps out in the hallway, half naked, and grabs the boy by the collar of his blouse, throwing him against a wall. There's a quick exchange of information that Azriel doesn't hear very well, then he watches the boy stumble backwards, his green eyes wide in shock. " Take the Death Patrol, burn the town, burn the farm, burn the whole damn forest if you have to! " Draegan shouts, pushing his guard against the wall as well. " Don't let anyone live. I don't want hostages, I don't want witnesses, I don't want collateral damage. I don't care if you find them. I only want dead bodies! Do you understand?! The Dark One wants answers that I clearly don't have. How did they manage to walk right under my nose?! They want to crown her on my throne! " The guard nods almost hysterically as he takes in all of his king's wishes. The green-eyed boy bows his head deeply. " I did everything I could to buy some time. I even killed my father, for you, my fierce king! " The boy drops to his knees, kissing Draegan's feet. " She washed their minds, she stole their hearts and eaten their souls! If we get there fast enough, if we manage to end her life before anyone else, there will be a higher chance of turning her into a Tiamat - A Dark Verpertus, a star driven by chaos. " Tiamat? The Daughter... The Fallen Star. " Vespertus " Azriel mumbles, coming to the horrible realization that Hybern knew of the comet woman's existence. " What the fuck... '' Draegan suddenly turns blue and places a ringed hand on his torso. Black vomit spews out of his mouth, scattering all over the red walls and blue carpets. " That bi-... Aaah! " The king screams in pain as he falls to the floor, convulsing like a rabid dog. " I can't breathe! Ugh... " " Sire! " Doors open on both sides of the corridor, and more faes gather around the king, trying to help him to his feet.. " He's been poisoned! " A Fae shouts, sticking two fingers down Draegan's throat. " Call Nimue! Who was he with in his chamber?! " " She's gone, the blonde girl. " Another shouts after checking the bedroom. " You idiots, move faster! The king is dying! " " What was he poisoned with? " A white-haired man asks as he pours water on Draegan's twisted face. One of the faes from the dinner table comes out with an empty glass of wine and inspects it. He rubbs his finger on the purple stains and smells them. " Tell that fucking witch to come faster, he's been poisoned with the Night Shade. "
𓆩✴𓆪
Mother of all we feel, Mother of all we know, Mother of all we are, Mother, Mother... Malou's prayer seemed to surround them, to protect them, to purify them, but the Mother vowed never to interfere in human or fae affairs; the Mother bound herself to never be able to touch the material world. The Mother made her fair share of sacrifice when she allowed her only Daughter to be torn apart by the world the Mother's Father had created. The Goddess wasn't even able to persuade the Fates as they started to cut string after string that night. One blind, one deaf, one mute. More lives were taken in less than two hours than in a day of war. The blind one chooses the strings so that no one could say her judgment was unjust. The deaf one cuts so that she never hears the pleas. The mute one discards them so that she can never say where the Gardens are hidden. The Mother could only watch as Malou took her rigged breath inside the carriage, while Niven rode wildly back to what was left of the farm. The goddess only blew a gentle wind into the mare's hooves, making her faster, swifter, more agile and glued her eyes and prayers to her only child, now left alone in the viper's lair. The Fates could only guide Cyan to her destiny, but they could never warn her about those dangerous steps she was about to take. Cyan hid her cat in her armor, needing the warmth and reassuring touch of her loyal companion, and entered the castle with a dagger in her hand. She left her helmet in those woods, as well as some of her innocence. Her face was dirty with mud and dust, droplets of dried blood were splattered across glher temples and nose. She berated herself for forcing her body through those branches, but the sting of those cuts kept her anchored in reality. The tree claw marks on her cheek turned blood red from the harsh wind they endured with the carriage in pieces to make it easier for the mare to carry all that road. Her scalp was itchy, the low bun she had made was disheveled, her eyes were teary and sore and she wanted someone to answer for the loss she had suffered tonight. Cyan kept doing it, losing her mind in that satisfying, grim fantasy: stabbing and stabbing and demanding one life in exchange for Kallus's, thirsty and twitching with anxiety. She could see the sharp blade make a precise incision right in that fae's Adam's apple, stealing his breath and voice forever. Brutally, Cyan shoved two fingers into her eyeholes, trying to stay as neuter as possible. To her surprise, the castle was... empty. Or at least asleep. Either way: it wasn't a good sign the fact that she could venture head straight into Hybern's heart. Cyan wondered if it wasn't a trap someone had set for her. She would be grateful. Maybe this joke of a life would end sooner than she expected and she could return to the other joke of a life in the other universe. She mustered a smile that she quickly wiped away in pain. Her lips were too chapped and dehydrated and any expression drew blood from her skin. " Where the hell am I going? " Cyan wondered, still walking between the corridors. Quick footsteps could be heard behind her, and she hid around the corner, ready to pounce on anyone who came her way. Her anger drove her mad and robbed her of her wise decision making. The cat dug her claws into her chest, a warning to be careful. Cyan blew out the candles on the walls and cloaked herself in the darkness, aware that there was someone in this castle who thrived in the shadows and never slept. As soon as the footsteps lined up with her position, she let out an angry moan and knocked one of the people down. " Eris?! " The blade nicked his perfect jaw, leaving a path of fresh blood to stain the collar of his green tunic, but she never withdrew the blade. " You betrayed me! " Eris Vanserra was as beautiful and graceful as ever, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled from the attack. Cyan nearly lost her grip on the dagger hill, too stunned. The girl opened her mouth to avoid inhaling his scent of leaves and embers, concentrating on the way his firm and narrow hips felt between her thighs. She realized too late that it was the wrong thing to do, shying away and losing her defiant posture. " Cyan... " His hands remained glued to the floor, fully aware of the woman's state of shock, and he pleaded with her gently. " I didn't say anything. I swear on my mother. '' The man looked a little bored by the situation, but treated Cyan like a porcelain doll as he gently stroked the side of her hip with his slender fingers, trying to bring her to a state of lucidity. He drew his thin brows high on his forehead, bombarding the poor girl with sincere and warm amber eyes. " Cyan, what happened to you? " A pale hand reaches for her shoulder and she wips her wild eyes at the woman behind her. " Oh... By the gods... He's telling the truth. " " I could never do this to you. I promise... " Cyan felt a pang of guilt betray her confidence. She remembered from the books that the only person Eris loved most besides himself was his mother, and he had just taken a vow under her name. Her cruel eyes softened as she gazed at an angelic Aoife, barely covered by the horrible nightgown Draegan must have forced her to wear. " You managed to escape him... " Cyan muttered, observing a crimson pink blossom on her hollow cheeks. " Did he... " " Eris helped me. " Aoife praised Vanserra, staring at him as if he was a prince on a white horse. " Where is everyone else? " Aoife immediately regretted her question as she watched Cyan's entire complexion turn from red to white, as if she had seen a ghost. " Someone attacked and took Kallus while we were inside the prison. We don't know if he's still alive, but... The amount of blood -... It covered the whole damn place... " Cyan continues, strangling Eris with one shaky hand. She was on top of his large body, trying her best to keep him on the ground with the weight of her body. " Not even the storm was able to wash all that blood. Even the horses were killed. The blood dripped from everywhere - like a sacrifice. You were the only one who knew everything and I gave that information to you so freely! " A nerve pumped in her temple, making Cyan dizzy. She knew that Eris could topple her at any moment. He was a fae after all, he was stronger and faster, even smarter. But Cyan had a fierce fire burning in her veins, pumping and roaring. She would give her life to kill Eris if he was the traitor. But that ball of accumulated and trapped emotions made her chest swell, like a balloon ready to burst. All of a sudden she regarded the blood covering her armour, moistening her hair, covering her face and palms like a plague. Kallus's blood was all over her body. Cyan bit her tongue until she felt iron drip down her throat. Tears streamed into her clouded irises as she saw Eris' pitiful face blurry. Aoife covers her mouth with a thin hand and kneels beside their bodies, cupping Cyan's unrecognizable face in her cold palms, " It wasn't him. " Misty doesn't linger inside her master's armor and swings a sharp claw at Aoife, trying to protect Cyan from any harm that might come her way. The cat's still wet ears perk up and she hisses, warning Aoife to keep her hands to herself. Her eyes go wide in shock at the so-called ace up Cyan's sleeve. A shudder breaks Cyan from her killing fantasy and she pulls the sharp end of the dagger from Eris' face, waiting. " It's true. " A rough voice finally comes from behind her, warming and cooling her at the same time. " Someone else ruined your plan. " He continues, moving closer to her compromising position. Bugs seem to crawl up Cyan's spine as she feels those hate-filled, glowing eyes clawing at her. She pushes her eyes with two fingers, trying to regain control of her toughts, and when Eris finally manages to escape between her legs, she collapses backwards, resting her weight on Azriel's knees. The cat recognizes him and hisses again, growling. Cyan lifts her head in time to see the corner of his full mouth move as if he recognized her cat, but his face suddenly changed to greet her with a death stare. " If your mouth runs as easily as your emotions drive you, then I can imagine why your plan went downhill. " " Don't be so harsh, Spymaster, not everyone is as perfect as you. " Eris helps Cyan to her shaky feet, trying to put some distance between the girl and the deadly assassin. A bold shadow curls toward them, but Aoife pulls Cyan further away, unsure of the fae's intentions and waves a hand in front of her, thinking that the tongue of darkness could dissipate as easily as smoke would. The redhead didn't have a comeback ready, still terrified by the way his form enveloped her in its own shadow, like a gigantic volcano ready to fry everything in its path. His bony, pointed wings rose behind him like two warning signs she was prepared to ignore. She was too exhausted, too traumatized, and too sad to be intimidated by anyone more than she already felt in this world. " We should leave, Cyan. " Aoife speaks, her eyes closely glued to Azriel's terrifying aura. She notices the sharp ends of several blades coming out of his pockets and swallows thickly. " I thought you were stripped of them ." " I was. " Azriel admits, scorching the green-eyed girl like a pig on a roaster. " Don't you want to find out who ratted you out? I'd be deadly curious. " Cyan slowly lifts her eyes and cursed herself for allowing such handsome and grim man to make her want to be small and unseen. She could swear he was jogging with the words in that sentence, but her mind was too foggy to play his game. " How do you know who betrayed us? " Cyan found her courage to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. God, that rage really ate her energy. Eris places himself strategically in front of the girls, his gold and green suit shinning boldly under the candlelight, " Don't let him fool you, the Shadowsinger always know everything. " Eris rises his chin to Azriel, disposing that charming facade he wore in the last days. The illyrian can't help but chuckle in response to Vanserra's way of playing his cards and bows his head to the left, challenging the other male. He feels his shadows closing in on the redhead, trying to get inside her head. Out of the corner of his eye, Azriel watches the so-called Cyan, noticing her poor appearance. She seems to have been taken out of a book of horrors, the kind he used to read as a child, about witches, curses and deadly battles. From the looks of it, if he moved fast enough he could land a blow to her knees and have her winnowed by the time Eris even had the chance to look behind. " Much to your surprise, I don't. A boy came to Draegan's chamber and warned him right after he was poisoned. I don't know who he is. " Azriel gave in, stinging Aoife with an all knowing look. He held no remorse, no accusation against her, only a warning that he knew who did it. " Night Shade. " Cyan lets a breath escape her dry lips, but does not return Aoife's stunned gaze. " But where is everyone else? " Azriel places a wide foot to the right, trying to get a better look at his most coveted prize, trying to memorize her features. Or whatever he could make out behind all the dirt and bruises that covered her oval face. " Indeed, it was Night Shade. They left towards the city. I managed to stop some of them, but they are too many and the onyx guards are harder to kill than the simple, fae ones. Who attacked you? " He had to admit that he was a little shocked to find himself in front of the comet woman, or The Fallen Star, as everyone preferred to call her, but he was also a little disappointed when he saw her size and the pitiful way she carried herself. How was a human like her going to save their world? Azriel just couldn't see it happen. Cyan was young, weak, and from the looks of it could barely take a few blows. She had no muscular build under that armor and he couldn't sense any type of magic, only sweat and rain. How could someone like her survive such a fall? Cyan's eyes were turbid, a mass of blue and green and gold - a chaotic ocean. She looked like she drank all night fae wine and never recovered. " That's none of your bussiness. When did they left? What did the boy look like? " " They must've really hit you in the head if you imagine I'll tell you so you can go around looking for him. " The Shadowsinger came closer, ready to snatch her and just leave Hybern behind, but Eris threw a hand in front of Cyan, sensing his intention. " She won't. " Vanserra swears, but Azriel could easily spit on any promise the Autumn Court made. " Now indulge the lady and answer! " " What do I get in return? " " I believe you're here for the same thing everyone is. " Cyan considered, watching Eris swallow his words. " So I'll come with you. " Aoife and Cyan stared at the Shadowsinger as he took his eyes off the pray he had finally caught and stabbed Eris with his piercing gaze instead, satisfied with the way everything had suddenly gone his way. " Tempting, but how do I know you're not going with the Autumn Heir? " " I'll let one of your shadows come close so it can bind me to you. " Soft green and violent amber crash together as Cyan finally finds the courage to set her eyes on Azriel's. Her mouth goes into a straight line letting her guard down, blown away by the power he held only in his gaze. She can see the wheels turning in his head, the barely visible tensed muscle in his fine jaw, the bright glow of victory in his irises. He seemed to have everything under control, calculating every outcome, solving every problem that might arise. Even if she managed to escape him, he would hunt her down on every continent, offended that she had broken her promise. Maybe this was her chance to go to Prythian and then back home. But there was no proof that they would help her, there was no proof that things weren't different in reality than in the books. What if they were evil and would do anything to save their world, including willingly letting her die? What if they tortured her to find out how she ended up here? In silence, a skilled tongue of smoke curls around Cyan's wrist. holding her in a leash. Goosebumps break out all over her forearm, sliding down to her fingers like a frozen ice cube. Their grip feels like millions of needles were pinching her skin, tight enough to leave a mark behind. She closes and opens her eyes a few times, convincing herself that the deep shadow is indeed alive and flattening around her. Before she can give Eris a sideways glance, Azriel is already blurting out all the information. " It was a raven haired boy, slender, not taller than the blonde girl, a pony tail, covered in blood, green eyes. " Cyan swallowed, taken aback. It was impossible. " It can't be him. " Aoife spoke to the redhead, still clinging to her left arm. Azriel didn't even notice the short chemise the blonde was wearing, as if she had been caught by the bandits in the middle of the night and barely managed to escape. He watched as Cyan took a deep breath, watched as her world crumbled over her head, as her shoulders slumped and realization took over her foggy mind. " We need to go to the farm. Right now. " Cyan announced calmly, feeling everything all at once. Her limbs began to shake violently when she realized that Niven and Malou were riding right into a trap. Azriel tsk-tsked in disapproval, ready to remember Cyan that she hadn't mentioned when she was going with him, but his breath was cut short as he watched the blonde draw a dagger from her thigh and gently place it in the redhead's gloved palm. A gift returned in the hope of bringing peace. " Thank you. It protected me. " The blue stone upon it glowed brightly in the candlelight, blinding the Spymaster with cold rage. He remembered Amren mentioning something about its disappearance, he remembered how he felt that night, the nightmare he'd had, the smell, his agony. Azriel's hunting dagger lay stolen in the palms of the witch who had invaded their home. Voices scream in the distance, and Azriel's head whips around at the end of the hallway as he sees a handful of onyx guards running toward them. " Hurry! " Eris grabs the girls by their wrists and tries to drag them out of the castle. The Shadowsinger is faster and wraps a strong arm around Cyan's waist, blocking Eris's magic. " The witch is coming with me. " His voice thunderes, Truth Teller already dangerously close to Cyan's neck. Shadows rise around them, cocooning them protectively. One of them darts to Eris's feet, trying to drag him by his calves, but he scares it away with a burning orb send for those tongues of darkness. " Kill the traitors! Bring their bodies to king Draegan! " The one in the middle commands as one archer prepares to shoot them. Eris's fire ignites in his palms, throwing several fireballs at the guards, slowing them down. One of them screeches in pain as the hot armor melts atop his skin. Vanserra's orbs ricochet off Azriel's cobalt shield, bouncing off before hitting the marble on the ground. " Don't let him take her! " Aoife cries, throwing a vase in their direction, then another one. Digging her digits into the Spymaster's forearms, feeling those rippling muscles ready to suffocate her if need be, Cyan lifted her feet off the ground in an attempt to destabilize Azriel. In vain, his thighs were far stronger than a twenty-year-old girl, with half the weight of the huge man. The Illyrian raises another shield, blocking the Death Patrol a few feet away and hits his boot on the ground, a cobalt sound wave making the walls shake and the windows ring. A black sword appears in the captain's hands, smoke rising like fumes from the blade, cutting a long gash in Azriel's shield. Eris bends his arms and stirs the candle flames, burning the wooden archway. As it begins to crumble above their heads, shattering their helmets, the captain continues to deliver blow after blow in the Spymaster's flickering magic, creating a round opening in his defenses. " Let me go! " Cyan screams, managind to scrape her throat in Azriel's dagger. He doesn't seem to mind that danger was right behind them, less than a few meters away. " Witch! You stole from me, you broke into my house. Did you want to kill one of us? Did you want to have some fun by torturing us? I'll make you pay double the price... " He whispers in her ear, shaking her violently, sucking all the air out of her lungs. The scent of amber snickers from beneath her armor, mixed with sweat and mud and rain and blood. The Illyrian male goes wild, seeing black before his eyes as he holds his most coveted prize at his mercy. Don't break her neck. The bold shadow recommended, still gripping her left wrist. Too caught up in the act, Azriel seemed to forget that she wasn't really alone in that armor. Taking advantage of the proximity, the cat sees her chance for revenge and quickly claws at Azriel's right eye, blinding him for a second. The shadows, mesmerized by the fanged beast, released her and dropped Cyan brutally to the ground. A crack echoes in one of her knees, but she doesn't wait and limps to Eris's side. When Azriel is left alone to fight the Death Patrol, he throws Truth Teller after Cyan, assuming the guilt of the fatal blow. But time snaps, everyone seems to move more slowly, as if they had been immersed in tar, and only he and the witch were fully functional. He sees it happen, the black, sharp blade slicing through the air, creating a subtle hum of music as it heads for Cyan's head. Aoife screams, but it's muffled, miles away. She waves her arms desperately, the strings holding her in place like a puppet preventing her from moving any further. Eris tries to launch himself in her direction, ready to be struck in Cyan's place, if only his legs didn't feel so heavy, so pinned to the ground. The redhead turns her face behind and watches as Death finally comes to claim her life. Relief is written all over her complexion, she can already taste the feeling of freedom, but she notices something strange happening in the atmosphere. The Shadowsinger is certain the dagger will land right between her serene eyes, but the Truth Teller's trajectory changes millimeters away from Cyan's forehead. And it lands. Right. Next. To. Her. Head. The dagger that never misses just missed its first target. Azriel's whiskey eyes widen in awe. Cyan's green ones stare back, alive and unharmed. The contact is painful, and it brings the Shadowsinger a visceral agony as he lets her escape. Even if he has time to catch them, he lets them run to their freedom, his back turned to the danger the Death Patrol brought him. Eris winnows them right in the middle of Thaibar where chaos was just beginning to set. Flames as high as the mountains devoured houses and people, creating such blistering air that Cyan's armor instantly started to warm, boiling her inside of it. " This is... devastating. " Eris says as he regains control of his mind and flips his palms. The fire consuming two twin buildings diminishes, absorbed into the fae's body. Cyan runs to the nearest well, only to find it blocked by a bundle of wood thrown into it. " They cut off the water supply a few hours ago. " A woman screams, running away with her child in her arms. " Run! Before these devils set you on fire! " Eris turns to another set of houses and extinguishes the flames. As sweat begins to dampen his smooth cheeks, a howl of pain erupts from behind them. Aoife watches in despair as her home is reduced to ashes and smoldering embers. Her screams echo through the night, joined by hundreds of others. Cyan manages to catch her before she falls to the ground and holds her tight as she screams and screams, mourning the years of hard work just to get her mother the medicine she needs. " Mom! Mom, get out! They'll burn you alive! " At the thought of her mother being in that cottage, Aoife chokes on her screams and tries to crawl away from Cyan. " Please don't leave me! " " Aoife, please, it's too late. " Cyan pleades, watching the foundation already crumbling to the ground. She closes her eyes tightly, Aoife's mother smiling at her from behind her eyelids. " Her suffering is finally over. " " No, no, it can't be!... May the god's fury bury you alive, Draegan! May you never see the light or the green fields! May you rot and writhe in the flames below! " Aoife's curse runs through the sky lit by those horrifying flames. Eris dodges an attack from a simple guard and burns him alive, melting his armor around his body. " We have to leave! Even if I estinguish these flames, the arrows keep bringing it back up again. " He announces loudly, his baritone voice barely audible in this hell. His handsome features were already covered in ash, which turned black at the contact with his sweating temples. " Take Aoife to the ship! " Cyan wakes up, suffocating from the hot temperature. " Don't let her come back! Under no circumstances! " " What about you? " Vanserra kneels beside Cyan, watching her with his black irises. " I can't leave you here. " His burning hot hand cups her broken cheek, and Cyan suddenly feels the need to curl up in his arms and cry. " I'll go to the farm, see if there's anything left to save, then I'll come to the ship. " As Eris's worried gaze seems not to let her go, she continues. " I swear. I'll see you in Prythian. " A promise. A promise made in that pit of despair. Eris hesitated, searching a trace of doubt in her red eyes. His hand snakes around the back of her neck and pulls her closer, their foreheads touching. " I'll be waiting for you, remember that. I'll give you a week, then I'll come looking for you... " And in farewell, he places those thin, warm lips on her hair, blessing her, giving her a dose of his own ambition. Cyan's cheeks glowed like the flames around her, and she clenches her fist around his. " Run! I'll buy you time! " And so he did, grabbing Aoife by the waist and concentrating all his powers to raise a wall of flame that split Thaibar in half, wasting all the fire he had absorbed. Cyan began to sprint, her knees aching with each step, her amor heavy upon her body, ringing like cups smashed together. She dodged the corpses that littered the stony streets of Thaibar as best she could, avoiding stepping on and desecrating every unalived human that was scarced like trash. People in flames run around her, trying to keep the fire from burning them alive. Cyan hurriedly threw a blouse she found on a corpe at someone's head, cutting off the oxygen that was feeding the fire. She began to cry as she realized there wasn't much she could do and that it was too late for anyone to survive. Her tears stung the cuts and bruises from her face, making it harder to avoid the burning obstacles in her path. A few guards shout in the distance, unleashing a new set of burning arrows across Thaibar. She covers her mouth with her hands and watches as the night sky lits up with thousands of arrows. Her breath gets caught in her throat, her lungs burning from all the smoke and ash she inhaled, but she doesn't care. She prays and prays as she runs up the hill that Eris and Aoife would make it safely to the ship, that Niven and Malou would take Cynthia and make it aboard as well. She prayed that Kallus at least had a quick and painless death. A choked sound escapes her body. From pain, from exhaustion, from grief, she didn't know. Misty escapes from under her armor and follows her. The smell of Thaibar's flames traveled even here, in the open meadows. But as she got closer to the farm, she realized that the smell of burning bodies and houses was no longer coming from Thaibar. It was the farm. Her home. " No, no, no, no. No, please God! " She wheeps and starts running again towards the huge flames that seem to be eating the farm. " Why are you doing this to me?! No, no, no... " Cyan was no longer warm, even though the damned armor was almost red from the flames she passed through, she was freezing cold, her teeth trembling in her dry mouth. She couldn't remember how fast she went down the hill, if she fell, if she tripped. Cyan saw red in front of her, the tension restricting the blood flow to her brain. As fast as she could, she opened all the barns and released what was left of her animals. " Niven! " She cries desperately, running to the house where she used to sleep. " Malou! Niven! Please, please answer me! Cynthia! " Just as she was about to enter, a huge chunk of wood blocked her way. "Fuck! " The smoke grew thicker and denser, and she could barely see anything less than two meters from her feet. " In here... " A muffled voice called from the kitchen and Cyan darted in that direction. " Stay outside, Misty! Run if I don't come out! " Cyan warns her cat, kicking it away with her foot. The cat meows in disapproval, but remains outside, frightened by the amount of smoke coming from the door. As Cyan rushes inside, she quickly covers her mouth and nose with her glove and waves her other hand in the air. Dark fumes bombard her watery eyes, making it almost impossible to see. " Dear God... Is anyone in here? Niven! " The temperature was so high that Cyan's breath burned her throat and lungs, coughing asthmatically. Everything was destroyed, the flames were everywhere, the tables were overturned, the chairs were thrown and scattered everywhere. It looked like someone was fighting in here. " Nivy? Cynthia?! " The darkest scenarios unfold in her mind, and to her dismay, they all seem true. Cyan screams as she steps on something mushy and feels fragile bones cracking under her foot. She stumbles, mortified, and falls face first, hitting her head hard enough to see stars. Bolts of pain thunder deep inside her skull as blood spurts from her broken nose. Trying to regain her sight, a wail of distress leaves her vocal cords as she's face to face with an eyeless Cynthia, gazing at Cyan with her toothless mouth wide open. Niven's mother, beaten to a pulp and brutally disfigured. The girl writhes in horror, dragging her body backwards, bumping into a pair of hanging legs. Trembling, Cyan turns around. A body is pending from the ceiling, armless and naked from the torso up. Drowning in her own tears, she clings to Kallus' feet, trying to lift him up to help him breathe. " He's... dead. " Cyan turns, her face baked by the hot temperature inside the kitchen and throws herself on the ground, next to Niven's body. " They were all dead when I got here. " " No... I shouldn't... " Cyan tears drop on Niven's dirty face, still as beautfiull as the first day she met her. " I'm so sorry. I sould have gotten here faster... " " Don't be. There was nothing you could do. It was our destiny, our only way to wash away our sin. In the time you've been here, we've breathed through you, we've lived through you, we've seen the sun finally rise for us through you. " " Get up, Niven, let's leave while we still can... " " Let me finish! I'm not coming anywhere - they smashed my legs from the hips to the toes. I can't feel a damned thing. They're still here, searching... I think they corrupted Shum, the Dark One poisoned his toughts. He's not my brother anymore. Maybe you can save him... " Cyan refuses her request, kissing the palm of her sister that was now carresing her face. " You are the Vespertus, you'll carry on and avenge us. Listen to me!... This was the plan all along! " Pain crowns her scalp as she is suddenly yanked away from Niven by her hair. A fist collapses with her left jaw, leaving Cyan nearly unconscious. " You are here at last, mighty Daughter... " The reptilian voice laughs out of the smoke and another blow knocks the air out of her lungs as it lands right between her ribs. " I'm tired of waiting and so is the Dark One. Your existence is like mud under my nails. Strike her again! " Dizzy and unable to move, she takes the next blow without protesting. Cyan doesn't remember where it landed, fortunately her face was already numb. She watches through nearly closed lids as Draegan's twisted face emerges from the hungry flames, surrounded by six more onyx guards. He looked like he thrived in this chaos, in this misery, fed by their sorrow. Like shadows, his protectors emerge from behind him, swallowed by those hungry flames and drew a circle around them. " Take a good look at what you and your filthy bitch have done to me! " He shouts, pushing his face into Cyan's view. The girl begins to shake from her joints. She couldn't see much, her face was swollen and the atmosphere was thick with smoke. She prayed that she would pass out from all the pain cursing through her body, but it didn't happen and she had to endure all this torture. Cyan could barely make out the left side of Draegan's face staring back at her with crazy, black pupils. Ruined was a soft word to describe it. His expression seemed paralyzed, mauled. His lips were drawn back into his mouth, revealing a few remaining teeth and black gums. Not even his eye could be saved, eaten away by a white void riddled with black arteries. " You gave Aoife the Night Shade. You took half of my face. " He concluded, smaking her with his ringed fingers. " So I felt free to take something of yours. " Cyan pulled her head away from the guard and spat in Draegan's face with the last of her strength. The guard who was holding her hair punished her and with a quick movement cut off her long strands of red hair and threw them into the fire. Cyan remained face down on the ground, watching as the man behind her removed his ink-black helmet to reveal a painfully familiar face. " Shum... I tought- " " I lied. " Shum rasped, his boyish features now morphed by Draegan's magic into a man's. " You stole my familly. You killed them. You are no blessing. " " Spit all you want, but tonight your life of eternal darkness begins. " Draegan laughs, letting the spit run down his face. " The Devourer of Worlds spoke in my ear of you, of your powers, of your destiny. Your whore of a mother thought she could shield you from him by hiding you in other constellations, but now you're licking my boots. We are many, many more. Allies from across the continent, ready to end humanity, Prythian, ready to let the Destroyer finally take us into his kingdom. '' " Why did you betray us, Shum? " Niven asks, her voice filled with remorse directed to her brother. " You murdered our father and stepped on our family name. " Cyan began to crawl beside Niven, her body a mass of painful movements and bloody wounds. Draegan made a sign to keep the guard from laying hands on her again, and left her to be with her sister, enjoying the show. " I was tired of waiting for a miracle. We prayed to the Mother for a thousand years and she never answered. She let us disappear one by one, she let our heritage be wasted. I was done the second Cynthia lost her mind because of the visions the Mother kept sending her, driving her crazy with time. She could barely get out of the house. We welcomed hundreds of strangers into our home before this one came. We have been robbed, beaten, captured, enslaved, and your Goddess has done nothing to help us. It took a single prayer to the Dark One to be heard, and then I realized who was truly on my side. " " You never understood did you? It was our punishment for letting those races be wiped from history, for losing a kingdom... " " I don't care anymore. I am reborn under his oath, I bear his mark. " Mercy, Cyan tought, but swallowed her tongue when a knife was thrown in front of her swollen eyes. " Enough! Kill her! " Draegan ordered, watching Cyan. " My guards have taken care of you other family members. Watch as your savior, your butcher queen, puts an end to your misery, Benefactor. " Draegan smiled, still shrouded in smoke and protected by flames. " Kill her, your soul sister! " " Do... It. " Niven whispers, her doe eyes pleading with Cyan. " Don't let him have my life. " " I can't... " She whisperes back, crawling to her knees to hug her inert body. " I can't... I love you... " " Please... If you love me, you will kill me! " Niven cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. " He claimed my parents for the Darkness when he took their lives. Spare me and let me go to the Gardens. You are my queen, you are the Daughter, the Blade. You are my saviour. Let my life end at your hands. " With trembling hands, Cyan finds the dagger tossed beside her and lifts it over Niven's heart, centimeters away. Still shaking her head in disapproval, she bites her salty lips, trying to gather her courage. With blurred vision, she scanns her surroundings once more, their father hanging from the ceiling, their mother lying on the floor and her sister at her mercy, waiting for her decision. They all planned this. They all watched her in the eyes knowing that they had to die at the end and never told her. " Don't mourn me, Evening Star. Don't falter... You were worth it! " Niven smiles once more as Cyan screams in despair and plunges the dagger right through Niven's beating heart. The texture of the blade as it sliced through layer after layer, through skin and muscle and bone, made Cyan lose all control of her body. She could be dead by now, she couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. She killed the last person she loved unconditionally. She was a murderer, a kin slayer. Draegan laughs loudly behind her, the guards lift her by the arms, but Cyan is pudding in their fingers, barely recording the film before her eyes. The Mother weeps above them as the Fates cut a golden strand - Niven's life. Everything else comes in waves. She sees the slender boy - Shum, dressed in the onyx uniform worn by Draegan's personal guards. The king whispers in his ears, limbs of darkness now at his control, moving like smoke through Shum's mind, controlling him like a puppet. " You betrayed us. " Cyan manages to say before she feels something breaking inside her chest, unraveling in her body from head to toe like a refreshing mist. She must be drowning in the ocean, her vision corrupted by green sparks and flowing waves of white steam. She smells the perfume of her old house, amber and musk. Her limbs begin to sting, as if small jolts of electricity were coursing through her veins, contracting her muscles. Cyan begins to light up, a fiery green light burst from her body. " Stop it before she fully Passes! " Someone screams, but there is only music in her ears, harps and violins soothing her toughts. Blind rage can be read in Shum's black orbs as he comes up behind her, possessed by whatever power Draegan wielded. He raises a hammer above Cyan's head, but the blow misses, striking and breaking her coxal bone. The light becomes unbearable to the eyes, and the force of the explosion throws everyone outside the burning house. The excruciating pain sends her body into an epileptic crisis, and she feels it - the heartbreak ripping through her heart muscles, her vital systems collapse one by one, exploding inside her now twisted body, eating away at her mind, her tissues, her emotions. Fatal for a human. And as she draws her last breath, she sees a man fighting to keep everyone away from her. Wings ruffle as Azriel tries to shield himself from the wave, and a mix of rage and cobalt fire rises right next to the burning farm where the Shadowsinger has been fighting to keep far away the black hounds trying to steal Cyan's body. The male is covered in blood and thirsty for more, fueled by a ghostly desire of revenge. His Illyrian blade clashes with an onyx guardian's flaming sword, while Truth Teller blocks the blow of another, aiming straight for his back. His shadows snake around their legs, throwing one to the ground and suffocating him. A dark sword rises to his side, slicing through his Illyrian leather. The sting only adds to the man's rage, which burns cruelly in his chest. The shakles he's been feeling since the witch's visit ring in his ears, vibrate through his body, and in a moment of blind madness, he cuts of the guardian's head from his body by forfecating his sword and Truth Teller, leaving it to roll on the ground. Shocked by the mania that has taken hold of him, Azriel steps back and watches as a fleeing Draegan rides back to his castle alongside the ponytail boy. He tries to follow, but an unseen thug holds him back, calling for attention. The barn. The Shadowsinger rushes inside, his face covered by his mask, and counts the victims. Checking the pulse of each corpse, he lets the flames carry a prayer to the heavens. A cry for help draws his attention to the one he seeks. An animal cry. Azriel's heart sinks as he sees Cyan's limp body covered by the fire, her furry friend desperately trying to bring her back to life. Lifting the cat in one hand and the woman's body on his shoulder, he flies them outside, away from the danger. There's not much he can do when the cat's curls itself on the girl's chest again, crying for him to help her, pleading him with her golden eyes to save her owner. " I can try, but I don't know if it will work. " Azriel explains patiently, touching and examining the cats burned hair for any damage. " Wake up... " He speaks softly, inspecting the woman's severe wounds. Her nose was broken, her face was covered in bruises and various types of blood, her own and others. He felt sorry for her and gently removed the hairs from her temples. Azriel hated her, there was no doubt about it, but seeing her so unrecognizable from the beating she had taken, he couldn't help but feel guilty as well. " I hope your soul goes where it deserves to. " The woman was dead. It was easy to conclude. He dragged her into his lap, along with the crying cat and prepared to take them to the Night Court. " I'm sorry. " Azriel whispered, caressing her features. He unsheathed his sword as a pair of hooves landed right beside him, taking him by surprise. A mare, ridden by an old woman who looked at him as if she wanted to kill him. The horse was no better, huffing and puffing and baring her healthy teeth at him. " I assume you want the girl. " " This is a lost battle, illyrian " The woman nodds, her breathy voice filled with superiority. " Don't strike a wounded warrior. The girl is under my protection from now on. Let us gather our strength and then you can come and fight like a true man for your possesion. Spare us today and you won't regret meeting me next time. " Azriel weighed his options, feeling the woman's cunning way of making him give up. His pointed blade was aimed at the old woman, but he couldn't move fast enough with the corpse on his lap. She was wise enough to speak of the honor of the illyrian race; to strike an already wounded warrior was a disgrace. But how can she protect this corpse? Who does she think she is? Already tired from tonight's circus, Azriel takes the easy way out and agrees as he watches the girl's face again. The only victim to escape his dagger. " I'll let her go. " He decides, lifting her body and placing her and her cat on top of the stunning mare. " But I'll come back for her. Dead or alive, she made a promise to me. " " We'll be waiting. " The old woman said, leaving Azriel behind. You let her escape the second time tonight. The mass of darkness spoke in his ear, recalling his mistake from earlier. You got distracted... the amber... It's not in your nature... The brave shadow curled, smelling the strands of hair Azriel clutched in his fist, collected from the girl's body. " Let's hope Amren is useful for something this time. "

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
PART II: A Neverending Prisoner
Chapter 12
Again
More than twenty minutes had passed since the old woman had bent over her, breathing asthmatically and cursing her osteoporotic bones. The cracking that continued rhythmically with each compression indicated a broken rib or maybe more, Malou couldn't even imagine that she had some physical power to crush bones. " She won't last the night, will she? " The blonde's sigh sounded so muffled, drowned out by the restless waves that lapped through the ship's hull, buffeting her from side to side. " She wasn't breathing when you brought her in, who knows when her heart stopped, and I think we've used up the last of the oxygen in her blood. Nothing will work... " The woman did not take her good eye off the already earthy face of the corpse before her, and continued to press her folded palms over the child's chest, praying constantly for a miracle. She had been through this before, over two hundred years ago. She knew by heart what was about to happen and yet, she still felt sadness and grief and pain.
I'm still as alive as I can be... and free. Thanks to her...
It had been two days since they had boarded the ship, and the woman in her arms seemed to be drifting away from the legend she knew like a prayer. The Chosen One falls from the sky, settles down, is crucial to make a familiar, to love, and then to have that love torn from her chest, to die of a broken heart and return with thoughts of revenge, as a saviour. Only it didn't happen that way. The fantasy was over. Time was merciless to the body, hardened and broken on all sides, and didn't seem to spare the cat's soul either, which continued to purr weakly over the corpse. They were both dying. So much blood had seeped out around them that it began to soak into the moldy wooden platform, spreading a bitter stench. The reek swayed her with a murderous memory: the corpses of the legion she was supposed to lead, the commander for whom she would have given her firstborn, her wings... She had to stop unraveling nightmares, this girl didn't have five hundred milliliters of fluid left in her body and she was only doing more harm. Her magic and her body hadn't recovered and she couldn't do anything supernatural. It wouldn't have been advisable to intervene anyway, the risk of awakening an abomination would have been too great. The blood had soaked into her cherry red hair, oozing from her nose, mouth, and eyes like a river that had already dried up and left blood clots behind. The gold earrings she wore dangled displaced in all the mess, glittering as if they were new in her dirty ears. Like a first-time saint in a brothel. Malou didn't dare to remove the girl's armor and look at her chest to convince herself that her heart had exploded and even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to. The clump of fur had been curled there without a sound since they'd brought her in. Her closed eyes were stained with tears that had trickled down her swollen cheeks. The cat seemed to be trying to warm her master, to protect her, to heal her soul. Droplets began to trickle down Cyan's face. No, it wasn't Cyan anymore. The young woman had died in Thaibar along with the rest of her family. Now she was nameless again. Malou couldn't tell if the tears came from the corpse or from the eyes of the other woman, the flower girl, who tried to clean the shadows of dirt from her friend's cheeks, to wash it away. In that dim, yellowish, fragile light, the blonde's exquisite features now seemed obliterated by the smoke that clung to her skin, looking even more grotesque. The silk nightgown she'd specially put on, forced on her by the king, as far as she knew, had lost its shine and looked more like a thin rag. Fortunately, Malou had a lot of furs, thanks to the freezing cold in prison, and had lent the girl one. It probably wasn't one of the most odorless pieces of clothing, but it would protect her from the cold and the indecent looks. " Blondie, go and put on something thicker. You're going to die of hypothermia and I don't feel like dragging another dead body behind me. " The old woman grumbled, barely able to catch her breath after speaking so many words at once. " We have plenty of time to guard her, she's not going anywhere in this state. " Malou clutches her much younger palms, enjoying the way her old scars pull at her skin, marring the line of life and happiness imprinted on her fingers. Slowly, her long buried traditions and memories began to resurface as the ink of her old tattoos began to darken beneath her epidermis, thick and circular. They gave her more strength, more will, more... hope. But for what purpose. Her star had failed the test. Aoife just nodded, her dead stare driving nails into the floor of the ship. " There are too many men on deck to leave you two alone. You haven't even regained half of your physical strength yet. " The old woman opened her mouth to throw a sour word, then realized the weight of her words and squeezed her legs tighter under her. Apparently, even now, after hundreds of years of so-called evolution, faes and human had not changed their barbaric ways. She turned her eyes to the circular window, constantly washed by the waves, but saw nothing new. It was another dark night, seemingly deeper, with no stars to light the ship's way. It felt like they were circling in the same spot of the angry ocean, who was hungrily trying to throw them into its belly. Malou shivered, constantly taken aback by the wave of new experiences her body was being subjected to, then felt sick to her stomach as goose bumps covered her skin. Fear. The woman spat right next to them, trying to get rid of the horrible taste in her mouth. Aoife watched her like a queen watching a buffon, her expression torn between sorrow and disgust. Without an almost complete recovery, she was as useless as a broom on board.
Maybe I was a fool to give up my magic.
" Isn't this your father's ship or something? " She heard herself wonder as she stroked with her eyes the blonde's dirty hair. " My uncle's... but that doesn't make him any better than the latter. " The girl laid a blanket over the corpse up to her torso, trying to keep both her and the cat's temperature as high as possible. " Misty... " Aoife pets the cat folded ears, then looks down at her palm. " By Sedna's tail, it's so cold... " The moment she wiggled her fingers, the gray fur began to ooze in clumps, stained with blood and dead skin. The cat didn't move from the pretzel she'd draped over her mistress's chest, digging her claws into the metal scales of the armor. The rhythmic thrumming became more violent, as if it were working hard to save her fate. Malou pressed her grown fingernails into her eyes, trying to pop the ball of pressure that was building up behind her eyeballs, hoping to ease the tiredness. She hadn't closed an eyelid in so many days, but it was as if her heart wouldn't let her leave the two girls alone. She could not rest until she had brought the woman ashore and buried her deep, deep underground. " I still have hope. " Malou confesses, wiggling her swollen limbs. " We'll take her to Rosehall, we'll nurse her another day or two. There are some healers there who might know how to help her, if her soul hasn't already run too far away, of course. If not... you'll stay with me to bury them. " " Them? " " If there is no way to bring her back, her familiar will soon die as well. Once the bond is established, she cannot physically live without her other half. Neither of them. The fact that the cat is still breathing is something we should hold on to. " " Can't you do something to help them? " Malou shook her head slightly and concentrated on her heartbeat, suddenly too aware of the way her body began to ache, paralyzed in the same position for hours. " I gave up my magic and as you said, I am not completely healed. I am still trapped in a hag's body... " " But- but, why? How? Kallus, he said you'll be able to help her! " Aoife moved her lips quickly, her eyes suddenly as wide as onions, sparkling as if she had found a solution to all her problems. " He said you're some sort of warrior, that you souldn't even exist anymore. He called you a Valkyrie! " " Don't call me that! " Malou spat suddenly, as if her soul was whipped. " I can't call myself that after everything I've done. I don' deserve it. " The blonde quickly turned from joy to hate and grabbed Malou's still unhealed arm like a vice, defiantly clenching the bones into a fist. " I don't give a cow shit if you still have that title or not. It's not for me. Do you do any kind of spells, witchcraft or whatever the fuck is necesarry? " The old woman shook roughly from her grip and squinted at her with her still good brown eye. " No. And don't ever lay your filthy hands on me again or I'll cut them off and eat them in front of you. " " Nimue was ten times better than you! Better start thinking of something we can do right now or I'll be the one to eat those useless hands. " The girl laughed harshly, as if a beast had possessed her and she was thirsty. " Look at yourself in the mirror, blondie! You did nothing tonight. You put your cunt on the line and then ran away as fast as your skinny legs could carry you. " Malou lifted her thick fingers and gestured the way Aoife's legs would have moved. Aoife's eyelids narrowed, her blue irises burning with fury. " I may not have been in a dungeon like you, but at least you weren't fucked by a disgusting man who happened to kill your entire friends and family tonight. " A cup shattered above them, bringing silence amidst the grumbling that could be heard one floor above. Malou realized immediately that she had been freed from the prison, the magic around that haunted place in the forest not only blocked the powers of those trapped there forever, but also played with their emotions. Of course, once out of that misery, she had also regained the oppressive ability to distinguish hate from love and courage from fear. Including the guilt that now snaked " Look, I know none of us have been any better off, but I think you can think of something that might help us now. Valkirye or not. " Aoife concluded, tired of hearing the wailing from behind the door they had taken shelter behind. Malou appreciated the sanity the flower girl was capable of in such a situation and dropped her head for a few seconds. She tried to put her gray matter particles to work, sifting through the hundreds of pieces of information that surged to the surface, but without a competent answer. The oil lamp flickered between them as another wave smashed against the round glass panes, sending a few streams of water trickling down to them. Beneath the corpse, seawater and blood had already formed a slimy film that soaked their knees. The salt had dried and surrounded them in a circle, offering protection in an hour of vulnerability. The smell of the corpse had faded, thanks to the white salt particles that seemed to be trying to slow down the decomposition process. " There's a saying: We have as many hair threads in our heads as we have days. " Malou began to unravel a braid from under her scarf, wrinkling her nose at the smell of seaweed and fish. " Find a strand of white hair. " " Why white and not pigmented? Shouldn't it have life in it? Symbolically speaking? " Aoife rose immediately from her knees, hearing her padded ankles click under the weight of her body. " It's going to be a real labor for me to find one in this stinking, blonde hair. " " White, yes. If I saw things from your perspective, you'd be right, but magic is complicated and changes its meaning depending on the purpose you give it to work for. " Malou narrowed her black eyes and motioned for the blonde to bring the candle closer. " For example, if I wanted to take away a day of her life, I who ask, I would need a strand of colored hair. A day that she would live, a day that would be indispensable to her mission. If I wanted to give her a day, I would need a white strand of my hair, an empty day that would pass over me without me feeling it. I could also use a strand of colored hair, but that would have more divine repercussions. It's too complicated, we'd be tipping the scales, changing our fate or hers. Hair is very valuable, you can bind curses, you can undo spells, you can track a person... " " Got it. There it is! " Aoife yells, brutally pulling out the hair. " What do I do now? " " Wonderful, tie a knot on her little finger, the symbol of the end. " The women hastily tossed aside the damp bedclothes and removed the corpse's blood-stained gloves. Aoife swallowed, unaccustomed to the way those swollen, purple-stained hands felt between her own. " Shouldn't we do the same to the cat? Didn't you say it was part of Cyan? " Aoife stopped herself from shaking, feeling like she was about to create an abomination. " Cyan is dead. Cyan died in Thaibar with Niven and the others. This woman is something else entirely. " Malou looked at her grimly, feeling the scar tighten around her eyebrow as her skin regenerated. " And no, her familiar is already tied to her soul, already giving her a rope to hold on to, but I think she needs a little help. " The blonde didn't say anything else, just looked at the woman lying unmoved between them, as if trying to recognize her. How could it not be Cyan? How could she be left behind in the hell of Thaibar? Tears blurred her vision, and for a second she seemed to be back in her town, planting and selling seeds, waving to Cyan as she went to work in Nimue's shop. Once the thread was knotted, Malou grabbed her other free hand and closed her eyes, trying to remember what the spell sounded like. " Do we have to bleed? " Aoife's question came with an overflowing innocence, so Malou couldn't hold back when she gave her an annoyed look. Exasperated, she closed her eyes again and focused her mind. " Only black spells need blood, we -" " Necromancy! Isn't that black magic? " The blonde's voice rises a few octaves. " On mother's tits, how many questions you ask... It's not necromancy, she's still between worlds, I can feel her. We're doing magic that's kind of on the borderline between white magic and black magic. Borderline. Now shut up and repeat after me. " The blonde was afraid to follow Malou's example and close her eyes, afraid of what she would see behind the darkness of her eyelids, of the silence that would be part of the ritual, of the hell that had not left her yet. But something made her change her mind, the hum that accompanied the silence, the electricity that stung the navel of her fingers, and then there was the icy hand that gripped their joined palms. With eyes glued with fear at the sight of a living corpse, Aoife whispered Malou's first words " Mother of all we feel... "
𓆩✴𓆪
A version of the warrior nearly thirty years younger now, secretly bid farewell at the harbor to Aoife, who in turn seemed to have aged as many years. Dawn was about to break, and the deep, dark circles under their eyes were the only witnesses to the ritual that had left two symmetrical burn marks on the dead woman's little finger - twins to the wounds that now marked the skin of the two living women. " You'll feel it when she wakes up...if she chooses to do so. You'll feel everything she goes through from now on - every cry for help, every moment of happiness. " Malou informed her, placing a tattooed hand on the blonde's crippled shoulder. She was never good at goodbyes, never good at making people feel better, so she immediately climbed onto her mare and prepared to leave. The change between Hybern's and Prythian's territory was obvious. First of all, feathery clouds could finally be seen slowly circling the red sky, and this half of the ocean didn't seem as deep and dark as the one from Thaibar's harbor. Many colorful fish swam around the wooden legs of the deck, diving and coming back to the surface in small groups. " Take care, Malou... " Aoife's hushed voice was barely audible over the raging waves crashing against the ship. The last few dozen survivors of the night stood on the opposite shore, watching the smoke swallow the morning light - gazing at the place that had once been their home. " And make sure she wakes up. Make sure she stays alive this time. " She struggles to command, swallowing her tears for the thousandth time. Malou lifted her chin, marked by perfectly inked Tuunraq, to the sky and breathed in the haunting smell of charred corpses. She gave a short nod and did not stay much longer. She hated this suffocating atmosphere and she hated even more the fact that she was now going to be involved in this mess for the long ride. With a nudge, she urged her mare forward and galloped off without waiting for another word from Aoife. She did not look back, even though her heart asked her to. She raced like a madwoman through the unpaved streets of the still-sleepy fishing village, hoping to reach Rosehall as soon as possible. She couldn't imagine anyone there not recognizing her. Of course, centuries had passed since she had last seen those lush forests of the continent, since any of the women who sheltered there had heard a word of her. She navigated by instinct, following the path she knew like the back of her hand. Malou did not falter at the sharp left turn as she left the village, nor at the detour she had to take around a massive tree that had not yet been cleared from the path. The woman stayed there once, in the small church of frothy white stone with green roofs, after the Great Kneeling had taken place. Malou spat and wiped the corner of her mouth, trying to get rid of the bitter taste that always came up when she remembered that cursed day. Empires do fall in one day... Back then, she had needed a few moments to figure out what to do next after losing so much - an entire battalion, a kingdom, a family, and her wings. She had nothing left to live for, but she didn't want to die like a fool. The only thing she had was a hollow vow she'd made on the day of her initiation, a memory so old she couldn't even remember it clearly, where she promised that the only way she would reach the Garden of Elysium was with honor. And suicide was not honorable. Besides, she wanted to see her friends again, and that meant she could not go to Hel under any circumstances. So, she had taken refuge there, in Rosehall, before she gave up her powers and allowed Hybern to capture her. Wild... Giving up her power wasn't any easier, either. Her soul still ached for that taste, for that reverberating feeling every time she reached for the white mist inside her. How it filled her muscles with brute force, how it made her heart beat angrier. But it was the least she could do to punish herself for leaving her family behind. Now that she thought about what she had done so many years ago, maybe she shouldn't make decisions in frustration anymore. Not that it mattered now. This time, she might actually be able to make up her mind and end it all - after finishing the mess she had gotten herself into. Or maybe she would meet a more honorable fate than suicide. But did she deserve honor? She shook the clumsily braided curls, made before her arms were strong enough to lift above her head, and breathed in the scent of the flower-filled pasture. It was as if she had been reborn, familiar again with the way her body was stronger, more agile, more capable. Malou tried to focus her milky eye on her surroundings, though she knew it was of little use. She saw only shadows and faint spots of light, but she had gained an ability she didn't fully understand: she could see magic simmering, the delicate threads that connected two people, how oaths could change a person's energy, how spells could steal a fragment of someone's soul. And just as clearly, she could see the thin, white thread now wrapped around her little finger, leading to the cart behind her - just as she could see another golden, shimmering beneath the fabric, stretching back to the place she had left. If a former acquaintance could see her now, they would have laughed telepathically, the sound ringing through her brain like a plague. She knew where her next stop was - Sorscha. For all her skills as a warrior, she would never have known how to lead a Vespertus to spiritual greatness or whatever the priestess could do. How could she teach the girl to tame the forces that were about to erupt from within, how to balance the two worlds that would soon sink their teeth into her flesh? Light and darkness, life and death - both would fight tooth and nail for the spirit of a Vespertus. She knew the legend, the tale, the rumors - or whatever they were - but she had never imagined that she would live to see these times. There hadn't been many Vespertuses in her time either, the last one had been born when she was very, very little and had died just as quickly, before the Great Kneeling. Maybe that's why the kingdom fell, because the last one didn't fulfill her mission... There weren't many times when the world needed one either, the veil that kept the Underworld where it belonged was always thick with layers of Mother's magic. But who knew what had happened in the meantime? Malou couldn't even comprehend that she would be the one honored to train the next Vespertus. " Oh, fuck! " Malou cursed through clenched teeth as the wheel hit a massive rock, rattling the cart behind her. " I hope you're comfortable back there, honey. " She didn't expect an answer from the dead woman behind, so she turned her attention back to the dense forest around her, enjoying the faint buzzing of the bees for a moment. Maybe she should have stolen a knife from the ship - anything that might come in handy if some bandits decided to rob a corpse in the morning. " I think I'm forgetting who I am... " Malou muttered to herself as she flexed her nearly healed hands. She needed no sword, no shield, no daggers, no magic. Over the years, she had shattered so many jaws with her bare fists that only the sensation of cracking bone beneath her scarred fingers truly awakened her senses. Maybe a little training wouldn't hurt either - there's only so much an old lady can do in a dungeon. Soon, the blooming gardens of Rosehall began to appear between the slender tree trunks, filled with red, thorny roses. She raised four fingers to the clear sky and estimated that it was barely seven in the morning. Through the gaps in the leaves she could see the steeple of the church, greened by time, and its shining windows reflecting the cloudless sky. They looked just as she had left them years ago. On the way, she passed some of the women that took shelter there - a short, stocky girl accompanied by an older one who seemed to be her mother. Laughing and chatting loudly, they walked nonchalantly past the body lying just a few feet away. They didn't spare her a glance, nor did they ask Malou where she was going, so she slipped easily into the courtyard, where the air was thick with the scent of flowers, honey and incense. " A damn fairy tale. " She whispered again as she dismounted the black mare, her coat glistening like a gem in the harsh sun. " And you were well fed, I see. Did she take care of you? " Malou asked, and the horse snorted in agreement as she gestured with her chin to the back of the wagon. She looked around, remembering every inch of freshly wet grass, every storage building in the same place, the wood and charcoal still overflowing, the fruit and vegetables in the same place. Even the livestock was full, cows, goats, horses. It was as if a part of her heart had been healed, seeing all this again in one piece, unchanged. It smelled of fresh bread and tea even outside, and the choir could be heard from the front gate. " Malou?! " A familiar voice crept up from behind her, causing the warrior to spun around and take down whoever had managed to sneak into her blind spot so gracefully. " This is impossible... I thought you were dead! " Malou clenched her fists tightly, then remembered why she was here - and that she needed their help. She couldn't just go around throwing punches. Apparently, she really needed training, since she still hadn't learned how to use her ears properly. The sun had climbed so high in the sky that it shone brightly on the speaker, who was clutching a basket full of carrots and potatoes. Her slender figure was hidden under a simple brown dress and a gardening apron. But before Malou could cover her eyes with her hand, the knotted wings behind the woman gave her the clue she needed - along with the familiar scent of sweet cedar and lemon. " It can't be... Rosalinda? " Malou stepped closer, finally seeing the dark-haired woman smiling innocently, her body trembling slightly with emotion. " You haven't changed a bit. " " How are you still alive? " The woman had gained a few wrinkles here and there, but nothing else betrayed the years that had passed or the hardships she had endured to reach this sanctuary. She still kept the warmth in her golden eyes, the deep charcoal of her hair. " You left without a word all those years ago. I heard you were captured. " She set the basket down on the dew-dampened ground and gently pulled Malou into a soft embrace. " I was a... I was in a really dark place, but I need help. Like right away... " Uncomfortable with the sudden physical contact and increasingly aware of the stench of decay that was beginning to seep into the quiet courtyard, Malou tried to slip out of Rosalinda's arms and put her strong hands on the woman's round shoulders. " This is gonna sound crazy. " Malou laughed awkwardly and looked around before she whispered in Rose's ear. " You have to help me bathe and take care of a body. " Hearing herself say that made her feel stupid and out of place, like she was bringing bad news everywhere she went. She just met her old friend after all these years and the first thing she says to this woman is 'help me hide a body'. But maybe that's what true friendship is all about. Right? Rosalinda's thin lips parted slightly, but Malou didn't give her a chance to answer or to understand the gravity of her words. She carefully pulled her friend toward the cart and pulled back a corner of the blanket, allowing the soft Rosehall sunlight to kiss the pale face underneath. Rosalinda took a long breath as she looked at the young girl's bruised, haunted features. Her mud-stained gloves rose slowly to her chest, and she closed her eyes for a moment, as if to gather strength for what was to come. " Bring her to the back entrance. We'll hide her in the storage barracks in the backyard. " The woman's wings seemed to contract, weakened by the strain of the binding that had already left its mark just below the atrophied claw. " We'll burr- " Malou cut her off with a slow motion of disagreement from her head. " I need a room, Rose. " She explained calmly, stressing every word, alarmed by the way some women were already noticing their long exchange of information. "She's not dead, dead, just overthinking about coming back. I hope... " The woman eyed her wearily, her mouth still stuck on the word ' burry ' that never came out. " Are you, by any chance, amnesic? Delusional? Or just hit your head on the way here? She smells like a corpse kept unburied for more than 5 hours. " " It's been three days since she was killed. " Rose was shocked for the third time in less than five minutes, and this time she couldn't fully recover: first her old friend suddenly comes back from the dead, then she wants to bury a body, but not really bury it, just rent a room to keep it until it supposedly comes back. " I really think there is something very wrong with you, my friend, but for the sake of my reputation and yours, just take her out of here and bring her to the back door! " A good friend indeed. The warrior's golden skin glowed like molten gold in the sun's rays as she spun sharply on her heel and slapped the mare's back. Jealousy was probably too harsh of a word, and pity far too insulting for someone as noble as Rosalinda. But what was worse? To have wings and not be able to use them, or to have them stolen and spend a lifetime longing for someone else's? Malou resisted the urge to spit again - a crude habit she had picked up from the ill-mannered Illyrians she had once lived among - and ran her tongue over her unbrushed teeth. Another five minutes outside and she was about to lose her mind over explaining a simple matter. She forced a strained, half-welcoming smile at the familiar faces that froze in shock at the sight of her. A few women peered out from between the vines they were tying and waved happily at her. " We'll talk later. " she managed to call out, quickening her pace and praying that no one got close enough. She hoped the scent of daisies and tulips would mask the stench. She wasn't sure which was worse - her own, after what felt like centuries without a proper bath, or the corpse in the cart, which could start decomposing at any time. The rising temperature left her no choice, hastening both the decay and the sweat that pooled at her throat. She left a trail of dust in her wake, which was quickly absorbed by the thick hedges that lined the path. " Good boy, good boy... " She murmured, briefly scratching a curious stray dog behind its ears. " Go catch your own food. This one's mine. " Reaching the back of the church, Malou pushed the door open with her boot, then immediately scolded herself for the disrespectful gesture. She took in the stone staircase that spiraled up several floors and the narrow hallway that branched into several entrances. Glancing back, she saw two older women kneeling as they planted seeds in holes dug by a younger girl walking ahead of them, moving row by row across the tilled earth. A flicker of pride blossomed in Malou's chest as her keen ears confirmed that the women were too deep in absurd gossip to notice anything out of the ordinary. Rosalinda slipped nimbly past the sacks stacked by the kitchen door, her eyes darting around in concern. Laughter and clinking glasses echoed from the dining room, mixed with the occasional scrape of dishes. She knew there was no time for questions, but smuggling a body through a sanctuary full of wary women was no easy task. " Head or feet? " Malou asked as they took their places on either side of the cart. " There's also a cat. " " A cat? " Rosalinda's eyes widened, wondering if it was worse to see a dead woman or a dead cat, and she went straight to the small lump on top of the body. " I don't have your muscles, so... whatever's easier. " " Don't worry, my muscles have been on vacation for centuries. I've barely learned how to use my hearing. " The woman quickly wrapped the coarse cloth around the body, covering it completely, then tied it at both ends. " Take the legs and let me lead. You just tell me which floor to stop on. " " All right, but we have to move fast. If anyone sees us... " Rosalinda rubbed her sweaty palms against her white apron, staining it lightly with freshly turned earth. She hesitated, put a hand on her stiff limbs, swallowed hard, then tugged at the sack with all her strength without thinking. " I know, I know. " Malou sighed and pulled harder on the blanket as she struggled to take the first steps. Yes, she definitely needed some exercise, too, as her muscles ached in every joint. " If we meet someone, we'll say... " " We'll say I haven't had a bath in a few days and this little one here it's a sick, weak woman we have to take care of. No one will get too close. " Rosalinda nodded in agreement, then added sarcastically, " That will actually make sense, especially all wrapped up like a corpse... Anyway, we're almost there. " They passed a room where a woman played the lute softly. They both held their breath. Rose gestured that the woman was mad and didn't hear well. With great effort, they managed to sneak up the stairs, avoiding curious glances. Malou could feel her muscles shaking under the weight of the sluggish body, but she clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep moving. The two women moved slowly, each breathing more heavily than the other. The sun poured its gentle rays through the freshly washed windows, over the smooth stone of the corridors, making them both sweat profusely. Rosalinda tripped on the last step, exhausted, and leaned against the green wooden railing. " I think you're in better shape than me. " Malou smiled, trying to ease the strange tension. " Have you been sparring? " They finally arrived at a small, empty room with a simple wooden bed and a window covered with blue curtains. Rosalinda pushed the door open with her back and carefully closed it behind them. They laid the body gently on the bed, as if it were still alive, and Malou stretched her back with a sigh. " Yes, in my spare time, when I'm not washing and hiding corpses. " Rosalinda groaned, collapsed into the chair next to the unlit fireplace and poured two glasses of water. " I'm very sorry. I didn't know - " " Where else to go? "The black-haired woman continued, almost scolding Malou for her reckless behavior. " I've gotten used to your way of being, you're always surrounded by a dark cloud of problems and missions and secrets, but a body? Have you come that far? " Malou ignored how this answer made her feel. Unpleasant was an appropriate word, harsh, then she rolled her eyes and scratched the back of her head. " I didn't dig a grave, if that's what you think. I saved her. In terms you might understand: I am this girl's legal guardian. " " And she dies on your watch? " Rose concluded, sipping angrily from her glass. " I'll go as far as to say you're out of your game. Where have you been all these years? I've looked for you, I've asked for you, but it was as if the earth had swallowed you up. " " Well, it did, but not Earth, just Hybern. They threw me in jail and forgot about me there. " " You could escape at any time" Don't lie to me! You used to be a strong, tough, loyal, smart - " " Anxious, flighty, depressed, suicidal - " " Valkyrie! " Rosalinda rose from her chair and pointed her index finger at Malou's nose. " A warrior! " " Not even close! " Malou shouted, turning her back on her old friend and pressing her damp forehead against the window. " I am a shadow. " She breathed after a while, tasting the disgusting loss on her tongue. "I pretend to be tough and smart and whatever else is left in me, but I'm drowning in the same shame and guilt. I'm irredeemable, and that's okay. She didn't die on my watch, like you said, and she won't stay dead. My destiny is tied to hers and I must do everything in my power to help her succeed. It's the least I can do for my old general, for my lost troops. Maybe she's the way I can find some... solace. So, no, I'm not crazy or delusional, she must be nurtured back to life and for that... I need your help, please! " " Is that her? ... " Rosalinda came a little closer to the corpse, searching it from head to toe, wondering what it looked like, completely uncovered. When Malou only nodded, Rose inhaled, aware of the goosebumps the thought brought to her skin. " Does that mean... He? It... " She didn't even know how to address the abomination that lay beneath their feet. " Broke the veil? " " Not yet. But it's damaged, I keep hearing it tearing apart layer by layer. That's how she fell on our universe in the first place. " " I have dreamed of this. " Rose said, as if her vision was clearer now. " Weeks and weeks of the same vivid dream. I have had premonitions of forgotten bloodlines leading to... a daughter. " A smile crept across her face as she relieved the love in her stomach, the smell of marriage, but the smile faded as soon as it came. " I felt heartbreak, I felt myself reborn. I fell into a void of anger and sadness. And more than anything, I heard the utcher laugh, and he is as hungry as ever. " " When the rapture of the worlds happened, something changed in the nature of all creatures around. " Malou finished the conversation, not wanting Rose to get into the same state of euphoria her visions brought her, so she quickly changed the subject to something that always made her friend happy. " You had a son. Does he visit? Is he kind to you? " The old floor creaked under the weight of the warrior as she moved away from the door leading to a small toilet and began to carefully unravel the cloth while catching her breath. She didn't see Rosalinda smiling warmly and looking out the open window, breathing in the light breeze that made the curtains flutter lazily. " He's a good boy. A man, actually, " She admitted with a chuckle. " He's grown up faster than I thought. " A strange cedar scent filled the room, making the cloth on the corpse tremble slightly, as if the dead body inhaled the sweet air. Through her pale iris, Malou caught a glimpse of blue particles floating around, then the gray thread curled up on top of the girl's chest. " You deserve the best. " Malou turned to her, frowning, noticing the procession of particles spilling through the window, searching for something or someone. " How old is he? " She stopped, feeling a blinding headache above her temple. Apparently, nothing is infinite. " Old. But not older than you. Nobody's older than you. " Rose smiled charmingly, showing off her well-kept teeth. " The last time he was here, he told me he was flying to another continent. His High Lord is dependent on his powers, so he travels a lot. But he is very attentive to me. It's never more than a week or two before he makes time to see me, bringing me little things from the places he goes. But enough about me and my son. We need to clean her up before the smell grows heavier. " Rosalinda rolled up her sleeves and gestured to the bed. Malou's eyes landed on the scissors hanging from Rosalinda's belt. " May I? So I can, you know, undress her? " The woman nodded, somewhat embarrassed by the presence of the two. She hadn't seen her old friend in so long and wasn't sure how to act. The last time she had seen her, she had been in a pitiful state of depression and had tried to stop her from slitting her throat with those very same scissors. " I'm over it, don't worry. " She lied, knowing full well that she hadn't gotten over the huge hole in her chest and probably never would. " I won't stick it down my throat or anyone else's. " " Of course not. " Rose agreed and handed her the rusted metal. Carefully, as if a child were suffocating behind all the layers of clothing and armor that buried her, she cut through the remnants of cloth. The first thing that greeted her was the cat, the young woman's face still hidden. " Poor thing. " Rosalinda swallowed hard, quickly preparing the fire at the sight of the animal's disheveled fur. " I think the cat died some time ago. It was her familiar. " Malou felt the need to explain and continued to remove pieces of armor, throwing them to the ground. " I'll tell you everything after I set her up. " With only a few steps, Rose reached the bedside and with a quick movement revealed the vague features underneath. " Dear mother... " The woman gently cupped the frozen cheeks between her warm palms, carefully examining the bruises, cuts and wounds - silent witnesses to the torment she had endured before dying. The rest of her body was no better, telling the same horrific tale all the way down to her now bare feet. Through the cadaverous stench, Rosalinda detected something painfully familiar, hidden beneath layers and layers of blood and iron, " She's so... young. " Rosalinda swallowed hard, but asked no further questions as her eyes fell on the faint burn mark that traced the girl's little finger. " You tried to give her some of your own days? " " Me and someone else, yes. We prayed until morning, but I think the Mother has more important duties to attend to... " " Boundary spells take longer than others. Opposing forces must unite for a common goal that you impose, and that is usually difficult to achieve. " The woman smiled again, trying to offer a glimmer of hope as she headed for the door. " Come and help me get some warm water and clothes for both of you, and then we'll talk. " Somehow, they managed to avoid most of the curious onlookers who asked about Malou's return and the place she had traveled to for so many years. Of course, the two had been more convincing than expected when they told details about villages that didn't exist or bizarre dishes she had never tried. The only taste that remained on her tongue was the wretched porridge with mold flowers that the guards had thrown into her cell. Malou pressed her sharp-edged lips together at the thought of how she had once humiliated herself, scooping every last bit from the filthy floor, then pushed the memory aside as she carried the buckets of hot water. Rosalinda, on the other hand, was still surrounded by her usual motherly aura of cheerfulness as she gathered a shirt here and a sock there from various rooms, trying to put together two acceptable outfits for the newcomers. She breathed a sigh of relief at not running into the High Abbess as she made her way through the vast dining hall or the basement washrooms, sparing herself the necessary explanations. But the illusion was shattered when they stepped back into the dimly lit room, which seemed even darker now that a lifeless body lay naked in the middle of the bed, warmed only by the cheerful firelight dancing on the walls. She didn't know what to expect. Both the young girl and her cat lay in exactly the same position they had left her in, as if tending to each other's wounds. The stiffened hand rested gently around the cat's torso, just as Malou had positioned it when she had undressed her, as if she wanted to protect the creature even in death from the cold that had followed them all the way to Rosehall. Rosalinda lit a few more candles in the small chamber and the tiny adjacent bath, then sent Malou to clean herself while she tended to the stranger. She didn't want to hear a single word of protest from her old friend, so she prepared her room and carefully began to wash the body. Everything unfolded like a ritual, watched over by the full moon as it rose majestically among the stars, accompanied by the sacred song of the owls outside. The woman gently stroked the girl's pale, stretched skin, washing and disinfecting the wounds before they had a chance to get infected. She had a lullaby in her head, about two enemies who fell in love in the end, and she hummed it softly as she repaired another cut. When Malou was finished, she placed the basket of dirty clothes by the door and helped Rosalinda dress the body in a blue nightgown and change the sheets before tucking her in carefully, as if afraid to disturb her deep sleep. Then she turned to the little cat, still sleeping soundly, and brushed her fur, removing dried blood and remnants of torn skin. When they finished, Rosalinda hurried to fetch a tray of food and tea. She also brought a bouquet of cornflowers for the young girl, whose name she did not yet know, and placed them by her bedside, stroking her hair as if she were her own child. "She has a harsh life ahead... " The woman murmured, unable to take her eyes off the girl's peaceful face. Malou stuffed a large piece of bread into her mouth, happy that for the first time in years she felt salt in food, and began to speak, leaving nothing out.
𓆩✴𓆪
It was not tragedy that tore her heart apart, not even sadness or grief. Even in slumber, half awake, floating undecided, she felt love growing out of her chest, filling her body, a thousand and one hands lifting her above their heads, as if presenting a maid to the hungry dragon. She didn't even know when this happiness dissipated, shattering around her, breaking her into a thousand pieces from the inside, only to be replaced by that cold feeling of emptiness and fury and a tasty aroma of blood. She felt time trying to grab more of her ethereal particles, clawing at her to stay forever. She felt an eternity pass: days were mere hours among the fallen, and every hour spent lingering between worlds was agony for those caught in between. From time to time, a disembodied voice would call to her from behind, and another palm would catch her face before she turned to see who knew her true name.
The girl knew there was something wrong with her - before her hands became transparent, or when she was tormented by the memories of her death. Cyan. The name sent a piercing pain through her, ringing in her ears like an unbearable wail. But she had no time to dwell on it as she relived the flames that had consumed Thaibar, feeling every burn of the innocent souls trapped in their homes, burned alive in the dead of night, crying into every voice that screamed their pain, feeling each lost ten times harder.
Out of the vast landscape of white and blue and fog and cold, she suddenly drifted through what seemed to be ruins. Or perhaps it was a cave. Holes in the walls became windows into a raging winter, somewhere trapped between high mountains. She had no feet, no body, but the darkness gnawed at her bare soles, and the few candles hanging from the rocky walls barely illuminated the endless corridor. The wind sang through the holes with a piercing siren's voice, luring her deeper into the dungeon.
Should she turn back?
" How long? " The question swirled around her in a hypnotic spiral and she stopped at the top of a pair of chopped stairs.
She turned to look, but the door that connected the empty mist she came from to the dark cavern was now a solid rock. A dead end. She could neither scream nor strike - she had no hands, no voice - but she could remember.
" I don't know. Maybe hours, maybe days. But she must return. "
Malou, she whispered in her mind, again and again. A shimmering thread was bound to her, stretching behind the rock. Another thread stretched from her in the opposite direction - a glorious gold. She didn't know what it was, but she could smell flowers and earth. Aoife. Why did they go in opposite directions?
" If her spirit is still floating between worlds, then we have a chance. But, Malou, I hope you understand... some souls do not want to return. They find peace, lost loved ones... "
But I want to return. Do I? Maybe I've already succeeded, and I can go home.
A hand passed through her ethereal body as she descended deeper into this hellhole, where moans and sobs and prayers reached her ears from behind thick, black iron bars. Another groan echoed from the opposite side, and suddenly things began to take a clearer shape.
A foreign body. Gloved hands. Heavy clothes sewn of coarse velvet. She felt the weight of her own head, her face burning as if acid had been poured over her left hemisphere - or was it the other? It gave her a pulsing headache, as if her immune system had found her eyeball and was trying to kill it.
She stepped on the hands reaching out from behind the bars, though she hadn't meant to, sickened by the way the bones cracked beneath the thick soles of her boots. Above her hair, she felt the circular weight of something - like a crown hanging there, tightening like a noose around her throat.
She emerged through a massive circular opening into another hall where she seemed to be... expected?
Huge fires smoldered in three corners, casting a flickering red glow over the bunker-like chamber. A group of men gathered around a massive table, its single leg carved from bone, arguing and pointing accusing fingers at each other. Above them, a huge whole left the sky to be seen, gray and sober. Was she inside a volcano?
" You made him take this decision!
"
" I didn't push him into -
"
" He doesn't need to be pushed, he's deaf to reason! "
" You were the last to be inside!
"
" At last... " With a guttural growl, the smoke that crowned the table seemed to stir, silencing the rest of the men. She didn't oberve the weird mist, coming and uncoming into weird shapes, as if it was trying it's best to come to a conclusional body.
" What happened to that pretty face? "
I command my knees to bend and press a kiss to what should be the hand of the smoke thing. " I took care of the girl so your wise plan could begin, Your Darkness! "
A rasping, wet laugh erupts from behind me, but I do not turn, too full of my own pride. " She cannot be killed, King Draegan, at least not by dae or mortal hands. She will die and be reborn as many times as the holy bitch allows! " They laugh again, pounding the table with their fists.
" I have seen her with my own eyes... She was swallowed by the flames I threw on that farm! My servants where there as well! "
" You may have seen her, but I have never claimed her soul! " The white-dressed skeleton spoke, bits and pieces of skin and muscle forming and evaporating from his hands and face. " Is there anyone left to defend you after you have slaughtered half your palace? "
One of the men, cloathed in red armor, his scarred face bearing countless wounds, bleeding and suppurating, chuckled and leaned on the massive sword he had just drawn from its sheath. " I have heard of stupid fae, but I have never actually met one. There's a better chance humans and half-creatures have better brains than... your kind. "
Swallowing my pride, I rose violently from my kneeling position and pointed an accusing finger at him. " At least I brought something to the table! But what have you done, War? Waiting and hiding here like a rat!"
" I carefully sharpened my blade and waited for the right moment... I didn't slaughter half my servants just to prove I have bigger balls. " A promise of vengeance was written in his black eyes, burning like an endless flame. His smile faltered, his grim face taking the shape of a killer.
An older man stepped out from behind a sculpted pillar, wearing a ruby-colored robe. " Stop lecturing him as if he were a scholar, War! He did what he thought was right for Devourer to fulfill his holy destiny! "
" He may have had the purest of intentions, old man, but his mistake cost us a chance at victory without even putting up a fight! "
" My brother is right, this - nobody has awakened the spirit of the Vespertus. "
The man in green, wearing a rusty, broken crown on his bald head, tore into the neck of a rat and chewed deliberately, bits of flesh spilling through the holes in his cheeks.
" You could've killed this family long ago, throwing a disease among them would have easily wiped them out. " I speak, holding my chin up. " But maybe plague actually got to your head. "
" You're testing my patience...
"
The latter revealed his diseased teeth, a stench of decay emanating from within.
" Stop! If he hadn't done what he already did, you wouldn't even have a chance to rise, War. Neither would Famine or Plague. Only Death would be by His Darkness's side, finally eating their souls. " His gray bread reached his torso as he lowered his head and whispered into what must have been the shadow form's ear.
"
My boy, our agreement is that you bring the Great King to the surface. This honor is something only you can do, there's no need to fight for a place among us. "
" When do we march, Koschei? "
I mouth proudly, stepping closer to the old man.
" The veil isn't thin enough, yet. But I am working on it.
"
Something cold slipped carefully from my leather glove, and suddenly the man in white and the man in red grab me, holding me against the table. " Koschei! What does this mean?! " I scream as the elder raises a curved dagger over my head.
" Now we will give His Darkness a new body, so that you will stop tarnishing His vessel. " A piercing scream caused both women to drop their metal cups. A broken, ragged wail. Malou rushed to the body that had been lifeless only minutes before, now clawing desperately at its chest. The cat leapt up as if burned, reanimated with a violent shudder, nearly shattering the window before Rosalinda caught it and held it carefully in her arms. " Shh! Shh, you're safe, please... " Malou cupped the girl's wet face in her hands, forcing her to look up at her, but her pupils were too dilated, her voice too desperate. " They killed me... they killed me... " She repeated in a trance, her icy hands trembling over her chest, desperately searching for the wound that should have been there, the one carved by the curved dagger that she was sure had split her skin and sternum. " They killed me so he could get in... " " Malou, I think she... " But before Rosalinda could utter another word, the girl collapsed again, her convulsing muscles suddenly still as she sank into another trance. " Is she dead again? " Malou gently placed the girl's hands at her sides and checked her pulse, which had settled into the familiar rhythm of life. She counted her breaths, watched the flickering of her eyelids, then unbuttoned her shirt - only to recoil in horror as a scorched mark appeared above her heart. " Has she been dream-walking before? " The woman asked, pinned against the wall as she struggled to restrain the cat, which now fought to leap back onto the bed beside its mistress. " I have no idea, Rose. I just told you we barely know each other. " Malou buttoned the girl's shirt back up and took the cat from her friend's tense arms, letting it settle comfortably over its owner's head. " If she wakes up like this a few more times, it'll be hard to keep her hidden. Go inform your abbess that we're here. Tell her we are in need and will leave as soon as the girl recovers. " Rosalinda nodded and left the room, taking one last, stunned look at the girl who had finally come back to life.