A Heart of Ice and Shadow (Shadows Eternal #2)

Chapter 17

Gwen’s knees buckled as her feet hit solid ground. She managed to keep herself upright—barely. The sunlight was blinding, the warmth startling compared to the frigid cold of the snow she’d left. They stood amongst a rocky field of tall purple flowers against the backdrop of a grand lake nestled at the base of a mountain range.

It was breathtaking. Or it might’ve been if Gwen wasn’t too busy hyperventilating to take it all in. “What—” It’d all happened so fast. Too fast. She hadn’t been ready.

“I’ve always been fond of this place,” Iathana mused as she delicately brushed her finger along one of the vibrant blooms. “There is little natural magick here, but it is soothing all the same.”

Gwen forced herself to take deep breaths. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she huffed. “I didn’t even?—”

“I don’t care to be lied to,” the dryad replied.

She slid her cloak off her shoulders, revealing muscled arms and a soft green tunic that was elaborately tailored with folds and embroidery. It looked more like a living thing than a piece of clothing.

Something felt different, Gwen recognized. Softer. It took her a moment to realize it was Iathana’s magick. It was far less overwhelming to her now. The dryad seemed almost normal, except for the fact that she was clearly a faerie. Tall, with long limbs and pointed features.

“I didn’t—” Gwen started.

“I am far older than I look,” the dryad interrupted, her tone easy. “I learned to uncover untruths from the best weavers of words and magick long ago. I asked if you wished to come to the Veil, but you did not, so I brought you here instead.”

Iathana distracted herself with the purple blossoms as Gwen tried to steady her erratic heartbeat.

“Where are we?” she asked warily.

“Does it matter?”

Gwen scowled so deeply her face hurt. “So you’re not going to take me to the Veil?”

The dryad looked over, and Gwen felt a shiver of power vibrate through her. “The Veil of the White Wood is a sacred place, as I told you,” Iathana replied. “I do not casually allow outsiders. If you wish to come with me, I will honor my offer despite your lie, but you must truly desire it.”

Gwen’s head started to throb, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew this was a big deal, and she knew she was botching it big time. “I’m sorry,” she said, followed by a deep sigh. “For lying. I just—” The words wouldn’t form. She didn’t want to talk about Sirus. Not yet. Gwen knew she couldn’t go back, but she didn’t want to go forward either. She felt stuck. Maybe Iathana should just leave her here in this purple-flowered purgatory.

“Do you love him?”

The directness of the question sent a shock up Gwen’s spine. “What—That’s—” she sputtered. Iathana set her with a look that said there was no point in lying. “It doesn’t matter,” she ground out.

The dryad raised her brows at that, the gold of her eyes shimmering in the light of the sun. “You’re a formidable creature,” she observed, looking Gwen over. “I could see why he would become attached to you, but not why you would care for something such as him.”

Heat flushed over Gwen from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. “He isn’t a something,” she clipped protectively. “He’s a vampire.”

“I’ve not thought fondly of his kind,” the dryad continued, looking at Gwen with a curious glint. “Vampires are cold and callous creatures, driven by bloodthirst. But they are still human in some regards. Still bound to the earth and its magicks at their core. Sirus has proven to be more than simply a creature of death and destruction like his forebears, but even he is limited by the magick used to create him. He knows his place in this world. He also knows you are meant for more.”

Gwen’s ears burned. She didn’t want to hear one more word out of Iathana’s mouth about Sirus. “How is this any of your business?” she hissed, her fingers tingling with magick.

“I’ve long felt your presence, Gwendolyn. Long before you ever drew breath as you are. The magick you wield is great. It is also a heavy burden.”

That took the wind right out of her sails. Gwen looked up into the dryad’s golden eyes. “You know what I am?” she asked around the lump in her throat. “Where the magick comes from?”

The dryad smiled softly before she said, “Vampires are not the only creatures to suffer prejudice from the Folk. Most believe dryads are spurred to action only by the whispers of the trees and the hum of the earth. They are not wholly wrong—or right. The simple truth is, we are patient; we listen. I came because Levian asked, and she is dear to me. It was only when I arrived that I recognized the power within you. I cannot claim to know who you are, child, but I know you are a daughter of Fate. I know because I have been waiting for you to come to me for a long while now.”

A tear fell down the brim of Gwen’s nose and plopped onto the ground. Iathana was being cryptic, but she could feel the dryad’s promise. She could give her the answers she’d been waiting for.

Daughter of Fate.

Other names had been given to her in her dreams. Daughter of Darkness. Child of Shadows. Gwen began to tremble. She felt the pull like a magnet to a pole. Iathana and the Veil were the next step in her path toward answers.

Gwen took a step. Then another. A third. Then she stopped.

“The Veil is Eden,” the dryad said. “You will live happily there. Be free to do as you wish without fear of injury or judgment. No one will hunt you. No one will use you. I will teach you what you wish to know of your magick. All you need to do is tell me you desire it, and for it to be the truth.”

It was everything Gwen had wanted. All they’d wanted for her. Peace. Safety. Answers.

Barith and Levian had often joked about being black sheep. How they were all outcasts who had found their way to one another. Gwen had never been a part of a family, but she’d felt like one with them and Sirus and Niah and Rath. She looked down at the sweater she wore. Dark red with green stars. It was hideous, but she loved it because Rath had knitted it for her.

The idea of this perfect Eden should have elated her. Instead, it filled her with dread. “What if I want more?” she asked the dryad.

Iathana looked upon the field as a breeze slipped over the flowers. “Love is a thing of chaos,” she observed. “It’s hard at times to know your own heart, let alone the heart of another. It’s not my place to deduce the plans of the Fates, but you and the vampire’s paths were woven together. They have been since the beginning. It’s up to you whether they remain so.”

All this talk of Sirus and love was rattling her brain. Gwen stood and stalked through the field of flowers. She snatched a bloom in her anger and held it in her hand.

Chaos. Fate. Love. Magick. It was all a giant cocktail of nonsense.

She took in a deep breath and held it. “I keep having this dream,” she confessed, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “There’s this thing coming for me that I know I have to face, but Sirus is always there to face it with me.”

I’m sorry. The words she spoke in her dream over and over sparked a flame within her. Sirus’s soft touch in that same dream. His words. Her sadness. That kiss. Without him to anchor her, she felt adrift.

A soft shimmer of blue light radiated from beneath her fingers, and Gwen let the bloom in her hand fall to the ground. She let out a stuttered breath as she felt her magick slip over her skin. She looked up at the dryad. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, her voice quaking. “I don’t even know what I am.” Gwen shook her head. “Selda asor List?.” It’s what the voices had called her in her dream.

Iathana descended to her and took her hand softly in her own. “Daughter of Fate and Darkness, your path is yours to choose, just as your heart is yours to give.”

The magick dissipated into nothing, the pull of the Veil fading as Gwen realized it would never be. “What will happen?” she breathed.

“Dryads do not meddle in the toils of the other Folk,” Iathana told her. “We do not involve ourselves in their plights for power. The balance of magick is delicate, and the burden upon you is a heavy one, Gwendolyn. If you choose this path, I cannot help you.”

A knot twisted inside Gwen’s stomach. She had to choose.

Deep down, she felt fear urging her to take the dryad’s offer. To follow her down the path of joy and light and answers. The path she was meant to take. A cold touch of dread swept over her, and she closed her eyes. There was a flash of fire and smoke and snow. Of magick. Of blood. Of Sirus on his knees. “Selda asor List?, len. Olnw? asor Huin?,” the whispered voices from her dreams echoed.

Come, Daughter of Darkness. Child of Shadows.

Gwen gasped, her eyes flying open. “I-I have to go back,” she stuttered desperately. “Sirus—he’s in trouble.” She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel it like a rattle in her bones. Something bad was happening back at Volkov, and something worse would follow.

Iathana held her gaze for a moment, searching her eyes. “You are of flesh and power. Bone and magick,” she told her. “May Moldorn guide your way home, child.”

Gwen tensed, panic flooding her. “You—you have to take me back. I have to go?—”

There was a rush of wind and a shudder of magick. In a blink, Iathana was gone, and Gwen stood alone.

Sirus was reeling from Gwendolyn’s loss, but it was clear the mage was also struggling with the aftermath of her reunion with Merlin. “How my mother fell for that—” Levian’s eyes flashed violet before she shook it off. She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “He’s been locked up too long if he thought his tricks weren’t obvious.”

Merlin was a self-obsessed tyrant, but he was also patient and calculating. Nothing about him was ever obvious.

“He found my friendship with vampires amusing,” she explained. “And my distaste of D?kk magick conventional.” Levian let out a deep, weighted breath. “It’s good she’s gone, Sirus.” She looked over at him with reluctant relief. “I know we’re all sad that she is, but Gwen will be safer in the Veil.”

“What did he tell you?” Sirus pressed.

“We spoke alone for a long while. Much of it was of no importance. He told me he knew all about my scuffle with the daemons. He also knew about my conference with the Council. His little spies remain present everywhere, it seems,” she grumbled. Levian scowled and met his eye. “He mentioned the Celestial Stars all on his own. I told him nothing.”

An unease fell over him.

The mage stood and began to pace in the snow with nervous energy. “The Star of Terra remains hidden in the earth,” she confirmed. “The Star of Aether is thought to be hidden amongst the fae. The Star of Umbra was said to be cast into the Abyss during the fall of the D?kk.” She fiddled with one of her long necklaces. “Merlin mentioned the Stars unprompted. He blathered about the Star of Aether like a gossiping witch for so long, I began to wonder if maybe his time in The Prison hadn’t actually driven him mad.”

Perhaps it was the Star of Aether’s magick that Gwendolyn possessed. At least in part. A subtle pain stretched inside Sirus. They had talked of Stars and her magick, but deep down he had not truly believed it possible.

Levian stopped her fidgeting and grew tense. Her eyes drifted between Niah and Sirus, her expression worried. “I was wrong,” she told them.

“How so?” Niah inquired, glancing at Sirus.

The mage let out a breath through her nose, as if rallying her nerve. “He spoke so long of the Star of Aether, I was sure he was going to tell me he knew where it was. He never did. In my growing impatience, I eventually asked him.”

A shudder fell over her, and Levian wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “He laughed,” she told them with a sickened expression. “Then he told me with great amusement that the Star of Aether remains in Vasan, hidden and protected by the Autumn Fae.”

“So Gwendolyn doesn’t hold the Star’s magick?” Niah asked, clearly unsure where this was going.

Levian glanced between them again, and it struck Sirus suddenly why she was so tentative. It was because she was speaking with vampires.

“Umbra,” he guessed with a shudder of his own.

The mage went pale.

“That’s impossible,” Niah scoffed. “Merlin was lying.”

Sirus wanted to think the same, but his instincts told him otherwise. He’d always felt a draw to Gwendolyn that was something almost primitive. Something beyond reason and understanding. Her magick had spoken to him in a way that set his blood aflame. It was magick Sirus knew. Familiar because it was built into his very essence. Into the essence of all vampires.

“You think he spoke the truth?” Sirus pressed the mage, his heart pounding frantically beneath his ribs.

“Yes,” she replied, meeting his eye. “I do.”

“Even if it’s true and the Star of Umbra wasn’t cast out, Merlin has been imprisoned for centuries. He couldn’t have bound it to Gwen,” Niah pointed out flatly.

Levian shook her head and continued to pace. “No. It couldn’t have been him, but Merlin was testing me. Testing if I could follow his ramblings about the Stars and Nestra and the object she was after. To his credit, I’m not sure if I’ve unraveled it or if I’ve just fallen for his bait.” The mage stopped her pacing. “All I know for certain is that I went to Merlin for answers, and this is what he hinted at. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I’m tempted to believe it’s possible.”

She looked to Sirus. “Even if I’m wrong, I think Nestra believes it. Merlin knew she’d been researching D?kk magick. That she was hunting power to harness. At least in the Veil we can trust that Gwen will be protected. Until we can get this all sorted, anyway.”

“Will Iathana be able to confirm it?” Niah asked, a hint of anxiousness laced in her voice. “If she does possess the magick of a Star?”

Levian’s eyes flared violet. “Yes,” she replied flatly. “Perhaps not right away, but in time.”

Silence lingered as the weight of it all settled over them.

Sirus could feel Niah’s tension at the prospect. If it was true that Gwendolyn possessed a part of the magick used to create vampires, there was a chance her magick could save them. He was not so optimistic or naive. The source of the magick might still exist, but the spells woven by their makers were long-lost and fading.

“What I told Barith was true,” Levian added. “The Veil is no prison, Sirus. When this is finished, whatever the source of her magick turns out to be, Gwen could always return.”

There it was again—a hint of hope. The sky was dense with dark gray clouds. The snow had ceased for now, but it would soon fall harder. “Gwendolyn is where she belongs,” he replied. Once she was in the Veil, he knew she would never return.

He sensed Niah bristle, but he was in no mood for her arguments. “You should rest,” he told Levian. “We can?—”

A rustle ran through the trees and sent a shockwave of awareness through him.

Niah and Levian stilled as they sensed it too.

The whole forest fell quiet.

His eyes narrowed as the sky skittered with white streaks of magick that cascaded over the barrier surrounding Volkov. He shifted to the west, and a low growl echoed through his chest.

Levian swore as Barith shot down from the sky and landed between them in a blur of fire. “She’s come,” he snarled. “There are at least forty paladins, maybe more.”

A deafening crack split the silence of the forest. A crack Sirus felt deep in his bones.

Nestra was here. At his door. She’d come to collect what he’d taken from her.

Another crack filled the night. The magick of the forest hummed in response as Nestra struck at the old spells protecting it. Sirus’s pulse roared in his ears. He met Niah’s eyes and saw the same hunger reflected before they turned black.

Sirus had lived long centuries, but Gwendolyn had shown him what it was to feel truly alive. He would cherish the moments they’d shared and the joys she’d brought to him—her smiles, her laughter—always, in this life and whatever waited for him beyond. It comforted him to know she would be happy. That she was safe.

He’d failed her in so many ways, but in this he would not. He would make sure Nestra ended her pursuit of Gwendolyn, here and now. Sirus looked off into the forest. His blood ran hot as he let the controlled monster within him free.

He was not merely a vampire. He was Death. The Hound of Hell. And it was time for him to do what he did best.

Hunt.