Epilogue
At last. A druidborne. The one born under the Cygnet Moon. A sinister grin tugged at the corners of her ruby-red lips. She pulled her slender finger from the fountain where she had summoned the vision. The last of the ethereal glow faded as the ripples tickled the edges of the copper basin.
The little human queen perched atop her throne. So innocent. So unaware of the power coiled beneath her skin. It pulsed like a newborn star—bright, wild, and unclaimed. At that age, Helene had had the same naivety and untapped potential.
The druid queen now paced in her lush garden, crunching the gravel beneath her heeled shoes as she floated from one carved planter to the next.
She occasionally stopped only to pluck a bloom, examine it, and squish it in her fist. The latest flower to fall victim to her frustration was a white rose—a desdemona—and its thorns bit deep into her flesh.
She hissed at it, examining the fat droplets of blood that formed in her palm.
“Are you all right, Your Majesty?” one of her servants asked. The queen glared at him. He flinched and scurried away.
Years ago, the bleeding would have stopped already, and the skin would have healed completely. No longer. Their remaining essence was fading, faster now than ever before. Helene’s only hope to restore the Well after hundreds of years of waiting was a human child, now enthroned in Valoria.
Elara Evensong. She should hate the girl. Should want her dead. But the Well had chosen Elara, and Helene had never been able to defy its will—not truly.
The queen’s scouts had reported on the recent Serendithian coronation, a show of unity and hope for peace within the human realm. Helene had scoffed at their foolishness and thrown her breakfast plate at the poor messenger.
“Bring her to me,” she’d commanded, her voice like broken glass.
A war is coming, Elara. And you, my dear, are on the wrong side.
“Join us, Druidborne,” she said, voice low as she pressed her bloodied palm to the fountain’s edge. “Or perish.”
Crushed white petals floated to the ground, only to be smashed under the druid queen’s stride.