CHAPTER 32
I watch in helpless horror as my daughter slashes her throat, Elora is watching, and I can’t decipher her expression.
Did she know what my daughter would do, if she did, how could she let her?
Claire was just a child. My heart stops as the blade runs across her tiny throat.
The air expels from my lungs instantly and my stomach drops somewhere dark and cold within me.
Claire’s life bleeds out of her and I scream loud at what I witnessed.
My soul shatters, watching my precious little girl so full of life just sacrifice herself without hesitation.
Heart shattering and soul crushing pain destroys me as I watch her skin pale, everything happening in the blink of an eye.
Silas’s agonized scream rings out, and I see the Dragon Kings run toward them.
Elora, sacrificing herself, running the blade tarnished with my daughter’s blood across her throat.
One by one, the Dragon Kings fall to their knees, horrified at what she has done.
I watch each one of them fall, a deafening scream leaving each of them as they clutch their chests dropping dead along with her.
Murmurs from the crowd of shocked onlookers.
None of the legends I have heard were like this to break the curse on the Dragons.
I should have known better, should have seen this, should have gone with my gut.
This wasn’t the spell to break the curse on the Dragon’s.
This was the spell to break the curse on Fae.
My legs tremble as I rush to my daughter, I crash to my knees beside her lifeless body before scooping my arms under her, cradling her to my chest. Her clothes are stained with blood and sticking to me, so much blood.
It is everywhere staining her tiny body, coating her face and hair.
Her body is going cold in my arms. My mother’s tormented scream rings through the crowd as I hold her limp body in my arms. “Mama,” I sob, tears rolling down my face as she rushes over, clutching us.
My little girl is gone, but why couldn’t I feel her death?
I can see her dead in my arms, yet I can still feel her energy with me.
I still feel Elora’s and that of the Dragon Kings too.
The crowd goes silent. Nobody knows what to do, or what they just witnessed.
We just watched the fall of the Dragon Kings, the fall of a kingdom of horror.
That’s when I first notice them. People in the crowd begin dropping like flies, collapsing amongst those watching.
Is this the end? Are we all destined to die?
My mother brushes my daughter’s hair from her face.
The face of an angel. But she doesn’t look dead, despite the blood covering her, no she looks at peace, asleep.
My mother gets up, turning Elora’s face toward her and I notice her Fae markings changing to a deeper purple, blossoms spreading across her cheek and down her neck.
Magic is running rampant in her veins, I feel it growing stronger, and I watch aghast. The cut on her neck begins to heal, closing like the bloody edges are being sewn back together, like puzzle pieces being realigned and her skin closes like it has never been cut.
My mother rushes over to the Dragon Kings kneeling next to them, they too begin changing, the same marking spreading like wildfire across their bare chests only red and angry.
“They are still warm,” my mother gasps.
“They’re not dead?” I whisper, looking down at my daughter, shaking her slightly and rubbing her cheek, the wound healing across her neck but not waking.
“Come on baby girl, come back to me. Come back to your mommy” I cry, praying to the fates that they let her live.
Suddenly, I hear a gasp and watch as Elora snaps upright.
Her eyes burn brightly, brighter than any jewel I have ever seen.
The crowd is shocked at what they are witnessing before Elora screams in agony.
Clawing at her back, her skin gleaming and shimmering as she moves.
Her screams of agony move through the crowd as they clutch their ears, trying to drown the noise.
“Mom you need to remove her cloak,” I tell her as I watch as Elora desperately tries but fails to remove the cloak as it restricts her movement.
My mother rushes toward Elora and removes it while Elora flairs around, her nails digging into her back, digging at something she could only feel, her skin bleeding from her nails tearing her flesh.
When I hear groaning, my eyes snap in the direction of the Dragon Kings as they get to hands and knees their eyes dart to her.
“Elora,” Silas breathes, stumbling over himself to get to her, only for him to be pulled back by Matitus and Dragus just in time for everyone to be hit with a wave of power, Elora’s scream of agony knocks the breath out of everyone as we become swallowed by the blinding light.
My eyes burn in my head, forcing me to close my eyes under its harshness before the darkness returns.
I hear voices of shock and awe, making my eyes open.
Elora is doubled over on the ground panting, blood pouring from her back but that wasn’t why everyone is amazed.
It is the wings sprouting from her back.
I gasp. Fae haven’t had wings since the war.
Only the true heir of the throne and those of the royal bloodline had wings.
They look magnificent, crystal clear, the moonlight making them shimmer, like trying to look at the rainbow within a bubble.
Elora stands up and I can see the shock on her face, she doesn’t understand what is going on, doesn’t understand how she is alive as she looks out at the crowd.
“Mommy.”
I hear the softest of murmurs and my heart swells as I look down and see my angel, her wounds now healed, looking back up at me.
“Yes, baby I am here, mommy is here,” I tell her and her eyes flutter turning white, a sight I know is her visions, her seeing the future.
One I would never become familiar with seeing.
My daughter is not just blessed with the visions but cursed, and over the four years of her life they have made her have many sleepless nights tormenting her dreams.
“The Queen of Draquin has been reborn,” she whispers, passing out in my arms, the rise and fall of her chest reminding me she is alive, she will live but it is too much on her little body.