Chapter 13 Little Bird
Verena
A s I walk through the moonlit night, my only possessions are the tatters of clothing from Ruelle that clung to my body and the dagger I snuck out. The chill in the air was not unbearable, but it seeps into my bones nonetheless. As I made my way from the castle, the forest surrounding it seems to envelop me in its dark embrace. The moon casts eerie shadows through their branches.
I lost track of time, but I know it had been hours since the sun had set. The scent of pine and damp earth fills my senses as I trod on the soft grass, slick with evening dew. The usual cacophony of nature sounds was absent, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
My cheeks are still sticky from the tears that had stained them earlier. But now, they were dry and stiff against my skin, a reminder of the pain and heartache that had led me to this lonely place under the stars.
I cannot believe Hadeon has been Khyrelian this entire time and lied to me about it. He could have helped me escape Dryston long ago but instead, he ignored it. Ignored me. Did he even have a plan to get out of the castle after he was beaten nearly to death? Was he going to leave me? Just that easily?
There are so many questions I needed answer to. The anger surges through me and I can’t hear another word— another lie come from his mouth.
He was the only one I have trusted since my mothers death. The only fae who cared about my well-being, not just as a future queen but as a person. Five years have gone by and I just now realize I know so little about him! How could I have allowed myself to get close to him? I should have known as future queen that the only person I can count on is myself. The more I think about it, the more I feel wretched and deplorable. There’s a self-destructive ember in me wanting to burst and just stop caring. How could I let myself get so desperate for another being to genuinely care about me?
I want to understand why but I also don’t. I’ll find another way to get my revenge on Dryston without Eryx and Hadeon’s help. I’ll-
My breath catches in my throat as I come to a sudden stop, gazing up in awe at the dazzling display of colored lights painting the night sky. Blues and purples swirl and dance across the black backdrop, making the stars seem like mere decorations in comparison. It’s like something out of my wildest dreams, but even more vibrant and real. Tears prick at my eyes, but this time it’s not from sadness or fear — it’s pure wonder and joy. This is something I never knew I was missing. The same unfamiliar energy that pulsed through me during my encounters in Zorya now hums within me again, but this time it’s soft and soothing instead of intense and overwhelming. I realize that this must be what Ruelle was trying to show me in the throne room — the magnificent Aurora Borealis in all its glory. Unlike back home where we could only catch glimpses of it, here it reveals itself every night without fail, unhindered by any buildings or structures. My jaw hangs open as I stand transfixed by the wondrous sight before me.
Not even the Aurora Australis is this beautiful, to me at least. It feels as if everything I have ever imagined clicks into place. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in.
There is a reason I am here. Fate led me down this path. I can’t give up now, I have to make Dryston pay. I open my eyes again and wipe the tears away, not wanting to miss any more of this.
For reasons unknown I have been dreaming of these lights my entire life and the marked hand for at least ten years. This is where I am supposed to be.
A noise breaks me from my watchful gaze, hearing sticks crunch. I was a bit further from the castle, I hadn’t thought anyone had followed on foot but it’s hard to hear anything over my sobs.
I look around; trying to see something, anything.
A mysterious figure appears before me, their silhouette shroud in darkness. Despite my best efforts, I can not make out any distinguishing features.
“You have quite the journey ahead of you, little bird,” a voice spoke from the figure. It was close yet distant, with a feminine tone and an air of wisdom and age. The accent carries a sense of history, something rarely heard nowadays. My eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Naturally, I ask the only question that came to mind. “Who are you?” A soft laugh echoes through the empty space around us, as if we are in an expansive amphitheater.
“The questions you should be asking are: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my journey?” The figure steps forward, revealing themselves to be a woman illuminated by the moon and scattered lights. With each step she takes, her presence seems to grow stronger, pulling me in like a moth to a flame.
Her skin is a dark brown but stark white paint decorates her face with runes and markings so old, they were not in books anymore. Her smile isn’t normal, its stretched across her face like something from nightmarish folklore. White runes decorate her arms, neck, chest, and one single one on her forehead in blood red. The nails on all four of her arms are longer than what is deemed normal. A snake wraps around one, looking to be as her pet with orange, black, and white scales. Where her eyes should be, are only black holes. And her hair is a dark silver, long enough to tangle around her bare feet while her gown is old, ragged, and creme colored from aging. She doesn’t look as old as her accent deemed her to be. She was… pretty.
“Thank you, child.” She says, hearing my thoughts and suddenly all the hairs rise on my skin and my blood runs cold.
“You- you can hear my thoughts?” I ask, my voice raw and shaky. She stalks closer, another hand petting the snake as it eyes me.
“They are loud.” It was a state of fact. Her arm darts out as she grabs mine, holding my wounded forearm up as she peers down at it.
With a sudden burst of strength, I try to wrench my arm from her grasp, but she holds on with an iron grip. Her other hand tears away the bandage, exposing my raw and bleeding wound. Before I can even react, she presses her fingers into the open flesh, smearing my blood across her lips as she licks them hungrily. I wince in pain and struggle to break free, but her strength is unyielding. Desperately, I try to remain calm knowing that if she truly wants me dead, she would have killed me already.
A low hum escapes her lips as she places her now bloodied fingers back onto my wound, this time with a gentleness that sends shivers down my spine. In a voice full of ancient power, she mutters words in a language I’ve never heard before.
As she pulls back and releases me, I watch in awe as my wound miraculously disappears and my skin is left unblemished. “What is the purpose of my journey?” I demand, emboldened by the fact that she has just healed me. She smirks with a twisted smile that refuses to budge, still stained with my blood.
We’re a couple of feet apart now and she trails a set of fingers through my black locks. “The white is prettier.” She throws me off guard before continuing, “Your questions can be answered at a price.” My eyes widen at her remark. How did she know of the white?
“I have nothing to my name but I can grant you-”
She cuts me off, “Your dagger.” Nothing was in my name now; no money, gold, or anything worth value. But, owing a favor was something very few beings turn down. I was going to offer that. The dagger surprises me.
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” Her question makes me ponder. It was a gift from Hadeon and while I might regret gifting it to her later, I need answers now. The curiosity too much to turn down.
Her left brow picks up, surprise written on her face as I pull the blade from under my dress and hold it out to her. Something tells me she is not surprised often but she graciously takes it. Why do I feel like I made a mistake? “Your journey will not be safe. You will have to make hard choices. Trust the king. You and the Dark King will be important together in this journey. The prophecy…” The holes where her eyes should be glow golden, “together you shall bring about war, pain, misery and the utter desolation of the continent…” Her words shake me to my core. Why the fuck would I stay with him then?! “Or… you will empower this continent to flourish in a way never seen before.”
“Why Eryx?” I ask her.
“The Dark King is already tied with you, such a gift happened by the fates, decades ago.”
“What? What does that mean?” The deep thunderous sound of hooves break us from our conversation. It’s hard to see the figure in the darkness and I go to ready my hand on my blade before realizing I gave it to the witch.
“Woah, careful now. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Rumbles the familiar deep and sinfully smooth voice of King Eryx. I roll my eyes at him, even as my heart picks up pace and chills tickle my spine. I look back toward the lady but she is nowhere to be found.
“I’d much rather hurt you first.” I spit back, turning away from her direction and facing him. He rides his horse closer before stopping dead in my path and jumping from the steed.
“You have no right to speak to me that way, I am King.” He stares me down, more shadows billow around us and I scoff— because I clearly have a death wish— and take one step toward him, trying to make him believe I am not afraid of him.
“I care extremely little of your title or anyone else’s. It gives you no automatic respect from me, not anymore.” I try to go around him but he stops me by grabbing my arm and I swiftly turn around before throwing my open palm over his cheek, leaving a pink print on his tan skin. “Do not touch me without my permission.” I leave my head high, which is easy since I have to stare up at him.
He rubs his jaw, an arrogant smirk resting on his face. “Are you done abusing me?” He asks and I scoff before trying to turn again and walk away. “You had no right to speak the way you did to Hadeon. You have no idea the sacrifices he made for you.” His voice was firm now, irritation slipping through. But, it’s enough for me to stop.
I can’t seem to get the witch’s words out of my mind. They echo around like it’s an empty chamber.
I look up at the northern lights again, sighing. “I have every right. He is almost worse than Dryston ever was. Dryston never hid his true colors from me. Hadeon has been lying about who he was this entire time. I can never believe another word that comes from his mouth.” I can’t even force myself to look at the king, how are we going to save the continent if we can never see eye to eye. He does not respect me.
“Then believe me . You have no reason not to trust me.” He’s closer now, I can feel heat radiating from his body as he towers over me from behind. I roll my eyes.
“I do not know you,” I whisper, suddenly unable to speak normally.
“Yet.” He says. “I sent Hadeon to look for a high-fae woman. We knew she stayed in the court, her hair white as the moon with a dark blue streak and indigo eyes. She doesn’t belong there and whichever higher power knew that, made me believe it too when a witch crossed my path to tell me.” My chest rises and falls rapidly at the mention of the witch and my natural hair color. I can’t breathe. “I sent him to look for her and when he found you I knew we couldn’t just take you. There was no proof that you were her since your hair is black. He did not want to get involved with you except I became aware of a threat to your life and couldn’t take the chance of us being wrong. His orders were to protect you, yes, but at some point you became more important than anything to him, even me.” Did the witch tell him the same prophecy? His words make sense, my heart wants to believe him. I can’t imagine being so important to someone they would blatantly disobey orders from their king with such a high standing.
“So you just sent him into enemy territory, planning to leave him there? For how long?” It doesn’t sit right with me. “Why?” I was breathless and everything in me was screaming to turn around to face the king, so I did. I look up into his eyes, dark like a warm autumn night sky, vacant of clouds, stars, or even the pretty lights yet beautiful anyway. “Why?” I push when he doesn’t answer the first time. He looks as if he’s searching for something in me.
Moments pass, silence surrounds us and the lights reflect off our faces. His voice is deep but quiet, “I do not know. I didn’t plan on leaving him there forever, not even for as long as he was. I told him if you were safe and that he could come home but he grew to care for you, Verena. He is your friend. He told me he had to stay but he never told me why.”
Gods damn it. I knew I had no choice but to stay. From his speech and the witch? I needed answers I couldn’t get on my own.
Somehow, my talk in the woods with Eryx and the witch convince me to head back to the castle. I try to walk, but the irritatingly handsome fae king threw me over the back of the horse he rode upon. Then continues to position me in front of him, pressing his very warm and frustratingly strong body against me for the duration of the ride.
I need to speak with him about my plan, but with all the information being dumped into my hands, it was hard to find the right time. Does he know about the prophecy? What will the witch want as her favor? Do I even trust her?
What do I do if he says no? I mean, he seems to have a strong dislike for Dryston anyway, getting my revenge on him should seem like fun for the Dark King.
What did she mean when she said our fates were already combined decades ago? I had never met the Dark King. It didn’t make any sense.
The horse slows at the stables and he jumps down, grabbing my waist and setting me down right after. It happens so fast that I barely have any time process it.
“Goodnight, Verena. You should get some rest.” He steps back to take leave but I grab his arm, making him turn around again. His glare on my hands makes me jolt away and rest them against my chest as if he burned me.
“I have a proposition for you that I would like to speak with you about,” I tell him. The worst he can say is no. I need to do this.
“Tomorrow. There is an issue I must handle.” He leaves then and I somehow find myself back in the luxurious room all alone.
The bed was giant with four posters hanging in dark blue sheer tulle, matching the black sheets and duvet. It had a couple of floor-to-ceiling windows, facing North.
The floor was tile, black with gold marble. All metallic decor seems to be the same; gold. It adds a beautiful contrast to the black. I would think they’d have silver to match the moon. I’d have to remember to ask Ruelle at some point about it.
My eyes narrow as I scrutinize the intricate carvings on the ancient wooden bed frame. The image of a raven, accompanied by a sinister snake, repeats itself throughout the castle. But in this room, the birds outnumber the serpents. At first glance, it appears as if the snakes are attacking or consuming the ravens. Yet upon closer examination, there is a surprising harmony between them.
Suddenly, my mind flashes back to the old witch’s words — her sneering laughter ringing in my ears. “Little bird,” she had called me mockingly. Could she have known about this symbol? About Eryx’s family crest, bearing the same snake and raven? My heart quickens with fear and realization — was Eryx the snake in this scenario? And was I meant to be the innocent bird in his grasp?
Dread settles over me like a shroud as I realize how little I truly know about this Court of Dusk and its mysterious symbols. And for the first time, I am overwhelmed by questions without answers.