Chapter 36 #2
“Yes. I have a basement of statues—humans. They found themselves in my lands, on the precipice of agony, and I listened to them go mad before I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to, but—”
“But you did. With intention. Because this power is yours to control.”
“You cannot be telling me that all this time it has been my choice.”
“I cannot? Really? Why? Why would you ever suggest there is anything I cannot do, Castor? Don’t be foolish or, worse, annoying.
I am a story fae. I traverse the realms here and beyond.
I watch the universe ebb and grow. I write new moments into blooming tales.
I prompt and alter. I incite incidents. I send heroes on their journeys.
I commune with others of my kin in worlds you’ve never heard of and will never touch without my blessing.
” Coolly, she crosses her arms and huffs.
“Know your place. Our very worst enemies will always, always be the things we bring upon ourselves. Because no matter how horrible what someone else might inflict on us is, it is on us how we receive the information, process it, and set it free. True change cannot be forced. We make choices and respond to the plotline of our lives. True change is a choice. Yet, often, it happens when we are out of other options. When we have come so low the only thing left is to desperately claw our way out of the pit and on to a different path.”
Anger vibrates in my chest. “If it was all on me, from the start, why did you not tell me ages ago?”
“Because. First of all, you wouldn’t have been desperate enough to believe me. And, secondly, I am not responsible for you.”
“What?”
“Camilla Evergreen.”
That name. Again. “What about her?”
“She’s responsible for you, not me. Your story is in her library, not mine…
though I do suspect we meet in many ways, touching in the cracks between our worlds, cowriting on occasion.
We are watchers, creators, recorders…but within our own realms, we limit our powers for the safety of all.
There are rules on what we should do. Often, I wonder if we create anything at all when we touch a new world, or if we merely discover something that already was and give it a new perspective.
Camilla is the one who discovered you and your potential.
She observed you. She nudged pieces together, watched pieces fall apart.
She wove my role into your tale, and perhaps one day I will return the favor for a tale of hers, but for the moment, I am merely the catalyst that informs you that, yes, actually, accountability is a thing.
You can move on from this, blaming what you are as the reason behind why you can’t fit in, or you can take responsibility, accept what you are, and wield your powers with the kinder intentions that you have grown to value. ”
It can’t be that simple.
It can’t all be my fault.
“And yet, it is.” Her hands close against my cheeks, and her voice—for once—is sweet.
“You are a being of intense emotion with a distinct set of core beliefs. You were born hard, cruel, and violent in a world that was all of those things. You have grown in them. You have grown past them. You have tried to block them out and turn a blind eye on them. You have come a long way…and you are now choosing to be soft, to be kind, to be gentle. Believe you have changed, Castor. Believe that you are also a being capable of rebirth.”
“And if I’m not?” I ask, voice breaking. “Ever since Pollux told me that my house of statues retained life, I have been trying in my spare moments to undo the stone, to no avail.”
“Yes, and you—like Pollux—have longed for a mate that never came until the moment you truly believed it might be possible. Must I spell everything out for you?”
“Yes.” Obviously.
Once more, she sighs, blessedly remaining unfathomably gentle.
“You have spent the past month renaming Danielle—as yours, as love, as strength, as everything. She has taken that power within herself and grown with it. Through you, she is reclaiming her own name and how she views who she is. She is taking up space. She is finding joy, purpose, and peace in how you see her. She is the fire to your foundation. The freedom to your stability. Accept the names she gives you in return, and use them to rewrite what you believe about yourself. Belief, we know as faeries, is powerful. You have come far in reshaping who you are. Face the parts of your past that you can; release the parts you can’t.
Accept the things about you that you—as you are right now—do not want to change yet feel guilty for keeping.
Be kind in response to your mistakes. Be understanding that the future will hold imperfections.
Give yourself grace one step at a time, Castor.
For once you have cast off the self-loathing and anger of your past, you must enter the next chapter and write your own story. ”
Releasing me, Alice steps away, returning to seat behind the counter. Calm as ever, she draws her touch across the wood and murmurs, “Sooner or later, Castor, everyone finds themselves at the end. That is where all story fae relinquish their power. But what happens next…”
A fist locks around my heart, but I say, “Is all on me.”
Kinder than I’ve ever known her to be, Alice smiles. “Precisely.”