Epilogue Pt. 3
Gall & Istral
~ YILAN ~
The following morning, I sat in the beautiful garden of the cottage that Gall and Istral had made their home for the years since we returned from Ebonreach.
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to give them a space they were familiar with—and keep Gall a little separate while he processed everything that had happened.
We’d always intended to bring them into the palace when the time was right, but they’d remained content here—eventually requesting to make it their permanent home.
Melek and I had been more than pleased to give it to them.
I smiled, swallowing back an unexpected pinch of tears as little Naran sidled up to his mother, and put his head in her lap. Istral smiled as she looked down and her sweet fingers trailed through his unruly golden curls.
“Are you well, Nar?” she asked him softly.
He nodded, his little cheek pressed against her thigh, then sighed. “I’m just hungry.”
Istral smiled and Harris and I laughed. Of all the children, Naran had taken his size and strength most directly from the Nephilim.
He was already inches taller than Mael, and always hungry.
It caused issues when he was at the palace.
He looked like a child two or three years older than he was, which at his young age, created a great deal of confusion for adults and other children when they interacted, expecting him to be more developed and controlled in his thinking than he’d had time to grow into.
It caused Gall, in particular, a niggling anxiety, and was one of the reasons I suspected they wanted to stay out here in the cottage.
But Naran needed to play with his peers. So, Harris brought Mael or Adiya, or both, out to play with him most days. The kids loved the garden, and called it their kingdom.
It was both adorable, and somewhat worrying, when we caught Mael and Naran arguing over who would be King, while Adiya rolled her eyes and climbed trees until they figured it out.
But Harris assured us the boys’ conflicts were entirely normal, and they had no real awareness of their own positions—or ours—in society. And since the day Mael innocently asked me why Adiya’s parents didn’t have thrones or crowns, I was inclined to believe her.
“Lunch will come soon. You’ll see it when the servants bring the tray. Until then, you go play,” Istral said softly, teasing her little boy’s hair back from his face.
“But I’m hungry now,” he whined.
Istral’s forehead puckered. I had to stifle the urge to step in. My sister was a very good mother—far more patient than me, though less confident—and she refused to allow any servants beside Harris to watch Naran alone.
I wasn’t surprised. Here we were, almost five years later, and she still occasionally had dreams that Lucifer came to steal him in the night while she slept.
A shout rose in the trees, and we all looked quickly—I wondered if Istral’s heart pounded like mine did—but it was just Melek, calling to the kids for climbing too high.
I sighed in relief, as Istral kissed her son’s head and sent him back to the shrieking Adiya, and Mael’s bossy instructions, in the nearby trees, then took a sip from her tea before meeting my eyes. I was reminded that hers were shadowed by dark smudges, like bruises.
She’d had a rough night.
“You look tired,” I said kindly, once Naran had run off, and we could tell by their yells and the low rumbles of Melek and Gall that the kids were distracted again.
“I had a dream,” Istral said, then looked back towards the children, though they were obscured by the trees now.
Harris and I met each other’s eyes. “Izzy,” I said softly. “You know that we love you, and we’re here for you. If Lucifer ever—”
“Never,” she breathed without looking at me.
“I didn’t lie to you. The Fallen f-fuck was usually gentle with me.
But I think it was only because Gall resisted him when he frightened me,” she said, stumbling over the swear she’d picked up from Melek and Jann—which in any other circumstance would have made me laugh uproariously.
Yet, here and now, when her gaze was so haunted, it seemed like a child’s desperate attempt to make the monster of their dreams seem smaller.
Her cheeks were pink—she still felt bad if she cursed.
But she was fiercely protective of her son, and her mate.
I’d seen her grow in a way I never thought possible.
Though she and Gall leaned heavily on one another for comfort and reassurance, my sister had grown up a great deal since the time she’d been taken.
She no longer shrank from what frightened her. She would fight, even when she was afraid. She was learning to understand her gift, and with Hever’s help, even helping others discover theirs.
It turned out, the Shadekin had stifled gifts we didn’t know our bloodlines possessed. Jann liked to annoy me by saying we’d all shoved our gifts up our asses along with our principles. Melek told me to ignore him. But in the quiet of my heart, I could admit there was probably some truth in it.
Still, with Hever’s help and the new peace, our people were growing. It was a joy to me that my sister had led the way. And a petty delight that we knew it would piss Lucifer off that he’d unintentionally opened that powerful door for us.
Harris, who sat next to Istral at the table, reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The apothecary has those herbs for a dreamless sleep. We could still—”
Izzy shook her head. “They make me… slow,” she said quietly, turning to look towards the trees where the men and children were again, her lips curling up when Naran shrieked, and Adiya laughed.
“I need to fight. To resist the fear,” my sister said darkly.
“Not alone, though,” I reminded her. “We’re all in this—”
“Hever helps me,” she replied with a glance at me. But she squirmed in her seat.
“The dreams,” I said carefully. “It’s been a while—was this one still about when Lucifer would take you away? Or—”
“No. It’s always… it’s always stealing Naran, and… and that feeling I had when he was growing. The… the cold inside that made him afraid. Hever says not to worry. But I do.”
I sat up straighter. This part of her story had never been resolved to my peace. She still couldn’t explain that feeling, and none of us had ever—
“I assure you, Lady Istral, that the feeling wasn’t a presence, but your child’s insight. An insight which I believe will grow as he grows.”
I startled when Hever appeared just behind my shoulder.
I’d jokingly referred to him as the spider more than once, but it was because he had the same habit of dropping into line of sight from nowhere, right where he’d make me scream.
After years, knowing the man was truly loyal to Melek and had been an invaluable resource to all of us, that meant he had to be doing it just to irritate me.
It worked.
“Ah, Hever. So kind of you to join us,” I said, perhaps a little sharper than he deserved, but Istral smiled when she saw him and her gaze cleared.
“Can you explain it again?” she asked him as he bowed to me, then to her. “Yilan will understand.”
I was flattered by my sister’s confidence, but also very curious.
Hever nodded once, then turned to me and Harris.
“I’ve been explaining to Lady Istral that the bloodline mingling of Shadekin and Nephilim is…
rich with opportunities. I believe that Lady Istral’s healing ability was always present, but dormant because she tended to fear her own power, so stifled it.
In any case, as we discover more of your Shadekin powers—my theory is that she…
removes darkness,” he added, frowning slightly.
“I don’t know if Naran has inherited a portion of that power, or if his gifting is different.
But while he hasn’t yet shadow walked, the boy clearly has a gift for…
seeing to the heart of things. Perhaps, seeing through darkness?
He is young, and lacks the language to inform me yet.
But with time and maturity, we will be able to define it distinctly, I’m sure. ”
“Is that part of why he’s… careful?” I asked uncertainly.
Naran was an extremely sensitive child, and though he didn’t seem to possess any of the mental acuity or developmental challenges his parents had faced, he remained…
different. Adverse to risk, always watching for danger—and sometimes eerily insightful with his questions.
Hever nodded. “In part. Some is just his protective heart. He’s becoming aware of the need to watch out for those he loves,” Hever said carefully.
“That is, I believe, what Istral sensed. Her son was alone in her womb, but his gift was already present. He was instinctively aware of the dark surrounding his mother at that time. It is a skill that will make him even more powerful and insightful as he grows. Especially once he has fought the battle with his own will.”
Hever followed Istral’s gaze towards the trees, and gestured towards them.
“There is something among the Shadekin—something God-given. The Shadows of Shade are God’s physical manifestation of what I see in our people.
A hedge of protection, if you will. While they exist, the enemies of our people will never overrun Theynor.
There will always be a place of safety, and perhaps…
Perhaps the giftings of our children will demonstrate more and more the rich nature of the ways we are protected? ”
I hoped he was right.
To my relief, Melek had been very, very careful about which Neph were selected to enter Theynor. Even so, Turo, and our other warriors, had taken months to relax. As had I.
None of us had left Ebonreach unscathed. None of us would be quick to trust, or open our arms to any former adversary.
However, there was no denying… the mingling of our people worked. The Neph who’d resisted the Fallen learned manners and chivalry from our Shadekin men, and the Shadekin were learning to… loosen up, as Jann liked to put it.