52
Keltania
There’s a tiny whisper in the link—an echo that’s all Valen—but I push it away. It’s desperate and it’s concerned and it’s distracting. The only thing that matters is the woman standing in front of me.
Aphelian.
Levina.
My mother.
“You made a mistake,” I say. At least I think it’s me. The words are mine, as is the sentiment, the rage, but the voice… The voice is unfamiliar. It’s dark and laced with raw power. I walk toward her. The floor beneath my feet ignites, flames crawling all around me. They don’t burn. In fact, I’ve never felt more at home.
“I did not,” she answers. She doesn’t move—which is amusing. If she knew what was coming, the things I intend to do to her, she’d be long gone by now. “I made you more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You are the first druid—the first being—to hold dominion over three different breeds of magic. You can do anything.”
“If that’s true, then you should be afraid.” I take another step toward her. My limbs feel…strange. Heavier than they should, yet light in a way that makes me think I can fly.
“I am not your enemy, Keltania. We are blood. Together, we can remake this world!”
Her voice is like an ember set to dry tinder. It lights an inferno in my chest.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I reply. “The best way is to do that without you in it!”
I spread my arms and focus on warmth. Flames flare to life, engulfing my limbs the same way they had Gensted’s. I point to Aphelian. A circle of fire surrounds her, thick smoke curling into the air. Gensted is standing on the other side. He lifts his hands, and a second circle blazes.
“How dare you,” she roars. “I gave you this power!”
“Like I said…” I close my eyes and focus on the heat, willing it to rise higher, burn hotter. Opening my eyes, I smile. “Your mistake.”
Aphelian screams, and the ground shakes. The walls of the cottage rumble. Bits of the moss-covered wall begin to flake off, and pieces of the bark-made ceiling fall. Within moments, between the quaking I assume is her doing and the intense fire that is Gensted’s and mine, the walls start collapsing in.
“Tania,” he calls. He’s still in the corner, one hand stretched toward Aphelian, the other toward me. “Tania, please. Leave her. We have to go.”
“She needs to pay for what she’s done.” I breathe in. I should be choking on the smoke. Gagging and gasping in an attempt to get a gulp of clean air. But it doesn’t bother me. There’s no sting in my eyes, no burning in my throat. “For what she intends to do. She will never stop.”
The heat doesn’t bother him, either. He might not have ever wanted magic, but he’s made peace with it. “Right now, you’re my main concern. We need to get you out of here.”
Aphelian laughs. “Afraid your Fae magic is too much for her?” She lifts her hand and points to Gensted. Thick, thorny vines burst from the smoking floor and wrap around his legs, pinning him in place. “Or is it fear that she’ll see reason and turn on you?”
He’s struggling to free himself from the vines, but with no luck. I snap my fingers. The vines shrivel and burst into flame.
“Go,” I say. “This is between her and me.”
“Tania—”
“Leave!” I roar. The walls shake, and the smoke thickens. Gensted hesitates a moment longer before running for the door. Once he’s gone, I turn back to Aphelian. She’s annoyed, glaring at the door like I’ve just stolen her favorite toy.
“So you’ve chosen, then?” She closes the distance between us, stopping just inches from where I stand. I register sadness in her eyes, but more than that, there’s anger. Rage. Indignance and stunned disbelief. She truly believed I would side with her in the end. “Them over me?”
“This was never my choice to make,” I say, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek.
A barrage of images flashes through my mind. The possibilities. The things that could have been if she’d only abandoned this madness thousands of years ago. She could have run faster. Hidden better. She could have had a life, raised me herself.
Instead, she decided annihilating an entire people was more important. Chasing a prophecy she had no way of truly understanding. She is where it started. All those years ago, her selfishness set me on the path to being adrift. Untethered. I called Lunal home once, felt that I’d belonged. But the truth was, I never had. I wasn’t human. Wasn’t Fae. Not a royal and not a druid.
I spread my arms and focus on the fire, on the druid power, willing them to merge. Aphelian screams as she’s thrown back and the walls of the cottage are eaten away in the fire.
Air rushes all around me. The fire tearing through the tree burns hotter, the flames licking at my skin, caressing every inch of me. There’s a shift in my center of gravity. My feet—my fingers—they feel different. Hotter but lighter somehow.
I tilt my head back, a scream erupting from my throat. It’s inhuman, though. Primal.
It’s animal .
My limbs itch and ache. I try to spread my fingers, to extend each digit and rid myself of the building cramp, but they’re…stuck. Fused together and burning. I try to take a step forward, to move out of the fire, but there’s no ground beneath my feet. I manage to dip my chin—barely—and see the cottage in flames, Aphelian looking up at me from below.
Ten feet below.
“No…” She staggers back, eyes trained on me. In all my years, I’ve never seen such horror on her face. Such…jealousy?
Smoke fills my nostrils, the thickness of it not choking me but giving me new life. Everything starts to swim until it fades and I’m standing back on the cliff in the Dream, only this time Aphelian isn’t here. She’s not here—but I’m not alone.
In front of me, at the edge of the rock, is a bird, its feathers the colors of the sun, changing, blazing, churning with power. It turns to me, eyes as green as fresh pine.
“What—what are you?”
It doesn’t answer, instead taking a step toward me. With a bow, it extends its neck, brushing the tip of its massive beak against my forehead.
In an instant, the cliff is gone, replaced by the still-burning cottage. Aphelian is still there. The fire still blazes. Everything is the same.
Except me.
I am you , a voice says inside my head. And you are me. Until the end of your days, child of nature.
Heat blooms in my chest, and I’m flying. Through the open top of the tree and into the clouds, soaring on the wings of a firebird. Aphelian could do it. Her other form, a crow, followed us the entire way to Ventin, watching every move.
I’m human. A druid. Connected to our power in a way no one has been in thousands of years. But I’m also Fae. An Autumn Fae. Born of royal blood and now connected to that line’s fire magic.
Back down on the ground, it’s as easy as breathing to slip back into my human form. I stand and face Aphelian.
I am nature.
I am fire.
I am ice.
The omen prophecy has come true… It’s me.