Chapter 41
UNWORTHY
Seryn
By the time the next day’s dusk fell, the songs and laughter of the feast had faded into memory. The whole day had been subdued as if holding its breath, and when the sun dipped, mist spilled over the bog like it finally exhaled over cold glass.
Each step toward Hallowed End drove another lance into my belly.
The air was damp and smelled faintly of smoke, tinged with decay, but also with the richness of wet soil, algae, and fresh doombarks. With the promise of new life and new beginnings.
Sunset bled across the horizon, smearing crimson over the swamp like spilled blood—mine, maybe, or the realm’s. It was too easy to imagine it seeping from my heart and into the murky water.
Unworthy.
The thought scraped against my skull, and I ground my teeth together, crushing my insecurities between the enamel.
Not here. Not now.
Gavrel’s hand brushed against my lower back as if sensing the storm inside me. His touch was a gentle reminder that he was there. But I knew. His presence never left me, even when we were apart.
My palms glided down the length of my white dress.
I hadn’t worn white since the Dormancy; wearing it now felt like reclamation.
The soft fabric flowed over me like moonlight, the slender straps resting on my shoulders.
Along the hem, clusters of gilded stars shimmered where Letti had stitched them.
She’d gifted me the dress before we left, insisting that an Elder needed proper ceremonial attire.
Rhythmically, I pulled in a lungful of air, held it for longer than usual, and exhaled as if my breath could slow the seconds slipping through my fingers.
The bridge swayed beneath us, the creaking of shifting wood, leather, and sheathed weapons serenading our trek.
One boot in front of the other. The faint outline of Selene’s full moon pierced the darkening sky, bathing the wooden decagon in silver.
I whispered an entreaty to her—and to my father—that my Ascension would go smoothly.
It had to. I wouldn’t accept failure. Of course, I didn’t want the aether to claim me, but it was more than that.
I didn’t want to let down those I loved.
Didn’t want to doom them and all the citizens of Midst Fall.
If ascending meant being one step closer to healing the mortal realm, then my sacrifice would be worth it.
I had a legacy to uphold. A prophecy to slide another piece into.
And I would make it so.
Ahead, the shadowed mass of my uncle writhed, a living darkness suspended above the center of the platform. I refused to meet his ebony gaze. Refused to give him any satisfaction. But his anger was palpable, a curling menace that jerked against his restraints.
Jace and Kaden moved toward the conservatory, where Melina was held.
The Magister’s aura spilled like melted butter over the floating symbols that tethered her.
With a flick of his wrists, the ignited runes coalesced into a glittering net.
Melina shrieked as it tightened, hauling her up by the manacles and pulling her to the edge of the platform.
Her disheveled platinum strands fell across the smudged darkness under her lash line. I moved closer, head tilting. Yes, faint lines were wrinkling her usually smooth face. Time was clawing back the turns she’d stolen.
She sneered, pewter irises flashing as they bore into mine. “You won’t succeed! The aether will tear you to pieces, you pathet—”
Jace slammed the flickering veil over her once more, and her tirade cut off mid-word, swallowed by the barrier.
He nodded once and stepped to the side. “The runes should hold, but I’ll keep watch.”
“We’ll all be here, Ser,” Kaden added with a smirk. “You’ve got this. Nothing to it.”
“Letti …” I began, glancing at my sister, who stood beside Xeni at the other end.
Kaden hugged me and then kissed my forehead. “Will be here when you return.”
I brushed my fingers over Kaden’s cheek before turning away. Around me, the others waited in silence, the air thick with apprehension and hope. Words of affection, veiled goodbyes—I’d said them already. No need to delay the inevitable any longer.
Gavrel waited for me in the center, his figure tall, solid. The Nyxvein writhed above us, its slithering darkness licking at our moonlit skin. He stepped forward as I approached, hands sliding into my curls, smoothing them back with deliberate care. Like he was memorizing how they felt.
“My star,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tension vibrating through him. “You’re extraordinary. You always were.”
The lump in my throat was almost too big to swallow.
His thumb traced along my jaw. “I told you I’d believe it enough for the both of us until you came around.
Looks like you finally have.” His dimple peeked out, tenderness brightening his emerald pools.
“You stand before Ancients and beasts—and still, you outshine them. Midst Fall will be fortunate to have you as its Elder.”
He kissed me. It was a promise sealed in moonlight and shadow. “Now go,” he whispered. “Be brilliant, Asteria. I’ll see you soon.”
“To the aether and beyond?” My smirk wobbled.
“Always, my love.”
This time, his lips met mine with fierce urgency. He pulled away, jaw tight, and without another word went to stand beside his brother.
I sat cross-legged, my dagger resting in my right palm, my tourmaline ring warm against my forefinger. Phobetor’s shadow cloaked me. I gritted my teeth and ignored his hovering presence.
Focus.
Crushing my eyes closed, I willed the lids to relax and muscles to slacken. Neck. Shoulders. Jaw. Back. Every joint. Every thread.
Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
My aura flowed outward, iridescent against the creeping darkness.
I am you, and you are me.
In.
Out.
Crickets hummed, the soft drone a fragile melody that anchored me to Hallowed End even as the city faded from my awareness. Little by little, the platform, the edges, and the others receded.
Only the Elysium Tree remained in my mind, shimmering with celestial power. I drew it closer, embracing the warmth prickling through my limbs. My ember thrummed gently against my star-shaped scar, sending pulses down my spine, along every nerve.
The Dormancy pods lurked in the corners of my mind. Ghosts of violence and subjugation. I shivered.
Stop.
Images of the glossy vessels collapsed inward, folding like smoke and vanishing. Instead, the banyan’s outline flickered, elusive.
My brow furrowed. A cool breeze brushed against my cheek, and the bright, crisp scent and the sound of swishing vines filled my senses.
The Reverie Weald.
I opened my eyes. The sacred tree materialized before me.
I’d done it. A grin tugged at my lips.
I’d bloody well soul-wandered into Surrelia on purpose, without a portal.
It was odd to be in both places at once. One foot in a dream, the other in the waking. I sensed my body in the mortal realm. And I felt an echo of it here in my astral form, the glowing strings of my soul tethering one to the other.
I looked at my hands, bottom lip dropping at the sight of my semitransparent, glittering form. It was like my very essence was made of stardust. Was I finally seeing my astral body in its true form now that I was actively soul-wandering?
The ground trembled, and my arms shot out to the side for balance. The tree’s roots illuminated, reacting to my presence. Above, the air warped and twisted with the distant hum of divine energy. A distorted window into Midst Fall.
I knew Phobetor was watching, waiting—his fury coiled like a serpent ready to strike.
Around my physical form, the atmosphere seemed to throb, a heartbeat resonating through the edges of the decagon where my allies stood. Where my khorda waited. I could almost feel their breathing syncing with mine. Every whispered prayer and every lingering gaze anchored me to the mortal realm.
But this moment—this leap across the threshold—belonged to me alone.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled, letting the banyan’s energy slide over me.
“Little Star.” Mama appeared at my side. She stood with my father, pride etched on their countenances, and the breeze rustling their golden robes.
“Well done, daughter,” Morpheus praised.
Mama squeezed my hand, and I felt the warmth of her skin both here and in the mortal realm. “Are you ready?”
I lifted my chin. “As I’ll ever be.”
The Ancient of Dreams looked at the Elysium Tree, and a glow shivered over its gnarled bark. “It’s time.”