Chapter 49
THE CONSTELLATIONS OF DREAMERS
Seryn
My flesh and bones still buzzed from the ritual and the victories that followed. Our triumphs and grief and hope. Our lovemaking. Every nerve quivered, echoing with memories of power and blood and infinite love.
I inhaled, letting it all wash over me, relishing the sweet and comforting scent of the meadow and astra poppies.
Evergryn seemed so far away. And it was, but it would always be my beginning. My roots.
But I’d finally bloomed, found myself along the winding, jagged journey we’d traversed.
I exhaled, emptying myself of the tension.
Blessedly hollow.
I kissed Gavrel’s forehead, savoring the earthy scent of him like leather and smoke and something wilder.
We were the two hollowed stars.
The next part of the prophecy had been satisfied.
Another testament of the Fates getting their fucking way.
The reeds whispered in the breeze, their soft rustling carrying through the dream meadow. The flowers shivered, their cerise petals glowing faintly, pulsing with the light of the Somnis.
Gavrel lay against me, his head resting on my breast, his chest pressing against my side with every breath. My fingers slipped through his dark hair, my golden tattoos casting a metallic sheen against his glossy strands.
He was alive.
He was here.
And that was enough.
For now.
The nightmares were silenced, and I was grateful for the fragile reprieve Midst Fall was granted.
But I could still feel the ripple of what we’d done humming throughout the realms. The balance had been tipped, and it would need to be restored—that much was true.
The Fates always came to collect what they were owed.
I thought of Phantasos. Her betrayal was a delicate piece of glass that had shattered around us in those last moments. Bitterness rolled over my tongue.
She wasn’t evil. Merely devoted. To symmetry, to the Fates’ eternal designs. Devout. Dangerous.
And I understood her now in a way I hadn’t before. The Ancients were no better, no different from the mortals they’d created. They, too, were driven by longing, jealousy, and hope. Capable of tenderness and ruin.
She would do whatever it took to maintain balance. To ensure the Aetherbind didn’t fray.
And that, in its own right, was admirable.
But if she—or anyone, Ancient or mortal—tried to take what was mine again, it would be the last thing they ever did.
My aunt’s words echoed in my memory: The dawn does not fear the night. Protect the balance. Persevere.
And I would.
Between light and dark. Dream and waking. Life and death.
I—the woman who was once afraid of all these things—had become the bridge between them.
My gaze drifted upward, scanning the shimmering stars above us. They were clearer here, in our dreams, than in any realm of the living. The constellations looked almost alive, each line of light bending, whispering the language of the Ancients.
“Asteria,” Gavrel mumbled against my skin, as if he’d heard my thoughts. His breath slowed again, lulled by sleep.
The Somnis stirred within me … the demi-Ancient part of me. The Elysium Tree had accepted me as an Elder, though the ritual was incomplete until all five regions were represented. Yaya had made sure to remind me of that.
My golden tattoos gleamed under the starlight; the marks of my true lineage.
It was strange to think of where I had begun. Of how I once trembled at my own ember.
I was never meant to cage it, nor was it meant to consume me.
It showed me I could contain both light and shadow. Love and fury. Mortality and Eternity.
And I was still me.
The girl who used to sneak out to the meadow and listen to the frogs sing with her best friend.
The one who laughed when Kaden and Gavrel fell into Oleander Cove, the grym needles poking my bare soles.
Who dove headlong into the Nether Void for the ones she loved.
And the woman who had faced an Ancient—and refused to yield.
All of her lived here.
In this dream.
Across the realms.
Within me.
Gavrel stirred, the softest sound escaping him. He tilted his head to look at me, lashes heavy, emerald eyes glassy with sleep and starlight.
“Where’d you go, my love?” I whispered, brushing my thumb over his cheekbone.
His mouth quirked, dimple peeking through the stubble along his jaw. “Nowhere. Everywhere. To the beyond. Does it matter, as long as you were with me?”
“It matters to me.”
He smiled as I traced the golden mark over his ribs—the Kollao sigil that mirrored mine. It twinkled faintly under my touch, our bond pulsing between us like a gilded vein.
“The beyond suits you,” I murmured.
He laughed softly, a rare and wondrous sound. “Then it’s settled. We’ll stay there.”
I arched a brow. “Is that so?”
He propped himself up on one elbow. His gaze roved over me, memorizing every inch in quiet reverence.
Always. And only for you, he answered in my mind.
He kissed me then, slowly and deeply.
Our bond vibrant, humming in the space between thought and breath.
When we parted, the meadow faded into the twilight, the poppies bending.
My eyelashes fluttered. For a heartbeat—or perhaps an eternity—there was only our breathing and the rustling of grass.
I thought of Marek, standing on the edge of a battlefield in the Void, his flames blending into the nightmarescapes.
Of Yaya’s laughter echoing over maps and bottles of mireberry wine.
Of Kaden and Jace arguing about runes in the mountains.
Caelora’s haunting songs.
Breena’s sharp tongue and sharper blades.
Rhaegar’s exasperated sighs.
Xeni’s quiet, steady loyalty.
Letti’s wisdom and bravery.
And Gideon’s final shout—the man who’d never called me daughter, yet gave his life to save his own.
They were pieces of me, too.
Every one of them.
The stars that made up my constellation.
The path ahead was uncertain, the balance fragile, and Kosmos restless. But I was no longer afraid.
The Fates might have woven the threads of destiny, but I would choose where mine led.
Gavrel stood, offering me his hand. His fingers intertwined with mine, grounding me as always.
“I used to say, ‘only the Fates know,’” I murmured.
“And now?”
“Now,” I smiled toward the horizon, “only we do. The people. The dreamers.”
His thumb brushed the pulse at my wrist.
I leaned into him, resting my temple against his shoulder. “We’ll make something new. Something beautiful out of all the hollow places.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You already have, Little Star.”
My chest flushed, and I closed my eyes. “Then let’s rest. Just for a while.”
The poppies and reeds and all living things sighed around us. At the edges, the Somnis’ prismatic lining shimmered. The stars shifted above, forming new patterns I didn’t yet know but somehow recognized, like a promise waiting in the dark.
I am not afraid, my ember and I whispered in the quiet of my mind.
Let it come, Gavrel responded within me.
My lips curved.
I’d finally taken my broken pieces and made something wholly exquisite—mine.
No, ours.
And it was indeed sharp enough to carve through the nightmares.