Chapter 45
Mora
A golden aura curled over the meadow, dusting the clearing in a soft, otherworldly glow . It felt alive. Vibrant. As if power lived in the air, each breath so potent the creature in Mora’s chest purred.
Gone were the rotten, blackened weeds clinging to the earth—fresh blades of lush, viridian grass brushed her ankles, clusters of gilded daisies marking the entrance from the parted bramble. Their petals glittering like tiny suns.
It was the tree, however, that stole Mora’s breath.
Hundreds of golden buds glistened above like frozen drops of gleaming rain, new life peppering every swaying branch. Her mouth fell open, amber eyes growing wide when one reached down to caress her face, grazing her cheek with the gentlest touch.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Mora startled at the sound of a smooth, feminine voice. The winds shifted with its lyrical cadence, the fresh, earthy air suddenly thick. Acrid. Poisonous. As if ash gathered on her tongue and flooded her lungs.
A scream wrenched through the clearing and when she blinked, fire raged all around her.
An inferno. Clambering up the great tree.
Chewing on bark. Gorging itself on trembling boughs while thick smoke blackened the sky, golden embers churning along with it.
All the while, a pair of glowing red eyes blessed with streaks of purple starfire stared through the blaze. Panicked. Pleading.
Their lips fell open, agony torn from melting lungs. As flesh boiled, a strange pull tugged at Mora’s center, part of her longing to walk into the fire and burn with them.
“Dear gods,” she cried, tumbling back when embers sizzled on her cheek, the branch touching her fading to ash and floating away with the furious breeze.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the same voice murmured.
“I shouldn’t be here; this meadow is no longer mine to Keep, and my presence with you won’t be the same as his, but...
I needed to see you while I could.” With a sweet, gentle hum, the flames were gone, along with those haunting eyes, a glowing aura curling around them once more. Pain fading from Mora’s face.
She spun on her heels, teeth bared in a snarl. “What in the hell—” Mora’s brows furrowed. That face was... familiar. She blinked, uncertain, looking over the woman’s shoulder for any signs of her Fae, and finding none. Where was he? “You look so much like him.”
A soft smile rose, her golden eyes far away.
“You should have seen his father,” she whispered, bowing her head, sorrow lacing her tone.
The Fae female idly traced a golden dagger sheathed at her side, dragging her fingers along the daisies carved into its hilt.
The same flowers graced her belt, the dark leather a work of art...
A perfect match to the one Dother forced Mora to wear.
Mora backed away a step, fists curling in her dress. Sheer, ivory fabric shimmered beneath her touch, as if each thread had been dusted in gold. “Who are you?”
The stranger lifted her chin, delicately pointed ears sticking out between long strands of black hair.
“Vehsa,” she breathed, clasping her hands at her front, gold markings pulsing along her arms. “And you are exactly as the Galadriah described. Raw magic in your veins, gold in your blood, bound to a false tree surrounded by a glass meadow. How foolish I was to believe I could stop it.”
“Have I completely lost my mind?” Mora muttered to herself, scrubbing at her face.
Vehsa’s smile faltered. “Considering the raw sap you drank, you certainly should have, but the Enchanter clinging to your soul is as clever as his damned father. To further bind you to him with the blood of your mate...” A growl rumbled in her chest, leaves rustling overhead.
“They wouldn't be so clever without Alaius.”
Her breathing quickened, siphoned through gritted teeth.
Sharp canines gleaming. Then, Vehsa closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, the trembling branches above calming with her.
“I won’t take much of your time,” she said, making her way toward the giant, blooming tree, motioning for Mora to follow.
“And you’ll forget all of this soon enough. ”
A colorful array of wildflowers slid delicately over Mora’s ankles with each step. “What was that vision just now? I saw someone in the fire.”
“The end and the beginning, darling Heart. The rise of a destiny I wish I could have spared you all from.” Vehsa rested her brow against the tree’s trunk, tracing the gilded stains in its grooves. “But now is not the time for you to discover the meaning of such things.”
“Your riddles make my head ache,” Mora grumbled, rubbing at her temples.
Vehsa laughed under her breath, a light, lyrical sound.
“You know nothing of riddles.” When she looked back, her lips tipped up ever so slightly.
“And your head aches because his head aches; you are closer to him here.” She sighed, though it was more like a hum, and Mora swore the melody echoed back, as if the forest sang in return.
“Whose head? What did you mean by my mate’s blood?”
Something changed in the air, goosebumps skittering up Mora’s flesh. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. Freezing. Wishing her Fae would arrive with his tunic in hand, the soft garment saturated in his warmth and dripping with his scent... coupled by the comfort of his presence.
“When you are together in truth, you’ll have your answer.
” Vehsa drew out her dagger, the sharp, golden blade gleaming, and dragged it over the tree’s trunk, gilded liquid seeping to the surface.
It almost looked familiar. “Do you know why your... Keepers”—she spat out the word as if it were sour on her tongue—“can make demands of you?”
Gone was the glowing aura, the moonlight dulling to a gray shine, as if this place were a mere reflection of what it once was. A ghost. It awakened a violent thrum in Mora’s veins, blood rushing to the surface as her heartbeat quickened.
“Who are you really?” Mora asked, bare feet slipping on the grass as she inched away. Mist puffing in the air with every breath. She was all too aware of the bramble at her back, and the horrific, azure stare that could be watching from the shadows.
“The catalyst,” Vehsa seethed, turning to face Mora again.
Grim determination painted her lovely features, while gilded sap slithered over and under her fingers like living rings before settling around her wrist. “They’ve bled my son for decades, they will bleed him for centuries more, and they have so many pieces of me...
” She shook her head. “The bastard’s son made you into a vessel.
He forced Her sap—Her Heart—down your throat, bound you to his false tree, and sealed it all with Keepers’ blood and a splash of his own. ”
A wall of bramble met Mora’s back, thorns tearing at her dress. Scratching her arms.
All the while, Vehsa drew closer, blade in hand. “I know you long to return to who you were, divine one, but there is no turning back. I am truly sorry for what comes next.”
Mora couldn’t move, her body frozen, trapped on the precipice of two separate hunts.
She risked a look over her shoulder, searching for Dother and finding nothing hiding between the trees—though she felt the weight of his stare, those bright eyes dragging over her skin.
Did she dare run through the thicket and risk being chased by a different sort of monster?
“This is only a dream,” she whispered to herself, praying it was true.
Vehsa took advantage of her distraction and lunged, the blade slicing into Mora’s forearm. Fear cut through her, frigid and sharp, festering with the sting burning into her flesh.
“Fucking gods!” Mora hissed, pressing her hand against the wound. Warm blood seeped through the cracks between her fingers, a steady drip splashing against her bare feet and trickling onto the earth.
“The Gods aren’t worthy of your prayers, Mora,” Vehsa growled, tossing the dagger aside. “They did nothing for Her, and they will do nothing for you.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” Mora spat, fumbling for the ethereal thread Dother cinched around her soul and finding... nothing. Her power dozed in her chest, curling around her bones. Resting. Waiting. Refusing to answer Mora’s call.
There was so little space between them, the bite of the thorns at her back reminding her she had nowhere to go. Bramble refusing to part and let her take her chances in the woods. She shuddered. Breath hitching. Heart slamming against her ribs with such vigor her bones ached.
Vehsa lowered herself to her knees, cupping her hands to capture drops of Mora’s blood.
“I was the Keeper of the Mother Tree, Her entrusted guardian, so entwined with the Forest, Her wants felt like my own. Her magic did as I wished, bending to my will. Shaping itself into what I envisioned. Does that sound familiar?”
“My curse...” Mora squeezed her arm tighter, her grip bruising, inadvertently guiding more blood to the surface.
Sharp canines glistened as Vehsa’s upper lip curled. “Make them pay,” she hissed. “End what I could not prevent and do not let Dother take the throne.”
“Dother is dead,” Mora snarled, lifting her chin. “Castellan will take the throne, and I...” She trailed off, words catching in her throat. What would she do?
Vehsa gave her a pitying look. Her voice became lighter—higher—as if she were mimicking another. “Arcadia fractures, Berwick falls, a Halfling takes the crown. Cherub or wolf, Her Heart decides.”
More gods damned riddles.
“Speak plainly,” Mora commanded in a tone she’d learned from her mother. Regal authority was rarely ignored in the castle, but it did not move Vehsa. She simply bowed her head, closing her eyes as if in prayer. “Fuck this.”
Vehsa made no attempt to stop Mora when she skirted the bramble’s edge, carefully moving away. Instead, her lips parted, a low, melodic song slipping free to curl around them. Strange words in a foreign tongue flowing like a gentle stream.
They beckoned to Mora’s soul. She stilled, along with the blood dripping between her fingers, tension draining from her body while the beast in her chest opened its eyes. As if it listened. Intently. “What’s happening?”
Vehsa continued her song, glowing eyes flicking over Mora, saturated with a blend of sadness and hope.
Gleaming daisies popped through the soil at Mora’s feet, gold-flecked lifeblood staining their glinting petals.
They caressed her skin, reaching toward her as if they wanted more.
But when Vehsa’s voice rose, the blood was pulled away, liquid gathering on the flowers’ tops and Mora’s fingers before drifting in the air.
A pleasant warmth spread through Mora’s body, smoke rushing to the surface and seeping through her wound. It gathered more of her blood, carrying it to Vehsa’s waiting hands.
“What are you doing to me?” Mora asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her veins were gilded, pulsing along her arms in a gentle flutter following the languid cadence of her heart.
Glittering onyx mist blended with the deepest red, a wild torrent churning in Vehsa’s cupped hands.
She stood, careful not to spill her prize, her song coming to an end.
“You will fall, darling Heart. You will falter. There will be times when hope is all but lost. Do not fault yourself for tumbling into the darkness; there is no shame in hiding in its embrace while you find your strength again. But know that you will. When you understand your truth, you will rise, and it shall be glorious.”
Leaves rustled all around them, a hum emanating from the forest as if every living creature breathed a melody of their own.
The torrent slowed to a sudden stop, splashing in Vehsa’s palms, obsidian and crimson splattering on the ground.
A golden puddle was all that remained in her hands, the matching liquid she stole from the tree slithering off her wrist and disappearing into its depths.
“My only wish is that you right my wrongs. Save our people, Mora. Save Arcadia, save my son, save yourself. Choose the cherub.”
Mora sank to her knees, head spinning. There was no frigid feeling caressing her skin, no bite of pain like when a wish etched itself into her bones, but the oddest sense of calm washed over her. “Wake up,” she murmured to herself. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
“The centuries will be long, for all of you.” Vehsa’s brows knit. “Until the time comes, let this be a dream that slips to the back of your mind, forgotten.”
Lifting her hands to her lips, Vehsa took a sip of her gilded concoction. “This will do.” Her face softened. “I know you don’t like a stranger’s touch; I’ll be as quick as you allow.”
When she stepped closer, Mora’s breath hitched. “Don’t,” she hissed, struggling to rise, her body too heavy.
“I’m afraid I must.”
A nervous flutter rattled Mora’s heart, until a new pulse of warmth swam through her blood and it calmed. She stared down at her hands. At her golden veins and the blood-spattered daisies bending to trace them.
Mora bared her teeth, a retort on her tongue, but before she could speak, Vehsa grabbed her curls, forcing her head back. Her cry ended in a gurgle, Vehsa’s hand slamming against Mora’s mouth.
A muffled plea was all she could manage before she gagged on a nauseatingly sweet taste she knew too well. That burnt sugar flavor impossible to forget.
We are bound now, Dother had taunted in his letter. Not in a way either of us wanted. But I won’t allow this to tarnish our bright future.
Mora retched against Vehsa’s steely grip, unwilling to be bound to another.
“Swallow, Daughter of the Forest, and you shall be free of me.”
Violence churned in amber eyes, exhaustion fleeing from Mora’s fury. She clutched the female’s wrist, nails digging into her flesh. Vehsa pressed harder.
“It will be over soon,” she offered, tipping her head to the side. Waiting for Mora to cooperate.
Warm liquid slipped over Mora’s tongue, coating her teeth as it moved toward her throat. She took a sharp breath through her nose, shaking as she tried not to allow it entry. It was overwhelming, that flavor. Worst of all...
Part of her liked it.
It was euphoric. Already, power pulsed in her chest, as if the creature within her took a deep, steady breath.
Her throat bobbed on its own, thick liquid slipping down to her belly. Warmth spread through her limbs, a pleased moan rumbling behind her lips—Mora’s eyes rolled back as it enveloped her, coating her spine and curling around her bones.
When Vehsa pulled away, Mora collapsed in the meadow, clutching those gilded daisies as she watched the Fae disappear into the woods. Unable to move. Even when a pair of furious azure eyes came to stare down at her from the other side of the thicket.