Chapter 37 The Leader Who Never Was
THE LEADER WHO NEVER WAS
“You say I’ll understand when I’m older, but every time I ask, you close the door like I’m a child. I’m not a child. If I’m meant to carry something heavy, then stop keeping me in the dark and start telling me what it is.”
— Noel ársa, age fifteen
Eyleen
Year 707
The blue roses bloomed again today, just like Mother said they would. She says they’re special because of me. I don’t know if I believe her, but when I cried last week, blue roses appeared right where my tears fell. It was . . . strange. Beautiful, but strange.
Mother says I’m destined to save the world, but I don’t know what that means. Save it from what? The roses are beautiful flowers, but that’s all they are, right?
Father looked worried when he saw the new blooms. He doesn’t like to talk about them, but I saw him pick one and press it in his journal.
Mother says we’re going to a feast in honor of the tsar. She’s been fussing with my hair all morning, trying to make it pretty. She says I must look my best because we’ll be in the presence of royalty.
I don’t want to go. I’d rather stay in the garden and read, but Mother says we must pay our respects. Father says it’s our duty as nobles.
The tsar looked at me today. He didn’t speak, but his eyes were cold. I didn’t like it. He smiled at Father and said something to him I couldn’t hear, but it made Father’s face go pale.
Mother told me it’s an honor to be noticed by the tsar. That my debut will be grand if everything goes well. But if it’s an honor, why do I feel so strange? Why did Father seem so afraid?
I asked Mother about the prophecy today. She always says I’m destined to save the world, but she never explains how. She just says I’ll understand in time. But I don’t want to wait. I want to know now.
Father says I mustn’t speak of the roses outside our family. He says people wouldn’t understand. But why wouldn’t they? Aren’t they beautiful?
Father has been acting strangely since the feast. He’s been sharpening his sword more often, and his voice gets tight whenever the tsar is mentioned. I asked him what was wrong, and he just said, “Stay close to your mother. Don’t wander.”
Why does the tsar make him so uneasy? Isn’t he supposed to protect us? Mother says the tsar is a great man, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s wrong.
Today, I saw two men in black cloaks near the garden. I’ve never seen them before. They didn’t come inside to say hello, but they stood there for a long time, watching.
Father says they’re probably messengers from the tsar. He says I shouldn’t worry. But why would messengers be watching our garden? Why wouldn’t they knock on the door?
More roses bloomed today. I wasn’t even crying this time. They just appeared, brighter than ever. When I showed Mother, she said, “It’s starting.” What’s starting?
Father picked one of the roses and burned it. He said it’s dangerous for others to see them. Why would flowers be dangerous? They’re beautiful. They’re mine.
Year 709
The tsar says I must marry him. Father begged him to wait, to give me time, but he refused. How can I marry such an old man? He is already sixty years old, and he frightens me . . .
Mother says I must do my duty, but her voice trembled when she said it. Even she doesn’t believe her own words.
Father has been quiet since the feast. I know he’s angry, but at whom? The tsar? Himself? Me?
I heard them arguing last night. Mother and Father. He said we should leave, that we should go far away, beyond the tsar’s reach, where he couldn’t find us. But Mother said we can’t because he’ll burn the village. He’ll kill us all.
I couldn’t sleep after that. I sat in the garden and watched the roses. They were wilting. I’ve never seen them wilt before.
They told me today. I am to marry the tsar in a fortnight. Mother wouldn’t look at me, and Father left the room. I wanted to cry, to scream, but all I could do was sit there, staring at my hands. They’re shaking as I write this.
Nina tried to comfort me. She said the tsar only wants what’s best for the realm, but her eyes were full of pity. She doesn’t believe that. None of us do.
They’re gone. He killed them. Mother and Father tried to protect me, but it wasn’t enough. I saw it happen. I’ll never forget the way the guards dragged them away, how Mother screamed for me to run.
I didn’t run. My legs wouldn’t move. And then it was over. The guards came back, their hands stained with my parents’ blood, and told me to prepare for the wedding.
I can’t stop crying. I feel like my chest is caving in, like I’ll never breathe again. They’re gone. They’re gone, and it’s all my fault.
I tried to eat today, but I couldn’t. The food tasted like ash. I feel like I’ll never taste anything again.
Nina hasn’t left my side since it happened. She tries to comfort me, but I can see the fear in her eyes. She’s afraid of him too.
The house feels empty now. Every corner reminds me of them. Father’s sword still leans against the hearth, untouched. Mother’s embroidery sits unfinished on the table. I can’t bring myself to move them.
He came to see me today. The tsar. He told me I should be grateful for his mercy, that he allowed me to stay here with Nina instead of dragging me to the stronghold immediately. He smiled as he said it. I wanted to spit in his face.
He wanted to marry me so much he killed my parents. What kind of man does that? What kind of monster?
I sat in the garden today, hoping the roses would bloom again. They didn’t. Maybe they’re gone for good, like Mother and Father. Maybe I’m broken now.
But Nina says I’m strong. She says my parents would want me to keep fighting. I don’t feel strong. I feel like a shattered piece of glass. But maybe . . . maybe I can put the pieces back together. Maybe one day, I’ll find a way to stop him.
He thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s broken me. But I’m still here. And one day, he’ll regret letting me live.
Year 713
It’s been four years since the wedding. Four years since I was dragged into this nightmare. He decided to start celebrating it this year and every year to come, celebrating the day I lost my soul.
He forces himself on me every night. Every. Night. I close my eyes and pretend I’m somewhere else, anywhere else, but it doesn’t help. His breath is hot and rancid, his fat belly resting on mine, his hands rough. I hate him. I hate him so much I could tear my own skin off to escape his touch.
Afterward, he leaves me there, used and hollow. As soon as he’s gone, I clean myself. But no matter how much I clean, I still feel him on me. Nina always brings me the tea, her hands shaking as much as mine. She says it will stop anything from taking root.
I want him dead. I want him to choke on his own blood. I want to watch him burn, his cock in his hand, shriveling like the pathetic thing it is.
He thinks he’s powerful, but he’s just a man. A weak, greedy, pitiful man. If I could poison him, I would. If I could light the whole stronghold on fire, I would.
But I can’t. Not yet. Nina says we must be careful. She says we must wait. How much longer must I endure this?
It happened.
Nurse Nina says she has a plan. She says we can’t stay here any longer. “He’ll kill you,” she said, her voice shaking. “He knows about the prophecy. He knows about this too.”
I don’t know if we’ll survive, but I trust her. She’s the only one I have left.
She packed the tea, the herbs, and the salts. She told me to run, to go as fast as I could and never look back. She stayed behind to distract them. I didn’t want to leave her, but she shoved me toward the door. Her hands were trembling.
I made it to the forest. My lungs burned, my legs felt like they would give out, but I kept running. Nina said to run until I couldn’t hear anything but my beating heart. So I did.
The trees here are dark, the ground uneven, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The sound of the village faded behind me, replaced by the pounding in my ears and the crunch of leaves.
I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where to go, but I’m free. For now.
I met a vólkin today. I thought they were only stories Mother told me as a child. “Guardians of nature,” she’d called them, protectors of balance and life. Now I see she was right.
His name is ándor. He’s enormous, with fur the color of a stormy sky and eyes that seem to see straight into my soul. At first, I was afraid, but he knelt before me, and his voice was calm when he said, “You’re safe now.”
He told me he felt my presence long before he saw me. He said it’s because I’m spiritual. I told him what my mother said, that I’m a leader from a prophecy, that I must restore balance.
He knew where to go, so we went and found an old woman. She said she’s Nina’s friend and told me I’m the Lidé?en. She knew my mother as well, and I don’t understand anything anymore.
ándor brought me food today. Berries and roasted meat. I haven’t eaten like this in months. He watches me with such care, as if I’m something precious. It makes me feel strange, but not in a bad way.
He placed his paw gently on my belly and said, “She’ll be strong, like her mother.” For the first time in a long time, I felt hope. Nina’s friend said it’s a girl. She knows everything.
I’ve been thinking about names. Mother always said names carry meaning, that they shape who we are. I told ándor about a name I read in one of her books: Noel. It means birth and new beginnings. He smiled.
Noel the blue rose. It sounds perfect.
That’s who she is, my little Noel. She’s the start of something new. After everything, she’s my hope, my light.
My belly is rounder with every passing moon. ándor laughs when she kicks, saying she’s already strong like her parents. He talks to her a lot, his voice low and soothing, telling her about the forest and the stars. It makes my heart ache in the best way.
I think about what her life will be like here. No walls, no fear, only freedom. ándor says he’ll grow us a home, a place where she can grow up surrounded by nature’s beauty. I believe him.
The forest feels alive. It’s quiet, but not silent. The trees whisper, the streams sing, and the air is sweet with the scent of flowers. ándor says the land welcomes me, and I carry blue-rose blood. The forest loves our Noel too.
He told me today that we’re bonded. Mates, he called us. I don’t fully understand it, but I feel it. It’s like a thread connecting us. For the first time in years, I feel safe. I feel loved.
I am happy.
I can’t wait to meet her. Every time she kicks, it feels like she’s reminding me she’s there, waiting and growing. I imagine holding her, seeing her little hands and her big eyes. ándor says she’ll look like me, but I think she’ll have his strength. He loves her so much.
She’s my everything already. My Noel. My new beginning. Noel will run through these trees, free of chains. That is my promise.
Year 714
ándor says this is the perfect place for us. He grew our home right from the trees, weaving the walls from their branches. It feels alive and warm, like the forest is holding us close.
He tells me stories about ávera, the land beyond the barrier.
He says it’s beautiful, full of green fields and crystal streams. It’s where we belong, he says.
Where Noel will grow. I can’t wait to see it.
I can’t wait to raise her there when the barrier finally lifts.
After the bonding ritual, I’ll have crystals like ándor.
And I’ll live as long as he will—thousands of years.
I will have thousands of years with the family we’re creating. I don’t know how to put the joy into words.
We made her a crib today. ándor worked all morning, shaping the wood with his massive paws. I cried when I saw it. It’s simple and strong, just like him. The moment my tears fell, blue roses bloomed around it.
I carved the symbol of the rose into the side, like Father taught me. It felt right, like I was giving her a part of our family, a piece of who we are.
I’ve never been this happy. I’ve never felt this much love. ándor says she’ll grow up strong and smart, that she’ll do great things. I believe him. How could I not?
My baby, Noel, will be happy just like I am. When a white dove appeared today, I gave her water, and Noel, the little darling, got excited in my belly.
It happened so suddenly. I was in the garden, tending to the roses, when ándor stiffened. His ears twitching, he turned toward the trees and said, “They’re here.”
The tsar’s men. They found us. I don’t know how, but they’re here.
ándor told me to stay inside. Told me not to worry because one vólkin can kill a hundred men. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him. But I saw the way his claws flexed, the way his tail lashed. He was ready to fight.
I heard the screams first. The clash of steel, the roar of his voice, the cries of the men who dared to face him. I wanted to run to him, to help, but he made me promise to stay. So I stayed. I waited. I prayed.
And then . . . silence. No more screams. No more steel. Nothing but the wind in the trees and the pounding of my heart.
I told myself he would come back. He promised he would. I waited by the door, my belly heavy, my hands trembling. But he didn’t come.
When I couldn’t wait anymore, I stepped outside, into the air thick with the smell of blood. The ground was littered with bodies, hundreds of them. The tsar’s men, their swords broken, their armor shattered. He killed them all.
And then I saw my ándor. My mate. My love. Lying among the dead, his body still, his fur matted with blood. I screamed. Fell to my knees. I begged him to wake up, but he didn’t.
The goddesses didn’t listen to my prayers.
He fought for us. For me. For our Noel. He wouldn’t let them touch us. But the cost . . .
I buried him by the house. He was so heavy and my belly hurt. If I hadn’t begun my awakening, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I pressed my forehead to his, the way he used to, and told him I would protect her. I promised him his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.
I will raise her to be strong. I will raise her to be ready. She will carry his strength and his honor. She will make this world better for all of us.
My belly is heavy and my heart is broken. I can’t stay here for much longer. I have to find a way to survive. I can’t hunt, can’t even move much anymore.
I’m tired.
My Noel is kicking harder every day.
She is strong, but I am not.