31. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
N ight descends upon The Grove, blanketing the forest in a peaceful stillness.
I spent the day among my people, sharing stories of my journey across the Untold Sea. All of it lies, of course. I could never tell them the truth—what had been done to me or what they planned to do. The things I saw that haunt me every time I close my eyes.
The prince who betrayed me.
But the tales I spun filled their eyes with wonder and amazement, stories of faraway lands they would never know. I envy them for that ignorance and the illusion of safety it provides.
Zyphoro, unperturbed by any of it, fell asleep as soon as she was shown to her room in a small cottage amongst the branches, drifting off without the slightest resistance. Meanwhile, Solena and I sit around a small fire on the forest floor, the crackling flames casting a warm glow over her face. Ashen, now confident in his new surroundings, weaves in and out between my legs. His soft purrs rising with the night’s quiet hum before he finally collapses into sleep, exhausted after becoming the main attraction amongst the children of the forest.
“So this is The Grove,” Solena murmurs, her eyes taking in the forest surrounding us, the glow of the flames flickering in her sharp gaze. “It’s very… green.”
“Not to your liking?” I ask, a hint of a smirk on my lips, though my heart feels heavy.
“No. I like it,” she admits, her usual sternness softening just enough. “I like it so much, I’m worried what will happen when the king and prince discover we’re gone.”
I bow my head, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. I reach down, running my knuckle along Ashen’s fur, grounding myself in the simple comfort of his presence. “You’d get along with Keeper Tovar,” I say quietly. “He fears I’ve doomed us all too.”
“You did what you had to,” Solena says, her tone resolute. “We all did. And not for a second do I regret leaving Baev’kalath with you. But we can’t hide here forever. They will come.”
“I know,” I whisper, my voice trailing off as I meet her gaze. “And we must be ready when they do.”
“You cannot defeat the Mordorin,” she says softly, a warning laced in her voice.
“No,” I reply, holding her gaze steady. Solena flinches slightly at the intensity of my stare. “I cannot defeat the Legion either. But I can fight them. With everything I am, everything I have left, I will fight them until my last breath.”
I stand, brushing off the dirt from my clothes. Ashen stirs from his slumber, stretching lazily before pattering after me as I move away from the fire.
“Where are you going?” Solena’s voice is laced with both concern and regret.
“To see my sisters,” I say over my shoulder, glimpsing her confusion before I disappear into the vines, leaving the warmth of the fire and the quiet of the night behind me.
Beyond the heart of the forest lies a clearing that, at first glance, seems perfectly ordinary. Tall trees circle the space, their shadows stretching over soft grass blanketed with delicate purple flowers. I sit cross-legged at its center, gazing at the stars peeking through the gaps in the canopy. The familiar moon, once a guiding light, now feels like an enemy. The wind rustles the grass, brushing against me as Ashen curls up by my side, his smoky form becoming a constant comfort.
The rune around my neck pulses softly, casting brief flashes of green into the darkness. With each heartbeat, it grows brighter until, with a sudden surge, a blinding light sweeps through the clearing, and I find myself somewhere else—though I haven’t moved an inch.
Here, the woods are darker, denser. The trees stand like ancient sentinels, their gnarled, twisted branches draped with thick moss, casting eerie shadows. Their bark pulses with green threads, glowing faintly as if veins of light run through their core. The air hums with energy, thick and heavy, as though the very magic of the forest has come alive. The power here is more than just a sound or sight—it thrums beneath my skin, a force I cannot ignore.
And there, before me, stands the shrine. A massive tree whose ancient branches have woven themselves into a perfect circle. Suspended within the circle is a shimmering web, delicate yet strong, its strands aglow with fluorescent green light while runes etched across the web pulse with a mysterious energy, their power undeniable.
Huddled around the base of the shrine are my sisters—Lira, Mirael, and Saren—standing hand in hand. They turn toward me, sensing my presence even before I make a sound.
“Amara,” Lira greets me with a warm smile, her rosy cheeks a sight I had almost forgotten.
Their arms reach for me, and I stumble to my feet, falling into their embrace as if I’ve leapt off a cliff. We stand together in silence, holding each other close for what feels like an eternity. No words pass between us because none are needed. The bond we share speaks louder than any language could.
“The Souls told us you were here,” Mirael says softly when we finally part, her voice carrying the gentle hum of the forest.
“We thought you’d visit us sooner,” Saren adds, a hint of playfulness in her tone.
“Keeper Tovar and the council kept me longer than expected,” I explain, my voice tight with the weight of it all. “He is displeased with me. I fled Baev’kalath, and now he fears the Mordorin will bring their wrath upon The Grove.”
They exchange knowing glances, concern etching their faces, but they remain silent. Instead, they take my hands and lead me to the shrine. We sit in our familiar circle, and as the rune tree pulses brighter, I close my eyes and share everything with them—Baev’kalath, the dark, looming presence of Kaelus and Lanneth, Gygarth, the demon of the void, and the relentless threats to my life since I entered that cursed place. Despite my attempts to hide it, they see Daedalus and I entwined under the moonlight in Pariseth, our bodies bare and tangled in passion.
When the vision fades, we face each other, but we are no longer alone. The Souls of the Forest have joined us, their voices whispering constantly in my mind, a symphony of unseen presences.
“They called me awakened,” I say, my voice trembling. “I can see through their glamors.”
Then you are a threat, the Souls whisper, their voices threading through my thoughts like vines. Anything that wields power outside their control is always a threat.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
You wouldn’t. The gift would not reveal itself until needed. Glamor magic does not exist within The Grove, but you have not yet touched the deeper mysteries of the Fae.
I glance down at my hand, where the wound is healed, not even a scar remaining. “I healed myself,” I murmur, almost ashamed. “I didn’t mean to, but... how could I have possibly done it? I thought the gift was to heal others. Not myself.”
There is a long pause before the Souls answer.
You take on another's pain when you heal them. But to heal yourself, that pain must be transferred. When you faced the demon of the void, the pain you carried turned into raw energy, which you used against him—and in doing so, healed yourself.
I swallow, dread tightening in my chest. “So... to heal myself, I have to give my pain to someone else?”
Yes, they reply, their tone steady and unwavering.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
You have been trained to absorb the pain through meditation and deep sleep. They have not. It would be excruciating for them. Perhaps even deadly.
The thought is as fascinating as it is horrifying, that I could be something monstrous—leeching life from others to preserve my own. Yet, in that moment, facing Gygarth, I was grateful. Without that power, I would not have survived. My fingers curl around the rune at my neck, feeling its pulse beneath my skin, and I notice my sisters do the same, their hands instinctively clutching their own runes as if seeking reassurance.
My lungs tighten as if my chest is caving in as I look at them—Lira, Mirael, and Saren—knowing that I am not telling them everything. My eyes glance at my belly. Is Zyphoro right? Do I carry the heir of House Mordorin? But I cannot tell them of the possibility. I’m ashamed of giving myself to the prince completely only to be deceived, and scared of how my sisters and the Souls will react.
I must carry this secret with me longer.
There is only one thing I am certain of, and I feel the truth settle in my bones. I may keep my secret for now, but I cannot run from what is coming.
“I must fight them now,” I say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. “All of them. The Mordorin. The Legion. I failed The Grove once by leaving, but I won’t fail it again.”
The words hang in the air, more final than anything I’ve said before. My heart pounds, a steady reminder of the price I’ve already paid, the sacrifices I’ve made—and those that are yet to come. But my resolve is clear. I cannot stand idle, not when I carry both the power to heal and the potential to destroy.
I am both a shield and a weapon.
Lira steps closer, her brows knitting together in concern. “Amara, you didn’t fail The Grove. You did what you had to do to survive.”
I shake my head, the guilt too heavy to dismiss so easily. “Surviving isn’t enough, not anymore. I need to protect this place—our home.”
Mirael touches my arm, her grip gentle but firm. “The Grove has always protected us, sheltered us. But if we’re truly under threat from both the Mordorin and the Legion... this fight won’t be like any we’ve faced before.”
I meet her gaze, feeling the gravity of the situation in every word. “Which is why I can’t do it alone.”
Saren’s eyes, always the quietest but most perceptive, search mine. “You won’t be alone,” she says softly. “We stand with you, Amara. We always have. But this path you’re choosing... it’s dangerous. What you can do with that power—it changes things.”
There’s a flicker of fear in her eyes, the same fear that I feel deep within myself. The fear that I may fight the enemy but become something unrecognizable in the process.
Something monstrous.
I swallow hard, unsure if it’s my power that scares me more—or the part of me that’s willing to use it.
“We can’t hide from what’s coming,” I reply, though my voice cracks. “I’ll use whatever I have to. We’ll use whatever we must. The Grove can’t fall, and neither will we.”
There’s a silence that stretches between us, and I can feel the shift, the acceptance settling in. My sisters don’t challenge me, though their eyes reflect the gravity of my decision.
Lira speaks first, her voice soft but resolute. “Then we will fight alongside you, Amara.”
Mirael nods, her expression solemn. “Together.”
Saren hesitates for a moment, then steps forward, her hands wrapping around mine. “No matter what this power does to you, we won’t leave your side.”
I blink back the tears that threaten to spill. They don’t understand the full extent of what they’re promising, but they don’t have to. I have enough doubt for all of us.
As we stand there, the pulse of the rune grows stronger, thrumming with a strange, dangerous energy that now feels both familiar and foreign to me. It courses through my veins, a reminder that I have power. That I am more than just a scared girl trying to survive.
I’m ready to become something more. To fight for them—for The Grove—and to face whatever comes.
For better or for worse, I know now that this is who I am.
And I’m ready.
I close my eyes and when I open them again, I’m back in the peaceful clearing. The familiar scent of earth and flowers greets me, but a startled rabbit bolts through the underbrush, spooked by my sudden appearance. Ashen meows, padding toward me, his smoky form brushing against my leg, but Arax is the one who stands frozen, his mouth agape as if he’s seen a ghost.
“Am I mad, or did you just appear from nowhere?” he asks, his voice low, disbelief lacing each word.
“You’re possibly mad,” I say, groaning as I drag myself to my feet, muscles aching from the journey. “But yes, I did appear from nowhere.”
Arax shakes his head. “This place is strange.”
“I could say the same for your home,” I reply, walking toward him. He sits back down on the large rock he’d been resting on, looking worn from not only the last few days but a lifetime of service.
“Home,” he mutters, a small chuckle escaping him, though it’s tinged with exhaustion. “In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever called it that. But I have served regardless, fiercely and loyally. I’ve served my king. I’ve served my prince.”
“And your queen?” I ask, finding a spot beside him. I hold his gaze, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Arax, you’ve seen more than most. Did you know what happened to Queen Veloria?”
He exhales slowly, his broad shoulders dropping as if under the weight of centuries. “I was deceived, as we all were. We believed what we were told—that the good queen died giving birth to Prince Daedalus. The truth about Princess Zyphoro… was hidden from me. It was as if she disappeared, not just from sight but from memory.”
“Glamored by Lanneth,” I whisper, a chill creeping up my spine. “How can such a thing even be possible? What kind of power would that take?”
“Lanneth is more powerful than any of us ever realized,” he says, his voice heavy with the admission.
“But that power is tethered to Daedalus,” I murmur, and just the sound of his name tightens something inside me, something that threatens to break.
“I know we Mordorin walk with the void,” Arax says softly. “But I never imagined the lengths Lanneth would go to, to keep us strong. And I swear to you, Amara, I didn’t know what they had planned for you. I would never have let you step foot on that ship if I did. I am Mordorin, but I am not a monster that murders innocent girls.”
“I’ve learned there’s a monster in all of us,” I say, as the evening wind tangles in my hair. “But sometimes, monsters can be used for good. The best way to fight one is with another.”
From within his sleeve, I notice a flash of red as Arax twists that ribbon around his finger, a movement so small, but it draws my attention like a flame in the dark. I remember the ribbon from the ship. He held it tight then too, when he was moments away from death.
“Who was she?” I ask at last, the question that’s lingered on my mind since then. “A wife?”
Arax shakes his head, the hint of a sad smile playing on his lips. “A daughter. A warrior. A Blade. She fought by my side in that valley,” he says, gesturing to the stretch of land we flew over earlier, beyond the borders of The Grove.
“But I thought…”
“That Reapers aren’t allowed families?” he finishes for me, and I nod. “She wasn’t of my blood, but she was just as precious. I found her in Valorne, left to rot in a gutter—battered, bruised, defiled by Fae who thought they could take whatever they wanted. She was from a low caste, treated as less than dirt.”
“Like humans,” I say quietly, the vileness of the words settling between us.
“Yes,” he agrees, his voice thick with the shared pain. “Like humans. I took pity on her. Fed her and nursed her back to health. She asked me to teach her how to fight so she’d never feel helpless again, and I did. Then she never left. It’s surprising how quickly you can get attached to someone over a century.” His voice softens, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “When I was recalled to Baev’kalath, I took her with me, and she trained as a Blade.”
“You can do that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Become a Blade even if you're from a lower caste?”
“Yes,” Arax replies. “The only skill needed to be a Blade is to kill better than you die, and she mastered warfare like she was born to it.”
“She sounds like a good student,” I say, trying to imagine the warrior she must’ve been.
“She was more than that,” Arax says quickly, his voice dropping to a hushed reverence. “She was brave and vicious, but also kind and curious, and she made me laugh. No one makes me laugh.”
“I’ve managed to pull a few out of you,” I tease. “When you’re not too busy practicing the world’s greatest scowl.”
He glances at me, a smile softening his worn face. “Yes. You have, haven’t you?”
The moment feels too personal, too raw, and I glance down at my feet, chuckling lightly to diffuse the intensity. “Where is she now? I’m almost offended I haven’t met this amazing woman.”
Arax’s smile fades, his fingers twisting the red ribbon tighter around his hand. “She died on the battlefield, on the last day of the Betrayer’s Battle,” he says, his voice hollow. “I couldn’t bring her body back. We won, but we were few. No ships, no way back across the Untold Sea except by flight. Half of those who survived the battle fell from the sky—wounded, exhausted, or both—drowning before they could reach Baev’kalath.” His chin drops, and his voice grows quieter. “I should’ve carried her. I should’ve tried.”
I can hear the tremor in his voice as he continues, the pain of his loss as sharp now as it must have been on that day. “I heard they burned all the bodies. I just pray it was at night, so the Pale Mother could lift her into her arms.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I feel a lump rise in my throat.
Arax’s fingers twist the ribbon again, and only now do I see the stains.
Not dirt, not time—blood. Her blood.
“It’s why I hated you,” Arax says, his voice raw. “Why I hated your kind. You killed her. She was good, and brave, and beautiful, and your kind killed her.” His jaw tightens, the words heavy with old anger. “But I’ve realized it wasn’t humans, not really. It was this world that took her from me. This cursed world, where we’re born, we fight, we die—over and over. And somewhere in between, if we are lucky, we are gifted small glimpses of happiness.”
He breathes deeply, his eyes unfocused as he speaks, as if lost in those fleeting moments. “Those are what I hold on to. Not the hatred, but the love I had for her. For Estra.” His eyes meet mine, softer now. “That’s why I hold no ill will toward you, Amara Tyne. For healing me on that ship. That’s not where I wanted to meet my end. I’ll die on the battlefield, or not at all. In her honor.”
His last words hang in the air, a vow as unbreakable as the love he still carries for Estra. And as I sit beside him, I realize that even in all this darkness, Arax’s heart clings to love and loyalty, just as mine clings to the pieces of a life shattered by betrayal. Despite everything, neither of us has let the cruelty of this world strip away what we hold dear. We may be scarred, but we are not broken.
Not yet.