Chapter 4 #2
“Exactly,” Alahathrial said, pacing slowly along the edge of the water. “The number of stones dipped. The rituals performed. The attempts to grant fleeting magic to unworthy bloodlines. All of it drained the pool.”
He turned back to us, eyes hard now. “They infused far more wardstones than were needed to defend the towers. They wanted power. Status. Control. And in doing so, they accelerated this pool’s demise.”
Zander exhaled, voice quiet but sharp. “So it began failing… long before now.”
Alahathrial nodded. “Before you were born. Before your father ruled.”
Quinn’s voice cracked from behind us. “What happens if there are no full fae warders left?”
Alahathrial didn’t hesitate.
“The pool will fall,” he said, simply. “With or without one. Its death is inevitable. You cannot stop it. You can only delay it.”
Zander’s shoulders tensed. “Then what do we do?”
“There is only one other option,” Alahathrial said, voice low, as heavy as judgment. “Defeat the Blood Fae. End the threat. End the war. Because once the pool is gone, the wards will fall. And if they are still rising… they will not stop.”
Zander crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Alahathrial. “How can you tell the pool’s been failing that long? You said it started before my father’s rule.”
Alahathrial turned toward the rippling surface, his reflection fractured by light and memory. “Because Emlem’s father—your grandfather—asked me how to replenish it. Over fifty years ago.”
I straightened. “What?”
“I explained then what I’m telling you now,” Alahathrial said, his voice calm, but laced with the ache of old wounds.
“The only way to replenish a pool like this is to create balance again. To return the flow of magic through new bonds, not stolen ones. I suggested he enlist the commoners who were born with magic—even then, they were emerging.”
Quinn looked up, startled. His fingers flexed at his sides, but he said nothing.
Alahathrial continued, his expression cooling. “But he refused. Said he wouldn’t have ‘dirty blood’ infecting the sanctity of the pool. That halflings were rare for a reason, and that magic belonged only to the blessed and born.”
Quinn’s gaze dropped to the stone beneath our feet.
And suddenly I remembered—Quinn was a commoner once. Before the warders claimed him. Before his gift made him too valuable to ignore.
Alahathrial turned to him now, lifting a hand gently.
“Warder,” he said with surprising warmth, “you are a credit to your order. You’ve placed yourself in danger for the good of the realm. Had the former king been more open-minded—had he embraced the gifts rising among your people—the pool may have lasted much longer. But he clung to the old ways.”
He looked at the dark veins threading through the water.
“And here we are.”
Quinn stared at him, eyes wide and searching. “Do the fae… have courts? Ranks? Like ours?”
Alahathrial nodded slowly. “In a way. We have a council that governs us, made of the oldest bloodlines and those chosen by the Ancients. But every gift is honored. A fae who can make seeds grow ensures we eat. One who draws metal from the earth can forge furniture, weapons, jewelry. All gifts serve a purpose.”
He paused, his gaze turning distant. “That was the way—before the ones who turned dark began craving power instead of purpose. Before they began twisting gifts into weapons.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Before the Blood Fae.”
And in that silence, the pulse of the pool echoed like a heartbeat—fragile, fading, but still alive.
“What about the vial I retrieved from the fae sanctuary? Would it help the pool?”
Quinn gave me a quizzical look. “What vial?”
I gave a brief description of our adventure and the vial. How we assumed we still needed to kill the spell caster.
“You understand if the crown finds out I have this, I will be assassinated.”
“Looks like we have that in common. I will not betray you. But I will look into this fae elixir and see if there is any way it can prolong the life of the pool or the king.”
We stood in silence, the four of us gathered around the glowing water, watching it ripple like a dying star. The dark veins had retreated slightly, yes, but they still pulsed like rot beneath the surface.
It felt like we were witnessing the end of something ancient. Sacred. A heartbeat slowing, struggling to keep time in a world that no longer remembered its purpose.
Like we were waiting for the last of a species to go extinct.
Then Kaelith’s voice lanced through my mind, clear and sharp.
Ashlyn. The tower is being watched.
I stiffened.
Across the pool, Zander’s head snapped up, eyes locking with mine. Hein had said the same to him. Neither dragon had entered the grounds, but they were near. Circling. Protecting us from shadows we couldn’t yet see.
“Someone’s watching,” I said aloud, stepping back from the pool.
Zander was already moving. “We have to go.”
Alahathrial straightened, his gaze narrowing. “Then I’ll return the way I came.”
“Put on your glamour,” I said quickly. “Go back to your suite. Walk like you’re a courier with a message and keep your head down.”
He gave a small nod, lifting his hand once more. Magic shimmered across his skin like silk pulled over gold, twisting his elegant form back into something dull and forgettable. A plain-faced courier with sleepy eyes and a bowed head.
“Go,” Zander said. “Now.”
As Alahathrial slipped into the tunnel, Quinn turned to us. “What are you going to do?”
I met his eyes. Steady. Cold.
“We have a spy to catch.”