EPILOGUE
Aimee
I’m trapped in a lucid dream, weightless yet unmoving, confused although my senses are on high alert.
Flashes of broken images play on repeat through the hollowness of my mind.
Depictions of a battle I’ve never witnessed, of forgotten times and places.
A grief that is not mine sinks into my ethereal limbs, a foreign scream lodged in my throat.
Nine figures float in the darkness, hunched over a glowing parchment, whispering and scribbling. They seem so pained, so defeated—familiar yet completely unknown. One by one, the shapes straighten and wither away, transcending into higher planes.
Only one remains, its glowing silver eyes cast upon me, judging, pondering, and then smiling.
This new reality shatters all around me, like jagged mirrors dropping into a chasm. I fall endlessly, my sense of self losing all meaning, until I land, on hands and knees, in the middle of a wide circle of marbled statues.
They stand proud, gazes lost between the past and the future. The nine Fae Gods. The Wise Ones.
Alektriona—Fae Goddess of all life, of light, fire and rebirth.
Khalya—Fae Goddess of time, creation and destruction, chaos and order.
Dhabvar—Fae God of the heavens, winds and thunder.
Kreyos—Fae God of shadows, lies and deceit.
Reythia—Fae Goddess of love, passion, and lust.
Xeys—Fae God of war.
Modgor—Fae God of earth and the cycle of life in nature.
Llyr—Fae God of water, oceans and storms.
Ereshkygall—Fae Goddess of death, the moon and endless night.
I rise to stand amid all the Gods that have forsaken me all my life, only to accept me in death. The cruel irony is not lost on me, and I shake my head in contempt.
Suddenly one of the statues blinks, moving its eerie argent gaze my way. Ereshkygall descends from her gilded pedestal and speaks in an ancient voice, laced with all the knowledge and suffering of the world.
“Welcome home, Foretold One. I’ve been expecting you since it all began.”
I rear back in shock and anger. “What do you merciless Gods want from me? Have I not endured enough? Why do you plague my afterlife? Have I not gained my soul’s freedom?”
Her lips curl up in the ghost of a smile, the tip of a silvered fang peeking through. “You Faes, and your drama. Fear not, my child. I mean you no harm. Only answers.”
I cross my arms defiantly, tapping my foot against the cold marble surface. “Then speak, or let me be. I have no desire to waste my eternity in your presence.”
She laughs, the sound so void of any emotion. “You’ve come so far, Foretold One, but your path is nowhere near its end. Come find me down there, my child. Bring him with you. All shall be revealed in due time.”
She reaches for my face, the tip of her curved nail touching my forehead, and pain explodes in my skull, the illusion disintegrating.
I jerk up in my bed, my head pounding and my entire body sore, as if I’ve been smashed by an entire mountain. I have a sinking feeling that I should remember something important, something vital, but I can’t really grasp what.
I press my fingers against my temples, rubbing slowly, and that’s when I notice the stone cuffs encircling my wrists. Osmynium.
What the actual fuck? Am I a prisoner again? But I’m in my bed, in my chamber in Sangeries. I frown, looking at my wrists, and up my arms, following the black swirls of tattoos crawling up my skin.
“Ah, the sneaky kitty cat has finally awoken. Thank Akaori, I’ve been babysitting you for the last two days and I was bored out of my damn mind.” Blaise’s voice floats from a nearby sofa next to the fireplace. His smile doesn’t entirely reach his eyes.
“Blaise, what’s happening?” I shake my hands in front of me. “Why am I wearing these?”
He stands up from the sofa and comes closer, his body tense.
“You’ve kept a great deal of stuff from us, Aimee. From him. He can’t be sure where your allegiance lies anymore.”
Oh Gods, the battle, my sister being Morweena, Marhus turning onpyr, dark shadows flowing from my veins and charring everything. It all comes crashing down on me, and I gasp. “Killian, is he well? Where is he? Why is he not here?”
“He is alive thanks to you. We all are. Well? That’s another story, kitty cat. As well as one can be when betrayed by the love of his life. You’ve kept critical information from him. Your powers. Your sister’s true identity,” Blaise says as he takes another step closer.
No, no, no. This is all wrong! I tug at the ends of my hair, shaking my head fervently.
“I did not know any of that, Blaise! I swear on my life, on our friendship! I withheld only the atrocities my sister put me through. But I would never…” I trail off, sobbing. Tears are running down my face, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
“Friends don’t lie, Aimee. Neither do lovers,” he says, sadness coating his words as he reaches the bed and lowers himself at the edge of the mattress.
“I didn’t lie.” A whimper escapes my lips.
“I mean I did, but not about that. I had no idea I had magic. Your crone tested me and found nothing, remember? I wouldn’t have put any of you in harm’s way had I known that Aurora and Morweena are one and the same.
” I hug myself, feeling defeated. “Never told anyone about her gaslighting, about her torture, her wickedness towards me. I kept all my trauma hidden inside my mind, running away from it as much as I could. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, or to be treated like a victim. ”
Blaise regards me for long moments in heavy silence. He stares into my eyes, and I let him see all the hurt, the painful truth carved deeply in my soul. His face softens, and he reaches to brush his hand against my trembling fingers.
“You really didn’t know?”
Strands of hair stick to my face limply as I shake my head furiously. “I know I must seem untrustworthy right now, but Blaise, I beg of you, believe me. I am not her; I am not evil.”
He sighs again before circling his arms around me in the briefest of hugs.
“I believe you, kitty cat. But I am not the one who needs convincing.”
I pull back, my words a broken whisper. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”
He chuckles, rising from the bed. “Hate might be a strong word, pretty princess. He’s broken and raging.
He might not want to face you, and might unleash his wrath on you the first time he sees you, but no, I don’t think he actually hates you.
” Blaise strides towards the door with hurried steps.
“I’ll go announce your awakening and plead your case.
No promises, but I am on your side, my little sister. ”
He leaves me alone, and I weep for hours, waiting for a Killian that never comes.
For the past days I’ve been confined to my room, waiting, dissecting all the events in my mind, trying to remember something crucial lodged deep down in my subconscious. I have a nagging feeling that I’m missing a huge chunk of an enigma I can sense, but not recollect.
At the end of three long, torturous days, Blaise returns to my chamber with a solemn face. He is carrying a blood-red stone, similar to the ones etched on the surface of the Osmynium cuffs.
“I have good news and bad news, Aimee. The good news is that I will take off the magic-hindering cuffs. You’re free to go.
” He places the stone on top of each matching gem, and the cuffs click open, falling from my wrists.
I immediately feel the swirl of power under my skin, the scaly serpents coiling and slithering up and down my limbs.
I can hear the steady beat of Blaise’s heart.
I can smell the scent of meat cooking in the kitchens below, and hear the wind howling through the trees outside.
“And the bad news?” I ask, rubbing gingerly my sore, reddened wrists.
“You’re free to go,” Blaise repeats, and the meaning finally dawns on me. “To leave the castle and go about your life elsewhere.”
“No,” I say in whispered horror. My heart tears open, bleeding in my chest.
“I’m sorry, Aimee. He doesn’t want to see you, nor speak to you,” Blaise murmurs, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“No, no, no. This can’t be it. I’d rather face his wrath than his dismissal,” I implore, shaking. Dark shadows spill from my skin, slithering to the ground. Blaise watches me warily, tensing at the presence of my powers. “But the prophecy, my sister…”
“The prophecy has been fulfilled, Aimee. You defeated Morweena, reducing her to ashes. All onpyrs have disappeared from our territories, as far as our network of spies can tell. At least there’s a silver lining in all of this.”
“Did you find her body? Do you have proof that she is truly dead?” I frown, grasping at straws. Things can’t end like this. My gut tells me it was too easy. We did not defeat her together. Isn’t that what the prophecy says?
Only when bleeding darkness fights darkness,
May light finally prevail.
Now that I am revealed to be the real Foretold One, the prophecy’s meaning changes. Shouldn’t we fight her together, with our powers combined?
“There was no body, kitty cat, but it’s to be expected, with the ferocity of your dark shadows and all.
She’s dead, Aimee. We are forever in your debt.
That’s why he’s letting you go. He recognizes the fact that if you had been our enemy, you wouldn’t have saved us all.
” Blaise clasps my hands before drawing me near and kissing my forehead.
“I truly am sorry, pretty princess,” he whispers against my hairline.
“I did my best to persuade him to talk to you at least. To hear you out one last time. You know I’ve been rooting for the two of you since the very beginning. ”
A lone tear escapes, and he presses his thumb softly under my eye, wiping it away. “He’s immovable in his grief. A fucking stubborn asshole, if you ask me. Who knows, though…maybe in a few hundred years, when the dust of your betrayal settles… there’s nothing but time now.”
How the hell am I supposed to live a few hundred years without him?
Even a year seems too long. I can’t believe I’ve fucked up entirely the only good thing that has happened to me since I was born.
My shadows hum in disapproval at that thought.
Sassy things. Okay, one of the few good things that ever happened to me.
A loud knock startles me from my heartbreak-stricken thoughts, before a vampire guard barges in, holding a folded parchment in his hand.
“Sir, an urgent missive just arrived from Ryawarath.” He hands the folded paper to Blaise, who takes it and breaks the seal off, reading it with a blanching face. All color drains from his features, and he jumps into action, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out the door.
“Come,” is all he says before he breaks into an impossibly fast run through the corridors. I can’t even utter a word before we gate-crash through Killian’s private study’s doors, and I’m met with his livid, loathing stare.
“What the hell is she fucking doing here? I made myself very clear, Blaise, that I do not wish to see her lying, treacherous face ever again. Get. Her. Out!” he bellows, fangs barred, before Blaise throws the missive in his face.
“Shut up, idiot. Read that!” he shouts, his chest heaving, standing in front of me protectively.
“Blaise, please, what’s going on? What does the letter say?” I ask while Killian reads, his face turning ash white.
“It says you two have to get your shit together fast. There is no time for licking wounds, as doom looms above our heads worse than ever.”
Killian’s onyx gaze rises to meet my own, and a myriad of emotions swim in his dark depths.
Anger.
Betrayal.
Heartache.
Mistrust.
Fear.
“It says, little umbra, that Prince Noahlin’s wedding took place just the other day. Followed by King Orgon’s descent from the throne and his ascension to power. It ends with, and I quote: ‘All hail the new Fae King Noahlin and his wife, Queen Aurora Vaureghain!’”
My blood freezes in my veins as I metaphorically pick up my jaw from the ground. Whatever the fuck happened with the bride being Loelle Brimms? Was it all a ruse?
My black shadows creep on the floor, meeting Killian’s crimson ones, twirling and merging between us, like two long-lost lovers finally reuniting.
“The end of Imiryion is here,” I say under my breath as I hold Killian’s cold, unflinching stare.
END OF BOOK 1