Chapter Nine
When my son was taken from me, I learnt years later that he had found his way into the land of the Fae. He was raised there, not by strangers, but by Fae parents. And not just any Fae. They had once been dear friends to Hadrian and me, kind souls who had even stood beside us at our wedding.
Of course, they hadn’t known the child they found was ours. Had they known, they would have returned him without hesitation. And yet… in some quiet, aching way, I’m glad he was raised by them, by those I once trusted, those who would have loved him well.
But I wasn’t the only one searching. Others hunted him too.
By the time I reached those old friends, I found only ruin. They had been slaughtered. Thankfully, by then, my son had already been sent away to fight in the war. But…
There are whispers now, dark and dangerous rumours. There are those who believe my son is the weapon Hades intends to unleash upon the world.
The God-Killer.
If only they knew…
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage Blackburn had no great desire to follow the Fae.
Not through the charred remnants of Fireheart, nor into the bleak, scorched reaches of the Kingdom of Fire.
And yet, Bryn Wynter’s wolf had chosen its path, slipping into the wasteland with quiet purpose.
Kage’s own shadow crow, Spirox, ever the inscrutable companion, had deemed it necessary to follow.
And so, reluctantly, Kage had trailed behind. Silent, watchful, and always at a distance. He made no attempt to approach, but he knew the Fae was aware of the shade that haunted his steps.
Kage wanted to find his siblings. That much was constant. He also hoped, in some half-formed corner of his mind, to return the wolf to Bryn, as though honouring such a small promise might restore something in a world gone cruelly askew.
He wanted to find Freya, to ask what had become of Wren.
He wanted many things.
And deep down, he knew he was unlikely to have any of them.
Now, he watched in silence as the Fae kindled a fire and sat beside it, green eyes fixed on the flames as if something precious had been lost within their flickering light. Perhaps it had. It seemed that all of them, lately, had misplaced something vital, and none of them knew how to retrieve it.
Kage still pondered the connection between Wren Wynter and this quiet, distant Fae, though never deeply enough to bridge the space between them with a question.
More than once, he had turned back, muttering curses into the wind, ready to abandon this ghost-trail of ash and silence.
But the wolf pressed forward, and the crow, ever loyal to some secret wisdom, soared ahead.
And Kage, with reluctant breath and bitter mutterings, always turned around.
‘Why are you following me?’
Kage stilled. The Fae’s voice cut clean through the stillness, his gaze fixed unerringly on the shadows where Kage had hidden himself among the trees. Despite the cover of twilight and foliage, he had been seen or perhaps sensed.
At the sound of the stranger’s voice, the wolf padded over with the confidence of a creature utterly unbothered by tension, curling up beside the fire as if it had always belonged there.
With a resigned breath, Kage stepped out from the treeline, surrendering the safety of shadows.
Their eyes met across the glow of the flames.
One pair as green as deep forest, the other as black and endless as the night sky.
One gaze full of sorrow and regret; the other clouded with uncertainty, haunted by too many roads unchosen.
‘I’m not the one following you,’ Kage replied, gesturing towards the wolf and the crow. ‘They are.’
The Fae didn’t answer at once. Instead, he turned back to the small fire, adjusting the position of a plucked bird he’d hunted before dusk had begun to bleed across the sky. He placed it carefully over the flames, the scent of char and game slowly rising into the cooling air.
Kage remained where he was, unmoving, a silent statue cloaked in quiet tension.
‘Are you going to sit, or are you just going to stand there like some cursed wraith?’ the Fae asked without looking up. ‘You’re starting to creep me out.’
With slow, deliberate steps, Kage crossed the distance and lowered himself to the ground, choosing a spot that maintained a careful measure of space between them.
The crow settled on a branch overhead, its eyes watchful and unblinking, while the wolf turned to stare at Kage, something like disdain glinting in its icy blue stare.
‘So?’ the Fae said at last, breaking the quiet.
‘Are you going to tell me why you or rather, your pets, are trailing me through ash and emptiness? Or do I have to play some absurd guessing game?’ His green eyes shone with faint amusement, though there was warning beneath it.
‘Let me guess. You’re Wren Wynter’s long-lost lover, come to duel me? ’
Kage studied the Fae in silence, his expression carved from stone, betraying nothing. The stranger’s words were meant to provoke, that much was clear, or perhaps he truly believed Kage and Wren had once been lovers. The notion almost made Kage smile.
Yes, Wren was beautiful, achingly so. But it was a beauty he could admire from a distance, unclouded by desire. His feelings for her had never stirred in that way.
He had realised he was different from his brother Kai long ago when Kai returned from military service, glowing and loud, with a crowd of friends at his back.
Kage had been fourteen, just beginning his own preparations to enlist. Kai, two years older, already had the world’s attention, admirers orbiting him like moths to flame.
That was when Kage had noticed him. One of the wyverian boys among Kai’s entourage. Just a glance at first, but it had been enough to startle something in his chest into motion. A heartbeat too fast. A breath caught in the wrong place.
For the first time, he had wandered down into the practice courtyards, pretending interest in swordplay while his attention shifted, always, to that boy. No one paid him any notice. Why would they?
But after a few days, the boy had looked back. Had smiled.
And Kage had realised then that this wasn’t about wanting a friend.
This was something else entirely.
He never saw the boy again. But not long after, he had gone to Haven, the sister who always seemed to understand without needing words. He’d asked her, voice small, if she knew what it meant.
She hadn’t said much. Just smiled softly and placed her hand over his heart.
‘It means you are mortal, and alive, and real, Kage,’ Haven had said, her voice gentle but sure. ‘It means you are capable of feeling, and of loving.’
‘But it was a boy,’ he’d murmured, uncertain.
Haven’s warm smile only widened. ‘So?’
‘So...in the stories I’ve read, it never mentions a prince falling for...’ He’d trailed off, brow furrowed, heart confused, until Haven laughed, light and easy.
‘Those tales are old, Kage.’ She’d cupped his face between her palms and kissed the tip of his nose like she used to when they were younger.
‘Is it wrong?’ he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
‘To love?’ Her head tilted, her expression aglow with something soft and knowing. ‘No, Kage. There are many things in this world that are wrong. But loving someone, truly, is never one of them.’
He had nodded, not fully convinced, but comforted all the same.
‘I’ve loved someone like me, too,’ Haven added, the confession gentle. ‘Not a wyverian boy, but a wyverian girl.’
Kage’s dark eyes had widened. ‘What happened?’
‘She didn’t love me back,’ Haven said with a shrug, though there was no bitterness in her voice.
‘At least, not in the same way. But that’s all right.
’ She had smiled, wistful and undeterred.
‘One day, I’ll find someone who loves me just as fiercely as I love them.
And we’ll live happily ever after like in those silly old books.
’ She’d laughed then, bright and teasing, and Kage had smiled too, the rare kind, the kind he saved only for her.
The rustle of movement brought him back to the present. Across the fire, the Fae leaned forward and lifted the roasted bird from the flames, setting it neatly onto a broad leaf. Without ceremony, he tore a piece free and, to Kage’s mild surprise, offered a piece to the wolf.
‘I’m not Wren’s lover,’ Kage said at last, his voice calm, measured, his gaze fixed on the Fae to catch even the faintest flicker of response.
‘Where is Wren?’ the Fae asked, though his tone carried more weariness than hope.
Kage exhaled slowly. ‘She’s with the valkyrians now.’
‘And how do I get her back?’
‘You don’t.’
The Fae gave a small nod, as though the answer had already nested somewhere in his mind, waiting to be spoken aloud. As though voicing it might help him accept it, make it real.
‘Where are you headed?’ Kage asked, genuine curiosity surfacing.
‘North,’ the Fae replied simply. ‘If Wren returns… she may go home. So I’ll be there, waiting for her when she does.’
Kage doubted that. Not out of cruelty, but clarity, though he kept the thought to himself.
‘Why not return to your own land?’ he asked instead.
The Fae only shrugged, his stare pinned to the fire as he tore into another bite of meat. He then gestured towards it, vaguely amused. ‘I’d offer you some, but I know wyverians can’t stomach normal food.’
‘How considerate,’ Kage replied drily.
The Fae chuckled, a low, sardonic sound. ‘It won’t be easy getting through my kingdom unnoticed, but I’ve got my ways.’ He cast a sidelong glance at Kage, his expression unreadable. ‘The Black Lotus will probably try to cut my head off.’
Kage’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying the man in silence.
Arden stood tall, his skin as deep and rich as the short dark dreadlocks bound neatly at the back of his head.
There was something undeniably regal about the Fae—perhaps it was the antlers.
Arden’s were larger than most, sweeping in graceful arcs that lent him an air of quiet majesty, though their size raised more than a little curiosity.
Kage had read enough about the Black Lotus to know the stories were not exaggerated.
They were no ordinary warriors. Mercenaries, forged by pain, honed in the dark under the king’s hand.
Tortured into loyalty since childhood, they were whispered of in the northern kingdoms like deathless phantoms. And their methods of killing were as legendary as they were horrific.
‘Are you a Black Lotus?’ Kage asked, uncertain. It was difficult to tell. This Fae certainly moved with the precision and poise the old tales whispered of, every motion deliberate, efficient, honed.
‘I’m Arden Briar,’ the Fae replied instead, inching closer and extending a hand in greeting.
Kage stared at it for so long that Arden frowned, then quickly wiped the grease from his palm onto his trousers. At last, and with visible reluctance, Kage reached out and shook it.
‘Not much of a shaker, are you?’
‘Not much of anything,’ Kage muttered.
Arden’s gaze shifted to the shadow crow. ‘Interesting looking bird.’
‘You can’t eat it,’ Kage warned flatly.
The crow gave an indignant flap of its wings, clearly offended.
Arden raised both hands in mock surrender, chuckling.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve heard all manner of things about shadows.
’ Kage didn’t ask for elaboration, but the Fae leaned in anyway, eyes gleaming with a storyteller’s grin.
‘They say they can drag you straight into the Underworld, wrap around you like smoke and pull you down.’ He gave a careless shrug.
‘So tell me, are all wyverians this...’ He hesitated, searching.
Kage arched a brow, unimpressed, ‘dark?’
Kage’s silence remained as still and unreadable as stone.
Arden laughed and leaned back. ‘Right then. I’ll shut up and eat my dinner.’ He returned to his place by the fire, tearing another bite from the meat. ‘Funny, you make me sound just like Wren.’
Kage’s chest ached at the sound of her name, sharp and sudden.
‘Are they going to follow me into my kingdom?’ Arden asked after a pause, nodding at the crow and the wolf.
Kage shrugged, his usual answer to most things.
‘Well, if they do,’ Arden said, settling into a more comfortable sprawl, ‘do try to keep up. Oh, and wake me before sunset, would you?’