Chapter Sixty-One
Velunthar is one of those well kept hidden secrets by the Fae. They have many cities like this, that are impossible to visit without being invited. I’ve always wondered why they hide their cities. What are they keeping hidden from us?
Tabitha Wysteria
Bryn Wynter had been given chambers within the vast castle of Velunthar, a short way down the corridor from the rooms belonging to House of Wild.
His body ached with exhaustion, urging him towards the enormous bed fashioned from the petals of an equally enormous flower.
Yet he had lingered behind, unable to rest while the question of his brother gnawed at him.
He had stayed to ask after Eirwen.
Unfortunately, no one within the castle had seen the young prince. And with each answer that came back empty, Bryn found himself wondering if his little brother had met the same grim fate as the rest of House of Snow.
‘Princess Willow Hawthorne wishes to speak with you privately,’ a servant announced, gesturing for him to follow.
The servant led him into what appeared to be a grand dining hall.
Like much of Velunthar, the space was immense—its tall stone walls rising high overhead.
Yet despite the stone, the hall felt strangely alive.
The furniture was carved not merely from wood, but woven with living plants and curling vines, blossoms spilling over the edges of tables and chairs.
To Bryn, accustomed to the cold austerity of grey stone halls and thick winter furs, it was an oddly beautiful contrast.
Princess Willow sat at the long wooden dining table, carefully spreading a layer of jam across a slice of bread. Without looking up, she gestured towards the chairs at her right, inviting him to sit.
Bryn had just stepped forward when he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden presence behind him.
Kage.
The wyverian prince slipped past him and took the seat closest to the princess without hesitation.
Bryn knew, somewhere beneath his irritation, that Kage had done it out of instinct, out of protection, by placing himself between Bryn and the girl as though she might suddenly decide to carve their eyes out with the butter knife resting beside her plate.
Still, the gesture stung. The thought that Kage believed him too weak to defend himself against a child stirred a quiet flash of annoyance.
‘Why are the valkyrians here?’ Kage asked, watching the princess with sharp attention as she continued spreading her jam with almost excessive care.
‘They came to us,’ Willow replied.
‘Did you call for them?’
‘No.’ The princess paused, frowning slightly. ‘Should I have?’
At that moment the doors to the dining hall opened.
A valkyrian woman stepped inside.
She wore the distinctive armour of her people—silver-plated and said to be unbreakable.
The design protected only the vital parts of the body, leaving much of the rest exposed.
The valkyrians insisted it was for freedom of movement in battle, though many suspected another reason entirely, one the warriors themselves preferred not to acknowledge.
The valkyrian who entered was striking to behold. Her skin was dark as midnight, her golden eyes bright beneath a closely shaved head. White valkyrian runes covered every inch of her body, their pale glow standing in beautiful contrast against her dark skin.
She stopped at the far end of the long table.
‘Please, come and join us,’ Willow said pleasantly. ‘This is Alma. She sent two of her valkyrians to scout the witches and follow their movements, but they never returned. Didn’t they, Alma?’
‘That would be correct, princess.’
‘So she assumed they had been captured or killed and sent a few more,’ Willow continued, reaching for another slice of bread and carefully spreading jam across it. ‘Then she discovered the problem was far greater than expected and decided to come to our rescue. Isn’t that right, Alma?’
‘It is indeed, princess.’
Willow licked the jam from her fingers and turned her curious gaze upon Kage. ‘Do you know what I am?’
The question seemed to strike him, though he did not allow it to show openly. Bryn had spent enough time with the wyverian prince now to notice the subtle shift, the slight tightening of Kage’s shoulders.
‘Yes.’
Bryn burnt with curiosity but did not dare interrupt.
‘Then you know what is coming,’ Willow said, tilting her head as she continued licking the sweetness from her fingertips.
‘No.’
‘The end is coming.’
Bryn stiffened at the words. He leaned forward despite the warning in Kage’s black eyes.
‘And how do we prepare?’ he asked.
‘You don’t.’
Willow turned towards Bryn as though she had only just realised he was sitting there.
‘If they find me,’ she said calmly, ‘you will all die.’
Bryn frowned, struggling to follow the strange thread of the conversation. Who exactly was searching for Princess Willow? The witches? The question hung unspoken in his mind while everyone else at the table seemed to understand perfectly well what was being said.
‘Well,’ Willow added with a soft chuckle, ‘some of you are already dead.’ Her green eyes drifted to Kage.
And in that instant Bryn froze.
He did not know why the thought had not struck him sooner. Perhaps it had brushed the edges of his mind before, only for him to push it away, refusing to consider that death might explain Kage’s strange behaviour. Yet suddenly everything began to make sense.
The unnatural cold of his skin.
The way his shadow crow had vanished without explanation.
So many small, unsettling details that now fell neatly into place.
Kage turned towards him.
And Bryn saw the truth written plainly in those deep black eyes—the fear there, the quiet tension. Fear of what? Bryn suspected he knew.
Fear of how he would react.
Did Kage think he would recoil from him? Curse him? Push him away?
Yes, the revelation stung. It hurt that Kage had not trusted him enough to tell the truth. But…
‘Who is trying to find you?’ Kage asked, turning his attention away from Bryn.
Willow regarded him for so long that Bryn began to wonder whether she would answer at all. At last she sighed softly, as though recalling a memory that had grown heavy with the passing of centuries.
‘A very long time ago, Kage Blackburn,’ she began, ‘A god fell in love with me. Most of you know him as the Sun God. But he was cruel and jealous, for he believed my power rivalled his own. So I ran.’ Her fingers toyed idly with the edge of the bread before her.
‘He believes the child I bore was his,’ she continued, ‘and he has never forgiven me for keeping that child from him.’
‘Was the child his?’ Kage asked.
Willow chuckled quietly. ‘No. But he refuses to believe that. And now… it hardly matters. He will stop at nothing to find me.’ Her smile sharpened slightly. ‘As well as my rather deranged daughter.’
‘So what do we do?’ Kage asked.
‘I would say pray, Kage Blackburn,’ Willow replied as she leaned forward to snatch the butter from the table. ‘But prayer will get us nowhere.’ She began spreading it across her bread with calm deliberation. ‘So I suppose we should prepare for the end.’
Kage rose to his feet.
There was anger in the rigid set of his shoulders, though with Kage Blackburn it was often difficult to tell. He reached across the table and took the butter dish from where it sat, just out of Willow’s reach, dropping it down directly in front of her.
The princess looked up at him, clearly irritated.
Nevertheless, she took her knife and resumed spreading it across her bread.
Kage moved past Bryn as he headed for the door, the tips of two fingers brushing lightly against Bryn’s arm, the smallest signal that he expected him to follow.
The moment the doors to the dining hall closed behind them, Kage spun sharply on his heels to face Bryn. His mouth opened as though he meant to speak, but whatever words had risen there died just as quickly. His jaw tightened instead.
‘So…yer dead?’ Bryn asked, attempting to break the heavy silence.
Kage’s gaze dropped to the floor. For a long while he said nothing. Then, after several quiet moments, he gave a small nod.
Bryn stood there, unsure of what to say. None of the words forming in his mind seemed right. At last he sighed softly.
‘Did it hurt?’
Part of him asked because he needed to know that Kage had not suffered.
Another part, one he scarcely dared acknowledge, hoped for reassurance about his own family.
If death was gentle, if it came without agony or terror, perhaps the tight fist that had lodged itself inside his chest since the fall of House of Snow might finally loosen its grip.
‘No,’ Kage said quietly. ‘It didn’t hurt.’
Bryn opened his mouth again, ready to tell him that he was sorry. Sorry for what had happened to him. Sorry that Kage had felt compelled to hide something so immense. Sorry that, deep down, Kage had been right all along.
They were doomed.
But the words never came.
The dining hall doors suddenly swung open behind them. Willow and Alma stepped out, both looking unsettled.
‘What’s wrong?’ Bryn asked, his brow furrowing.
Alma did not pause to answer. She hurried straight towards a group of waiting valkyrians, already issuing sharp commands.
Willow stopped beside them. Her eyes were wide now, alert in a way that made Bryn’s stomach tighten.
‘It seems, gentlemen,’ she said calmly, ‘that the end has come sooner than I expected.’
She glanced towards the distant walls of Velunthar.
‘The witches have arrived.’