54. Chapter Fifty-Four
When the light faded to duller shades of white and gray, I found my body floating in a pool of glittering water.
Overhead, there was nothing but a vast sky of pure-white light. I was in water, but my body felt dry. Turning my head, ethereal numbness overwhelmed every inch of my body as I captured the sight of fiery red against the clear surface of this pool. Emerald eyes captured mine, and I felt my heart leap from my chest like a frog on a lilypad.
She smiled. Suddenly, the death, the chaos, the war—it was no matter. Our legs were facing opposite directions, her lips to my chin as I reached over to pull her closer. Her touch was a gentle ghost against my skin—fleeting, impossible, but it had to be real.
“Aurelie,” I whispered. “Aurelie, what are you…where are we?”
She hushed me, turning her head toward the endless void ahead of us. “We’re at peace. Isn’t it lovely?”
I blinked, unable to tear my stare from her face. Hours had felt like years apart, and I was in awe of her beauty, as if it had been decades since I last saw it. As if it would be the last time I’d ever see it, in fact. “Aurelie. Where…where are we?”
She blinked, a thread of starlight tracing down her cheek where a teardrop should be. “An eternal resting place,” she whispered. This time, as she turned to me, her evergreen eyes were hollow and her smile was rotten—like that of a corpse.
I screamed and jolted upright, rubbing my eyes to rid myself of the horror. When I looked at her once more, she was gone. I was no longer in water; instead, I stood in utter darkness. I spun until the shadows formed the shape of men and women.
One thousand deceased.
It was a taunt of my failures—a taunt of my fallen kingdom. A low, rumbling chuckle echoed around me, shaking the ground beneath my feet like the gods had. It was eerily familiar—a laugh I’d heard most of my growing years.
I looked overhead to see hundreds of gilded threads lowering from the endless space. They glistened, begging to be touched, but the one resting over the tip of my nose dulled into midnight gray.
It zapped as I lifted a finger toward it.
When I pinched the end, the others vanished in a blink of an eye. It felt cold to the touch, not wholly dead, but like that of a stag bleeding from the arrow of a cruel, thoughtless hunter. I blinked over and over, trying to wash away the agonizing numbness that rocketed down my arms, spiraling around my spine before forcing my knees to buckle.
I yanked the thread down.
For a moment, clarity overwhelmed me. I saw the burning homes—the edge of town, where the meadows and rolling hills touched manmade paths. There, I found Aurelie—there, I found my home.
Then, I collapsed onto the floor. Real, tangible wood splintered into the back of my arms and forced the air from my lungs in a loud gasp. I felt blood seeping out of my nose, and my chest ached like I’d just been punched by a man twice my size.
Azalea appeared to my left, brows knitted with a frown carved into her skin. “Well? What’d you make of that bond?” she said, using the word against me.
I sputtered out a shallow breath before standing. “The edge of town,” I breathed and raced toward the door. Azalea called after me, but when I grabbed hold of the iron handle, the magical seal shattered as if I was strong enough—capable enough—to do such a thing. When I stood outside, there was not an ounce of natural light to be seen.
Only that of the crimson eye in the sky, muted by shadowy clouds.
There were no men running after me with their swords drawn, but there were distant screams that choked into a forgotten lullaby. There were citizens slowly crawling from their homes with candles and lanterns lighting their way. Some bled, others bruised, but all who crawled from the basements of their homes were okay.
The Winter Court had survived—barely, but it was survival, nonetheless.
I ran faster, harder than I’d ever run before, guided by nothing other than hope and the haziest of visions I’d ever witnessed before. The last time I held onto hope, it led me to Aurelie’s body strung up with silver in a fortress I never thought I’d see again.
Tonight, it was not just hope and magic.
It was a bond. It was our bond.
To my left, I saw another ship docking at the shore. The figurehead was a staple of the Summer Court—a depiction of the mer who plagued their shores—but their flag had been removed.
Then, the roar of a beast silenced the distant screams.
My chest loosened at the sound. I had no proof, nothing other than the memories that swarmed around in my head: campfires spent alongside a man I’d long since considered a brother, battles against mercenaries who got too close to learning my truth, drunken schemes in the wake of Aurelie’s arrival.
Casynox. That had to be Casynox.
I’d have to return to prove that theory another hour, though, because as more of those screams silenced and the sounds of war became more and more distant, I saw two figures walking through the snow that had since replaced hail. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, as if to support each other’s weight.
One of silvery night.
The other of fire and wrath.
I choked out in disbelief and could have collapsed onto my knees at the sight.
Aurelie and Sapphire had survived the night—but as the gap between us closed and her glossy eyes lifted to meet mine, there was something incredibly different about my witchling. When Sapphire let go so Aurelie’s limping trot could hasten toward me and her arms wrapped around my waist, I gazed down at the top of her head.
Poking from her strands of matted hair were pointed fae ears.