38. Raea
Raea
Ryker and I are dressed with the kind of ceremonial precision that makes my shoulders ache before the day has even begun. This kind of clothing screams of long days at court.
I’m wearing a fitted lavender gown with intricate silver beading and lace sleeves.
My hair is loose with a single crown braid at the top and florals pinned into my hair.
The ladies’ maids also insisted on adding some makeup.
Then they insisted I wear calf-high boots and handed me a heavy fur-lined cloak.
Ryker is dressed in fine navy trousers and a silver embroidered jacket. He too has boots and a heavy coat.
We ate breakfast before being forced into these clothes, promising Clara we’d see her later. Once again, Trysten promised he’d watch over her. That was until Brynna found a reason to be a bitch again and claimed he had work to do.
Ryker threatened her in that classic calm way of his that if anything happened to his sister, he’d find creative ways to extend her death, all the while he stood there, arms crossed, like he couldn’t be bothered by her existence. She merely scoffed and stormed away.
I exhale as Finn leads us outside to the gardens. He’s quiet, but so are we, taking in as much as we can about our new surroundings. This entire place is a fortress, but it’s a calming one at least.
Brynna meets us at the statue in the center of the gardens, along with her sister, who introduces herself as Carys, and then introduces the warrior who led us here as Riven.
“What are we doing?” I finally ask.
Finn grins, and Ryker gawks at me.
“What?”
Finn nods. “Well, this will be much easier. Your Elvisiah is perfect.”
Brynna stills beside him, her annoyance banking instantly. Whatever Finn is, he outranks her when it matters.
What? I look up to Ryker.
“How did you—” he starts.
Riven interjects. “Your blood is reconnecting with the land.”
Brynna shrugs, turning to Finn. “Shall we go?”
I’m about to ask where exactly when she mutters something under her breath while making some weird movements with her hands, like she’s pulling at invisible seams.
A gateway opens ten feet from us.
I gasp as what starts as a small circle of wind becomes a portal that’s at least fifteen feet high and ten feet across. On the other side, there’s a rainforest, and it’s pouring.
Brynna groans and then turns to me with a bitchy grin. “After you,” she gestures.
I don’t move.
Finn sighs and walks through, muttering something about her needing a personality adjustment.
“Don’t worry,” Carys says, “We’re all going.”
Brynna follows Finn through, and then Ryker takes my hand.
This time, as I approach, I marvel at how the light bends around the opening. It’s really as if a rip in the world has occurred. The strange buzz of energy knocks me breathless as I step into the pouring rain, slipping on my cloak and pulling up the hood.
Carys steps through after us, followed by Riven, who mutters something, and with a wave of his hand, the gateway seals, leaving only a mountainside of trees and plants.
We’re on a slope, and the ground is sodden, but not muddy. We follow Brynna and Finn as they lead us further into what looks like a valley. Across from us, I can see the other mountain.
Long minutes stretch as we move further down the mountain until we eventually come to a large cliff edge that drops so far below, I can’t see the bottom.
Ryker whistles beside me.
“Time to tell us where we are,” I demand.
Before Brynna can say something snarky, Finn says, “Raea, the council elders have requested a visit.” He crosses his arms, and it's only then that I realize he’s wearing brown leather pants and a basic tunic. Why are we so dressed up? He must notice because he snorts.
“The clothes are for your next meeting.” Without another word, he turns back around, facing the open valley. “Just don’t think about it,” he says over his shoulder as he steps off the edge.
I race forward to grab him, but he vanishes in thin air.
“Well, that was interesting,” Ryker mutters, wrapping a hand around my waist and tugging me away from the edge.
Riven steps up beside him. His dark hair is plastered to his face, and the shining silver armor he wore on the beach of Malaya is nowhere to be seen.
Today, he’s dressed in black leather with a sword strapped to his back.
I have no doubt that this warrior before me is as lethal with or without the uniform.
“It’s the entrance to the council chambers.
You’ll feel disoriented for a few seconds, but you’ll land on solid ground. ”
Carys walks toward the edge and, with a small smile, steps off.
Brynna rolls her eyes at us and follows her sister.
“I’m sure it’s not easy, but trust me.” Riven pats Ryker on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you to go first.”
Ryker pauses, looking to me. I stare at the edge of the cliff. Surely they aren’t bringing us here to die. I mean, why rescue us only to kill us? With a long exhale and my stomach swirling, I move to the edge once more. “Together?” I ask Ryker.
He takes my hand, and with a squeeze, he says, “Together.”
I don’t know why I hold my breath, but I do. I’m expecting the sensation of falling, but instead, I feel like I’m being twisted and wrung out. My insides lurch, and my head spins, but before I can scream, it all stops, and we stumble into a stone hallway.
A moment later, Riven steps in behind us. Ryker and I are the only two gasping for air. With a few minutes to clear our heads, Finn leads us into an opening, and my jaw drops.
The chamber is a masterpiece of dark stone floating in the heart of the valley, anchored by pillars that rise like sentinels against the raging storm.
Outside, the rainforest is a blurred wall of green and gray, but the invisible dome above us shatters the downpour into millions of glittering diamonds that slide away in silent rivers.
The air here feels ancient, vibrating with a frequency that makes the temples back home look like children's toys.
Torches illuminate each pillar in a soft glow, and the ring above that connects the pillars has an inscription—Elvisiah.
Thal’ven ai’loren, sil’aen vel’thir, ael’sera nor’enai. Ai’thor vel’skyren, ilen raen’lor thir’ael.
“We are the roots of remembrance—keepers of what has been, watchers of what yet waits. That Sky may rise in harmony with root, and all worlds endure, unbroken,” I mutter as I read.
“Very good,” Finn praises.
I feel my cheeks heat as I continue working my way around the room. Before me are five large thrones carved from the mountain itself. At the crest of the arch are five jewels: emerald, sapphire, opal, onyx, and ruby.
“They’re here,” Carys announces, moving to the center of the room, her gown made of the finest silk and hundreds of little diamonds.
Where Brynna is short like me, tan, built like a small warrior, and dressed like one too, Carys is softer, taller, and more regal. Her pale skin and light blonde hair glow. Her blue eyes reflect the shade of the frozen ocean, and there’s something about her that screams of royalty.
Finn instructs us to form a line with Ryker and me at the center.
My nerves are getting the best of me when five dark green-robed figures silently walk into the room. Their large hoods cover their faces. They move until they each stand before a throne, and as one, they all sit and remove their hoods, revealing beautiful, ancient faces.
Something in my soul stirs, like it recognizes these people as mine. The sharp lines of their faces, their cunning features, their green and hazel eyes.
Their pointed ears…
My head swivels to Finn, but his aren’t—
I blink once, twice, and realize his ears are pointed. I had noticed before, but I forgot in the chaos of the past day. I shift my eyes to Brynna beside him. Hers are pointed as well.
The elder at the center of the room, the one who looks to be the oldest, speaks, breaking the reverence in the room. “Soraea, daughter of light,” he speaks in Elvisiah. “We welcome you. I am Lord Caelithen. I serve as the High Speaker of Memory and Spirit.”
He turns to his right, gesturing to the council members at his side.
He points to the woman sitting in the first throne, the emerald.
“This is Lady Naelira, Guardian and Healer of Elven domain.” He gestures to the man between them, the one seated on the sapphire throne whose face looks like the justice of law itself. “Lord Verion, Arbiter of Balance.”
He finishes the introductions with the two seated to his left.
The ruby throne is Lord Theronai, the Warden of Flame and Will.
He should be easy to remember. His dark skin is marred by burns and scars.
The female seated between them on the onyx throne is Lady Serathiel, Keeper of Knowledge and Truth.
I bow my head before meeting their gaze.
“We have waited a long time for this day. Your birth was foretold over a millennium ago, and now, here you stand. The worlds are changing before us, and this war—” He shakes his head, studying me for a long moment, the weight of centuries pressing into his gaze.
“Tell us where you stand in your training, Soraea. Not what you hope to be capable of. What you are capable of.”
“Morana’s powers have grown exponentially over the years.
We do not understand where they come from.
Her shadows bend to her will, the mists capturing the voices and souls of those she’s tortured.
How strong is your magic? We need to know where we must pick up in your training,” Lady Serathiel clarifies.
The silence stretches. My throat tightens.
Before I can answer, Riven steps forward, dropping briefly to one knee before rising again. “She held the shadows at bay long enough for extraction. Shielded seven people. No guidance. No formal training.” He pauses a moment. “But her magic was burning out. She would not have lasted much longer.”
The words strike harder than any accusation. Heat crawls up my neck, shame curling tight in my chest.
I lower my gaze, fingers twisting in the silk of my gown. “I don’t know how to control it. Everything I’ve done has been instinct. Out of fear and…survival.”
Ryker, sensing my emotions, clears his throat.
The eyes of the council members swing to him, and he bows. “She has had no teachers,” he says, his voice calm, but edged with quiet authority. “Astor and Calia told us her lifeforce must be restored before true training could begin. And that our Bond must be completed.”
Lady Naelira stands, her hair shimmering like dawn as she steps down from her throne and, on silent feet, steps toward us.
The room stills as she brushes her hands over us.
Not touching us, but the air surrounding us.
Her eyes grow big as her head swivels toward Lady Serathiel. “The Aethermark is blocked.”
“They must complete the trials during the awakening. The two are linked.” Lord Verion’s voice echoes through the chamber, calm, yet otherworldly. Unlike Lord Caelithen, whose voice holds centuries of authority.
Lord Verion’s sends a shiver down my spine.
Lady Naelira turns back to us. “Your trials, your awakening, and your training.” She says it like she’s making a mental note.
“So many things, so little time.” She looks to Finn.
“Lord Finn, please see to it that their training begins tomorrow at dawn. We must make haste.” She then turns to Carys.
“You must take them to Caelus. He will know what to do with their awakening.” Then to Riven. “You will oversee their training.”
Riven nods before she returns to her throne.
Finn steps forward. “And what of their friends? We brought six others and Prince Anders’ sister.”
Lord Theronai, who has been silent this whole time, stirs. “Do they know of their lifeforce?” His voice is quiet, yet the room shakes from the power he has within.
Finn informs them they aren’t sure which council they belong to. Lord Theronai only nods.
“They too must go through their own awakening and training. Riven is to assign them instructors,” Lord Caelithen declares.
“What does that mean?” I ask, gripping my gown to not let them see my shaky hands. “Our lifeforce. I understand that it was given to power the Veil long ago by our ancestors, but what does it mean to have it restored?”
“You will be restored to what is truly yours—your birthright. For you, Soraea, daughter of the forest, are an Elven heir.” Lady Naelira’s gaze shifts to Ryker.
“And your mate…the Fae heir. As for your friends, we will know in time. Humans live such short lives and carry no magic within them. But with your lifeforce restored, you will gain full access to your power—your family’s magic.
Your life will extend for many millennia. ”
Ryker goes preternaturally still beside me. I don’t know what makes me ask, especially since it seems rude, but the words fall out anyway. “And how old are you?”
“I am eight thousand and eighty-nine cycles,” Lady Naelira says with a gentle smile. She looks to Lord Caelithen. “Though not as old as him.” Her eyes crinkle. “Lord Caelithen is the eldest here at nine thousand, two hundred and four cycles.”
I suddenly feel lightheaded. Eight thousand cycles.
Nine thousand. The numbers aren't just digits—they are a weight that settles in the marrow of my bones. As a human-raised Princess, I thought a hundred years was a full life. Now, I’m standing before beings who have watched mountains crumble to dust. Who’ve seen the rise and fall of civilizations.
Who’ve known many, many generations of human families.
My Elvisiah-tuned blood hums at the truth of it—the realization that Ryker and I won't be together for a lifetime, but for ages of the world. It makes the impending war feel both infinitely more dangerous and our Bond infinitely more precious. He once told me he’d love me for a human lifespan or an immortal one.
I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy that it will be the latter.
“And how old are the Fae?” I ask.
Lady Naelira looks to Carys.
“Our eldest is currently twelve thousand, seven hundred and ninety-one cycles. Our lifespans are much the same. Though once you two complete your Aethermark, your lifespans will be tied to one another. You’ll pass into the aether within minutes of each other,” Carys answers.
Ryker doesn’t move beside me, but the air around him crackles.
The weight of all this knowledge feels so heavy.
I nod and look back at the council members.
Lord Caelithen is the last to speak, telling us to go, that we need all the time we have to prepare for the finality of the war, which is on the horizon.
As one, the five council members stand, pulling their hoods up once more, and file out of the chamber on silent feet.
The air thins, and I draw in a deep breath.
Ryker pulls me to his chest, where I bury my face into his cloak, inhaling my favorite scent.
His strong arms wrap around me, holding me close.
It’s only a heartbeat later before Carys says, “Well, time to go meet the king.”