11. Chapter 11
eleven
Darkness surrounded me—but it was a living darkness. Fireflies. Glints of gold. Movement of water. I’d returned to The Glade, successfully moving from one spirit world to the next.
My ancestors had pulled me out of the underworld at my request, no doubt a much-welcome side effect of unlocking the channel between us. As they’d promised via their whispers on the wind around the circle of stones, they had walked with me through the underworld for my entire journey.
Relief flooded through me as I took in my surroundings, but that relief was wildly fleeting. A somberness hung in the air despite my return home. As I glanced down, I realized that I was still in my spirit form; I hadn’t been returned to my body, as the man in my cell had warned.
The last time I’d visited The Glade, I’d been in my normal form.
Now, I floated in that eerie, disconnected sort of way that wasn’t entirely human.
But in a strange way, the sensation of being bodiless also felt right here.
The Glade, after all, was a spirit world.
I was more spirit than not at the moment, and something about it was exceedingly fitting. And also alarming.
A part of me felt like I belonged here. My ancestors were here as spirits; would it be so terrible to simply…join them?
Not yet, that little voice spoke in my head. Tempting as it may be.
“It’s not your time.” A bodiless voice confirmed what I’d been thinking.
The first time I had heard my ancestors speak, the voice had sounded like a hundred voices in one—a collective group of my ancestors communicating with me. This time, instead of a chorus of voices, I heard just one—clear and distinct. A woman’s voice. Hopeful and gentle, comforting and wise.
“It’s me, Alessia,” she said. “It’s me.”
Before I could process all the things I was feeling, I saw movement. From between the massive stone statues of the goddesses who ruled in the eons before me, I saw her. She moved like a spirit—ghostly, pale, a wisp—but she was beautiful.
Unlike the spirits of the underworld that were made from darkness and hopelessness, the spirit before me was light.
Shining and peaceful and magnificent. She wore a flowing white gown, and her eyes still held life, despite having left the realm of the living many years ago.
As she moved toward me, she was surrounded by a melody that followed her like a perfume.
My melody.
Her melody.
Our melody.
“It’s you,” I whispered, my breath catching as tears sprang to my eyes at the sound of the lullaby that’d been inside of me since I was a baby.
A token from her that I hadn’t known existed until now, a tiny piece she’d left with me—known to nobody but me.
A bond between us that could never be stolen or taken away, even in a world that was not my own.
I wasn’t sure exactly how I knew that it was my mother, other than the melodic clue.
I only knew that I was confident this woman belonged to me in that primal, familiar bond that could never be broken.
It felt similar to how I’d known Silas was meant to be mine, but not in a romantic sort of way.
If anything, this was a deeper sort of love, the kind that had existed even before I was born.
She sang the words, so softly I wasn’t sure they were actually audible. It was the first time I’d ever matched the words to the melody, and it felt like my life was coming full circle. I’d felt like I was a misfit my whole existence, placed in a life that didn’t belong to me.
A way of life that kept me locked in a concrete jungle, supposed to care about what others thought about the clothes I wore and the company I kept.
I’d squashed the part of me that told me I didn’t belong, that there was something more for me.
But as the words echoed around me, thrumming through me, I knew I should have, could have, trusted my instincts all along.
I hadn’t belonged in that life. I’d finally found where I belonged.
Hush now, little star, the night is kind,
The moon keeps watch and the winds unwind.
No shadow lingers, no fear shall stay,
My love will guard you till break of day.
Hush now, little star, the night is kind,
Forever safe in this heart of mine.
“My daughter.”
I swallowed as she drifted toward me. “Mom?”
The word felt too small for someone like her—a goddess, a queen. Still, a better word escaped me. All my life I’d attached images and ideals and dreams to the word Mom like a treasure. Only I’d attached them to the wrong mother figure, and only now was it all starting to make sense.
“Mom,” I said again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to call you.”
Her smile deepened as she stepped closer.
“We normally don’t reveal ourselves like this.
” She swept her hand to indicate the stone statues—the rest of her sisters, the rest of my ancestors, frozen in a majestic display of powerful women.
“But given the circumstances, we agreed it would be acceptable. Just this once. For me to reveal myself to you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered to them all. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“We don’t have long. The longer your spirit is separated from your body, the harder it is to reunite the two,” she said. “So though it will be difficult, we must keep this moment brief.”
“It’s possible?” I asked, my voice laced with hope. “To return to the land of the living?”
“Yes. Your time is not up, sweetheart.”
“How can I defeat the Darkest Lord, then? It feels impossible. But if I’m to return to my court, I have a huge problem to face.”
“Alone, yes, it might feel impossible. But you’re not alone. There are ways that you haven’t encountered yet, and we’ll help you see the options as they arise. But time is of the essence. And you must keep working; we cannot do the work for you, but we can guide you if you are putting in the time.”
“What happened to you?” I asked. “Why…”
Her smile turned bittersweet as I trailed off, unable to finish the rest of the questions that’d boiled in me since the moment I’d learned of my true heritage.
“I was the last Triune Queen,” she said after some pause. “I reigned over a small land that not many have heard of and, unfortunately, no longer exists. A land that was like a fairy tale, where I hoped to raise you in times of peace and joy. But our fairy tale was destined for a tragic end.”
“Ah. When the Hunters overthrew the Fae Queens?”
She nodded. “When we were defeated, overthrown, I knew it couldn’t be the end of our kind, even though that’s the way things were rapidly going. Only a Triune Queen can cast a spell like the one I did—I preserved the life of my child at the cost of a life.”
“You gave your life for mine.”
“I would have died anyway, minutes later maybe. But by passing everything I had to you... I made sure a Fae Queen would return when the time was right. I tucked you away, in a little cocoon of a spell, and when that spell broke, a trusted confidant received instructions to place you, my child, with a set of mortal parents. Your life, as you know it, began the day my spell lapsed.”
“The time for the Fae Queen to return is now.” I felt hollow and my voice sounded hoarse. “And it’s me.”
“Yes, Alessia. You were placed under the care of two unassuming humans to hide your true identity as you aged until the right moment. I’m sorry it worked out the way it did; I know how they treated you.
But there really was no other way. It made you into the beautiful, compassionate, strong woman you are today—the kind of woman who will build the rise of the Fae Queens once more. ”
The look in her eyes broke my heart. I could imagine, in the smallest way, how she might feel. I pictured Liza ending up with people like my parents—the small child I’d grown to care about so much being sent to live in a sterile room where her worth was determined by her obedience. I flinched.
“Your time has come now to flourish and take your throne. To find your true love. To rule over your court and bring back order to the magical world,” she said with confidence.
“In order to do that, you will need to defeat the Darkest Lord. I cannot tell you exactly how—only that we will be with you as you find the path.”
“But if you can’t tell me how... Can you tell me how to reinstate the wards? I understand it’s something only I can do, but I’m struggling to figure out how to do it.”
“Wards are a peculiar thing. They’re based on who you are as an individual queen. All of the wards we’ve set”—she gestured around her to the stone statues standing guard—“have set unique wards that change based on the needs for our court at that time.”
I sighed. “So you can’t give me a formula for how to work the wards?”
“Setting your own wards is something that will come with time. You need to understand the current strengths of your court, the current threats. The magic you have available to you, the enemies you face.”
“Of course.”
“Wards are like art; no two artists will paint exactly the same picture, even if given the same instructions. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.
It will come to you once you are comfortable wearing your crown and leading your court, and when it does, setting and maintaining the wards will be as natural to you as breathing. ”
“I don’t have time to figure out my personal take on the wards,” I said listlessly. “I need wards that work now. And that’s if I can manage to make it safely home.”
“I can help with that,” my mother said. “I can return you to your body, but just this once. You shall not enter the underworld again. Promise me. If you do, I guarantee you will not make it out alive a second time.”
“I promise.”