23. Elorie
Elorie
My palm rests over my daggers, which are sheathed in the holster at my thigh. Callum and Greer flank my sides as we walk toward the meeting hall.
“All Perame said was the Mortal Realm?” Callum asks again.
I nod. “Then she fainted.”
When Perame’s knees gave out under her, all three males swept forward, but it was Wilder’s magic that caught her before she hit the ground. I panicked watching Atlas carry his sister back to her room, but Wilder assured me it’s not unusual when she tunnels that deep into her magic.
Perame’s magic isn’t the same as a wielder’s. It’s finer, more delicate. It burns hot and quick, and when she snags what she’s searching for, she taps into the depths of her abilities. It’s stronger than anything we wield in battle.
Greer frowns. “The Arch to the Mortal Realm was one of the first to close. If the void is truly there, then we’re out of luck.”
I shove my shoulders back, refusing to accept that. “Then let’s hope Perame has answers.”
Callum and Greer share a look over my head, but I don’t bother meeting their stares. Doubt will do nothing but fray what little hope remains. Defeat isn’t an option.
After Perame’s visit in the middle of the night, I didn’t return to bed.
I couldn’t sleep. Wilder left to check on Perame while I found Letia to tell her what happened.
Her eyes lit with understanding only she could possibly share.
This journey is leading us closer to our ancestors’ home realm.
If we can find a way back, we can solve more than one of our problems.
The orb and the aeraliss.
Excitement rumbles through me as we walk into the meeting room, but I slow when I see another figure among the group.
Standing between Atlas and Perame is a male who looks like a mix of them both.
His dark-red hair hangs in a thick braid down his back.
He has the same square jawline as Atlas, but a slightly darker tan complexion.
His brown eyes have hints of copper. A contrast to the two purple gazes at his sides.
Wilder spots me immediately, breaking away from the conversation to meet me at the door while Callum and Greer continue to the table.
“I didn’t realize everyone was here already,” I say.
“Darvel arrived earlier than anticipated.” Wilder plants a hand on my lower back, leading me through the room to the male at the center of the commotion. “Elorie, this is Lord Darvel Gaile of Andare, Atlas and Perame’s father.”
My gaze whips to Wilder when I realize who he is.
Wilder doesn’t share many loving stories about his mother, but he’s made it clear he was close to Darvel growing up.
When his mother sent him to Andare to train, Darvel accepted him into his family.
He became a father figure to him, while Atlas and Perame were like his siblings.
It’s why, when Wilder was summoned back to the Quietus Court by his queen, Atlas and Perame joined, along with Rior, as the first members of Wilder’s court.
Looking at them now, warmth in their eyes and smiles on their faces, I have a deeper understanding of the role Darvel played in Wilder’s life. Especially considering the unknowns surrounding Wilder’s biological father.
“Elorie Vale.” Darvel grins as he steps forward, assessing me. “The celestial wielder who claimed the wild one’s heart.”
“The wild one?” I hitch an eyebrow as Wilder groans.
Darvel grins, not taking it back. “Wilder has never been known to do anything quietly. Or by the book. He likes to keep us all on our toes.”
“Not to mention his reputation for—” Perame cuts Atlas off with a jab of her elbow, and he stumbles back a step, laughing.
“Hmm…” I smirk up at Wilder, who glares at Atlas for his comment. “I don’t imagine I want to know the end of that sentence.”
Wilder’s golden gaze meets mine, but I turn back to Darvel before he bothers explaining himself to me.
My mate has lived for nearly six hundred years.
He’s experienced more lifetimes than I can imagine before I was even born.
It must have been incredibly lonely, even with friendships to fill his time.
As I know now, nothing compares to the wholeness of meeting your mate.
I’m under no illusion that Wilder didn’t have plenty of company over the years, but they weren’t me, and it’s unimportant now, so I don’t resent him for it.
I smile at Darvel, shifting closer to my mate. “Wilder has told me many good things about you.”
“He’s done many good things himself. For his kingdom and his family. He’ll make a great king once he claims his crown.” Darvel’s gaze moves to Wilder, his expression softening as it did when he glanced between Atlas and Perame.
But Wilder stiffens at Darvel’s comment. Tension stirs at the mention of his throne. Wilder hasn’t explicitly said he’s avoiding setting a date for his ceremony to claim his crown, but it’s clear he is.
“Shall we begin?” Wilder glances to the doorway when Aurora walks in.
Her gaze falls to Wilder’s hand on my back as she shoves her chin higher. She claims a seat as far from us as possible, only smiling when Darvel circles the table and kisses the back of her hand in greeting. They share a brief hello before he takes the seat between Atlas and Perame.
Perame’s cheeks are a touch paler than they were yesterday. Her eyes are hollow and drained from her search for the void. Darvel must notice because he squeezes her hand, worry pinching his eyebrows.
His love reminds me of my own father, always noticing something was wrong before I could put words to it. Looking after me even when he barely had the strength to look after himself.
Wilder’s hand slips to my thigh beneath the table. An anchor when grief tugs at me. I squeeze his hand in return.
“Everyone has been briefed, but I’ll let you share the details.” Wilder angles his chin to Perame, giving her the floor.
She leans forward, her purple eyes darting around the room. “The vision wasn’t clear. So, like I said last night, I’m not positive it was the void, but I can’t imagine what else it could have been.”
“What did it look like?”
“At first, it was a raven of sorts. It had a curved beak and sharp feathers. But then it was stone, and then metal. It changed shape so many times—so quickly. It was a leaf then a pebble then the bark on a tree. Every time I got close, it would take on a new form.”
“From what Idunn told me, that would make sense. She said the void can be many things.”
Perame nods. “I couldn’t get close enough to tell you exactly what it is in its current form. But I’m fairly certain of where it is.”
“The Mortal Realm,” Aurora says, her hands folded over each other on the table in front of her.
Darvel taps his thumb on the arm of his chair. “It makes sense. If the void truly does pacify magic, then it would likely be in a realm where we haven’t seen much. But it poses two problems. How do we get to it, and when we do, how do we bring it here without risking our own magic?”
The first problem, Callum has been working on in his research on Arches, but the second is far more troublesome. How do we bring an object that nullifies magic to a realm barely surviving with what we have left?
“We’ll figure it out,” Wilder says through the thread, squeezing my thigh.
Callum draws forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“I haven’t been able to make any progress on creating a new Arch, so until that happens, we have no way of getting there.
The last known Arch seed was used in the Ley Court, and the only other magic strong enough to create one was in Elorie’s mother’s sword. But that’s stuck in Alyssium.”
“Why do we need to create a new Arch?” I ask. “Ones to the Mortal Realm already exist. What if we can wake one of those?”
Darvel shakes his head. “They’re both dark. There’s not enough magic on either side to wake them anymore.”
“There has to be a way. Was there anything else in the vision?” I look to Perame, hoping she saw something.
She rakes her curls back, worry in her eyes. “I did see something else, but I have to warn you it was murky.”
“Murky?”
“The visions shift and change, depending on the turns of fate. When they’re clear, it’s more certain.
It’s woven in the threads. But when it’s murky, it could just be a passing thought or someone’s intention.
Like gazing in on a dream. It’s vibrant to the dreamer, but no more real than their imagination. ”
“Tell us anyway. What did you see?” Wilder asks this time, his grip on my thigh tightening.
“Blood.” Perame’s cheeks pale as her gaze bounces between me and Wilder. “Blood flecked with starlight.”
All eyes in the room whip my way as Perame continues.
“There was a path to get to the void—a key. A binding of blood from two places opened the door to where we needed to go. I saw your blood, Elorie.”
“Like with the sword.” Callum gazes off, his thoughts elsewhere. “I tried for days to open a Gate at your mother’s sword while you were in the prison. It didn’t work until I noticed flecks of your blood on the blade. When the blood touched the vein, the magic stirred.”
“Blood of two places,” I whisper. “Human. Fae.”
“Fae realm. Mortal Realm,” Wilder agrees. “Your magic runs through both, and since magic is bound by our blood, it must be the key.”
“Do you think my blood could wake the Arch to the Mortal Realm then? Like it did with the sword?”
Wilder’s nose wrinkles. “Possibly, although I believe your mother’s sword played some part in that. We need to understand fully before we try or—”
“We could go through and be stuck.” I finish his thought through the thread when he doesn’t dare say it out loud.
Wilder’s gaze locks on mine, refusing to confirm that fear as if it could make it real.
“We still haven’t decided who will be going,” he says.
“If the Arch to the Mortal Realm opens, I’m going through. My mother trusted me with this information. I have to see this to the end.”
His jaw tightens, and he looks back at Perame. “Was there anything else?”
“Unfortunately, no.” She frowns.
“And what of Malachi in the meantime?” Aurora asks, no gentleness to her tone. “We don’t know if the void is recoverable, and he continues to rip apart the realms with whatever destruction he’s brewing. We can’t sit around and wait much longer.”
“Is there any update on his location?” Wilder asks Darvel, who shakes his head.
“The Ley Court has been abandoned as far as our scouts can tell. Rohldova is being overwhelmed by creatures from the Well. There are whispers he went north.”
“Lochlan would have let us know if he was in Solace.” Wilder’s tone sharpens.
“Ah, yes.” Aurora rolls her eyes. “Because your friends in Lyrichia are so trustworthy.”
“Lochlan can be trusted.”
“Why does she hate Lochlan so much? He’s been helping you since he gave you the seed to the Arch?” I ask Wilder through the thread.
“She’s never met Lochlan. It isn’t about him. Aurora is content judging from Quietus, avoiding anyone not of this realm.”
“She must love that we’re here then.” I huff out a laugh, and Aurora narrows her gaze at me, not knowing what I said.
“She will get over it, or she will leave,” Wilder says with utter certainty.
Protecting me like he always is.
Wilder squeezes my thigh, looking to Darvel and the rest of his court.
“There’s been no word on where Malachi and Hazel are hiding.
But if he went north and he’s not in Solace, then there’s a chance he’s in Echme.
It doesn’t really matter until we have the void in our possession.
We don’t stand a chance against the orb without it. ”
“Well, since you have this all figured out, I suppose I’ll excuse myself.” Aurora pushes from her seat, irritation hot in her tone. “Let me know when you need our armies. Until then, they’ll continue holding the line.”
She storms out of the room, and while it’s rude, I understand her frustration. All we’ve done lately is wait, but we’re running out of time.
Atlas chuckles, and Darvel cuts him a glare. But he shrugs, unapologetically.
“I’ll continue working on the Arch,” Callum says, ignoring the fact that the meeting just imploded.
“Let me know when you need my blood.” I force a smile, and Wilder stiffens. “And here I thought you liked my blood.”
“In your body or between my lips, undoubtedly, Starfire. But spilling it for our cause…”
“Only if necessary,” I assure him.
Darvel stands, and Wilder follows, not the least bit relaxed from this conversation, even if we are getting closer to what we’re searching for.
“How long are you staying?” he asks Darvel.
“Only the night. The battlefront needs me. The troops are… weary.” The weight in Darvel’s gaze hints at more. “I had my hesitations walking in here, but I hope you manage to pull off the unimaginable. At this point, I doubt it will take any less. Until then—”
“We fight,” Wilder says, looking around the room at his court.
“We fight,” Darvel agrees. “We fight until the end.”