47. Elorie
Elorie
Roots jut through the dirt, jabbing into my back as I blink my eyes open. The obsidian shackles have been removed from my wrists, but something still dampens my magic.
Lifting my hand, I flex my fingers in front of my face. My fingertips shimmer with the hint of starlight stirring in my veins. It flecks as I rub them together, but I feel nothing.
It does nothing.
I push myself to sit, finding myself in a cell that reminds me of the one I was held in at the Ley Court. Dark and damp. Deep underground.
Unlike the greenery outside the manor, the moss here is brittle. The roots are gray and splintered as they’ve been in the forests we’ve traveled since being in this realm. Deep in the land, death creeps through.
This is where I wanted to be for so long. The Mortal Realm was a promise of home—of something better. Hope for the humans. Salvation for those of us who have suffered our entire lives on a frozen island. Yet it’s none of those things.
My blood may run back here, but this is not where I belong.
I belong at Wilder’s side, however that looks.
Whether I’m his queen or partner or simply his mate.
The title is not important, although I’m beginning to understand why I feared it.
It wasn’t me doubting him; it was the things I’d yet to let go of.
A hope that I’d see the humans home. That we would finally leave the constraints of the Fae when I’ve quickly learned it’s all the same.
Fae. Human. There are monsters among both.
The battles never cease.
The destruction continues.
My home is not here, where my ancestors once walked this land. It is with those who have claimed me—trusted me—regardless of what is in my veins. My friends, my mate, his court. They are my family now, and I belong with them, not just fighting for one side, but both.
My fingers twitch as I start to wake, strength returning to my bones.
“Elorie?” Callum’s voice is raw as his movements rustle in the cell beside mine.
“Callum, gods, you’re alive.” Every muscle aches as I push to my feet and rush across the cell.
My hands shoot through the bars, gripping his arm to confirm he’s not an illusion. After Overlord Farseth said he took care of them, I worried for the worst.
“I’m okay.” He rubs his temples. “Where is Perame? They—” He coughs. “They stabbed her with something. An obsidian spear, I think?”
“She’s not in there with you?” I glance behind him, but he’s alone in his small cell, just like I am.
My legs ache as I move around, searching the corners of the cell on my other side.
“There,” Callum says, and I glance to where he’s pointing into the dim space at the center of the room.
A figure is stretched across a long table, and while it’s nearly impossible to see through the darkness, I make out an orange-red ringlet hanging off the side.
“Perame, wake up,” I call out, gripping the rusted bars.
The cell bars are iron, not obsidian, but there’s no getting past them.
I can’t summon more than a drop of magic with this pressure dampening it.
Callum pushes to standing, wobbly on his feet as he moves to the front of his cell.
His eyes narrow as he wrestles with the bars, but they don’t so much as creak.
“Something is affecting us.” He pushes his hair off his face, frustration palpable.
A door creaks open on the other side of the room in answer.
“You’re awake.” Overlord Farseth grins, stepping into the room with a torch. He sets it in a large iron vase, casting an ominous glow through the room.
Esen trails behind him, a shadow in the darkness. A numbing cold wave crests with her every step. Her fingers don’t move from where they hang relaxed at her sides, but something radiates from her.
“What have you done to our friend?” I ask through gritted teeth as Overlord Farseth stops outside my cell.
“Nothing yet.” His lip quirks. “That will depend on you.”
“What do you want from me?” I shift back a step, my fingers clutching the satin dress.
The overlord tips his chin, dark eyes tunneling. “Pull back, Esen, my dear.”
Esen closes her eyes, exhaling. The binds around my ribs loosen. The stifling pressure that had burrowed over my magic releases.
I reach my hand out in front of me, grazing my fingertips over the shell that limits me from going any farther. Esen eased her hold on my magic, but there is a limit to that freedom.
“You can control the void,” I whisper, my fingers dancing at the edges of Esen’s power.
My magic caresses the point at which she stops me, testing the new line she’s drawn.
We assumed the void would be an object that we’d have to physically contain. After finding out it was a person, I never considered that she could control it as well as she does now. The black veins on her face swim as she manipulates the void.
She wields it like magic.
Maybe that should worry me in this moment as she uses it to contain us. But if she has this power over the void, she can use it against Malachi without further damaging our realms. One burst to strike the orb and then no more. I just have to convince her to help.
And break her free from the overlord, unfortunately.
“She’s a magnificent creature, is she not?” The overlord gleams, glancing over his shoulder at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Like you, she is strange, wielding what should not be possible for a human. Although… her blood is mortal, and I sense yours is not.”
“Mine is many things.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Set me free, or you might find out what those are.”
“Ah, there’s the fire I suspected you were tempering when you strode into my parlor. Such a lovely facade for a vile creature.”
“The only thing vile is you and what you’re doing. What you’ve done.” I glance from Overlord Farseth to Esen. “You don’t need to listen to him.”
The overlord twists his ring on his finger, and Esen winces. “That is not entirely true.”
Esen’s green eyes avoid mine. She stares out the window, and I wonder if she is even here or if she’s an illusion wandering somewhere else so she doesn’t have to listen to this. Maybe that’s how she endures this madness.
Anger beats inside my chest. It’s a pulse that radiates as my attention moves from Esen to Perame on the table. My veins prickle, fingers clench. The spark of something I can’t contain swells up inside me, impossible to hold back.
Overlord Farseth glances down at my hands, at the magic I feel crawling up them. Free but contained in the shell of a void Esen placed around me.
“There you are.” He grins wider. “I suspected we could do great things together. I understand our meeting has been less than pleasant, but it doesn’t need to be like this. We can help each other.”
“What could I possibly need from you?”
His head tilts. “Protection. Especially now that my men are out there, hunting the Arch which you came through. You are not going home, and you are not safe here. Not alone. Not even if Esen were to release her hold. There is a reason the Fae came and went. You cannot survive on a Mortal Realm.”
“I’m human.”
“Maybe you are… in part.” He glances at Callum. “But he is not. And neither is your female friend.”
“Stay away from her,” Callum threatens as the overlord inches closer to Perame.
“As I said, I do not wish to hurt anyone. So long as you cooperate, there will be no need. There are ways we can help each other willingly.”
“Why would you want our help?” Callum asks. “Your entire campaign is based on discrediting the queen because of her throne’s interest in the Fae.”
“It is not her interest that is a problem, but her cooperation. The queen doesn’t just wish to open the doorway to the Fae again; she wants to work with them, even after all they’ve done.
She believes they can help. Maybe they will at first, but we all know how Fae operate.
Selfish, immortal creatures who only look out for themselves.
They cannot be trusted with the magic that flows in their veins. Especially not here.”
“But you can? The magic you’re wielding is stolen. You bend it to your will just like you accuse them of doing.” Callum’s teeth grit.
“Do not compare me to those beings.” His teeth clench. “I’ve seen what magic does. What madness it creates in those who are immortal—who believe that a long life leaves them above reproach. The things they did when they came here last… They lack control.”
“So you’ll fix that by controlling them. By controlling us,” I guess. “And you’ll use Esen to do it.”
Esen glances my way, and I seize the opportunity to speak to her directly.
“Do you even know what your power is doing to your home? What he’s making you do?
There is not enough magic in this realm.
Each time you let the void slip out, it pacifies that small bit even more.
The forests, the realm, they are dying because of what he’s forcing you to do for him.
There is no rot. No plague. The realm might have been struggling from storms or something else before your birth, but what happens now is the void spreading, muting what little magic remains in the Mortal Realm. ”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” I glance at the rotted roots at my feet. “Every place you visit is green when you arrive, yes? Dead when you leave? It’s not your fault. It’s his. If you continue using the void here, the realm cannot survive it.”
“Don’t listen to these lies.” The overlord steps forward, and Esen glances away.
“You know it’s true.”
“I also know that with more magic we could replenish what is lost,” he sneers. “We can regrow what has died and turn the people against the queen. We just need to show them we can heal what is damaged without the Fae wandering freely. With more magic—”
I can’t help but laugh, cutting him off. “You want our magic because you think we can heal your realm with it? You have no idea how wrong you are.”
Gods, if only he saw our home.
Esen’s gaze drops to the ground, and I wonder if she’s considering what we told her at the parade about how our own realm suffers. How we cannot fix what has drained there with the state it is in.
“Right now, all I need is you.” Overlord Farseth circles the room, pausing at a cabinet on the far side of the room as Perame starts to wake.
“Perame, we’re here,” I call out to her when she wiggles her fingers.
Her purple eyes blink open. Her wrists and ankles rub against the restraints. A band of iron wraps her neck, waist, arms, and legs, pinning her body to the table.
“You can give your magic willingly, or I will take it from you. It’s stronger if you wield it, which will bode better for my cause, but your lack of willingness will not stop me from using it either way.” Overlord Farseth turns to Perame with a dagger in his hand.
Runes glint on the blade in the torchlight.
Magic has Perame’s eyes glowing, and the overlord frowns. Her magic is not offensive, but he doesn’t know that, so it stops him in place.
“Esen.” Her name is a sharp command, and the light in Perame’s eyes dims a moment later as the void sweeps the room with a crackle that has the vines retreating into the walls of the dungeon.
“What is that?” My voice is low as I shift toward Callum, eyeing the dagger.
The blade in the overlord’s hand glows with red marks I haven’t seen since the Staff of Sarrow.
“A bleeding blade.” Callum’s fingers clench the bars. “It carves magic from being. Centuries ago, there were rumors that humans used them against the Fae who came here to steal pieces of what they wielded. The queen at the time promised they were all destroyed in return for our help.”
“The queen lied, as they all do.” Overlord Farseth holds the blade up, and it shimmers.
“I warned you this would be easier if you handed your magic over willingly. But even if you don’t, this tool will gather it either way.
I hear stripping magic from one’s blood isn’t pleasant.
We’ll see how cooperative you become as you watch your friend suffer. ”
He’s going to carve Perame’s magic out of her if we don’t willingly help. But we can’t hand it over. We can’t give it to this madman.
“Do you know what’s worse than pain?” He grins at me, but I don’t answer. “Watching it inflicted on someone else.”
Overlord Farseth stops at Perame’s side. Her eyes blink in and out of consciousness. Esen flinches as the overlord begins lowering the blade to Perame’s arm, and his jaw tightens.
“You know what will happen to you if you do not help me, Esen. Be good and do as you’re told,” he snaps.
Tears burn in my eyes as Esen hesitates for a moment, and I hope she won’t help him, knowing she has no real choice. Just as he’ll strip our magic unwillingly, he wields her power against her will.
“It’s okay.” Perame is the one to speak, pulling Esen’s attention. “It’s not your fault. I know that. It’s okay.”
“It won’t be okay soon,” the overlord promises, glancing back at me. “Unless you’ll agree to give me what I need willingly.”
“I’d rather die.”
He grins. A dark smile turns up the corners of his mouth as he brushes Perame’s curls off her face. “You’ll wish you were dead long before it happens. And so will she.”
At that, he lowers the blade to Perame’s arm, and her scream is all that can be heard in this realm and possibly all the others.