Chapter 33 Jane
I jolted upright, drenched in sweat, every inch of my body shaking as my breaths came in sharp, rapid blasts.
I tried desperately to retain any ounce of air, but my lungs felt constricted, shallow, as though they might collapse under the strain.
My heart raced so violently it threatened to burst from my chest, while my skin prickled with an unrelenting sting.
The vision was still seared into my mind. I could see her—Amantius, bent over in grief, her sisters trembling beside her. I could see her mother, her radiant presence torn apart in a gruesome, agonizing death.
And then, the thing. The monster. The God. A towering, wicked colossus, erupting from the core of her mother’s very soul, peeling her apart as though she were nothing.
The Other. I could see The Other.
As my mind shifted from the depths of my subconscious back into the present, I realized my hands were clutching the cotton sheets above my lap. I had been asleep. Thankfully, it had all been just a dream.
It hadn’t felt like a dream. Not in the slightest. It felt as if I had physically been there, inside Amantius’ memories, experiencing everything firsthand through her eyes. It felt as though she wanted me to see, wanted me to learn something.
As my breathing steadied, the suffocating blackness that had clouded my vision faded, and I was relieved to find the world returning to its normal state. My pupils were no longer dilated. Stars no longer floated behind my eyes.
When my sight cleared, I became aware of the fact that I was sitting in a four-poster bed with scratchy brown sheets. Soft morning sunlight filtered through the window. The chirping of birds outside filled the air. I was nestled in my cozy cabin. Everything was calm…at peace.
The last thing I remembered before blacking out was floating high in the air above the Tenebranian monsters, my body blasting fuchsia Light, so bright that it rivalled the sun. From every inch of my skin, I was alit, as if I were made of raw pink fire.
And then, I roasted them alive.
That was not the only thing I recalled.
Glade.
As if on cue, something stirred in my peripheral vision. To my left, Glade was curled up in a tiny armchair in the corner of the room. His hulking frame was tucked awkwardly into a tight ball. A small blanket draped over him, barely covering half his body.
Even in the depths of sleep, he looked exhausted. His hair was a mess, falling freely across his face, and the stubble on his jaw had grown thicker. Dark circles framed his under-eyes, and the slight downturn of his mouth hinted at a restlessness that sleep couldn’t seem to soothe.
Although I knew I had to wake him eventually, I hesitated, letting myself be drawn into the rhythm of his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a calming balm for the anxiety that had been shredding me from within.
I cared deeply for Glade…more than deeply. And now, more than ever, I felt the burden of that confession, even as I knew, deep in the pit of my soul, that the fruition of our love could never be. The realization fractured my already fragile heart.
I ached to be in his arms again. The temptation to throw myself from this bed into his lap and never let go was overwhelming.
I could almost taste the memory of his kisses, feel his body hovering over mine, the electric ecstasy of his touch.
His warmth, his affection… It had seeped into my very being, wrapping me in a love so pure and overwhelming that it had felt like the truest thing I’d ever known.
I wanted to feel that again.
Always.
If life were fair, I could hold onto and live with that feeling forever.
But life wasn’t fair.
Life was a cruel, tormenting hell.
Clearing my throat, I swallowed the saliva that had pooled there, and rasped, “Glade?”
His body jolted in response, his head snapping from side to side in delirium as the blanket slipped from his broad shoulders to the floor. When his eyes finally found mine, they widened in shock.
“Jane!” he gasped.
In an instant, he was out of the chair and on his knees beside me, his palms cradling my face as if afraid I might disappear. His gaze darted across my features, searching desperately for reassurance.
“Jane! Oh my Goddess, you’re awake.”
As I stared deeply into his eyes, my own filled with tears. The vivid memories of his suffering still haunted me, and I was terrified they would never fade, always lurking in the corners of my mind.
Through soft, trembling sobs, I managed to speak. “Y-you’re alive. You made it. I-I thought you were going to die.”
My chest shuddered as tears spilled freely down my cheeks. My nose ran, the dampness brushing against my lips, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Yes,” Glade whispered, his forefinger and thumb tilting my chin upward to meet his stare. “I’m alive. I’m okay, all thanks to you. You saved my life, again. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I owe you everything.”
Confusion, sadness—and was that anger?—welled up inside me, tangling into a storm I couldn’t suppress.
“No. No, you saved me, Glade. You followed me up that hill, even though you knew there was no way out. You called the monsters away when they were about to tear me apart. You tried to sacrifice yourself for me. Why would you do that? Why would you do something so stupid? So impulsive? I couldn’t let you die for me, Glade.
I couldn’t let those…things…tear you apart! ”
Though I felt entirely enraged, the sobs still wouldn’t stop flowing. They blurred my vision, causing my eyes to swell and grow heavy.
“You didn’t. You didn’t let them. Look.” His hand closed around mine, guiding it toward his chest. He pressed my palm flat against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump…
“You’re alive,” I murmured, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt.
“I’m alive,” he repeated, as though he needed to convince himself too. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I sniffled, awkwardly pulling my hand back to my lap to regain some composure, but the grief remained, clinging to me, desperate to never let go.
Glade noticed my withdrawal and leaned closer. “How are you feeling? I—” He paused, shaking his head as though unsure of how to form the proper words. “I’ve never seen anyone summon Light like that in my entire life.”
“I feel…fine, I think,” I lied. “I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.” I forced a small smile and changed the subject, my eyes drifting to the unruly thickness of his beard. “How long was I out?”
Glade shifted on his knees, his gaze darting around the room as if wishing to not respond. Finally, he took a deep breath, his lips pressing into a thin line before he muttered, “Two days…”
“Two days?” I repeated. There was no way, no way I had been unconscious for two whole days.
His eyes filled with sympathy, though he firmly said, “Yes. You were out for two days. I don’t think your body could handle expelling so much Light all at once.
I think the blast used up all your reserves and you burned out.
Although…” Glade’s brow crinkled in thought, his lips pursed, considering the possibilities.
He tilted his head to the side, as if trying to piece together a puzzle only he could see.
“You didn’t even summon your Light, did you?
You didn’t place your hands on the soil, didn’t state your intentions or your will… And holy fuck, Jane, you flew!”
The Glade I cared for so deeply had finally returned.
A chuckle escaped me, breaking through my sorrowful haze. Denial embraced me as I said, “I didn’t fly.”
“Okay, okay.” Glade grinned, winking with delight. “You floated.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. Glade had poured so much effort into training me to harness my Light, and seeing his joy and pride in my unexpected progress was endearing, to say the least.
“Though…” he continued, his tone shifting to one of thoughtful honesty.
“I don’t really understand how. I’ve never seen anything like that before.
Maybe during all our training sessions, you’d been storing up your reserves?
I don’t know.” He paused, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure it out.”
I considered his hypothesis, but it made no sense.
How could I have accumulated so much Light without knowing?
Without feeling it? Never once had I sensed the undeniable flow of energy entering my palms. It hadn’t been summoned.
It was as if the Light had simply been waiting, dormant, ready to strike the moment I needed it most.
Glancing around the room and noticing a few mugs and dishes splayed about, I asked, “Were you here with me? The whole time?” Though I already suspected the answer.
“Yes. Well…no,” Glade admitted. “I only left once…and that was to attend the funeral for the victims of the attack.”
A heavy knot twisted in my gut at the words.
The Fae. So many had senselessly died during the Tenebranian attack. Their faces, their lives, flashed before my eyes, leaving an irreparable crack in my heart.
Under my breath, I hesitantly asked, “How many…?”
Though I couldn’t finish the sentence, Glade understood. His lips pressed tightly together, reluctant to form the words. “Um, seventy-eight.”
Seventy-eight.
Seventy-eight souls taken by the Tenebrae.
And it was all my fault.
“Fuck!” I wailed, the guilt and regret eating me up like an inescapable, soul-consuming parasite. My chest heaved, leaving no room in my lungs to breathe. “It’s all my fault.”
“What did you say?” Glade’s voice sliced through the blur of misery.
“I said, it’s all my fault!” I repeated, the confession tearing from the guttural base of my throat. My anger wasn’t directed at him, yet it poured out in his direction.
And yet, despite my outburst, Glade remained composed. “Why would you say that? Jane, their deaths were not your fault.”
“The monsters came to Cylvaris for me. The Tenebrae sent them to kill me. All those Fae civilians…they were just collateral damage. I saw the way the creatures searched; they were following my scent, hunting me. I should’ve realized it sooner.
I should’ve done something about it. It’s my fault.
It’s my fault all those people are dead—”
“Jane,” Glade cut me off before I could spiral any further. “You can’t blame yourself for their deaths. You know it’s not your fault.”
His words only ignited a deeper frenzy. “I shouldn’t even be in here!
” I sputtered, shoving the covers off, trying to escape the confines of the bed.
My limbs were shaky, weak, but I didn’t care.
“What if they send more creatures? I-I don’t even know how I summoned my Light.
What if I can’t protect you again? Glade, you need to get out of here! ”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly.
“Then I will,” I retorted, though the words tasted hollow in my mouth. “I’ll take Mir and fly somewhere remote, somewhere safe. Far away from anyone.”
Even as I spoke, I knew running wouldn’t solve anything.
“You’re not going anywhere either,” Glade declared. There was something in his tone, something almost…possessive?
“And why is that?” I snapped, my gaze narrowing on him.
“Because I told you,” Glade said, “we’re in this together. I will stand by you, fight with you…until the bitter end. You’re not facing this alone.”
My heart softened, his words reverberating and soothing the hellfire flaming inside me. I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, though I knew I shouldn’t.
“Besides…” he muttered, the corners of his mouth turned downward. “My father would hunt you down.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard, knowing that every word he had spoken was true.
“Glade…” I whispered as my mind was pulled back to my duties.
“I know.” Glade’s voice was strained, as if he were feeling the same.
“What have we done?” I breathed, not to Glade, but to the universe, to Amantius.
“If my father finds out about…what happened between us…” His voice dipped into something darker. “He’ll hunt us both down, lock us in the dungeons until the wedding, or worse…keep us there forever after.”
The bluntness of his confession startled me as fear trickled into my veins.
“Jane, it kills me to say this. It kills me,” he repeated, emphasizing his pain.
“But…I think we need to pretend it never happened. For real this time.” Glade struggled to look me in the eyes as he spoke.
“Look, I don’t want to. I… I wish I could…
” He stopped, frustration tightening his brow as he struggled to articulate his feelings.
“There’s nothing I want more than to finish what I started. ”
His admission sent a shocking heat searing through my spine.
Even though his words awoke something within me, something only he could ever awaken, I nodded.
I knew this affair could never continue, that Glade and I had been running on borrowed time.
And despite the pain it caused me, I begrudgingly accepted.
For his sake, for the sake of the universe, I accepted what had to be.
Glade exhaled a long, weary sigh and dropped his elbows onto his knees, burying his face in his hands.
He rubbed at his tired eyes, his next words muffled but sharp with self-loathing.
“Jion is my brother, and you’re set to marry him.
I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way.
What kind of brother am I? What kind of friend?
I love Jion. I really do. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. ”
“Glade—” I reached out to offer him comfort, but he pulled away from my touch.
Rising to his feet, Glade’s posture shifted, his shoulders squaring, his hands clasped behind his back as though he was donning armor against his own emotions, as if he had come to a grand declaration all on his own.
“We’ve seen what you’re capable of, Jane,” he formally noted, taking a distant stance.
“You can summon and wield enormous amounts of Source Light. You have the ability to harness it and turn it into a weapon unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Amantius chose you for a reason. Watching you soar into the air and unleash that explosion of Light was the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen.
I believe you have the potential to become unstoppable. ”
He turned toward the door and as he reached the frame, he paused, his voice devoid of any usual warmth. “I promised I’d stand by you in the fight against the Tenebrae. I will keep that promise. I’ll train you to the best of my ability. I’ll be your mentor. But from now on, that is all I can be.”
With that, he strode through the doorway and never looked back.