Chapter 33 Polished to Swallow
thirty-three
Polished to Swallow
Miralyte
Zydar's chambers felt different when it was just me and Pelbie. Quieter. More like a sanctuary than a throne room. I'd dismissed everyone else an hour ago, needing this moment with the one person who'd known me before wings and power and the weight of ancient bloodlines.
Pelbie sat cross-legged on the enormous bed, a leather pouch in her lap containing the dice Brond had carved for her. The ivory pieces caught the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows, each one perfectly balanced and etched with symbols from the old gambling halls.
"So the rules are simple," she was saying, shaking the dice in her cupped hands. "Each player starts with the same stake. You roll all six dice. The goal is the highest combination. Pairs, straights, or all matching give you bonuses."
I nodded, settling myself across from her. The movement was more awkward than it should have been. My wings, still new and unpredictable, swept wide as I adjusted my position.
And promptly knocked over a crystal decanter sitting on the side table.
"Damn it." I lunged for it, wings flaring again for balance. This time I managed to take out a small figurine and send it spinning across the marble floor.
Pelbie burst into laughter. "Mother above, Mira. You're like a bull in a pottery shop."
"I'm still getting used to them," I muttered, carefully folding my wings tight against my back.
"They're beautiful though." Her voice carried wonder and something else. Something sadder. "I still can't believe what they did to you. What the trials turned you into."
I kept my expression neutral. Let her think the transformation was artificial, a result of Varlath's procedures rather than my true heritage awakening.
It was safer for her not to know the whole truth.
Safer not to bear the knowledge that I was Emystra's daughter, heir to the Sun Court throne, the key to ending this war.
The less she knew, the less danger she was in.
"The healers say the changes are permanent," I said instead, which wasn't technically a lie.
"Are you... are you happy? With what you've become?"
I considered the question. Was I happy? I had power now. Real power. The kind that could reshape the world, cure plagues, challenge gods. But I also had a target painted on my back that would never fade.
"I'm alive," I said finally. "That's more than I expected."
Pelbie nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. She'd stopped asking the difficult questions weeks ago, recognizing when I was hiding things from her. Better that than pushing and discovering truths that could get her killed.
"Your turn to roll," she said, holding out the dice.
I took them, feeling their weight in my palm. "So how's the healing training going? You never talk about it anymore."
Her face lit up. "Actually, it's incredible. Master Kelvane has been teaching me about fae physiology. Did you know their blood carries actual magic? Not just metaphorically, but literal enchantments woven into every drop?"
She rolled her dice, getting a decent combination, then continued while I took my turn.
"And the herbs here, they're nothing like what we had back home.
There's moonwort that only grows in starlight, and bone-mend that can literally fuse fractures in minutes.
Yesterday I helped heal a guard who'd shattered his wing in a training accident.
I watched the bones knit themselves back together. "
I smiled at her enthusiasm. This was the Pelbie I remembered. Curious, brilliant, passionate about learning. "You're actually enjoying it here."
"I am." She paused, dice forgotten for a moment. "I never thought I'd say that about any fae court, but Thunder has been... good to me."
"And Brond?"
The flush that spread across her cheeks was immediate and telling. "Things are going well with him. Really well."
"Define 'well.'"
"We've been spending more time together. Not just during training." She rolled again, not quite meeting my eyes. "He's been showing me the archives, the history of healing magic. And sometimes we just... talk."
"Just talk?"
"Mostly talk." Her grin was impish. "He kissed me yesterday. After I successfully brewed a pain-relieving draught that Master Kelvane said was perfect on the first try."
"Pelbie!"
"What? It was just a kiss. A very nice kiss, but still."
I laughed, and it felt good. Normal. Like we were just two girls gossiping about boys instead of two people caught in the middle of a war between immortal courts.
"I'm happy for you," I said, and meant it. "You deserve happiness. Both of you."
"What about you?" She leaned forward, eyes sharp with curiosity. "What's happening with you and the warlord?"
Heat crept up my neck. "Nothing's happening."
"Mira."
"Fine. Something's happening. I don't know what yet."
"But you care about him."
"I care about not dying," I said, which was both true and completely inadequate.
She gave me the look that said she saw right through me, but didn't push. Just gathered up the dice for another round.
"Oh!" She snapped her fingers suddenly. "I completely forgot. I have advanced alchemical brewing with Master Kelvane in an hour. We're working on something called starlight essence. Apparently it can extend fae lifespans by decades if prepared correctly."
"That sounds important."
"It is. And dangerous. One mistake and the whole batch explodes." She climbed off the bed, stretching. "I should go prepare. The ingredients need to be measured precisely."
She paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," I nodded.
After she left, I sat alone in the vast chamber, absently moving the dice around the silk coverlet. Tomorrow felt like both a promise and a question. Would we still have tomorrows when this war finally came to our doorstep?
The silence pressed against me until I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed to see myself. Really see what I'd become.
The mirror stood in the far corner of Zydar's chambers, tall as a door and framed in silver that caught the dying light. I'd avoided it for days, afraid of what I might find staring back.
My reflection stopped me cold.
The girl looking back wasn't the one who'd been dragged to this court in chains. This creature was something else entirely. Something divine.
My skin held an inner radiance, like moonlight trapped beneath glass. Not the harsh glow of my power when unleashed, but something softer. Eternal. My hair fell in waves of liquid gold, each strand seeming to capture and hold light from sources I couldn't name.
And my wings.
They spread behind me in a cascade of white and gold, each feather edged with fire that didn't burn. Massive things that should have made me look monstrous but somehow made me look like I belonged in the courts of gods.
I was beautiful. Terrifyingly, impossibly beautiful.
The kind of beauty that started wars.
I reached toward the mirror, needing to touch this impossible version of myself.
The glass rippled.
I jerked my hand back, heart hammering. The surface moved like disturbed water, waves spreading outward from where my fingers had almost made contact.
This wasn't glass. It never had been.
The ripples intensified, and something spoke from within the liquid silver.
Entru naa luin edwen. Gurth uin glamhoth.
Enter or face the doom. Death to the enemies.
The old tongue, older than the courts, older than the wars that carved the realms apart. My blood recognized it even as my mind recoiled.
"What are you?" I whispered, backing away.
The surface stilled to perfect mirror again, but the voice came clearer now. Multiple voices, harmonizing in threat.
Step through, daughter of light. Or watch your precious ones burn.
Images flickered across the surface like reflections from another world. Pelbie, screaming as golden flames consumed her skin. Narietta, wings torn and bleeding, falling from impossible heights.
Zydar.
His name echoed from the mirror like a death knell, and I saw him pinned beneath crushing stone, storm magic flickering out like dying embers.
Sunfire erupted from my hands before conscious thought could stop it. My eyes burned with star-bright fury, power crackling between my fingers in lethal arcs of liquid gold. The room filled with heat that could melt steel.
"Who are you?" I snarled at the thing masquerading as my reflection.
We are what calls to power, what answers when destinies converge. The voices multiplied, became legion. We are the crossroads where choices define eternity.
"What do you want?"
You know what we want. What we have always wanted. The mirror-thing wearing my face smiled with teeth that held too many edges. Step through, Miralyte Tavora. Claim what was promised. Save what you love.
"And if I refuse?"
The images shifted. Pelbie's flesh melting from her bones. Narietta's scream cut short by a blade across her throat. Zydar's eyes going dark as life left them.
Then you learn the price of cowardice.
My power flared higher, but doubt crept in like poison. These visions, were they prophecy or threat? Could this thing actually harm the people I cared about, or was it feeding on my fears?
Time grows short, daughter of the sun. Choose quickly.
My feet carried me forward before logic could intervene. The mirror's surface beckoned like dark water, promising answers and threatening annihilation in equal measure.
That's it. Come to us. Come home.
Power still crackled around my fingers, but my hand reached for the liquid silver. Whatever this was, wherever it led, I couldn't let them die for my hesitation.
The surface felt like ice against my fingertips.
Like falling.
Like choosing between salvation and damnation when you can no longer tell the difference.
I stepped forward into the rippling darkness.