4. Chapter 4
Vaelin stalked down the corridor, his footfalls echoing off the high stone walls.
Carved directly into the tallest mountain peak in Vaelora, the Starfire fae had spared no expense in forging their sprawling estate.
Smooth columns held up lofty, arched ceilings, while countless balconies adorned the walls of the palace, nestled between waterfalls that poured down the mountain.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the arches that lined the corridor, the falls spraying a thin layer of mist across Vaelin’s path.
He hadn’t set foot in the palace in years.
His last decade had been spent in the war camps, defending Vaelora’s border from the wolf Shifters that prowled the hostile realm of Askeldrath - a scorched sea of rock, void of plant life, and peppered with active volcanoes that gave way to obsidian plains where molten rivers of lava met the sea.
He grimaced inwardly at the prospect of sitting through another court meeting — frankly, he’d sooner face the Shifters.
Court was a slow, grinding game of politicking, where nobles from each of the fae’s five elemental courts spent their time exchanging insults and fanning the flames of old tensions, all masking thinly veiled ambition beneath the same mantle of arrogance.
It was rare, though, that representatives from all courts would be summoned at once.
Easier for the Starfire — the rulers of Vaelora — to mollify one or two at a time.
Startled birds took flight from their perches as a shout rose suddenly from within the chamber ahead, the air already thick with tension. Vaelin sighed as he marked the familiar voice, and entered the room.
“…and why should we believe this imagined tale? You are no Dreamwalker, General.”
The speaker was enormous, even by fae standards.
Lord Thane, ruler of the Fireborne Court, was as broad as he was tall, arms thick as tree trunks.
His red hair was knotted at the back of his head, bronzed skin dusted with dirt and sweat.
Behind him, Evric stood with arms crossed, his own auburn hair falling freely to his shoulders.
The flecks of gold in his brown eyes seemed to glint with mischief as he raised an eyebrow at Vaelin’s late arrival.
The corner of Vaelin’s mouth twitched in silent answer to his friend, before he slid his gaze to his own liege, Lady Cirella of the Windborne.
Like Vaelin, she bore the dark hair and blue eyes of the windwielders, her skin tanned from endless hours spent wielding the wind as both shield and weapon for Vaelora.
She met his eyes, her expression blank, and blinked once. That didn’t bode well.
Vaelin took his place behind her, electing to stand against the wall along with the other army representatives.
Resting a hand casually on the pommel of his sword, his eyes sought Sereth Starfire, the fae’s High General - and Vaelin’s longtime mentor.
Tall even when seated, the General’s silver eyes narrowed as she drummed her night dark fingers on the marble table before her.
Her lips curled with distaste as she surveyed Thane.
A curl of satisfaction warmed Vaelin’s chest. She was going to dismantle him, and Vaelin would relish his front row seat to the display.
“Tell me — am I known to tell tales, Thane? Would I bring you this news if I’d thought it a passing dream? Is that something you think I have time for?” Her voice cracked through the air like a whip.
Thane seemed to deflate slightly, frowning as the sounds of poorly hidden amusement trickled through the room.
Though a member of the royal family herself, Sereth Starfire was more often celebrated for her strategic leadership and capability as a formidable fae warrior on the battlefield.
Vaelin knew the General did not place stock in prophecy, nor did she have the patience for hypotheticals.
When she chose to speak, it was for a reason, a lesson she had long ago impressed upon him.
“General Sereth is descended from the ancient Dreamwalker line, as are many of the Starfire, which you well know, Thane…” The Queen of Vaelora chided from the head of the table.
Her dark skin seemed to shimmer in the beams of light that angled through the arched windows.
She pinned the fae warrior with her stare, her striking silver-grey eyes a defining characteristic of the Starfire fae.
A muscle in Thane’s jaw ticked as he drew his hands into fists, remaining silent. Vaelin dipped his chin to hide the upward curl of his lips.
“General,” a feather-light voice cut through the growing tension from across the table, where Naerina, the fair-haired ruler of the Waterborne Court sat. “Not to say that we doubt your claim, but… a true Dreamwalker has not risen in centuries.”
“Damn,” Thane snorted, winking at Naerina. “Never thought I’d see the day I agreed with a waterwielder.”
“I would recommend you not grow accustomed to it,” she responded sharply, eyes flickering over him with distaste.
Unable to resist the temptation of a fight, Thane leaned forward, flecks of amber flashing in his eyes as he grinned. “Come now, I’m sure together we could make a little steam between the —”
“One more word and I will drown the flame that burns within you, so help me Gods,” a younger fae snapped from behind Naerina.
Like her court leader, Maris was blue-eyed and fair haired — but for the streak of shocking blue that tore through her hair — and radiated an air of unmistakeable, lethal severity.
One of the most powerful Tidecallers in living memory, the threat she levelled at Thane was not empty.
Vaelin felt the weight of it in the dampness of the air, and in the sudden surge of the falls that flowed just outside the council chamber.
Thane smiled at the challenge, his veins beginning to glow with his inner flame.
Vaelin stiffened, ready to reach for his weapon if necessary.
Old conflicts between the courts ran deep, and no court was more ambitious or contentious than that of the Fireborne.
Most firewielders had steadily eroded any goodwill they held with other courts over the centuries, Evric being a rare exception.
Vaelin exchanged a look with his friend, whose jaw was set in a grim line.
A light wind rose suddenly, curling around Cirella.
A subtle warning of where the Windborne’s allegiance would lie if tensions were to boil over.
“Enough posturing,” Sereth barked, snapping the tension in the room like a knife. “It is true that the Dreamwalker visions ceased long ago, and this is the first time I’ve experienced one myself. Some whisper the Gods reclaimed our Dreamwalker magic in order to place limits on the fae’s power.”
“A shame the Gods felt the actions of some warranted such checks and balances on us all,” drawled Terrin, glaring pointedly at Thane.
The ruler of the Earthborne Court sat stiffly in his seat, seeming to pulse with loathing.
The historic conflict between Earth and Fire stretched farther back than any living memory.
Thane rolled his eyes. “Yes, if only you had the power of dreams to add to your ability to grow flowers, you’d be the most powerful of all.”
Thorn-covered vines coiled menacingly around Terrin’s forearms, sliding across the table toward the firewielder.
“Enough!” Boomed a voice from the shadows, sparks flying where an enormous fist cracked the marble table. Silence fell.
The King was larger than them all, looming at the head of the table like a shadow made flesh.
His long, black hair was twisted into multiple, thick braids shot through with a silver that matched his eyes.
The air in the room seemed to shrink as the nobles dropped their eyes in deference to their ruler.
Vaelin stared at the crack in the marble table.
The King sat back in his seat, gesturing impatiently at his High General.
“I will hear what Sereth Starfire has to say before my palace is nothing but rubble at the foot of this mountain.”
Sereth’s gaze flicked briefly to Vaelin’s. Her own black braids whispered over her cloak as she leaned forward, spreading her hands on the table, smoothing their subtle shake. Vaelin’s gut clenched, alarmed. Sereth did not tremble.
“I do not typically dream, or if I do, I do not remember it. This was… different. Jarring. Visceral. A voice whispered to me that balance in the realms had been bent too far and had begun to snap, warning of a breaking of the world. It demanded that only together could the calamity be avoided, while standing alone — fractured — we would fall.”
She looked to each fae around the table before continuing, “The vision shifted then, and I found myself immersed in chaos. Catastrophic natural disasters, as though the realms were being torn asunder. Earthquakes split the earth. Rogue waves crashed farther inland than ever before. Above us, the winds raged, untameable, tearing stone from the mountains and uprooting pines in the Pass.”
The room hung on her words as she continued, “A withering illness spread like wildfire throughout the realms, sparing no one - not even the fae. Cough and fever persisted, and then our magic turned against us, corrupting, drowning, burning, blinding from within. And beneath it all…something stirred. Something ancient. Primordial. An army of shadows rose from the darkness, bleeding the realms dry, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.” She paused, taking a steadying breath.
“When I awoke, I knew I must convene a council of the courts.”
Silence stretched as the fae sat stunned, their preternatural stillness even more apparent than usual.
Then Thane scoffed, lounging back in his chair and taking up as much space as possible. “One nightmare has you running to call us all to court, General? It seems unlike you to jump at shadows.”
Vaelin’s lip curled, fingers buzzing as his magic rose in response to his irritation.
Cirella leaned forward in her seat, hair spilling over her shoulder. “With respect General, apart from this dream, we have received no other indications that this calamity will come to pass.”
She gestured to the open arches. A gentle breeze lilted through the room, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on them all.
Vaelin had to admit that the clear skies, verdant valley at the base of the mountains, and calm coastal waters beyond stood in stark contrast to the General’s foreboding words.
A hum of agreement crawled through the air from across the table.
Lunaris, ruler of the Shadowborne Court, rotated a coin between his long, pale fingers, black hair billowing around him like the shadows he wielded like a second skin.
“Cirella makes a good point. Yet… even in warning, there may be opportunity,” he mused.
“What was it? ‘Only together can the calamity be avoided, fractured — we fall.’ Clever phrasing.” His eyes - so dark they were nearly black - slid to the King’s, an eyebrow raised suggestively.
The shadowwielders had long served as spymasters to the Starfire fae, and their court had prospered under the royal family’s favour.
No one trusted them, yet few could match their influence.
The King held Lunaris’ eyes with his own for a beat, as though considering something, before looking away.
Vaelin frowned. Not exactly the chastisement he’d expected.
“An opportunity for us all?” Thane repeated suspiciously, “Perhaps the Shadowborne seek to raise themselves beyond even their current lofty position. Armies of shadow rising from darkness… sounds like shadowwielder magic to me.”
“Careful, Thane,” a honeyed voice tutted warningly as a lithe body shifted out of the shadows behind Lunaris.
Vessa was a renowned spy and assassin of the Shadowborne Court, a promise of death wrapped in a distracting package of full lips and billowing red hair.
Vaelin watched as she brushed her pale fingers along the many daggers that flashed at her hips, a warning and a caress.
Lunaris chuckled low in his throat. “A coup, Thane? You truly think me that foolish? No, that’s an unsophisticated move I’d sooner expect from…
others.” He allowed his gaze to linger on the firewielder for a beat.
“But if the other realms’ mismanagement of the elements has precipitated this calamity, perhaps the time has come for more… widespread leadership.”
At the King’s silence, the Queen shifted forward in her seat. “Lunaris makes… an interesting observation,” she said carefully, “though I would caution against any rash decisions, at least until we know more.”
Vaelin marked the King’s stillness in his periphery, the lack of response to Lunaris’ thinly veiled suggestions of fae conquest sending unease coursing through his blood.
“Why wait?” Thane pressed, “Perhaps the time is ripe for the fae to take rightful ownership of all the realms, on the eve of this supposed calamity.” The embers in his eyes stirred, glowing hungrily.
The air in the room seemed to sharpen to an edge, as though his very words had drawn blood.
Then the King spoke.
“I agree that it has been an age since the Dreamwalker visions have graced our people,” he said.
He spoke quietly, but his voice seemed to reverberate through the room, regardless.
He brought a large hand to his silvered beard, massaging his jaw.
“However, Sereth Starfire is not one to lay omens at my feet, nor is she one easily swayed by suggestion.”
The General dipped her head respectfully.
“However,” the King continued, “given very little to go on and no other indications of this event coming to pass… for now, we keep this to ourselves. We will move when and if the time comes when a decision must be made.”
A heavy silence fell, the disquiet palpable. Vaelin caught the tightening of Sereth’s jaw, her stillness speaking volumes. This was far from over.