Epilogue
A Bright Voice
Seren half-wakes in an empty bed. Disappointment brightens to anticipation; he can tease Nevander into apologizing for the abandonment. Just as soon as he finds him. Still hazy-minded, Seren ventures from bed.
He stops at the balcony doors, alarm needling through his haze.
Instead of the balcony, the room opens onto a forest glade. Violet shadows tangle in the brambles. Moonlight shivers past graying treetops. Motes of darkness waltz in the distance, like Seren’s vision is blurring. Or like fireflies emitting shadow instead of light.
“Nevander?” Seren calls out, stepping back. Dry grass crackles under his boot.
No answer.
Seren reaches with his magic, trying to connect with the palace. No answer there. He reaches for Summer itself and finds nothing.
Brambles rustle. Seren isn’t alone. He whirls, the back of his neck prickling—and gasps.
His bedroom is gone. There’s only the endless forest.
Seren reaches for his tidingbird ring, but the charm doesn’t work. It should be effortless, but his magic feels clumsy. His hands are clumsy, too. There’s a dagger at his belt. It won’t budge from its sheath.
Distantly, Seren thinks it’s odd to be fully dressed. He just got out of bed.
More rustling. Scales and feathers flash through the shadows.
“Who’s there?” Seren demands.
A bright voice answers behind him. “Don’t be afraid. This is a dream.”
Seren whirls again, then freezes. His hand falls from his dagger.
Moonlight reveals the strange fae in perfect clarity. He wears a pale tunic and simple leggings. Fingerless leather gloves lace up his forearms, but his feet are bare in the dark grasses. Sky blue hair flows to his waist, rippling without a breeze.
“It’s you,” Seren whispers. He’s seen this man’s face before. Younger but unmistakable. Painted above his mantel.
Those golden eyes look just like Seren’s.
“Hello, little brother,” Briar says, smiling sadly. “You’ve grown since I last saw you.”
“Brother,” Seren breathes. “Are you really here? Is this a dream?”
Briar spins, arms outstretched, and the moonlight brightens. “Is it a dream if we’re awake? If I’m truly here, but not really here?” He halts in a rustle of leaves, eyes wide. “I can’t stay long. He’ll be cross. But I couldn’t help it. I felt your ascension.”
The voice is so familiar. Seren heard that lonely voice, calling out from the nightlands, the day he bargained with Summer. Seren’s shoulders ache with the memory of flight. The older memory of an augray’s fangs.
“Who will be cross?” Seren asks.
Briar draws nearer. He’s a few inches shorter than Seren. “I had to warn you. Midnight is planning something, and next Midsummer will be the crossroads.”
“What do you mean?” Seren shakes himself, desperate to think clearly. “No, just tell me where you are. You can explain in person.”
Dark fireflies gather closer, and the glade shrinks. Briar looks over his shoulder. “Don’t waste time looking for me. You must stop him, little brother. Remember Midsummer. Be ready.”
His image blurs. His words sound like farewell.
“Wait!” Seren shouts, reaching out. He’s shocked when he touches a solid arm, not an illusion. “Please, don’t go. I don’t understand.”
It’s not fair. They’ve only just met, if this meeting is even real.
Briar’s face softens. “I wish I could stay. I’ll try to—” He stiffens. “Fucking shades, he found—”
Seren’s eyes fly open, revealing the peaceful dark of his chambers. Hanging planters and carved goldwood tables, all in place. Seren is safe in bed, Nevander warm at his side.
“What’s wrong?” Nevander mumbles, coming awake. He’s always alert to Seren’s slightest movement.
“I dreamed I talked to Briar,” Seren says, sitting up slowly. “I think it was real.”
Swearing, Nevander wraps him in a hug and a tangible pulse of affection. Seren sinks into the embrace, strangely at peace. Tears dampen his cheeks, but his heart drums with joy. He has a brother. Briar found him. Now Seren just has to find Briar, too.
Before Midsummer.
Thank you for joining Seren and Nevander’s journey to each other!