EPILOGUE
100 YEARS AGO
AMELIA OPENED HER eyes to a new reality. Flames ran over her skin, the smell of smoke thick and suffocating. Her hand had gone limp, a sharp spindle left on the ground. Blood soaked her dress and Malicine’s hands as the demon ‘s body sprawled over hers. She placed a gentle palm on Malicine’s cheek, her fingers slicked with their tears. Regret coursed through her body from causing them pain.
“I’m scared, Mal,” she confessed, “but I want to try again.”
She gave Malicine the amulet from the dreamworld, which had been hanging from Corin’s necklace. The gem unraveled from the pendant and lodged itself onto Malicine’s staff. Magic sparked from the demon’s skin as familiar blood ran through their veins. Centuries of another life rushed back to them. Their eyes glowed in recognition. Stories cast from generations, birthed from different worlds and times, shared from past lives and histories, all culminated in this very moment.
The flood of memories hit them all at once. They reeled backward, steadying themselves on the overturned spinning wheel. A shuddered gasp escaped their lips before they collected themselves again.
“Are you certain about this?” they warned. “I can’t cast the sorrow away from here. If we stay, there will be pain beyond our control. The world will not thank us if we survive it.”
Their palm pressed against the hole in Amelia’s chest. She winced as flesh materialized in her wound. Her heart slowly pumped into a steady rhythm once more.
“Does it still hurt?” Malicine asked.
Amelia pressed a hand over the closed wound, where her fragile heart solidified.
“It always will,” she said. “But I need to know if there’s more than surviving the hurt.”
The walls surrounding them rumbled with the sound of intruders. A crowd of shrill cries, a strained bray from a running horse. Light sparked behind the foliage that had hidden the two of them, tearing through tangles of vines. The first drops of rain that permeated their barrier felt like tiny knives against her skin. She would see the man who nearly killed her moments ago in her dream. If she didn’t die, she would have to face the people of Gyldan, whose fate unfairly rested upon a frightened girl with no readiness to rule a kingdom. This was a world that paved only two paths for her.
The cacophony rang louder as their barricade thinned to a single layer of rotting leaves. Malicine seized Amelia by the wrist. She could feel the scales spreading across the demon’s skin, the flare of heat running down their veins.
“Stay back, Amelia.” Spikes studded their tongue, and the pupils of their eyes narrowed into slits. Amelia remembered the distant echo of a dragon’s roar in another version of this scene. How the stories told of a man who vanquished a monster to save a sleeping princess. That was how the world kept turning: The one who conquered the land and its people became the ruler of all.
But Gyldan had once been nothing more than sand before those rules were made. The seeds of a new path grew in Amelia’s mind, one that Lilith had planted long ago.
“No,” she told Malicine. “I will be the one who will burn it all down.”
And so, the fairy tale went like this: A brave prince battled against a vicious dragon that fateful night. Her faerie godmothers carried her sleeping body to the castle, where Gyldan would mourn and weep.
And then, the ending went like this: After the prince kissed his sleeping beauty, she finally woke up.
Amelia opened her eyes and parted her lips, feigning a full gasp of air, as if life were restoring to her veins. Ezran’s silver eyes widened, the first suspicion of her trick, for they both knew that true love did not exist between them. Anger twisted in the snarl of his lips as he realized her pretense. She called for her godmothers before he grabbed his sword. The faeries swarmed her in an embrace, blocking themselves between the two as they cried in celebration.
She let them believe in this fairy tale. The story needed a happy ending, one where the kingdom would come together and celebrate. The couple should announce the wonderful news together, the godmothers suggested. Ezran pressed his lips tight, and behind gritted teeth, new plans formed in his mind. Whatever he considered, Amelia had more than enough time to imagine a different ending.
At the break of dawn, they emerged onto the balcony together. Fractured sunlight glowed across the hopeful faces of Gyldan. The kingdom cried in joy, falling to their knees, their prayers answered. Amelia tried not to think about how the man who wanted to kill her was holding her hand, pretending to be in love, only so that he could pierce his sword through her heart once they were alone. She placed her other hand over her chest, touching the necklace that a girl from her dreams once gave up.
Amelia broke away from Ezran’s grasp as she approached the center of the balcony. She scanned the crowd of faces, and for the first time, spoke loudly to them.
“As your new queen of Gyldan, I will make my first order.” She pointed to the man standing opposite from her. “Prince Ezran will be imprisoned for murder and treason until proven rehabilitated.”
A ripple of outraged gasps surged through the crowd. Amelia turned as Ezran lunged after her in blind fury. His sword aimed for her heart until the blade froze in midair, his limbs locked in position. Confusion spread among the crowd, but the shrill croak of a raven notified Amelia who’d pulled the strings.
Lightning flashed from the sky. A bolt shot from the clouds and shattered Ezran’s sword. Malicine flew toward the balcony, their staff gripped in a tightly wounded fist. The people of Gyldan screamed in panic as they assumed a second murder attempt. Amelia waved her hands and urged them to calm down, but her voice was mute against the uproar. Malicine snarled for the crowd to silence. Within seconds, their lips sealed shut, their feet rooted to the ground.
The silence made Amelia’s breaths too loud. She curled her fingers into fists and tried to still herself before continuing.
“Before I turned eighteen, Malicine revoked my curse. Which means I did not wake up from true love’s kiss. I woke up because I decided so.” Her voice trembled as she pressed forward. “I do not need a man’s love to be the reason why I am alive. And I will not stay married to a man who is too blind to realize our family’s treasure has always been Gyldan.”
She turned to Ezran, waiting for recognition to settle upon his face. His features remained frozen under Malicine’s spell, but she could see the war raging in his eyes. She hoped that, over time, he would understand.
“Ezran is unfit to be your king. But the truth is, I am unfit to be your queen as well. No ruler can save Gyldan, no matter how much gold they have in their blood.”
Amelia had never been suited for the throne, and yet, she could not think of a single person who deserved to sit there as well. Not her father, whose thirst for conquests only stained blood in his legacy. Not her godmothers, who chose to waste their magic for vanity. Not even Lilith, whose peace and virtues alone could not survive violence.
The gold in Amelia’s veins shimmered under the light, and she thought about how useless it was in the end. Centuries of wars and violence for earthly minerals and imaginary titles, all so that the cycle could repeat once more. She remembered the destruction in the Otherworld, how quickly another universe was tarnished under greed and power.
If Gyldan were to avoid the same fate, the kingdom needed something different. She did not know what that would look like yet. But if she could dream impossible things, she could dream this.
“Gyldan was once a kingdom built out of nothing. We welcomed people from all lands and creeds, and that was what made Gyldan today. There were no saviors, kings, or gods. The only thing we have is each other. That is why I will step down as queen and abolish it all. The soldiers, the Fae council, and the monarchy.”
Amelia waited for someone to speak before remembering magic had sealed their lips shut and planted their feet to the ground. Malicine raised their hand to the crowd, facing the guards and faerie godmothers.
“Before I restore everyone’s bodily functions, know that any mutiny against your former queen will result in dire consequences. As a reminder, I have the capability to create and destroy entire worlds. Rest assured I can make yours a living hell.” Their fangs gleamed in a poisonous smile. “If you think my tyranny is a problem, that is all the more reason to find the right leaders.”
Amelia felt the braided metal of her necklace slick with sweat. She wished Corin could see this scene unfold, but Corin was not here. It would be a very long time before she would arrive in this world, and Amelia had so much to do before then.
? ? ?
GROWING PAINS CAME naturally with drastic change. Amelia was not fond of pain, and the people of Gyldan were not fond of change. Many left in droves, believing that a kingdom without a proper ruler would result in invasion. Others who couldn’t leave remained skeptical. Only a handful expressed interest in serving as officials in Gyldan, hardly enough to decide the future of a former monarchy.
While Ezran remained in prison, her godmothers left the kingdom, refusing to help as advisors so long as Malicine was there. With no offer of wealth or status, the rest of the Fae possessed little interest in meddling with mortal affairs and seemingly disappeared from the human eye. But Malicine was worth more than any faerie, and if Amelia could find any solace in life, it was the steady presence of her companion.
In the remains of an empty castle, she paced the floors with worry.
“This was a mistake,” she cried to Malicine. The demon rubbed their forehead, their headache growing both from Amelia’s constant panic attacks and the frequent noise of hammering in the background. Workers had volunteered to tear down the castle and make room for town houses. The idea sounded romantic in her mind, but in reality, she spent every day surrounded by rubble and destruction. She nearly tripped over debris before Malicine grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Rebuilding isn’t going to look as pretty as your dreams,” they snapped. “We don’t know if things will get better until we see it through.”
“What if it doesn’t matter in the end? I can’t stop a war. I can’t end poverty. It’s impossible.”
She remembered the stories Corin told her in their dreams. Skies filled with smoke, streets teeming with rubble. Man-made machines that could fly and release weapons that turned bodies and homes into fire. The future would create atrocities beyond her imagination. She could not end the tragedies, for she was only one person, and not even a brave one.
Malicine glanced out a cracked window, where mobs formed outside the castle to protest its destruction. Red-faced noblemen spat curses, while farmers swung pitchforks to riot. A sigh expelled from the demon’s lips.
“It is inevitable that humans will do terrible things. But we’ve learned that there will be humans like Corin and Elly, as well. Perhaps the smallest changes could make their lives a little better.”
“I can’t change people’s lives,” Amelia said.
“You changed mine just by being born.”
A warmth slowly filled Amelia’s chest. Her fingers fidgeted with her necklace. The pendant felt small in her palm, yet its future held a heavy weight. She pictured a child who would learn how to paint from her mother, a small joy that would remain tucked inside that child’s heart even as life sharpened her edges with age. She remembered calloused hands holding her own, and how, even in their rough grip, she could still feel that girl’s gentleness.
She had learned the answer was not isolation or a lonely throne. For the same reasons that common people had changed Lilith’s life, Amelia, too, needed others to depend on for a better outcome.
? ? ?
IN THE END, they did not become heroes. Such were the fates of a frivolous former princess and a wicked demon.
Instead, they left Gyldan to live on the outskirts of civilization. A quiet cottage nestled in the forest, where white crowns of honeysuckle grew through the cracks of windows, their climbing tendrils growing into the light. The grass grew so high they created a wall of green that blinded the porch. Amelia allowed the vines to grow wild, covering the stone walls as if they were encased in their own fortress. They had the occasional animal visitors, a rabbit and cat that wandered through open doors, often paired together.
More frequently came the human visitors, arriving with baked goods and news about Gyldan. The republic had formed over the years, where a council of citizens argued over the kingdom’s future. Amelia never had passion for politics, but she’d found people who did. There were craftsmen like Jasper, who started communes for other artists. Translators like Levu and Inya, with rich accents and multiple languages, who traveled between the borders of Gyldan to assist asylum seekers. Apothecaries like Sybil and midwives like Nessa who distributed medicines for the sick. People who reminded her of Lilith so much sometimes that Amelia wanted to cry.
The human visitors rearranged tables and smoothed the linens. Malicine brewed tea over the hearthstone and Amelia mixed her bowl of squash and sunflower seeds. Their friends asked about the flowers blooming in her garden while Talon pecked grapes from their palms. On a warm afternoon, they shared meals with mismatched plates. Between laughter and anecdotes, Amelia scanned the faces of everyone in the room, taking in the friends she never would have made had she decided her life would end at eighteen.
In the evening, crickets chirped outside the window in belated farewell to their guests. Soon, Amelia knew, it would be time for Malicine to say goodbye as well.
“Where will you go after I’m gone?”
Amelia had been washing the dishes when she asked this. Soap bubbles floated toward the exposed wooden beams overhead, where moonlight cast upon the silver streaks in her hair. Her skin had turned thinner, her eyes blurred with a cloudy hue. Time brought changes to her body that she’d never imagined at eighteen. She had become a spinster, a life of peace she had always wanted. She reveled in the variations that came with age, how they proved she’d survived every impossible thing she once feared. Meanwhile, throughout the years they lived together, Malicine’s appearance remained the same.
“I see your morbid thoughts haven’t disappeared,” they replied.
“They’re not morbid. It’s been a good life. But I’m not leaving until I know what happens to you.”
Fire crackled in the stone hearth. Memories flitted by of afternoons nestled in Malicine’s overstuffed armchair and Amelia’s tufted pillows. Books with crinkled pages lined the shelves, jars filled with jam and marmalade sat on countertops, every relic revealing decades spent with one another.
“I don’t know where I’ll go. Perhaps that’s the thrilling part,” Malicine said. “It’s a big world, and we only live in one of them. I want to see what Talon and I find next.”
Amelia held back her tears, yet the small pinch in her chest came from happiness as well. She’d loved the slow mornings tending the garden in her backyard, filling the beds of her fingernails with dirt, watching the sunflowers bloom every summer. She appreciated having only the company of crickets on quiet evenings and knowing that every day would be the same. But Malicine wanted more, and the demon stayed by her side longer than they should have to watch over her. Despite the good days, darkness always lingered at the back of her mind, a permanent residue of grief she couldn’t escape even in the comfort of bedsheets.
But she had survived each time, and she would survive again. She would not let fear hold Malicine back from exploring the rest of the world.
Before they said goodnight, Amelia felt the long arms of an embrace and a soft kiss pressed to her head. She thought about how some curses could become fortunes, and she had all the luck in the world to find her closest companion in this one.
? ? ?
OVER TIME AMELIA noticed fine lines etched in the corners of her eyes and mouth. She marveled at the delicate creases in the mirror. Small moles bloomed on her cheeks after decades spent in the sun. Strands of silver wove through her hair like stars. She moved like the turtles in her pond and thought about how her body was once a blank canvas, beautiful yet empty, before she lived and collected proof of it.
As she grew older, she would wake in the middle of the night, when the moon was out and her thoughts could not be quieted. She could feel the darkness returning to her mind, as it always did. But age gave practice to temper aching sadness and spiraling thoughts until they passed. Her cloak shielded her figure, her footsteps light on the forest path as she slipped out of the cottage while Malicine slept. The night air filled her lungs, and the crickets’ chirping followed her all the way to Gyldan.
She visited the republic occasionally to pick up bread from the marketplace and visit her friends. The previous day’s rain had slickened the cobblestoned roads and made lampposts reflect a brighter sheen. Clear rivers ran through canals and mirrored the moon in ripples. The night was completely still until a straggler caught the corner of her wrinkled eyes.
The lone figure stood at the end of a bridge, peering into the water. Amelia knew what this person would do, for she remembered the familiar desire she once had at eighteen.
She hurried toward the bridge and called out to the stranger. The woman turned around before Amelia tackled her off the ledge and they fell onto the pavement. Her weary bones ached, yet desperation propelled her forward, grabbing hold of the stranger to make sure she would not jump again. Refugees often fled from other kingdoms to Gyldan, and the council had established temporary shelters for them to stay. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. Not when fighting to survive for so long could wear someone down to the bottom of a river.
Amelia brushed black hair away from the stranger’s forehead, and the sight of the woman took her aback. Under the moonlight, the woman’s features turned clearer: dark eyes, wide nose, a face that Amelia had seen long ago. A rush of nostalgia made her heart ache. She nearly embraced this person, but knew it would only be a stranger’s body, one with different angles and shapes that were not the exact match as her dreams.
Weariness dragged the timbre of the woman’s voice. “You should have let me go.”
Amelia clasped the stranger’s hand and gazed at her fiercely. The woman’s eyes were dull, like a cloud passed over them, still in the fog of hunger. “No. I need you here.”
The woman laughed weakly. “Nobody needs me.”
“That’s not true,” Amelia said, seeing a distant future in the stranger’s eyes. “I know you want to run away from the pain. I’ve run away too. But there will be love on the other side. One day you will see. We cannot survive without each other.”
Perhaps the woman would think Amelia was strange. She would never recognize Amelia in the night. It was too dark, and the woman’s vision had become so weak that Amelia had to lead her to shelter. But there were no signs of protest, as if Amelia had said things so surely, they almost seemed like they’d become reality.
She clasped the woman’s hands in hers, gripping them until they no longer felt like strangers. They never exchanged names, and they never saw each other again. Yet before Amelia said goodbye, she reached for the pendant nestled against her collarbone and wrapped the chain around the woman’s neck. The necklace fit over the woman’s collar with a natural clasp, as if finding its home.
Afterward, Amelia limped to her woodland cottage with sagging skin and aching bones. The candle in her windowsill had pooled to hardened wax. Her body sank into bed with a heavy heart.
She did not know what tomorrow would bring. There were no promises of happiness or meaning to come. The only thing she knew with certainty was that the morning would cast the sunlight sideways through her windows, the bees would pollinate the wildflowers in her garden, and the seasons would change long after her bones turned to soil.
So for now, Amelia slept.
And when she woke up, the world did not end.