Chapter Sixty
KAEL
She is beautiful.
Not just in the way I have always known, in the way that turns heads and makes men stumble over their words—but in a way that feels otherworldly.
Her joy is as bright as her magic. It radiates from her in waves, unrestrained and uninhibited, as if she has forgotten, for the first time in her life, how to be anything but free.
A mane of undulating auburn frames her face and tumbles down her back, rich as the earth.
She moves through the wildflowers with the lightness of someone who has never known a place like this could exist—dragging her hands through the lunafleurs, pressing them to her nose with an audible inhale, eyes alight with something soft. Something I didn’t know she possessed.
A goddess.
I don’t know if it’s the tether—the connection that refuses to quit between us—or if it’s simply her. But I feel it too. Her wonder. Her breathlessness. Her awe.
It seeps into me, as if her emotions have taken root in my own, twining together like vines.
I glance toward our group and find Therion with a subtle, knowing smile, his gaze lingering on Seren. Merrik is grinning outright, and I know why—this is why we fight. This is what we’re trying to restore. To lift the curse. To free our people. To return this to them.
Daelen slaps Merrik on the back in easy camaraderie, sharing a look of understanding. This is how it’s meant to be. Even Jax, ever unimpressed, looks momentarily stunned before quickly masking it behind a scowl.
The moment is fragile.
And then, like a blade cleaving through silk—
“We keep going,” Zakarius snaps, his voice as cold and cutting as the steel at his hip. “Every moment we stop, we make ourselves easy targets.”
The dream fractures. The moment is over.
But when I glance back at Elyssara—kneeling in the grass, laughter still on her lips—I can’t shake the feeling that some part of her just found something she hadn’t even known she was looking for.
Ronyn spins toward the group, arms crossed, head tilted, that signature roguish grin tugging at his lips.
“I have a few... thousand questions,” he says, throwing his hands wide as if trying to physically encompass the absurdity of it all. “Like, oh, I don’t know—maybe mentioning the existence of an entire hidden paradise would’ve been helpful? Cryptic assholes, the lot of you.”
A startled laugh tumbles out of me before I can stop it, quick and sharp, like something unshackled. Therion barks a real, unguarded laugh—a rare thing from him.
Merrik’s rich chuckle ripples through the air, “We protect our land like we protect our people, lad—with our lives.”
Seren’s mouth falls open. “Wait, what? There’s no record of this anywhere!”
I nod. “It’s forbidden to keep records here.”
She looks ready to combust. “But that’s—”
“And,” I cut in, “you can wield magic whenever you want—no mandatory Royal Guard, so no one is keeping track of the magic they sense.”
Seren looks like I just told her the sky was a lie. “So, Starborn are just... free?”
Zakarius exhales sharply, disdain twisting his mouth. “She doesn’t belong here.”
His glare is fixed on Elyssara—not in curiosity, not in scrutiny, but in contempt. A silent fury ripples from him, his hands clenched tight over his reins, jaw ticking with the force of his restraint.
He sees only danger in her, a threat to everything he swore to protect—his home, his people, our mission.
His glare is like a blade at her throat. Cold. Controlled.
“She was never supposed to see this. Never supposed to know.” Not just anger—fear flickers beneath his scowl, fear for our home, fear for what she might bring.
His gaze flicks to me, sharp as steel. “This is your fault.”
The light in Elyssara’s eyes dims just slightly. Before she can speak, I do.
“You’re right. It is my fault.” I tilt my head, let my voice go cold. “Because I make the fucking rules, Zak.”
I meet his gaze, let the words settle between us, cold and callous. A challenge.
Zakarius exhales sharply through his nose, barely concealing his disdain. He doesn’t argue. But the tension between us stretches taut, a thread pulled to the edge of breaking.
Not yet. But soon.
Elyssara’s expression is neutral now, but I feel her curiosity—an eager, searching thing—pressing at the edges of my mind. A whisper of thought against mine, seeking, prying.
I turn back to the others. “Starborn are free, yes,” I concede, “but that doesn’t mean Elyssara won’t be hunted for her power.” I meet her gaze, her piercing green eyes locking onto mine with quiet conviction. “Either to be used as a weapon... or removed as a threat to the throne.”
Or fucking breeding like that fucking asshole from the Covenant said.
Elyssara’s eyes narrow, and at first, I think it’s in fear, but I feel something else. Resolve.
“There’s a lot to learn, and as much as I loathe to agree with Zak, we should go,” Merrik states.
He’s right. We mount the horses and commence the last section of our journey home to Thornewood.
We enter the Riverian Jungle—the jungle I spent summers in as a child, ran through with Nalya, foraged in, hunted in, and now, fight for.
The moment we move beneath its emerald canopy, I feel like I can breathe.
The ground, rich and dark, pulses with life, each step sinking slightly into the fertile soil. Towering trees stretch toward the heavens, their trunks thick as fortress walls, their bark webbed with veins of glowing blue—a faint bioluminescence that pulses like a heartbeat.
Vines twist and coil around the massive roots that carve through the earth, weaving an intricate tapestry of green and gold, their leaves broad and waxen, shimmering where sunlight filters through the canopy.
Native fruits, plump and glistening, dangle from branches high above, their colors vibrant—deep indigos, searing oranges, and all manner of hues that whisper of magic.
The river runs alongside us, a cascade of molten silver in the moonlight, its surface dappled with the glow of tiny, luminescent fish that dart like scattered stardust.
I inhale deeply, and for the first time in weeks, I feel the weight in my chest loosen. Home. The Riverian Jungle is alive in a way that no other place in Aevryn is—wild, untamed, unconquered.
And as I glance down to Elyssara, watching as she tilts her head back onto my chest, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in wonder, I know she feels it too.
This place is power. A secret that has been guarded for centuries—since the curse. A land untouched by the hands of kings and conquerors.
“How is this possible?” She whispers, disbelief and hope tangled in her voice. I know exactly what she means—how can beauty like this still exist when everything else has turned to ash?
“The Shadow Wastes are real,” I start, “they’re just not the whole story.”
“Obviously,” she says with sarcasm, gesturing her arms around the Riverian Jungle.
I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips. “Good point.” I suck in a long breath, readying myself to reveal my kingdom’s well-guarded secrets. But she deserves to know. She deserves to know what we want her to fight for with us. But more than that, I want to tell her.
Nyx is smooth underneath us, the rhythm of his gait a steadying presence that urges me on.
“These lands were not always The Shadow Wastes. Centuries ago, the entire land looked like this jungle. The entire place was a paradise,” I close my eyes, recalling the stories from my father and his father. Stories of beauty, and peace. “We call these lands Zerynthia.”
Elyssara’s eyes widen in realization. “Zerynthia,” the words come out in an awed whisper. “How did the lands become like... that?” She points back to where we’d come from.
“Centuries ago, Zerynthia warred against itself. The Starborn treated the Earthbound as if they were nothing—they took away their rights, their land, their wives,” I begin.
“Sounds familiar,” Elyssara scoffs.
“The Earthbound fought back with organized armies and attacks. It started a civil war that lasted seven decades. It divided our people and ripped our lands apart.”
Elyssara holds her breath, desperately waiting for me to continue. “Then what?”
“The gods stepped in. Or, one god did,” I correct myself. “Morrathys.”
Elyssara’s breath hitches in shock. “God of Death,” she offers.
I nod. “Morrathys didn’t like the Starborn and Earthbound playing god over death. They used magic to resurrect or destroy at will, corrupting the natural order. Morrathys intervened because death belongs only to him.”
“How? How could he do that?” Her desperation is palpable.
“Because it was not the way of the Zerynthian people. We are a people of power, peace and prosperity, and we lost our way,” I say simply.
“And now, our land is divided by The Decay. Morrathys made The Decay like a mirror, a prison of our own making. The people within it see only desolation, leashed to the curse, never knowing they walk inches from paradise.”
She shakes her head, breath sharp and uneven. “Tell me how we end this.”
No hesitation. No fear. Just raw defiance.
I turn to her, watching how the light peaks through the canopy and catches in her eyes.
I grip the reins tighter, “We take down Maldrak, and reclaim Zerynthia.”