Chapter Sixty-Two
ELYSSARA
Varian and two other men walk ahead, guiding us deeper into the verdant heart of Thornewood—Kael’s home.
Small children peek out from homes built seamlessly into the trees, their wide eyes sparkling at the sight of Kael, their commander.
Pride shines in their innocent gazes, mirroring the respect radiating from the men and women lining the natural pathways formed by massive, twisting roots.
My astonishment deepens into awe, and something more profound—something akin to yearning—tightens in my chest as I absorb the civilization Kael and his companions have built here.
Beyond the city in the trees, veils of water cascade down jagged cliffs, catching the sunlight like liquid jewels before pooling into clear lakes.
The constant, soothing rhythm of the waterfalls fills the air with misty coolness, blending harmoniously with the calls of vibrant birds and the rustling leaves.
Kael’s thumb traces lazy circles against my waist, pulling me gently back into the present and interrupting my reverence.
And that’s when I notice—
Kael’s people lined the paths, each dropping to one knee, forming the inverted triangle symbol. Awe, reverence, and relief mingle openly on their faces, and tears glisten on some of their cheeks.
What is going on? I direct the urgent thought toward Kael.
I feel faint amusement and the gentle brush of laughter in response.
I’m not kidding, Kael. What the fuck is happening?
But before he can reply, a young woman with a vibrant, joyful face and wild, dusty-blonde hair streaming behind her races toward us. Herbs, twigs and potions dangle from a belt at her waist, and dirt smears across her cheek.
“Teddy!” she calls, excitement lifting her voice into an unrestrained shout. “Teddy!”
I glance around, bewildered, wondering who in the Stars she’s calling to.
The young woman barrels toward Therion, joy lighting her features as she throws herself into his arms, even as he remains mounted on Aura.
Therion nestles his face into her sandy hair, which tumbles in unruly waves, gradually lightening to a vivid white at the tips.
When she turns slightly, I glimpse her beautiful eyes—burnished bronze, luminous and familiar.
And that’s when it clicks—
Her hair. Her eyes. Even down to her sun-kissed, golden skin. She’s unmistakably Therion’s blood.
Yes, Kael’s voice rumbles softly through my mind. That’s his little sister, Rubinia.
And Teddy? I ask.
That light chuckle returns to my mind again before he says, a nickname from when he was a boy that Rubi has never let go of.
That’s... oddly sweet, considering we’re talking about Therion here, I reply.
Varian clears his throat, drawing our attention. Rubinia quickly releases Therion, smoothing her skirts and lands a playful punch on his thigh.
In an almost regal voice, Varian bellows for the whole city to hear, “Today is a most joyful day, for we are welcoming home true heroes of Zerynthia who, each day, take us one step closer to restoring our homeland to its former glory, power, and freedom!” Varian’s voice fills with authority and eminence.
Cheers of fierce agreement ripple through the trees, the people of Thornewood clapping and whistling with great pride. Honor, even.
“Our deepest gratitude to Merrik Havlyn and Jax Dewhirst, whose infiltration of the Dravari Guard has brought critical intelligence to our cause!” Varian continues.
Another wave of cheers crashes through Thornewood. My pulse quickens, trying desperately to track this dizzying new world. I glance at Kael, searching for answers, but his face is an unreadable mask.
Varian lifts his hand, bringing instant silence. “We honor Therion Ashborne, General of War to the Rightful Crown, for securing both the Astral Compass and Elyssara, the Lightborne!”
General of War to who?
My breath catches sharply, and confusion surges. But the cheers become deafening, joyous, and unstoppable before I can process it.
Varian's voice rises higher still, booming through the air. “And above all, we bow to His Royal Highness, Prince Kael Thorne—the rightful heir to the throne of Zerynthia!”
THE WHAT—
My heart stops.
My breath stolen entirely from my lungs.
Prince Kael Thorne?
Heir to the throne of Zerynthia?
Impossible.
My ears ring with the din of the Zerynthian people celebrating the return of their Prince.
My head spins wildly, the world tipping dangerously beneath me.
I grip Nyx’s mane tightly, anchoring myself as I whip my gaze toward Kael.
He shifts in the saddle, sitting up a little straighter and lifting his chin.
He settles quickly and turns utterly still, commanding and striking—every inch the prince I never knew he was.
I stare back at the crowd—they’re back on one knee, the inverted triangle symbol pressed to their hearts—and their cheers are deafening.
And yet, all I can do is stare at Kael, heart pounding, feeling as if the ground beneath me has shattered.