Chapter 9
Cassius
I’m running rapidly, the forest blurring around me, tree branches smacking me with every hurried step I take racing after the little human.
A sliver of moonlight in the sky guides my way, bathing the underbrush in a soft silver glow.
The night air greets me cool and clean, laced with the quiet hush of water and the deep, living scent of the forest, familiar, steadying, like the calm surface of a still tide.
But tonight, there’s little comfort to be found in the familiar.
Not when I have a human to catch.
Behind me, I sense the presence of the other fae kings, their footsteps echoing through the woods all around me, but I don’t slow my pace to run beside them. Attempting to give them another olive branch doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing but getting the human back.
Alette is the key.
For better or worse, this strange, tiny human woman is the key to restoring elemental magic to our people.
It’s a truth I cling to with a fervor that borders on desperation.
The goddess has designed this, crafted this fate for us.
We can’t fight what she wants from us. We’ve tried, and failed, many times over.
She decreed that only we four and her chosen human have a chance to survive the labyrinth, and just as she’s said, no fae warrior who has entered the labyrinth since has ever returned.
We need Alette. We need to walk the path the goddess has paved for us without question.
It’s our only chance at restoring our connection to the elements, which we desperately need.
Without our powers, we’re like men and women without arms or legs.
We’re simply missing something vital to the way of life that makes us happy.
The deeper I push into the woods, the more shadows seem to cling to me, the more my thoughts move to the countless fae warriors who have tried to navigate the labyrinth before me.
All have vanished into those dark depths, to never return, swallowed by the very trials meant to test our worth.
That wretched place is not for the weak of heart, and certainly not for a fragile human woman, but these are the cards we’ve been dealt, and I refuse to let this woman, this key to our happiness, slip through my fingers.
After nearly a hundred years of waiting for a chosen human, the last thing we can afford is to lose her.
The thought sends a surge of determination coursing through me, each beat of my heart pounding louder than the last. I spot a flash of pale green lace up ahead, a glimpse of her that makes me run even harder.
“Alette!” I shout, my voice cutting through the stillness of the forest. “It’s not safe out here!”
She only runs faster. Branches whip past her, her pale green dress flashing between the trees like something fragile and fleeting. And I can’t seem to stop thinking about just how fragile she is. There are a million different ways she can die out here, if I don’t get her back safely.
“Wait!” I call again. “Alette, stop!”
She doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t. She’s afraid. And fear makes people stupid.
My senses sharpen as I push harder, scanning the forest ahead, and then I see it.
I stop instantly. It stands in the shadows between two ancient trees, watching.
It’s a massive bear, changed by the magic of the fae lands to become something more, its body made of something more than flesh.
Its fur shimmers faintly, like stone and moss and moonlight woven together.
Its eyes glow with a quiet, unnatural intelligence.
An earth guardian. Ancient. Deadly. And it’s already seen her.
Alette slows. She doesn’t understand what she’s looking at, but instinct tells her enough. Her body stiffens. Her breath catches. And I imagine everything in her body is screaming that she’s in danger.
I reach her a heartbeat later and pull her against me, my arm locking around her waist before she can take another step. She gasps softly in shock, her back pressing into my chest, and she goes limp with fear as I gather her closer.
“Don’t move,” I murmur against her hair.
The Earth Guardian’s gaze shifts to me. It knows what I am. It knows what she is. I don’t reach for a weapon. I don’t show myself as a threat or show fear. Earth guardians do not respond to heightened emotions or force.
Alette trembles in my arms, her fear pouring off her in waves. I can feel every small shake of her body, every fragile breath. Without thinking, I tighten my hold on her. Not to restrain her, but to steady her.
“I have you,” I whisper.
The Earth Guardian watches. Judges. The forest itself feels suspended in that moment, waiting to see what I will do. What I will choose.
I do nothing. I simply stand there, holding her, ready to shield her with my body. Ready to offer her my protection.
After a long, endless moment, the Earth Guardian exhales. The sound is deep. Ancient. Then it turns and disappears back into the trees. The danger passes as quietly as it came.
Only then do I realize how tightly I’m holding her. How tense and ready I’ve been to put myself between her and the danger. She's still trembling. Still pressed against me. I don’t let go. Not yet.
“You’re safe,” I tell her quietly.
The words feel foreign on my tongue. I’ve never been great with comfort or emotion, but they words are true. And since I know that she’s the key to restoring our powers, ensuring her safety suddenly feels more important than anything else.
“Don’t run away,” I tell her, breathing hard.
“I don’t want… this. Any of this,” she whispers.
The pain in her words cuts deep, stirring something within me.
It’s a softness I’ve experienced so rarely enough that it feels like a flaw.
From the moment I saw this woman, I was torn between disbelief that she was our chosen one and just being grateful that the goddess finally gifted her to us.
Now, my mind moves in a different, unexpected direction.
She’s a vulnerable human in fae lands, surrounded by fae kings.
This must be a lot for her. Overwhelming even.
Perhaps we should be handling her with more care.
“I understand,” I tell her, desperation creeping into my tone as I try to bridge the gap between us, but she just pulls away, turning to face me.
“Do you?” Her big blue eyes search my face, and I can see the doubt there.
Do I? “I understand that you want to go home and don't want to help us.” It feels inadequate, a mere shadow of what I wish to convey, but it’s the best I can do at this moment.
She nods, a small yet powerful gesture. “So… can you let me go? Can you just point me in the right direction to go home?”
It hurts me to answer her honestly. “As much as I want to help you, we need your help more. We’ve… we’ve been waiting too long for you to just let you go.”
Her arms wrap around her chest, the movement making her appear even smaller, more fragile, and my resolve falters for just a heartbeat.
The vulnerability radiating from her makes me ache to protect her, to shield her from the harsh, unforgiving world of fae politics and ancient curses that waits ahead.
“What do you want from us, Alette?” I ask, my voice low, careful, as I attempt to peel back the layers of her fear. “What can we offer you to come with us willingly?”
She flinches. Her eyes flicker to me briefly, but she doesn’t answer right away.
For a long moment, she simply stands there, her face unreadable.
It bothers me. I’m a man who can read anyone; it’s a skill I’ve honed through a lifetime of studying people.
After a lifetime of standing back, watching, and letting others show who they are, I find myself utterly perplexed by this human. She’s a puzzle I can’t quite decipher.
My gaze drifts briefly to the other kings as they enter our little clearing, noting the looks of frustration on their faces.
They’d clearly overheard our conversation, and are just as lost as I am, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, sharper and crueler.
They’re focused on getting back their magic, our magic.
They’re thinking about the labyrinth, what Alette represents, and about the curse and what we need from her.
She’s a tool, our tool, to finally make us whole again. What she wants as a person matters little in the bigger picture, and yet, it matters completely. Because if we can’t give her what she wants, this mission will have failed before it even started.
I can't let the urgency of reclaiming our magic blind me to the role that Aleta plays in all this. I need to know what she requires to help us. Pure and simple.
Finally, she speaks, her voice steady yet laced with an underlying tremor. “Is there any future that involves me just getting to leave this place?”
I decide to be honest. “We’ve been waiting for you for a hundred years.
All our hopes, all our dreams for the future, are attached to you.
” Her gaze locks onto mine, and I press on, feeling the gravity of my words.
“So, no, there is no future that involves you getting to leave. You will go with us to the labyrinth, if we have to tie you up and drag you all the way through. Then? Then I guess you’re free to do whatever you want. ”
It’s not kind, but it’s the truth. And if she presses King Oberon enough, dragging her through the labyrinth is exactly what will happen to her. I can feel the weight of her despair between us, and I silently curse the predicament we’ve all found ourselves in.
“So, think carefully. Right now, I am offering you something. A wish. Almost anything you can dream of. But if you don’t take my offer, you’ll still do this, but you’ll get nothing in return.”
Now, I can see the gears turning in her mind, the conflicting emotions flashing across her face.