Chapter 20
Oberon
The rain finally stops. One moment it’s hammering down on us, cold and relentless, and the next there’s nothing but silence and the thick, clinging heat it leaves behind.
The air sits heavy in my lungs, damp and warm, every breath dragging through exhaustion.
My shoulder throbs with every step, the wound from the spider pulling tight and hot beneath soaked fabric. I ignore it. I’ve had worse.
We all have.
Mud sucks at our boots as we push forward, every step harder than it should be. We’re drenched, filthy, blood still drying in streaks across skin and clothes, but we don’t stop. Stopping is how you die in this place.
I glance back.
Alette is still moving, even though we’d offered to carry her more than a few times. Pale, exhausted, but there’s nothing weak about the way she carries herself.
Ashton’s quiet for once, no smirk, no easy confidence. Just focus. Sylvian and Cassius keep the rear, watching everything, tracking every shadow like they expect the labyrinth to lunge again at any second.
So do I. It’s never this quiet without a reason.
Ahead, the hedges open. I slow without meaning to. The others do the same. Is this another meadow like the one where we were caught by the cyclops? Another trap? I can’t tell.
The hedges fall away into something wide and open, a stretch of land so bright it almost hurts to look at after days of shadow and mud.
Golden grass rolls out in every direction, tall and soft, bending under a light breeze that shouldn’t exist here.
Water still clings to the blades, catching the sunlight as it finally breaks through the clouds.
Real sunlight.
For the first time in what feels like forever, the sky is clear. Blue. Endless. No storm. No gray. Just light.
I step forward once, slow, my boots sinking into softer ground as we cross the threshold. It doesn’t… feel like the labyrinth. That’s the problem.
The air smells different here. Clean. Warm. Not rot and damp and decay, but something alive. Wildflowers drift through the grass in scattered bursts of color, pale gold, soft violet, deep green. There’s no damage. No ruin. No sign that anything has ever been wrong in this place.
It’s untouched. Perfect. Too perfect.
“A meadow?” Sylvian says, like he doesn’t quite believe it.
I don’t answer.
My grip tightens on my sword as I scan the horizon, every instinct in me screaming that this isn’t right. The labyrinth doesn’t give gifts. It doesn’t offer relief.
It tests you until you break.
The breeze shifts, warm against my skin, brushing through the grass in slow waves. The light hits Alette, catches in her hair, her skin, and she looks like she belongs here. Like she was meant to walk into something like this.
I don’t trust it.
Not for a second.
“Stay together,” I say, my voice rough, cutting through the quiet. “Weapons ready.”
They don’t argue. None of us lower our guard. Because whatever this is… it can’t be over.
I shift my grip on my sword, ignoring the pull in my shoulder.
Sylvian’s movements are too careful. Ashton’s breathing isn’t as easy as he wants us to believe.
Cassius keeps flexing his fingers like he’s checking they still work.
And Alette stands at the center of us, pale, exhausted, her hair still damp, her sword hanging loosely at her side.
She should be broken after everything we’ve been through.
She isn’t. She’s watching the meadow like she’s trying to understand it. Like she wants to believe it.
The air shifts. It’s subtle at first. A pressure, like the moment before lightning strikes. The breeze dies. The grass stills. Even the light feels… sharper.
Alette moves closer to me without thinking. “No,” she whispers. “Please don’t let this be another trial.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how.
The voice comes from everywhere. “You’ve made it… at last.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
Ashton swears under his breath. Cassius turns, searching for something that isn’t there. Sylvian’s hand drops toward the ground, ready to pull power if he has to. Whatever the voice is… it drips of power. Of danger. This could be the worst thing we’ve faced yet.
“It’s Varua,” Alette whispers, realization suddenly dawning on her.
Of course it’s her. The goddess whose curse started all of this to begin with.
“You have reached the end of the labyrinth,” she says, her voice echoing around us, eerie and unsettling.
Alette looks around, wide-eyed. “The end?”
“We don’t know that,” I say automatically, because I don’t trust anything in this place.
But even as I say it, the meadow answers. The grass parts ahead of us, bending back in a perfect line as if something unseen walks through it. A path opens where there was none before, leading toward a low rise of pale stone.
And on that stone… there’s a crown.
No one moves.
It isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. Not forged like a weapon. Not adorned like a court’s display piece. It looks older than all of that. Bone and gold, shaped into sharp, elegant points, threaded with small stones that catch the sunlight in flashes of red, green, blue, and silver.
All four courts. Bound together.
My stomach tightens.
“Why is there a crown?” Sylvian says quietly.
“No idea,” Cassius replies, suspicion in his voice.
Varua speaks again, her voice calm, unyielding. “You entered divided. Fire. Earth. Wind. Water. You brought your rivalries into the labyrinth, your distrust, your need for dominance.”
Ashton mutters, “She’s not wrong,” but there’s no humor in it.
“To restore the power of your people,” Varua continues, “you must end that division. The fae must be united under one ruler. The fighting must end.”
The words land heavy. One ruler. Not four kings. One.
“Whoever wears the crown will rule the fae,” she says. “Choose well.”
Silence follows. The kind that presses in on your ears until you can hear your own heartbeat.
Then the presence is gone. No voice. No pressure.
Just sunlight. Just the crown. Just us.
Ashton lets out a breath. “That’s… not what I was expecting.”
“No,” Sylvian agrees.
Alette shakes her head slowly. “You’re saying one of you has to wear it?”
“That’s what she said,” Cassius answers, like he’s still not sure.
“And the rest of you just… accept that?” she presses.
No one answers. Because we all know the truth. That isn’t how this works. How it’s ever worked. But maybe that’s the point. What we were doing before wasn’t working, maybe this will.
When we first started on this journey, I would’ve claimed the crown for myself, but now I know better. I don’t want control or dominance. I want what’s best for our people.
I look at Sylvian first. “You should wear it.”
His head snaps toward me. “No.”
“You’re steady,” I say. “You think before you act. You don’t let anger make your decisions. You care about what happens after the fight is over.”
“That doesn’t make me the right choice,” he says sharply. “It makes me a target. The other courts would never follow me without question.”
“They’d learn.”
“At what cost?” he fires back.
I don’t have an answer for that.
Sylvian exhales and looks at me. “You should wear it.”
I bark out a short laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re strong,” he says. “You act when it matters. People follow strength.”
“They fear it,” I correct. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“Not for something like this,” I say. “I’d burn any court that challenged me. That’s not unity. That’s control.”
Ashton nods slowly. “He’s got a point.”
“Of course I do.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Cassius speaks next, his tone measured. “Ashton.”
Ashton blinks. “Oh, this should be good.”
“You understand people,” Cassius continues. “You defuse tension. You can make enemies listen to each other.”
Ashton’s grin fades. “I can make them laugh. That’s different.”
“It’s a start.”
“It’s not enough,” Ashton says, more quietly now. “Not for this. Besides, you’re the smartest among us. You should lead.”
“I’m smart enough to know I’m not the logical choice,” he says, then his gaze shifts.
Sylvian follows it. And for a moment, everything slows. Because I see it. The thought forming. The perfect answer we didn’t even consider.
Alette.
We all turn to stare at her. There’s confusion on her face for too long, and then we see it hit her. She realizes what we’re thinking.
Immediately, she takes a step back, panic in her eyes. “No.”
No one has said anything yet, but she knows anyway.
“No,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Alette—” Cassius begins.
“I’m serious,” she cuts in. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m not wearing that.”
“Why not?” Ashton asks, gently.
“Because I’m not one of you,” she says, her voice breaking. “I’m human.”
Something in me snaps.
“Stop saying that like it means you’re less.”
She flinches, but I don’t soften.
“You survived everything this place threw at us,” I say. “Without magic. Without a court behind you. You fought. You adapted. You kept moving when any sane person would have stopped.”
“That doesn’t make me a queen.”
“No,” Sylvian says softly. “It makes you exactly what we need.”
She shakes her head again. “I’m not strong enough.”
“You’re the strongest one here,” Ashton says.
She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” Cassius says. “You chose us. Every time. Even when it put you at risk. Even when you had no reason to trust us.”
Sylvian steps closer. “You made us trust each other.”
That lands.
She goes still.
“I didn’t do that,” she whispers.
“You did,” I say. “You heard the Goddess. We didn’t walk into this place willing to work together. We didn’t leave our past behind. You forced us to see past it.”
“I didn’t force anything.”
“No,” Ashton says. “You made us want to.”
Silence stretches.
Her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t carry that kind of responsibility. I’ll fail.”
“Then we’ll stand with you when you do,” Sylvian replies.
Cassius nods. “You won’t be alone.”
Her gaze flicks between us. “What does that mean?”
The air shifts again. Not with magic. With something deeper.
Ashton is the one who says it first. “It means we’re not leaving you. Ever.”
Her breath hitches.
Sylvian steps closer. “Not after this.”
Cassius adds, his tone even and absolute, “Not after you.”
I move in front of her, close enough to feel the heat of her skin.
“We don’t want to go back to our courts without you,” I say.
Her voice trembles. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“All of you?” she asks.
“Yes,” we answer, together.
She looks at us like she doesn’t know what to do with that.
“I don’t know how to be a queen,” she says.
“Then learn,” Sylvian says.
“With us,” Cassius adds.
Ashton smiles, softer than I’ve ever seen him. “We’ll figure it out together.”
I take her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me.
“You are not small,” I say. “You are not weak. You are not less because you were born human. You are everything we needed and didn’t know we were missing.”
Her breath shudders. “I’m scared.”
“Good,” I say. “That means you understand what this is.”
I kiss her. With everything I don’t have words for.
When I pull back, the others are there. Sylvian brushes his lips over her hand. Cassius presses a kiss to her temple. Ashton touches her cheek like she’s something rare.
And then, we kneel. All four of us. In the grass. In the sunlight. In front of her.
Alette stares down at us, stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Choosing,” I answer.
Sylvian speaks with quiet certainty. “Marry us.”
Cassius’s gaze never wavers. “Be our queen.”
Ashton smiles, just a little. “Stay with us.”
I meet her eyes. “Wear the crown. Not because Varua wants one of us to. Because we want you to. Because we choose you.”
Her lips part. Her chest rises and falls too fast. She looks at the crown. Then back at us.
“I…” she starts.
And stops.
The world holds its breath. So do we. Waiting. For her answer.