Chapter 15 #2
Massive, glowing eyes peered down at me.
Their icy blue light was piercing, their intensity so overwhelming that I had the urge to grovel, to bow at his feet.
Wild, ashen hair stuck out from his black robe, and a long, pointed nose lifted into the air.
My mouth parted, but I didn’t know what to say, what to do as a smirk danced across Soren’s expression.
Soren was a Fate.
The realization sent a wave of anxiety through me.
Soren had been Mirronian's steward since my father's reign.
He had always rubbed me the wrong way, with his garish attire and incessant chatter.
For centuries, I'd found him unpleasant, selfish, and a gossip. I’d never truly been kind to him, always feeling he was meddling where he shouldn't.
He'd always done just enough to keep my favor.
I'd longed to dismiss him, to find a replacement.
But my uncle consistently advised against it… and now, fates… now I understood why.
Had my uncle known all along?
A guttural laugh, ancient and echoing, filled my head, and my face grew even paler.
“Please have a seat, Xavier.”
The booming voice spoke again, and I winced.
Lifting my head, I fought to suppress my surprise as my gaze landed on a large, wide-backed chair upholstered in rich emerald fabric.
It was to my right, with a small wooden table before it.
But my surprise was at seeing Soren. He was now normal-sized, and his shrunken throne sat opposite the wooden table, his glowing gaze locked onto mine.
My legs felt like lead as I took unsteady steps towards the chair Soren offered. A faint smile touched his lips, and I shivered, noting how ancient and primal he appeared, his skin seeming to glow with unspoken power. As I sank onto the emerald fabric, he began to speak.
“My name is Caelan, and as you have guessed, yes, I am one of the Fates.”
Caelan? But he looked just like Soren—how?
“I appear to you through my vessel. Mortal eyes—yes, the Fae are considered mortals by us—cannot perceive our true faces, our true essence. Therefore, we use the faces of our vessels instead.”
The Fate had plucked the question from my mind as I thought it, and a shudder ran through me.
He was inside my mind, and my jaw tightened as I fought to control my rising ire.
I had never heard of a vessel, nor knew what that was, but the unease at treating Soren poorly thawed in my gut, and I cleared my throat.
“You said your name was Caelan?”
The Fate nodded, dipping his chin slightly.
“I do not wish to be rude, but why am I here?”
Caelan leaned back further on his throne, clasping his hands in front of him, lifting them so they were in front of his chest. “That is a loaded question, I’m afraid. You are here for many reasons,” Caelan sighed, “But for now, I’ll give you the present answer.”
The present answer—what? Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, I waited.
“Because I orchestrated it,” Caelan said simply, and a wave of irritation washed over me at his rather dull answer. I cleared my throat, but Caelan raised a hand to stop me, and I nearly bit my tongue.
“All will be answered in due time. Pulp wine?” I went to reply but Caelan cut me off.
A finger pointed in the air as he tilted his head in thought.
“Never mind, I don’t need that staining the marble…
this will do.” A bottle of crystal, amber liquid appeared on the small table between us, along with matching glasses.
Stain the marble? Did he think I was a child, incapable of drinking without spilling?
“Drink. You will need it.” Caelan waved his hand at the liquid between us.
Defiance roiled through me. I wasn't one to be commanded, but—fuck. He was a Fate. Not wanting to insult him, I poured us both a glass, leaned back in my chair, and took a large sip, praying it wasn't some trick or poison.
Caelan smirked, as if hearing the thought, which he probably had.
Cursing that fact, I let the cool liquid pour over my tongue.
It burned down my throat, a blend of honey and smoke filling my mouth.
It tasted like both forever and nothing, though that didn’t quite make sense.
I studied the drink and took another sip, catching hints of lavender this time.
The drink melted away the lingering unease in my gut, and I raised an eyebrow at him in question.
“Stardust mixed with oak-matured mead,” Caelan said, beaming.
“It’s my own creation and one of my favorites.
I believe now one of yours as well.” He raised his glass in a cheer, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply before taking a large gulp.
“Ah,” he said, smacking his lips. “I’m going to miss that. ”
Caelan placed the glass back down on the table between us, and I stared at his face.
Soren's face. It was so familiar, yet so utterly different.
The glow of his skin, his eyes—they changed everything, and yet, nothing at all.
He still looked like my steward, and that prickling unease settled in my stomach once more. Why was I here?
Sighing heavily, Caelan looked at me sternly. “You are here, Xavier, because you need to learn who you are truly up against.”
I knew who I was up against, I thought bitterly, eyeing the glimmering liquid in my grasp. From the corner of my eye I saw Caelan shaking his head.
“Morgana is not who you think she is.”
My stomach soured at the sound of her name, and I took another sip of the amber liquid. “So, she isn’t my mother?” I questioned sarcastically, but I couldn’t stop the tiniest bit of hope that my mother was not a part of this, not the monster I have come to know her to be.
Caelan’s expression softened, and that hope was extinguished as quickly as it flared.
“Let me start at the beginning.”
My heart pounded, but I could only nod as bile rose in my throat.
“The land you know as Eionian used to be a vast and great kingdom. It was ruled by a certain type of Fae, one that used blood as its primary source of magic. They used it to amplify and create, adding to their already great power that ran through their veins.”
My brow furrowed. The witches could only use their magic if they drank blood. What he was saying made little sense.
Calen smiled. “Yes, their magic is now limited, but it wasn’t always. They used to have power just like you, elemental and unique. They were just like any other Fae.”
“What happened?” My curiosity piqued.
“Their leader, their queen—”
“My mother,” I muttered and Caelan’s eyes glowed brighter.
“I do wish you would refrain from interrupting Xavier. I have quite the temper, especially when it comes to this story,” he said icily, and I swallowed, taking another sip of the mead.
“Like I was saying, their queen was a great sorceress. Always experimenting with new magic, expanding her knowledge. She was greedy and was in constant war with the surrounding kingdoms.”
My mouth parted. Kingdoms, not kingdom. Meaning more than one, more kingdoms than ours. My heart thundered in my chest, my pulse thrumming in my ears, and I couldn’t help but speak again.
“So, my suspicions all these centuries were right,” I ground out, my chest tightening. “We aren’t alone. There are others, more kingdoms like ours out there?”
Caelan nodded.
“Then why?” I barked, anger searing through me. “Why does no one remember? Know!” I shouted. The questions that have haunted me for centuries, burning past my lips.
My uncle had watched me go nearly mad trying to figure it out. Ever since I was a boy, I noticed the blank books, the redacted pages, the maps that were unfinished. The naval fleet that never left our shores…
Jaxon and I had asked my uncle why, and he claimed he didn’t know what we were talking about.
Acted confused and changed the conversation.
I thought it had been because we were only boys, but when we got older his answers never changed.
Even when we asked others, they had done the same, and got confused.
Some even passed out when we pressed them for information, for what they knew.
When the crown passed to me, I sailed as far as our ships would allow, only to find our shores again, as if we had been turned around by some phantom wind. My entire crew was confused, dazed, not remembering why they were there or what we had been doing.
The glass I held shattered in my grasp, and Caelan only watched as my blood fell in thick drips onto my leather pants. “Does my uncle know?”
“Yes,” Caelan said simply.
“Why? Why do none of my people remember? Know? Question?!”
“May I continue?” Caelan said dully, unbothered this time by my interruption, my rage. My head lowered, a strand of my hair falling into my eyes, and I shook my head to rid it from my vision as I glared at the Fate sitting in front of me.
The glass in my hand disappeared, and a new glass, whole and full of amber liquid, appeared on the table. Blood was no longer coming from the gash on my palm. The skin was smooth, and I stared down at it, blinking.
“As I was saying, Eionian was constantly at war. Their queen was greedy, wanting more control, more power, more land. She thought herself powerful, and powerful people only want one thing. More power. For a while she and her armies were unstoppable. Their kingdom was nearly impenetrable. But when all the kingdoms allied together and were about to march into her lands, she knew she had to relent and agreed to a treaty, if only to bide herself time. She sent her daughter as a peace bargain to a neighboring kingdom, and for a while peace had been held.”
My brow furrowed at this information, but I didn’t interrupt him this time, letting him continue.