THIS LITTLE BLURB RIGHT NOW DOES NOT BELONG TO ME! BUT IF YOU DON'T READ IT, THE STORY WON'T MAKE SENSE.
THIS BLURB BELONGS TO PAGES-OF-SPILLED-INK ON [ R.]
A Tamlin headcanon
"Be happy, Feyre," Tamlin sighed.
Feyre's heart leaped as Tamlin's magic began to glow, as he took a step closer to her and Rhysand. But something was wrong. The magic was different from all the powers of the other High Lords, different from when Feyre herself had been resurrected.
A flash of bright light emanating from Tamlin's hands forced them all to turn away, and Feyre screamed as she felt Rhys fading away. He was barely hanging on to the frayed ends of their mating bond.
Tamlin spoke from the center of the light: "Be happy with me, Feyre. I'll be waiting."
Growls tore from everyone's throats, even Beron, and Cassian leaped towards the light. But it was too late. Tamlin had disappeared, taking the light with him.
Taking any hope for Rhysand's life with him.
Feyre screamed in agony as she felt the mating bond rip apart. Rhysand was torn from the other end, and the other High Lords gasped as the drop of their own magic flowed back into them.
Rhysand, most powerful and perfect High Lord, was gone.