Mate.

"You're my mate…"

The voice echoed through Elain's head. It reverberated in her blood.

A knock on the door slammed her back into reality. She found herself sitting at the vanity in her room, leaning her head against her hand, fingers fisted in her hair.

"Elain, are you alright?"

Nesta.

"Y-yes, I'll be out momentarily," she called. Her sister stood outside in hesitation. Her ears pricked at the noise she could hear on the other side of the door. Nesta had almost definitely laid her hand on the door and dragged it down a few inches, no doubt in worry. Her nails almost imperceptibly snagged on the wood.

A few seconds later, she could almost feel her sister's feet padding down the hallway to the dining area. The swish of her dress as she moved sounded so close it was as if she could just reach out and touch it.

No doubt thanks to these pointed ears, Elain thought, bitterly.

Not even a week ago, Feyre's friend, Morrigan, had brought the sisters here after the events in Hybern's castle. It was high up in the secret city. She'd called it the House of Wind. It was secluded. Quiet.

Except for that incessant beat. A heart beating in it's chest. If it didn't stop, the sound of it would drive her mad.

She felt a headache budding in her skull. It was like a smoke settled over her mind and she couldn't quite think straight. Her thoughts roved around in her head without any direction.

Elain stared at herself in the mirror, as she had done many times since coming here. She looked like herself but...not. Her eyes roved over her face. Sharper. Prettier. Her attention snapped to her ears.

For years she had been terrified of the Fae. Everyone back home was. It had been ingrained into her mind from a young age.

She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. When she pulled her hand away, the light caught on the ring that still sat on her finger.

Iron. Graysen. If he saw her now what would he say? Would he shun her as his father would? What of their love?

Mate.

Elain winced. The word clanged through her body and roused a sensation in her that she had never felt before. Not even for her betrothed.

And she hated it.

Or did she?

The heavy cloud in her mind grew thicker.

A rage she had never known before threatened to rip through her, and she could feel the snarl forming in the back of her throat.

Elain paused, remembering her manners, and swallowed her anger.

Confusing.

Graysen was her beloved. At least, she thought he was. He'd always been kind and caring. She could not betray him for a man-male-she'd seen once. A person she didn't even know, and a creature she was always taught to hate.

This Lucien or whoever-

A feeling blossomed in her gut. Something inside her woke. Triggered. A power. Something buried deep down. Not right-

The very air around her chilled. The color drained from her face. The weight of what she saw in her mind felt like a physical blow to her head.

Images.

So many images.

All at once.

No sense-

Elain put one hand to her head and tried to stand and regain control of herself, but her grip was loose on the edge of the table. Her hand slipped over the edge and she fell to the floor. A pained cry escaped her lips as she landed. She reached up to her cushioned chair to try to pull herself off the floor, but her fists couldn't seem to hold on tight enough and she slid back down.

With the last of her remaining strength, she planted her hands on the marble and attempted to lift herself up. Her elbows gave out and she curled onto her side, head in hands.

"Stop….please stop," she pleaded.

Her fingers fisted in her hair, slightly scratching her scalp. The pounding in her head worsened.

"Please…"

A wolf. A bow. A mask.

Elain's tears quickly flowed from her eyes to the stone under her. Streams and streams. Her body started trembling uncontrollably.

A rose. A wing. A book.

The door opened. Fast footsteps. Warm hands on her back.

"Elain?" Nesta's worried cry flooded her ears but the visions continued.

An army. The Cauldron. Seven glowing seeds.

"Elain!"

Finally- finally, the incessant images broke. Dimmed. Slowly faded into the back of her mind. But, the headache didn't ease.

"Nesta," Elain managed, her voice shaky. "What's happening to me?"

"What happened?" her sister asked, helping her sit up

"Pictures…," she whispered. "So many...In my head...I don't…"

"Can you sit up?"

Elain nodded slightly and let Nesta lift her into a sitting position. She winced, her head throbbing harder at the movement.

"My head…"

Her sister brushed the long wavy hair out of her face.

"What did you see?"

"I saw…"

"What's going on?" Morrigan's voice sounded from the doorway.

Nesta ignored her and continued to scan her face.

"What did you see, Elain?"

"An army. A tremendous army marching against us," she answered, her lip starting to tremble. "A disaster…."

Mor's footfalls slowly came up behind her sister.

"An army?"

Elain glanced up to her, worry written all over her face. She locked eyes with the blonde Fae in front of her as she closed the distance between them.

"I can see through you."

Mor stopped in her tracks, hesitation passing over her features.

The images-

They flooded her mind again. Her back arched.

Wings, torn and broken. Blood. Three ancient beings made of teeth, shadow, and bone.

"In order to come out alive, they will need to climb into the depths of hell."

"What is she talking about?" Morrigan asked Nesta.

"I-I don't know," her older sister admitted, her voice panicked. "She said she was seeing-"

Darkness started to engulf her. The headache finally started to cease. She felt herself slipping away.

Falling, falling, falling.

"Elain!" Nesta shouted. Her voice sounded so far away.

She welcomed the blackness around her and let it swallow her whole until she couldn't feel any pain.

"Their ashes will fall from the sky."