My stars eternal. My night triumphant. My friend, my wife, my mate.

His Feyre. His beautiful, wonderful Feyre, who lights up his laugh and brightens the room with a simple smile. He can't imagine what his life might be like without her. He can't remember what it was like before her.

He still remembers, with excruciating detail, the moment he saw her mangled body on the stone floor Under the Mountain. He remembers the moment the world felt silent, when his heart stopped beating, when everything lost color and bled out into black and white. He remembers knowing the moment when her realized that he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't lose her.

And so he saved her.

He has never been more thankful than that moment when he begged the High Lords to listen, to save her, and they did. Every single one of them, even Beron willingly gave up a drop of themselves, a spark of their own power to save this girl, this soulful, broken, bleeding girl. This girl who had saved them at the cost of her own life.

And to see her now, to see how far she's come… her skin was once pale, her lips cracked and her eyes resting on dark, heavy bags. But now she's healthy, her skin browner, her face glowing. She is strong and loving and kind.

My mate.

There's another day in his life, a day that could rival that one. It's the day he felt complete, that perhaps the war was over, and they could finally rest in peace. He looks down at the child sleeping in his arms. Asteria, precious Asteria, named after the stars, whose violet, star-spangled eyes resemble the night sky itself, cosmic and deep. And he smiles because he loves this child with his entire heart, just as he loves Feyre.

Feyre…

But she doesn't answer. He figures she's probably sleeping, and he lays his child – their child – back in her crib.

She isn't there in the bedroom either, but he doesn't wonder because perhaps she's gone over to Mor's or Lucien's. So he goes to sleep, his arms aching with emptiness and the sheets beside him aren't as warm as they should be.

He wakes up late the next morning and heads downstairs with disheveled hair, barely bothering to comb it. It isn't like he has anyone to impress anyway.

And Cassian smirks at him and asks him if he's had a good night, and how late he stayed up, and he tells him that he thought Feyre was at Mor's house and everyone denies it and says they haven't seen her and the mating bond is silent again and Rhys realizes that something is very, very wrong.

So gives Asteria to Elain and tells her to take care of his daughter and he alerts his court. The Illyrian armies. Tarquin, Tamlin, Helion, everyone. He tells them to search. He begs them because he'll die if anything happens to Feyre.

And he leaves. There are council meetings and policies to attend to but it doesn't matter, none of it matters because Feyre is missing and she isn't saying anything and she needs their help and where is Feyre where is she where is she where is she.

He doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know where she is, where she might have gone, and he doesn't know he doesn't know he doesn't know.

So he starts with the mountains. He scales them one by one, searching. He doesn't leave a single stone unturned and he know this might kill him, but he doesn't care. His palms are bleeding, being torn open as soon as they heal, because he doesn't have time to stop and wait for injuries, Feyre needs him, she doesn't have time.

It's been three days when he feels the mating bond break. It isn't silent. It's gone. And he feels that drop of power, that little kernel that made up so much of her, that they shared, return to him.

And he falls to his knees and screams and screams and it's so loud it's so loud and why is everything shaking and why has this mountain disappeared from beneath him and he's falling an and where is Feyre she can't be dead she won't she can't where is she where is she where is she and he hits the ground and there's a sharp pain in his chest and he's writhing on the ground and screaming and he doesn't know if the pain is from his broken rib or from his broken heart.

But he doesn't stop searching. He won't, he can't, until he finds who did this to her and he'll tear them apart. He keeps looking and looking and it finally dawns on him that no one has yet searched under the mountain and it's the perfect evil lair for someone, a perfect place to hide because even after all this time, no one has ever set foot in there because of all the pain.

So he goes and he's sure that the pain in his feet comes from the fact that his sandals broke a long time ago, but it doesn't matter because he needs to avenge her, he needs to find her body.

And he does.

There's a foul, putrid stench, but he immediately chides himself for that thought because nothing could ever be foul when it comes to Feyre. And it is Feyre, because he'd recognize that stunning golden-brown hair anywhere. But there isn't much else to recognize because she's been rotting and her fingers are wrinkled and green and there are maggots worming their way through the side of her face.

And he can't believe that someone left her here.

The he looks around and he sees that there are faint impressions in the dust and it looks like someone drew in it but more dust settled on it to cover it up, and he can't make out much of anything, and then he sees a giant brown stain and a few words written in it and he reads it.

A gift. All of it.

Then he realizes that the land took back what it gave her. And he realizes that she grew old and she aged and she was happy with the life she lived but she never bothered to say something and why didn't she say something.

There's no one to kill, nothing to avenge, no one to hold responsible. He remembers that he, as a High Lord, is part of the land, and he did this to her too.

He did it he did it he did it.

And he can't breathe.

And he's falling

And he's screaming.

And he doesn't understand, he doesn't know, he's sorry, he's so, so sorry.

There's blood everywhere blood on his hands blood on his face and he scrubs and it with his fingernails but it won't come off and his skin is tearing and now there's just more blood.

He falls on Feyre and it doesn't matter that it's just a rotting corpse and there are maggots in his hair because it's Feyre and something cracks.

And then he sees and he looks down and he can't believe his eyes because she isn't rotten anymore, she's whole and peaceful and her shimmering air is like silk and her skin glows like silver and she opens her eyes those blue eyes and she asks him why he's screaming.

And he cries even more because she's alive she's alive and he asks her if she wants to go home. And she tells him that he is her home.

So he takes her and they winnow back into the House of Wind and everyone, the Inner Circle, the High Lords, Varian, Alis, even Keir. And he shows them that he found Feyre, aren't they happy? But they start looking at him in confusion and he realizes that he must be a sight with his long, bedraggled hair and his split fingernails. Something white and squishy falls out of his hair but it doesn't matter. Feyre's hiding behind him and he steps aside to reveal her, and he tells them that they needn't have worried because he found her.

And they start screaming and Eris stands up and moves away and they all look so horrified and someone tells him to put it down because there's no need to hold it like that and he doesn't understand what the fuss is about. And he doesn't care.

He turns to Feyre, with her creamy skin and big blue eyes and the crown on her head. And she looks at him and kisses him and that's all that matters.