The Two of Them (But Really Many More)

by CrystalHeartZyx

Sequel to "The Five of Them (But Really Only Two)." Follows The Dark Artifices. Things get crazy as Finnegan and Fionn's story continues, but there are things about Fionn's lost past that come to haunt him. By the time all is said and done, he might never be the person any of them had known ever again.

24. Am I So Insignificant?

Kieran, who had once looked so eager to leave, now stared down at his sister with new resolve. He knew nothing of Dearil, and before they had met, he had reason to not care for her - especially knowing that Fionn had killed his mother, leaving only Dearil behind before Kieran could even confront him.

But now, Kieran moved the tray of soup off to the nightstand and helped tuck her into bed as she succumbed to her exhaustion combined with her full stomach. She ended up using Veon's stuffed bear that he'd brought as a pillow and was quickly out like a light. Kieran watched over her as though she had now become something precious.

"Val says that the memory restoration did work, but Dearil is still unstable herself," Veon explained. "Remember, this is a very violent and sudden return of memories forcefully extracted and held hostage for many years. For the rest of us, Dearil's parts of our memory won't be nearly as tough to cope with as her needing to regain her entire life - years of it."

"Will you attempt to restore Fionn soon?" Kieran asked.

"I wouldn't risk it until Dearil is fully restored," Val interjected.

"Do you even have a plan for how to do so?"

She rubbed the back of her head, running her fingers through her dark hair. "On paper? It's simple. Fionn's knife is built specifically to be attached to his soul, attracted like a powerful magnet. Just boosting the power of the knife should be enough to capture all of the released energy of his memory sphere. Depending on how far and wide it's dispersed, it could take time and be very violent, but it's entirely possible with that rule-bending blade."

"But that's assuming he hasn't been considered dead," Andraeus interjected. "If that's the case, it will be considered necromancy and a violation of the death gods and psychopomps to capture his soul."

Val rolled her eyes and leaned against her husband's arm. "But the blade is where he made a contract to end up after death, meaning that it's totally viable to help get him in there. In fact, it'd cause the death gods more trouble if they tried to violate that contract. The real problem comes from getting him out of the weapon. That's something only Dearil can do, unfortunately. Only she can connect with Fionn's soul and go into the weapon. After that, she has to bargain her way to Fionn's freedom."

"Bargain?" Finn repeated.

"Don't you wonder why Fionn's blade ended up cursed to harbor his soul after death? There are all kinds of homicides happening in this world, but not just everyone gets cursed like that. Matricide is a crime, don't get me wrong, but what happened to Fionn is unique and deliberate. I don't know if it's he himself who wanted this to happen, or if he made a deal, or whatever, but only he can stand a chance at finding a way to freedom."

"We cannot stay here," Kieran announced. "We've not the time Dearil deserves to recover."

He glanced down at her again, as though he was afraid she would disappear from beneath the covers of Veon's bed at any moment. Only her head was visible from underneath the duvet, her hair pulsing with the glow of lava with each shallow breath. She was snuggled up against Veon's stuffed bear, gripping it with one arm and resting her cheek on its rainbow scarf.

"It was once hers," Veon explained. "Back when she lived with me, I mean. I remember it now. There are a lot of traces of her presence in my apartment that I just…forgot about."

Now that he looked, Finn noticed that the bear was certainly old, but well-preserved.

"When I asked her what her favorite color was, she couldn't make up her mind. So I bought her a scarf that was all the colors and she instantly fell in love. She hadn't really been given gifts before, so she treasured that bear and gave him the scarf. Though not after she wore it for months on end. And sometimes she'd take the scarf back; they shared. She named it Oatmeal because that's what it said on the label."

"Isn't that just the color of the bear?" Selina asked. "Ya know, mundanes name things like that. 'Peach,' 'Chocolate,' 'Lasagna.'"

"When have you seen something colored 'Lasagna?'" Finn questioned. "What even is the color of lasagna?"

"Well she wasn't good at naming things - but personally, I think Oatmeal was an adorable name," Veon argued.

"How long were you two together? And why? I'm not sure I understand the timeline of events here with all this memory-erasure nonsense."

"I worked for the Unseelie King for a few favors, back in the day," Veon explained. "He didn't like me much, I didn't like him much, but we had few interactions, and when we did, it was all just business. Well one day he called me in needing me to locate a certain person: the Oracle of the gods. The reason he called me in was because I knew the former Oracle and had the means to locate the next. There, I met Dearil and heard her story. I was going to ask for something small from the Unseelie King - I didn't really need anything from him at the moment - but upon seeing how she was treated…I changed my mind. The bargain was, if I remember correctly, that I'd find the Oracle and tell them of the Unseelie King's plight. In return, I would take Dearil from the Court - for a temporary amount of time, the King made clear."

"Why'd they need this…Oracle?" Finn asked.

"There was an Astral ravaging the Unseelie King's lands - Zoltan."

"Once again," Selina muttered. "So Zoltan went to Dearil back then and made the King so desperate for aid that he allowed you to take Dearil away from the home that made her miserable."

"Miserable?" Kieran repeated.

"Can't you see it? Dearil is terrified of her father - the man threatened her life or that of her family. And yet she would go back to him because she has no other options; she cannot fathom a life outside of the Court. She is mentally unstable, and before she knew you were her mother's son, she called you 'Sir.' She is conditioned to treat her brothers as her superiors. How was Fionn treated back in the Court?"

"He…he conflicted with many of our brothers. A great deal of them would happily see me perish as well."

"The Unseelie King hates daughters - he has most killed at birth. The only reason he left Dearil alive is because she has the blessings of Phoenix and the King's lands were suffering because of the fallout of the Ifrit War. He left her alive because he had no choice."

"She was raised all her life - until I found her - in the Unseelie Tower," Veon said. "For those of you who don't know, the Unseelie Tower is basically a heavily fortified prison. But she lived there. She was hidden from the rest of the world, protected perhaps, but isolated."

"Fionn mentioned something when I shook information about Dearil out of him," Selina recalled. "She had never seen the sky, the clouds, the sun, the moon, or the stars for over a decade."

"She was afraid of it at first. She said it was like a vast ocean that could swallow her up. She had nightmares about falling into the sky. But she fell in love with the stars that she had researched back in the Court. Being stuck within a tower all her life, she'd done nothing but study. She was very intelligent. She went out at night and tried to identify stars, saying they were so much more beautiful than the written scriptures could ever portray."

"So you made a bargain to find the Oracle and took Dearil to the human world, showed her freedom," Finn summarized.

"He had to find your mother, Finn," Selina said.

"My…mom?"

"She was the next Oracle."

"I gave her a trinket that the former Oracle told me to pass on to his successor," Veon explained. "It unlocked her true nature or whatever, and she freaked out. Dearil made a promise that she would speak to Ellesmira about the Astral problem and find a way to save her kingdom. She stayed in the Sanctuary of your Institute for days, waiting for the opportunity to speak with the Oracle. She finally got the son of the Oracle to let her inside and she learned that apparently she was the key to stopping Zoltan's attack."

"That was…me?" Finn realized. "But I don't…"

"You were really little at the time. Even with all memories of Dearil being taken away, it's unlikely that you'd naturally have remembered back then. You were a cute little bugger though. You and your sister."

Finn thought back to the few blurry memories he had when Val had done her spell on the memory sphere. He shook his head. "So…is that related to what happened to my mom? She was going to leave my dad, she was going to leave us. I thought it was because she…I mean, Merida too…we thought she'd left us for Downworlders and…Merida suspected an affair…I just knew she abandoned us. She changed one day and then she was just…gone."

"She left because of Oracle duties, as far as I'm aware," Selina said. "She realized about your dad…"

"My dad?"

"He's a witch. Evil, very bad, probably gave the Scourge to Phoenix. They possess people, and he was probably going after your mom since she was the next Oracle…"

"But he failed," Andy jumped in. "We should make a note to investigate him…"

Finn wasn't that close to his father, he'd hated his father for a long time for making his life miserable. He should be surprised at what Selina was saying about his parents, but he was having enough revelations; he didn't really put up a fight and just had to accept it.

"But back to the important story," Veon interjected. "Dearil found out from Ellesmira that she could stop the Astral horse, and I went to the King to make another bargain. Depending on how fast we could stop Zoltan, the longer that Dearil would be in my care. We ended up taming him within a day of finding him, and so Dearil got a whole decade extra with me! You should've seen what she became over those years, finally able to accept and love herself. She met Gwyn of the Wild Hunt and apparently convinced him to give her training as a fighter, along with taking an artifact that Gwyn had uncovered and managing to get it to work."

"His Io," Selina realized. "Gwyn must've uncovered it during his travels. Probably took is like any other spoils he reaped from the dead but had yet to try and give it away to the Courts or some eager client."

Veon nodded. "Zoltan took her to the Wild Hunt and she nearly died-" He scowled, glancing at the window as though the horse could see him scolding it "-but the Io ended up…I don't know, magnetizing to her and then sticking to her, merging with her. It saved her life. She's always wanted to learn how to fight, but her brothers would never allow her to - through peer pressure at the very least, outright hurting her as a threat at the very worst. Gwyn decided that taming the Io piqued his curiosity enough that he agreed to help her. On top of that, his hounds seemed to like her, and she managed to tame them very quickly too."

"Aurum and Argentum," Kieran realized.

"Dearil seemed to have a really good life," Val said.

Veon nodded. "She became a strong, independent - if a bit vulgar - woman. I gave her freedom she'd never known before. At first, she was scared, but with enough time she came out of her shell, and she did so in force. I think she made a secret personal vow to become everything that faeries hate - that her brothers, that her father would hate. Faeries aren't afraid to speak the cold, hard truth, but Dearil just said whatever came into her mind at any given time, no matter how rude it was."

Veon glanced into the room where Dearil was sleeping soundly on the bed.

"She became powerful, expressive, and hyperactive. I realized, too late, that I had let her become what she hated. I didn't help her cope with her pain - I just helped her reject it and ignore it rather than confronting it. Worse, I probably contributed to it by imposing my personality onto her." Veon heaved a heavy sigh and slumped with his normal dramatic flare. "I…am a terrible father figure! I'm not a healthy person someone should be emulating! I'm a train wreck on legs with flashy scales! Magnus should keep his son away from me at all costs!"

Selina pat his shoulder. "There, there, you're fine, Veon."

"Minus the whole 'monstrous-lizard-creature-barely-holding-it-together' you mean," Andy said.

He gasped and threw his hand to his chest, staggering as though taking a punch to the solar plexus. "You're right! I'll never be the cool uncle Veon! I'm too much for this world!" He swooned dramatically to the carpet.

Val rolled her eyes. "Well at least you're back to normal."

"And I thought faeries were supposed to be the dramatic ones," Finn muttered.

"We are," Kieran said simply.

"Well I suppose that fills in a few of the gaps," Selina sighed. "You needed to return Dearil to the Unseelie Court by the terms of your agreement. But if she'd really become so…untamable, I can see why the Unseelie King would request that Malcolm find a way to erase the memory of those years. She'd become such a liability that he had Malcolm even take the memories of everyone else too. I suppose then he made his ultimatum of Dearil to find her Phoenix powers or else, and so she came to you again, by chance or by fate, and became Fionn."

"Zoltan would be immune or extremely resistant to a warlock's memory wipe, the stubborn steed," Val muttered. "Even if he forgot Dearil's time, he would know that someone took his memories by force. He went back on the attack against the Court to help Dearil once more because that was the last thing he was doing before she left with Veon." She chuckled and stared out the window. "Trust that stubborn horse to not let anything stand in his way. I admire his tenacity at times."

"She became Fionn, she tamed Zoltan, and she - er, he - managed to buy more time," Selina concluded.

"If my brother - or sister - was so valuable to our father, I do wonder his motives as to allowing him to accompany me to the Wild Hunt," Kieran said.

"He must've figured out that what Fionn did to himself locked him out of Phoenix's powers and realized that threatening Fionn was only making the situation worse. He needed to find a way to reverse Fionn's demon deal before he could get what he wanted."

"And he only figured out how to do it when Malcolm got into contact with Iarlath and realized that using me he could extract Fionn from Dearil and return her back to her original state," Val finished. "On top of that, he also managed to find Finnegan - the boy who can tame Astrals while remaining human. Malcolm also found the Black Volume of the Dead. The King probably wants all of it, and Malcolm probably promised it all so long as he got his precious Annabel back."

Finnegan sighed. "It's a lot to take in. So she'll eventually start to remember her missing past?"

Val nodded. "The spell worked. Her memories are inside her. But it's kinda like a pendulum. She's gonna swing back and forth until eventually the two personalities will merge into one." Val held up her hand and summoned a pocket watch for emphasis, letting it swing back and forth as though she were trying to hypnotize them into believing her words.

"How long will it take?"

She pulled the pocket watch back into her hand. "Who can say? Far longer than we have if Kieran wishes to stay by her side. Kieran needs to return to the Hunt. Honestly, Gwyn's care might actually be the safest place for her. She can't stay with the Shadowhunters, she's still considered a faerie. She can't - or at least she shouldn't go back to the Unseelie Court considering how the King has treated her and how he now wants her back for a specific reason. She can't stay with us Astrals until she unlocks Phoenix's power and personality. The last thing we need is the other Astrals hunting us down because we broke the law - which we already have, mind you - or because they're hunting Phoenix. Like it or not, being in the Unseelie Tower did hide her from hostile Astrals."

"That's what Brynhildr said when I last talked to her," Selina agreed. "The reason she advocated for the Unseelie King to spare Dearil and protect them was because there aren't a lot of safe havens out there. Besides, she was right in one respect: Phoenix needs to take the Infernian power and bless the Unseelie Court or it's going to get messier and messier."

"It depends on what Dearil wants," Kieran announced. "The Hunt does not accept female members, however Gwyn may still offer her protection even if she does not join our cause. Until she is to regain her memories and gain the agency to decide her own fate. Yet she seems intent on returning to the Unseelie Court."

"Because it's all she knows," Veon sighed. "No matter how terrible her life was, it's familiar. That's how abusive homes can work - she's gripped by fear of the unknown. On top of that…Dearil's got a lot of medical issues that just can't be handled in the Shadow World."

"Medical?" Finn repeated.

He nodded. "Arthur, Tiberius, even Finnegan are just a few examples. You hear of other Shadowhunter children who think or feel differently, who have trouble focusing, who claim letters rearrange themselves on the page when they try to read them, who can never gain a true concept of time, who fall prey to dark sadnesses that seem to have no reason, or fits of energy they can't control. The Clave hates to admit that Nephilim like that exist."

Selina nodded glumly. They were disappeared into the "dregs" portion of the Academy, trained to stay out of the way of other Shadowhunters, sent to far corners of the globe like shameful secrets to be hidden. There were no words to describe Shadowhunters whose minds were shaped differently, no real words to describe differences at all. Because if there were words, there would have to be acknowledgment - and there were things the Clave refused to acknowledge.

"Well those kinds of conditions have reasons, and mundanes treat them properly - or at least better than Shadowhunters. But Dearil has a range of those conditions too."

Val raised an eyebrow. "How many?"

Veon started holding up fingers. "Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder - ADHD, it speaks for itself. Dyslexia - words get jumbled when she tries to read them. Kleptomania - she collects things impulsively, regardless of whether it's useful to her or not. She's a bit of a perfectionist too - though we've been trying to get her to let up on needing everything to be proper. Diabetic/hypoglycemic - her blood sugar levels are often all over the place. Depression - great bouts of sadness where she has trouble being happy. Asburger's syndrome - basically a mild version of what Tiberius has. She has trouble in social situations, understanding how other people's minds work - though that could just be the faerie in her. She's got crippling anxiety no matter how comfortable she acts with others. Oh, and insomnia - it's terribly difficult for her to get to sleep."

"Wow, that's…certainly a lot."

He nodded. "She had to live under the scrutiny of her brothers and father with these untreated medical conditions - which, of course, only made them worse. She once tried to take her own life because of her depression. The first time she managed to sneak out of the Unseelie Tower, it was to travel to the tallest trees in the land that she had researched. She climbed to the top and tried to jump." He glanced over at her instinctively, pursing his lips. "That was the first time she met Zoltan - the steed intervened to protect her, after that. It was because of that incident that the horse led an attack on the Unseelie Court and prompted the King to ask me to find the Oracle to reason with the Astral."

"Leading to her being taken to safety," Finn concluded.

"I'm not sure if that's what he had in mind, but it did have an effect."

Val snorted. "That horse doesn't make plans. He charges in, lightning blazing, to hit the problem really hard."

"How do you proceed with curing these…diseases?" Kieran asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if that was the proper word for it.

"Well first of all, you have to be patient with her. She has trouble concentrating, she needs to be doing something or she gets twitchy - a reason why her brothers used to use her effectively as a servant. She sometimes doesn't understand the meaning of certain slang, but that's probably just a faerie thing. She has trouble reading things like facial expressions and the mood of a room. Once I got her to start opening up, she talked all the time. Her mouth seemed to run faster than her brain could keep up. She exercised and slayed demons because she could never hold still. She had no concept of time, or if she did, she complained about it all the time. She had times where she was unbearably sad and completely ran out of energy, but she always tried to deny it and hide it - she sometimes exhausted herself even more by pretending to be her energetic self as to not burden those who care about her. She loves reading and learning, but only certain things process at a time and she has to go back and re-read a paragraph a dozen times before it processes. She prefers pictures or just being told a story orally. She's studied humans a lot, along with mythology and history. She loved linguistics. She was like all normal faeries in the sense that she can't lie, but if she can get away with saying something in another language, she'll do it. She learned sarcasm. Oh, she was good at sarcasm…"

"Basically, you shouldn't expect anything of her and you need to be patient," Andy summarized. "You have to love her despite her many flaws."

"In either form, she's very self-destructive, you'll learn. It's like dealing with a child, no matter how old she actually is."

"How old is she, anyway?" Finn asked. "I mean, minus all the memory-wiping and such."

"Well chronologically, I think she's around…56? By human standards, she was born around 1956, but accounting for the fluctuations of Faerie-time, she could be younger or older. I first met Dearil when she was 13. After 11 years with her by my side - going in and out of Faerie, mind you - she was 24-25 by her own internal clock. After another year or so after I returned her to the Court and she was wiped, Kieran was born. He's around 20 years old, so Dearil's internal clock should be around 46, but Fionn went in and out of Faerie often to visit me, so we can't say that's an exact number. It depends on where we want to distinguish his age from - Faerie, the human world, or him internally."

"Fionn did mention he was around half a century old," Finn volunteered.

"But right now, after the mind-wipes, I'd say she's got the mental maturity of a teenager. A young one at that."

"Oh god, Finn'll be a pedophile if he woos her now," Selina muttered.

He elbowed her. "We're gonna get Fionn back, remember? And besides, once her memories with Veon process, she'll be around my age - in her mid-twenties."

"Actually, she'll be a little older than you."

"That is assuming we are to bring Fionn back at all," Kieran said.

The Shadowhunters stared at him. "What do you mean?" Finn ventured.

"Fionn was the one to slay our mother. I would presume Dearil would not be fond of him when she learns of this."

Val put her hand to her chin. "Actually, he has a point. We can get Fionn into his dagger easily enough - Kieran might actually be able to manage that on his own with enough determination - but Dearil ultimately has to be the one to seek out Fionn and allow him back into her body so that their souls may merge into one again. When Dearil learns what Fionn did…I doubt that any part of her will be willing to forgive so easily."

"My Dearil, given the epithet 'Lorcan,' told me that her mother was the only reason she managed in the Unseelie Court as long as she did," Veon said. "She contacted her mother almost every day - especially at the beginning. She always told her mother about her day, what she learned, and how she felt. It must've been a daily ritual for her back in the Court. The idea that her mother could be in danger, let alone killed…I don't know how to possibly ease her into the situation, learning her mother's killer and then that she must save him."

Finn felt his chest contract. The idea of never seeing Fionn again after such an abrupt end…he didn't want that to be the end of everything they had. He didn't want Fionn's memories of all their time together to be gone, just like that. He wanted to argue, but he also didn't want to sound selfish.

"In any case, I will ask of her to accompany me to the Wild Hunt to meet with Gwyn. Should her memories return of this…Lorcan Dearil, I will explain the situation once more. It will be her decision as we proceed. I may return to the Hunt and allow her to return to the Unseelie Court if that is truly her heart's desire."

"You'd let her walk back into that abusive prison?" Finn repeated. His blood seemed to boil at Kieran's words despite knowing that Kieran was only saying he'd respect Dearil's wishes. "Even knowing the cruel things the King would do to her for her power? A power that she probably has no idea about?!"

"If she is restored to the one the warlock speaks of - Lorcan, the fierce one - I doubt she will be complacent. Perhaps she will not return to the Court, perhaps she will return here. But that must be her decision. At present, Dearil wishes to return to the Court. I will take her to Gwyn in an effort to change her mind and protect her while she requires protecting."

"We need to think ahead, Finn," Val agreed. "Dearil might end up running from us in the night if we try to hold her here."

"Even as she is, she's a powerful sorcerer, and I don't doubt that regular warlock magic won't be enough to hold her forever," Veon added. "Astral magic might, but again, that'd put us on a not-so-good radar. I'd rather her have an escort back into Faerie - someone who knows the lands. And Gwyn has a better chance at convincing her to stay under his protection than we do. And Dearil might be attached to Kieran - who is still bound to the Wild Hunt. Plus, it's only temporary until she gains her memories as a more mature adult and can choose where she goes on her own. She was a fierce warrior. She'll be able to handle herself once she gets her old self back. Until then, she needs to go somewhere safe."

"Why not here?" He sighed, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "Why can't we just have a safe haven where all of us can be together and be safe?"

Selina took her parabatai's hand, smiling sadly. "I know, Finn. I know it's not ideal. But Shadowhunters and warlocks are under the Cold Peace, the Astrals are under the AEGIS Covenant, Phoenix is being hunted down. As Dearil, they won't be able to track Phoenix, but they know who the PR members are - or at least Phoenix/Infernian sympathizers. Our best bet for their safety while we wait is to let Kieran take her, to stay on the down-low until Dearil stabilizes and she decides to bring Fionn back."

Finn wanted to be by Dearil's side. He wanted to get to, know her, to protect her - he wanted to be the one to convince Dearil that Fionn wasn't a bad guy and that he was worth saving and explain his situation.

But he knew everyone was right. He couldn't exactly accompany them into Faerie. Mark barely survived because he was a part of the Wild Hunt and Gwyn made sure he wasn't outright killed. But they'd tortured him, ridiculed him, tried their best to break his spirit if they couldn't break his body. It was only thanks to his own determination, the idea that he would return to his siblings, and having Kieran (a fellow outcast that he had fallen in love with) by his side that he had made it out intact. And that was when Mark was already half-faerie. A pure-blooded Shadowhunter wouldn't stand a chance.

"Fine," he conceded. "You're right. When…you have to leave soon?"

"I will inform Dearil of our plans and ask of her opinion," Kieran said. "We leave as soon as possible. We have dallied a great deal, and I fear soon shall the Hunt seek out me and Mark as deserters. I must tell Gwyn of Mark's decision as well - I said I would do such, and I need not Mark's displeasure at Gwyn's return because I was unable to vouch for his freedom."

"We can prepare supplies for your journey," Veon said. "It took days for Mark to get from the Hunt to the Institute for that deal. You can probably move faster than an entire convoy, but the Hunt might've moved and you may need to travel further."

Kieran nodded and gave his thanks before heading back into Dearil's room to look after her. Val and her husband retired to their room for rest, and Veon said that Laura and Max had done the same.

"Hey, she'll be okay," Selina assured her parabatai.

"I miss him," Finn admitted. "I hate this feeling of emptiness and regret and…and the hopelessness."

"You're still hoping, Finn. I know. You're hoping against all the odds that he'll be back. There is a small chance, but you know that it's small. And it hurts to know how small that chance is because you're gonna keep hoping anyway."

"Do you think that's how he felt when he left? Did he know what would happen?"

"He and Kieran planned to take out Iarlath, make him pay for what he did. I don't think he knew what Malcolm had planned necessarily, but he knew that his father wanted him to return Dearil. He knew he'd become a fugitive, that his father could take him prisoner, but I believe he thought he'd get back to you, no matter what it took."

He frowned. "Selina, I had this dream…after Fionn had knocked me out during the whipping, I mean…"

Selina listened to his words intently. She didn't ask questions, she just let him speak without judgment. He explained Fionn's odd words and his goodbye, as though he had known what would happen.

"Maybe Seline helped pass on a message from Phoenix," she speculated. "He expected to die, but he hoped you would meet in the next life, 'as you always do.' Maybe Fionn actually managed to tap into Phoenix's power at the end! Meaning that Fionn's state isn't completely blocking Phoenix; the PR team might still have a reason to want to bring him back! This could be a good sign, Finn!"

He smiled gently, though to be honest, he didn't actually feel that much energy. "I still miss him," he admitted.

"That's how it goes. But we'll find a way, Finn. Got nothing better to do, eh?"

"Beyond trying not to get sent to the City of Bones for what we did?"

"Oh, I'd never let you get hurt."

He sighed. "You know, there are days I just want to run away and hide from the world. Go somewhere where race, the Law, demons - none of it matters."

"I'm sure there are plenty of us who feel that way. In terms of the Astrals, I know that Seline just wanted to keep out of everything, run away, go somewhere where there weren't anymore politics and wars. She enjoyed staying here with you, ya know. Living life as a Shadowhunter by your side. You saved her from a lot of things, Finnegan. Being with you was like a vacation, running away from the problems of the Astral world. But it'll soon be time to get dragged back in."

"You'll have to leave?"

"Once you learn to handle your Astrals powers, Finn, we'll both have to leave. The gods are gonna drag us into this one way or another."

"Where would we go?"

"There's a place, HQ for the PR. I've never been, but you'd probably be taken there the moment they're able to. It's a safe haven against the Scourge, the demons, the gods. But it's heavily protected in turn. I'm not sure how to get there - it's hidden deep within Faerie. Only PR members have a way to locate it, and even then it seems you have to go to specific locations for portals there."

"Sounds nice."

"I'm told it is. It's a fully functioning city protected from wars and trying to help restore order. But it's also…a bit controlling. A bit fascist. It's the cost of security, I guess. I was never interested; actually I was…probably never gonna be let in."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't a very good Astral back in the day. Before I met you…well…I kinda killed you. A lot. And Phoenix. And others."

"Well, you've reformed yourself pretty well, I'd say. I'll vouch for you. One day, when this all blows over, I'd quite fancy a life of peace - at least for a little while."

Selina sighed, staring out the window into the dark city. Zoltan's storm had begun to pass, but clouds still darkened the sky. "I wonder if Malcolm had something like that planned, running away with Annabel. He said he was going to send a message to the Clave or whatever, but that meant he knew he'd be hunted."

"In the end, no matter how bad his actions were, all he wanted was peace with his loved ones, free from those who had wronged him. The story of that Herondale Shadowhunter - Tobias? He deserted. Maybe he just wanted a life of peace too."

Selina nodded. "The point of fighting is so that we can one day have peace. That's the whole point of wars. Veon once said something about…about Shadowhunters. They're supposed to be guardians, not warriors. They're meant to protect, not just hunt. If only the rest of the world followed that same philosophy."

---

Dearil rolled over under the heavy, warm duvet. Her cloak was wrapped around her nicely like a hug, while the duvet was like a protective barrier against the world.

Eventually, Dearil couldn't take it any longer.

She was sleepy, but though her eyes were close and she was comfy, she couldn't fall back asleep. She had more questions for her…new companions. Too many. Her mind wouldn't settle. She carefully pried her eyes open and was greeted with a dark room. Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating a small portion of the large room with beautiful white rays.

Dearil slowly sat up. She realized she'd been hugging a stuffed bear with a scarf on it. There was something appealing about its beady little eyes and nose. She liked it. She held it close and realized the reason that she felt so attracted: it smelled like her. It had a smoky scent.

Dearil decided it would be her companion.

She hugged it close as she pushed the duvet away. She swept her cloak around her and then dangled her legs off the edge of the bed. Her legs weren't broken; she tested her leg muscles and checked if they were still intact. She'd fallen before, but whatever the warlock had brewed her had significantly helped her condition.

She carefully dropped her foot to the soft human grass that appeared to be an inside commodity. It tickled her toes.

Slowly putting pressure on her leg, she managed to hold some of her weight - still leaning on the bed for most of it. She dropped her other leg and then slowly began dropping the rest of her weight onto her feet. It didn't seem too bad. Eventually, she realized she was holding her entire weight on her legs, and balancing properly. She snatched up her new stuffed bear friend and began walking around the bed to the door of the room.

She reached out for the door handle (at least she knew how those worked), but she felt a light spell on the door. It wasn't strong, but she could feel the small ting of warlock magic. It was just to alert the caster if someone opened the door.

Dearil wanted answers, but at the same time she didn't want to speak to anyone.

She was scared of more talking with those people…

Despite how nice they had been to her before, Dearil had only been half-conscious and she had been out of her mind! She'd never met a Nephilim before, and her first experience with one and she had made a fool of herself. Shadowhunters were said to be cunning and cruel as any faerie, but they were even worse because they could lie.

She'd accepted food and water from without thinking of the consequences and had been cursed with those horrible spasms in her chest. She'd fallen on her face and had had one of her attacks where her body shut down.

But the angel had sung so nicely…

She shook her head. No! They were tricksters! They were pretty but they were deceivers!

They were pretty though, especially the boy. He'd had such pretty hair, nothing like her own. She pulled a strand in front of her face. Ugh, it was always so shiny and glowy. She sucked in a deep breath and darkened it like the cooled lava drowning under the ocean waves.

She heaved a sigh and collapsed onto the indoor human soft grass.

She'd made a fool of herself in front of her brother of the Unseelie Court. Her own brother was fully grown, and she'd missed out on it all. She'd been looking forward to helping her mother raise the boy. All of her brothers were older than her, so she'd been excited to be the one to help raise one from infancy. But he was all grown up, and he looked to be an official part of the Court. He was part of the Wild Hunt under Gwyn ap Nudd - who she had only seen in passing when he'd made a rare visit to the Court in person. He sometimes worked as a mercenary for her father, so maybe this brother had been sent to bring her back to the Court. Her brothers and father would learn of the fool she'd made of herself. Not only had she come out on this errand, but she'd failed with her demon deal and failed to save her mother. She'd been unconscious for years. Who knew the amount of trouble she'd be in? Her entire body trembled at the thought.

She hugged her stuffed bear tightly and breathed in its scent. Maybe it'd be taken away by the time she reached home. Hell, maybe the warlock wouldn't allow her to take it from his home.

Warlock…he'd been so kind to her considering how abruptly she'd shown up on his doorstep screaming at him. A part of her wished she could just stay here, hiding with the warlock forever. Her mother was gone, but her brother was here. If only she could keep safe everything she loved in one place. But she'd only be causing trouble for Warlock. Her father might send a force to retrieve her and Warlock could get hurt.

She thought of how beautiful the warlock's scales had been. Dearil was so used to gentry faeries that she found others in the Unseelie Court fascinating. She knew that faeries and warlocks shouldn't get along, but that didn't mean she couldn't admire his lovely scales that glowed like her hair did.

"Uuugh!"

All the creatures in this world were so pretty! How she wished she could just stay and admire them forever. She'd done so much research on the outside world, but it was another thing to see these creatures up close and personally. She wanted to study them, dissect them, get to know how they worked and thought.

But she had no time. She had to return home before it was too late.

'I love you.'

Dearil looked up and glanced around the room. "Hm?"

'I love you.'

"Hello?" Dearil squeezed her stuffed bear friend tighter. She couldn't see anyone else in the room…

'I love you.'

She stood, back against the door. The moonlight illuminated the room enough that she could make out the shapes of the furniture around her. Over near a small couch thing, she saw the blue shimmer of her brother's hair. Creeping closer, she saw that he'd fallen asleep on the soft human grass. He looked slightly uncomfortable. Understandable considering how used to Faerie and sleeping in the wild he should be.

She sat down in front of him. She knew it was wrong to stare at her brother as he slept, but she couldn't help it. She ran her eyes along his sharp, angular features. His hair was haphazardly chopped off as though he'd done so with no reference. His lips, his cheekbones, the curvature of his eyes, his ears…Dearil saw her mother's features within him.

She didn't know why, but she felt jealous. She looked nothing like her mother. She looked like a faerie, sure, a gentry. But it would be easy for an outsider to look at her and see nothing of her mother on her features. Kieran had turned out right. He looked like their mother, he was her son. She wondered if things would've turned out differently if she had never existed.

'I love you.'

Dearil jumped and glanced around. Her body was trembling. She was slipping into a panic. She was in an unfamiliar world, she didn't know what to do. She knew she should wake her brother and ask all the questions that flowed through her mind, but at the same time she was afraid of speaking to him - or anyone else, for that matter.

She laid down with her stuffed bear and pulled her traveling cloak around her. Maybe she could pretend to be asleep. Yes, that would ward off an intruder.

She caught a glimpse of Kieran's weapons - a sword that shimmering with the same blue-green gleam as his hair under the moonlight. The Wild Hunt. Must be nice. Away from the Court, free to roam the world as he pleased, reaping the dead, riding under the stars…oh how she wished she could do such a thing. But Gwyn's Hunt did not have women in their ranks.

Dearil squeezed her bear again, trying to avoid biting her lip in anger. Being born a woman had made her life a living hell. She had come here in the hopes that she could change that, no matter what the cost. And all she had done was lose her mother and her brother's childhood.

'Hello?'

Dearil's eyes were drawn to a dark blade on Kieran's belt. Even though he laid under the light of the shimmering moon, the weapon almost seemed in shadow.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was reaching out. Her body flooded with the urge to have his weapons, to be able to defend herself, and to admire the symmetry and sharpness of the blades…

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dark blade before she could stop herself. It was dark and murky, obsidian with a swirling dark purple haze. She pulled it free of her brother's belt and ran her finger along the flat of the knife, eight inches tall overall and double-edged, about an inch wide. Dearil felt mesmerized, watching the smoky pattern shimmer across the hard surface like a mirage.

A ringing in her ears began to grow louder as she stared at the enchanted weapon. She didn't even notice as it grew so loud that her mind blanked entirely. She passed out.

-TTOT-

Dearil was floating in an empty space. Up, down, left, and right - there was only blackness. She felt her heartbeat pulse, and dark splotches of purple erupted from the area around her. The color was piercing with horrible magic, drowning her in despair and hatred. She felt like she couldn't remember what love was, what happiness felt like. She couldn't breathe; she was drowning. She told herself she should scream, but she just couldn't find the energy.

Every beat of her heart surged through her body and caused the area around her to dance with darkness. Wisps of white clouded the area; her world was mired in fog and pulsing with a dull, throbbing agony.

She saw him bound by black chains, strung up and pierced by white strings that were strong as wrought iron. They impaled him, burned him, snaked through him and wriggled like living worms. They were sharp as he bled heavily inside and out, but he couldn't pass out, and he couldn't die.

The wisps of white fog became a whirlwind of voices and a steam that burnt like acid. There were horrors in the darkness, too many to count, too many to fight off. They cried out in rage and hatred, and they sliced him open, pulled him apart. His screams brought life to the dead world, but only because the dull throbbing turned to screeching, white-hot pain. He didn't usually scream, but he had no strength left to hold anything back.

Dearil reached for him in the haze of pain. She didn't know why, but she needed something from him. The loud, piercing screams covered Dearil, though she didn't know if they were from him or the apparitions. Was she afraid? She didn't know what she was afraid of.

The humanoid formed from the wisps in front of him. It frowned at him before taking a knife and carving into his exposed torso. He was already heavily injured - he should be dead - but he was still able to scream.

"Stop…" Dearil wasn't sure if her voice came out. Had she even spoken physically in the first place? Or was her voice merely resonating with the area? Was she speaking as just another spector in the sea of ghosts? "Please stop…"

He looked familiar. She couldn't tell if she thought he was handsome and beautiful or if he was so ethereal it was frightening her.

The ghost didn't seem to notice her, but he did.

Fionn Flann.

The name came to her mind almost by his will. She felt his thoughts and desires - once numbed to nothing but accepting his fate, but upon seeing her, he felt a single, burning desire. It ripped through her in desperation. Dearil felt like she was being squeezed from the inside from the pure, raw emotion. Its intensity made her eyes well up with tears.

"Tell him…my Hunter…only you can…warn…"

-TTOT-

Dearil woke up with a start. She gasped in a deep breath, panting heavily in a cold sweat. Her entire body seemed to ache in pain, but she felt no physical wounds. She winced and felt a sharp sting in her stomach. Reaching down, she found that her hand was warm with sticky blood. Well, not no physical wounds, as it turns out.

She was still in her bed, wearing the odd clothes of the humans. She wondered if she had even gotten up in the first place. She swore she had. But at the same time, she felt like she couldn't remember if it were just a dream or not.

"Fionn…What wish consumes your being so passionately in the thralls of death? What curse have you placed upon our being so dire indeed?"

She carefully poured heat magic into her wound, flames dancing across her hand before entering the wound and healing it. She didn't want to fall asleep, and she was sure that even if she did, she wouldn't be able to. She was used to being unable to sleep - her brothers had given her insomnia with their constant meddlesome pranks during the night.

At least it was quiet. She leaned back and gently fell against the pillow to rest her head. All that lit the dark room was a dim moonbeam from the window.

She realized, for the first time that night, that she was gripping a knife tightly in her hand. The knife she'd found earlier before she'd passed out. So it hadn't been a dream! She sat up, holding the weapon in front of her. She was enticed, but terrified at the same time. She held the dark blade out in front of her, staring into her reflection in an almost mesmerized state.

"Save them! You're the only one who can save them!" Her reflection shifted to a panicked face filled with desperation and grim acceptance. "Please! I'm begging-!"

Fionn cried out in pain and Dearil realized she had done the same thing. On her arm was a deep cut. Her entire body pulsed with the same pain of her dream, but far more intense since she was no longer shielded by the haze of unconsciousness. It was painful, but she had learned to endure pain quite well. She had dropped the knife in her exclamation and Fionn disappeared from its murky, shimmering surface. She felt no more pain spasming through her entire body, though her arm was still bleeding.

She drew a quick heat sigil as the wound closed. She drew a rune to clean herself of the blood. Her hand was trembling. She nearly drew the rune wrong. Her entire body was shaking. She couldn't hold still.

No, no she couldn't go into a panic now!

She saw her stuffed bear sitting on the floor beside her brother where she had last been. She tumbled over herself, falling off the bed (she didn't even know how she'd gotten back on) with quaking limbs. She snatched up the stuffed animal and inhaled its familiar scent. She was still shaking horribly, the tension in her stomach gripping her nerves and causing spasms.

She wasn't thinking as she pulled close to her brother and took in the scent of the sea.

"Mother…"

She felt arms wrap around her and pull her close. Fingers ran gently through her hair. Together, the two siblings waited out the night wishing for their absent mother.

---

"So…Fionn Flann…"

Kieran nodded.

Dearil sometimes wished she was a leaf, blowing in the wind. At least then, she wouldn't be blamed for letting the breeze take her where it pleased. There were times she wished she knew where she should go, how she should act. Like right now, she had no idea how she was supposed to respond to the stories that Kieran told her.

It seemed impossible. That she had become Fionn Flann, that she had lost decades of her life. She had become everything she'd ever wanted, watched Kieran grow and raised him how she had planned. And yet it had all been taken from her. And at the same time, Fionn Flann had been the one to take her mother's life. Fionn Flann had taken Kieran's mother away from him before he could even grow old enough to properly know her.

Further confusing her, according to Kieran, the decade that she had lost of her life had been returned to her. And yet still she remained in the dark.

She had woken one day in the Court, being told that she had awoken from a stupor after a warlock had taken her. Was she held prisoner? It was implied. Over a decade of her life, gone, just like that. But life had resumed as normal, and so she hadn't put much thought into it. The only physical difference she felt was that she had a scar on her left ear that had damaged its tip. A scar that demonstrated her surviving being kidnapped by a warlock, she decided. The only real thing that had changed was that her mother said she had become pregnant again during her lost memories. After that, Dearil had spent her days returning to her normal routine, only wanting to make sure that her mother got the best care possible and had a healthy baby.

So much lost to her…and so few answers even with it all explained in front of her.

"I will…remember?"

Kieran nodded. "That is the word of the warlock."

"You tell me of Father's ill intent, and yet you know not of his plans for me?"

"His intention is to get Phoenix's power out of you." Warlock walked into the room with another tray of food.

Ah, and there was that as well. She needed memories of her former self being raised with Warlock, memories of Fionn Flann, and memories of the Astral Phoenix. Three lives she supposedly lived and lost. She'd happily give control back to those people, if only she didn't have to be in charge and make decisions. She just wanted to be told how to proceed.

Gods, she wasn't ready for this. She just wanted to go home, she wanted everything to make sense, and she didn't want the burden of having all these other people that she was supposed to…summon or remember or make decisions as if she were them. She wanted to go back. She wanted to go back to before she'd ever left the Court, to before her father's ultimatum. She just wanted a sense of her normal life again, no matter how much it hurt.

"And he doesn't seem intent on waiting patiently any longer," Warlock continued. "Kieran was born for the purpose of keeping you under his control, urging you to unlock Phoenix's memories and powers so that you can bless him and the Court."

"I would give my father what he desires were it in my ability," Dearil insisted. "If only that would bring me peace."

Warlock sighed and set her food tray in front of her, resting on the bed. "I don't know a lot about the whole Astral situation. All I know is that you were hurting. He was treating you terribly, little gem. If he truly wants your blessing, he shouldn't have hurt you as he did."

"He protected me. The lands of Faerie are cruel and harsh - perhaps you would not understand, Warlock! What you might call cruelty is my father's veneration."

He pursed his lips, clearly holding back his words. When he spoke, he was clearly very controlled. "It's your decision. I want you safe, young one. The King took your memories multiple times when you became what he did not desire."

"Then I will be what he desires! I will do as he wishes - if only I could…" She tried not to let her voice break.

Dearil let her head fall as she stared down at the warlock's brew. She had struggled her whole life to live up to her father's expectations, but she always messed up. When told to hold still, her body cried out and refused to obey. When told to listen to something important, her brain faded in and out and chose what information it wanted to process almost without her input. When told not to touch something, her body couldn't seem to help itself. She always had trouble guessing what was right and what was wrong - and when she guessed wrong, the consequences were dire. If she saw an error, she felt the compulsive urge to fix it, so at least she was able to make herself a useful servant doing jobs that others didn't have the constitution for. She was fine with being subservient to her superiors, those who knew better than her. She just needed someone to tell her what to do and she just needed to be able to do it.

Why couldn't life ever be that easy for her?

Warlock reached out carefully, as though she were something delicate. He rested his hand gently on hers. "If you ever change your mind, if your life in the Court can never be what you desire, then know that my doors will be open to you. Even if it is temporary, I would welcome your presence if I might be a safe haven for you to escape. In Faerie, I am known as ZeB, and personally, I am called Zytaveon Bane."

The two of them explained that Kieran needed to return to the Wild Hunt, and if the plan was to evade the Unseelie Court, then Gwyn may offer her protection to some degree. Kieran himself admitted that he would likely be punished by the Court for a crime he previously committed, and that he needed to wait to see if Gwyn would be the one to choose his punishment or if he would be handed over to the Court.

"Kieran will escort you back into Faerie if that is what you desire," Warlock said. "Many things have changed in the years you have lost. The Shadow World is not kind to faeries these days, and you yourself are likely being hunted down to be returned to the Unseelie Court by force. Kieran must return to the Wild Hunt. Will you at least join him to see Gwyn and then procure a safer escort to the Unseelie Court if that is still what you desire?"

Dearil wished he didn't ask for her opinion. For such a beautiful warlock, he was so naïve.

"That's the plan," a voice announced.

The orange-haired angel leaned against the doorframe. "There aren't a lot of options, but you should at least go to Gwyn with Kieran. I don't know Gwyn personally, but from the few interactions I've seen of him and from second-hand accounts, he'll probably have a better argument than we can put up for why you shouldn't desire going back to the Court. I'd watch over you if I could, but I can't."

Dearil stared at the beautiful angel. He confused her, though that was likely just because she had so many missing memories - so many missing years. She knew about the Accords, how Shadowhunters supposedly protected people of the Downworld. She still wasn't sure what to make of this Nephilim. Why did a piece of her want him to come with?

'My Hunter…I love you.'

She stared at the Shadowhunter's face. She felt the urge to count his freckles.

"Dearil!"

She blinked, realizing she'd stopped listening to the conversation.

"Easy, you don't have to yell at her," Warlock scolded. Judging by Kieran's chastised look, he was the one who'd called her name - and he regretted being so harsh.

"My apologies," he said lightly.

Dearil blinked. Her brothers never apologized. They had no reason to apologize to her. They weren't in the wrong, she was - for always zoning out and missing a conversation. She voiced her concerns, lowering her head and letting her hand fall in her face.

"Hey, you have a right to be upset if someone isn't respecting your basic needs." Warlock brushed her hair back and prevented the curtain of maroon from hiding her face. "There's nothing wrong with the way you think, Dearil. If people have a problem with it, then that's their problem, not yours. There are some things you just can't force yourself to be - and you aren't responsible for sacrificing your own health for the sake of others. If they aren't willing to sacrifice anything for you, then you are not obligated to do the same."

"My family has always protected me," she insisted. "To them I owe my existence, life and limb. They are my blood."

"There's a human term we like to use: 'Blood is thicker than water,' which says that familial relations take precedence over friends and comrades." Dearil nodded, but Veon went on. "But that's wrong. That is a wildly incorrect bastardization of the saying. The full term is: 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' It means that the relationships you forge by choice hold deeper meaning than those of mere biology."

"That doesn't mean you can't hold your family close, Dearil," the angel added. She liked hearing him use that name for some odd reason. "It just means that you should choose to protect and help them out of mutual trust and loyalty between each other. You shouldn't be loyal to someone simply because you are related. My father pisses me off; I only follow his orders because he's my superior in the eyes of the Clave, but now I'm old enough to make my own choices, and I'd choose to get away from him. I lost my mom when I was little; I loved her back then. But if she were to suddenly return, I'd only follow her if she was still a good person."

"I never knew my parents, not really," Veon shrugged casually. "If my demon father popped up one day and told me to turn on my friends, I wouldn't do it. He's given me no reason to respect him over my family here - even if the ones I value aren't my blood relatives. Just keep that in mind."

Dearil exhaled through her nose, but she nodded. "Yes, Sir ZeB."

The warlock's eyes lit up and almost seemed to sparkle. "Aw, you flatter me! She called me 'Sir Zeb!'"

"That's what you told her you were called," the angel Finnegan rebutted. "Even I didn't know you were called that! What is with you all the aliases?"

He shrugged. "You gotta go by lots of names when you're dealing with tough clients. Faeries are included. And for the record, I only use ZeB as my codename for the most part. Dearil was the one who came yelling that we needed to call each other 'Warlock' and 'Faerie' when she came to me to make her demon deal. Fionn and I went by Faerie and Warlock even as we stayed in touch. Once a Shadowhunter came into the mix, I impulsively stayed on theme. Sue me." He turned back to Dearil eagerly. "You used to call me Sir ZeB in your lost life, Dearil. Oh, I've missed that you. It's good to have the memories back, at least."

He ruffled his big hands through her hair. She reached up and smoothed it out again.

Dearil wanted to heave another heavy sigh, but she resisted. It seemed that everyone knew more about her than she knew about herself. She wished she could give them that version of her so that this her didn't have to deal with all the anxiety of being…her.

"We will go to Gwyn then, yes?" she repeated.

Kieran nodded. "We leave at dawn."

She looked like she wanted to protest, but she simply nodded and reached for the spoon to eat her magic soup.

-TTOT-

"Kieran, were you fond of Fionn Flann?"

Kieran's mismatched eyes rose to hers. "He was my brother - both in arms and in blood."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes," he said honestly.

"Did you hate him?"

"Yes."

"Was he…was I a good man?"

Kieran did not answer for a long time. "I believe so, yes. Others may disagree. There were times that I doubted him, but I would exalt his brotherhood above the many others."

Dearil frowned. Even hearing about Fionn didn't make her feel much better. She had always wanted to be someone like Fionn, but she began to doubt that Fionn had managed to do anything better than she. In a way, perhaps he had become just as her other brothers.

"Do you believe Father has ill intent upon us?"

"I've no doubt the Court will punish me for my actions. Depending on Gwyn's judgment, I could be spared my life with luck. If I am taken to the Court, there is little doubt that I will be executed."

Dearil felt her heart clench and the blood pound through her ears. She had just met Kieran, she knew so little about him, but she felt her body react at the idea that Kieran would perish.

"NO!"

The word escaped unbid by her. She'd been impulsive before, her body working against her even knowing the consequences, but never had she felt such an explosive urge to protect Kieran even at the cost of her own pain.

"No, you…you cannot. Not unless I am to perish as well! I will not be the one to live with you gone…" Her eyes were drawn to Kieran's knife that had been returned to his belt. "That was what he wanted." She shook her head. "Fionn made a choice. He wished to die before he witnessed the loss of everything he loved. He refused to be the last one living…that was his plan. He would die before you, but he would raise you to be self-sufficient until then. That is what his curse was. He desired it. He wished to be punished for being so selfish - for being a coward." She scoffed. "It is a challenge to rage at his actions when he was far from incompetent. He knew full well what he did - prepared, had he, his own retribution, ready to face it. A fate worse than death; he didn't even try to escape through suicide."

"Do you know what thoughts he might ponder?"

She shook her head. "The memories are…temporary. They flee like smoke through a net, like water through one's fingers." She held up her delicate hand. "There is only the ghost of assumption remaining - only the dampness left on my skin to prove I had touched the river's flowing stream."

"Do you believe the stream still flows?"

She wiggled her fingers, sweeping them gently through the air. "The stream is gone. Evaporated into the sky - and all that is left…is mist."

Kieran held his hand up unconsciously, as though he could somehow feel the wisps of Fionn's memories in the air if he tried hard enough.

"But perhaps," Dearil went on, "one day, the clouds will converge, they will cry, and the stream will rain down upon us and flow once again."

-TTOT-

"Go on."

Finnegan appreciated his parabatai. She had always stood by him. She had been an annoying pain in the ass at times, but that had pushed him forward to become better and stronger.

But right now, he did not appreciate her.

"I can't just-"

"You may not be able to see her for a long time, Finn. Shouldn't you be trying to make a lasting impression on her?"

"I'm not going to force her to recognize me; I'm not going to pretend that she's someone she's not."

"Then take this chance to get to know who she is now. We don't know when we'll see each other again, but you do want to see her again, right?"

"I…of course, I do, but…I won't-"

"You won't force her, I know. And you aren't. I think she already likes you."

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"You know about the faerie Courts' obsession with those who can play music. When you sang to her, I think you were genuinely able to bring her back. You know what Veon said about her medical conditions? What she had back there, learning her mother died, that was a panic attack. It's physically and mentally draining - both to her and to those around her. They don't just go away; it's a deep…painful…terror that rests within her, that's constantly holding her very core at knifepoint, and at any moment she…just can't hold back the floodwater. You know that, Finn. It's different for everyone, but with all her…conditions, and the fact that she's had very little support in her life - that she's had active abuse…I think she needs a friend. We all wanna help her, but how about you start? Faeries like instrumentalists, and at the very least your singing seemed to calm her down."

Finn exhaled. "I don't even know what I'd say."

"Just start with 'hello' and go from there. Just go." She shoved him towards the door and he glared at her.

Dearil was sitting in her bed, her legs under the covers. She was moving the lumps of her feet underneath as though she was still getting used to the idea of a blanket itself. Her Centurion cloak was still on her, wrapped around her shoulders. She had her stuffed bear in her arms.

"Hey," Finn announced.

Dearil looked up. Her eyes were blazing like fire. Finnegan missed Fionn's dark eyes that shimmered with passion and pain.

By the Angel, he was becoming too poetic for his own good.

"Hello sir angel," Dearil said.

"You may call me Finnegan or Finn."

She frowned. "Which shall I call you?"

Finn realized that Dearil hadn't called him by his name because she hadn't been given a definitive name to call him by. She didn't seem to like having to make a choice on her own because there was always a chance that she could choose wrong. He knew that feeling. She just wanted a straightforward order; tell her exactly how to do it so she can do it. He hadn't ever felt so deeply conflicted that he couldn't decide between a nickname or a real name, but he could put together the pieces to at least see where she was coming from. He assumed Faeries liked full names, and he really should be more careful with how he gave his name to them. But he knew Dearil wasn't a threat. He wondered what he would've done if she were cruel and arrogant and everything that he hated - and if he was everything she hated.

"I don't mind Finnegan or Finn. My closer associates call me Finn as a sign of casualty while Finnegan is used in a more formal setting."

"Then I must call you Sir Finnegan?"

"You don't need the 'sir.' Just Finnegan will do."

"Do…?" she repeated. Finnegan realized she was asking - repeating as a question.

"Suffice," he revised. "Finnegan will suffice."

She nodded. Her thick accent (something that Fionn had clearly refined over the years) suggested that her English wasn't mastered yet and that dialects and odd vernaculars were going to trip her up. He needed to remind himself to simplify things. Speaking with faeries already involved mental gymnastics so that he didn't reveal anything or phrase anything the wrong way. He'd gotten so used to relaxing around Fionn that he was probably out of practice.

"I…I'm sorry for all the confusion. Everything that's happened to you…it must be a lot."

She nodded gently. He could tell that she had a lot to say, too much to put into words. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to bring up. She lost her mother, her brother, her home, and her future all without even knowing it. She just…woke up one day, and everything she cherished was gone, and all certainty of her path forward was up in the air. Everyone seemed to know her better than she knew herself - or at least they knew a version of her that others expected her to be.

Finnegan knew how scary that could be. The Angel knows how long it took for him to finally grow comfortable expressing himself and being sure of his choices - and he wouldn't have been able to do any of it without his friends. Without Fionn…Finnegan could hardly imagine he'd be alive right now.

Simon Lewis - now Simon Lovelace after his Ascension - had described what it was like having so many people know him, expect some hero that he felt he was not. He had lost memories of his best friend since childhood, the memories of how he'd managed to somehow get someone like Isabelle Lightwood (who he felt was out of his league) to be so in love with him, and how he'd managed to befriend people like Jace or Alec. Finnegan felt bad that Dearil had to leave, that she wouldn't have the support that Simon had, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better that they didn't overwhelm her with expectations of a person she was not.

"So, uh…Veon says you - I mean ZeB? - he says you…er, like that stuffed bear."

She flinched, as though he had just told her that she shouldn't be allowed to have it.

"Do you - does it…jog any memories?" He tried to recover. "It's good if it helps you. It doesn't have to jog your memory or anything; it's good even if it just makes you feel a little better and helps you sleep! It's…good to have something that you - I'm glad if you've got something to help you. I know I'm no help - I'm an idiot and I should really stop talking; I'm just repeating the same thing over and over…"

He could tell that she was trying her best to hide a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She quickly chastised herself and bit her lip to stop it. Her mood worsened once more, clearly burdened by some memory, and any urge to smile was quickly crushed.

"It's okay for you to smile freely here," he threw out. "This isn't some test to see if you can suppress emotion. In fact I wish you would express yourself freely."

She nodded without meeting his eyes. "Yes, Sir Finnegan." She clenched her teeth. "Finnegan," she amended, though she looked as though she knew it was too late to have corrected herself.

"Are you uncomfortable with using my personal name without titles?"

"Yes, Finnegan." He could feel the strain in her voice even though she tried to hide it.

"Then you may use 'Sir' as you please."

"Thank you, Sir Finnegan."

It still felt awkward to him, but he'd adjust for her sake.

Her voice was demure and clearly shy now that she was fully conscious and aware of her situation. She was probably intimidated by a conversation one-on-one as opposed to with a group. Heck, it could just be Finnegan by himself that bothered her. He didn't know how she was raised, not really, but on the outside it looked like a big, strong Shadowhunter male speaking to a small, shy faerie girl who considered herself the equivalent of a servant to even her own kind.

Faeries often acted as equals, even superiors, to Shadowhunters, but there were also those who were afraid of Shadowhunters and respected them out of that fear. He hadn't met many faeries who felt themselves below Shadowhunters necessarily - they were prideful creatures. Finnegan would just try to treat her like he would've wanted to be treated back when he was like her - expected to be stronger, but weak and breaking on the inside under the weight of expectations.

"I'm…glad we could find something that makes your stay more comfortable. That's what I meant before."

"Thank you for your concern unto my wellbeing, Sir Finnegan."

He internally wondered how practiced her English was; he'd heard worse and thicker accents from mundane servants at some of the Institutes he'd visited. She did sound as though she were focusing and using pre-made sentences, though that could be because she needed to be careful about how she spoke to superiors.

"I…I hope you'll be okay," he said. He was unsure of how to proceed forward, what he should even talk about. "That you'll be…safe. And happy."

Dearil winced and held her head, her grip tightening around her stuffed bear.

"Are you okay? Hey. Dearil?"

She slowly began to relax as the pain in her head receded. Probably a memory flowing back through her. He hoped that her memories wouldn't be too painful to recall if this was how affected she was before she'd even begun. But Val had warned that while everyone else would suffer varying levels of headaches, Dearil herself would be facing possible seizure-like bouts as she returned an entire lifetime into herself - not just in mind, but in body.

"You…you are the Nephilim of melodies, yes?" she muttered.

"Yeah, I play a lot of different songs. Pretty well, in my opinion. At the very least I'm not bad-"

Before he could ramble about his insecure playing, she interjected, "Might you play…?" She sounded like she wanted to say 'for me,' but was too afraid to request anything for her sake - as if she weren't worthy of the attention.

"Of course," he said. "You can just relax."

He helped her lay back against the pillows and then reached over for his seraph violin. He considered what he wanted her to hear - her first impression of his music. He probably wanted to do a violin version of the song, even if he was going to sing. An entire chorus of music would be too loud for the situation. He wanted a relaxing melody, slow but hopeful.

Finally, he decided on a song, letting his instincts choose how he went forward. He began to play the opening notes, finding it soothing on violin - though normally the intro at least was played on a piano. He let himself fall into the melody, translating the piano parts to violin while still allowing himself to sing the lyrics.

"Alone for a while, I've been searching through the dark
"For traces of the love you left, inside my lonely heart
"To weave by picking up the pieces that remain,
"Melodies of life, love's lost refrain.

"Our paths, they did cross, though I cannot say just why
"We met, we laughed, we held on fast, and then we said goodbye
"And who'll hear the echoes of stories never told?
"Let them ring out loud, till they unfold.

"In my dearest memories…
"I see you reaching out to me
"Though you're gone,
"I still believe that you can call ~ out my name.

"A voice from the past, joining yours and mine
"Adding up the layers of harmony
"And so it goes, on and on
"Melodies of life, to the sky beyond the flying birds~
"Forever and beyond~

-TTOT-

Laura sighed. "He's going to be such a wonderful Musician."

"You know that Musician is an actual word for someone who plays an instrument, right?" Veon pointed out.

"Yes, well Musician the god came first. We are gods of music and sound. Humans just started using the term for themselves, believing to be gods of music as well."

"Letting his heart do the playing is always when Finn is at his best," Selina said. "A good choice of song for Dearil, but you can hear it in the lyrics too. He chose this one for himself as well."

"So far and away, see the bird as it flies by
"Gliding through the shadows of the clouds up in the sky
"I've laid my memories and dreams upon those wings
"Leave them now, and see what tomorrow brings

"In your dearest memories,
"Do you remember loving me?
"Was it fate…
"That brought us close and now leaves ~ me behind?

Dearil began humming the chorus, having already heard it the first time. She hadn't memorized the lyrics or the melody exactly, but she ended up providing a gentle harmony without even thinking about it. Or maybe that was Finn's magic from the violin helping her out. Either way, it seemed to calm Dearil down and she did indeed like the tune.

"And if I should leave this lonely world behind,
"Your voice will still remember ~ our melody

"Now I know we'll carry on
"Melodies of life, come circle round and grow deep in our hearts~
"As long as we remember."

He played the outro that gently descended into silence, which he let hang in the air a moment before he finally lowered his instrument.

"Shadowhunters usually don't care about music that much," Selina said. "For the most part, music is accepted - even encouraged in some cases. But Finn's father began to hate music, especially after his mother…left. It was seen as a distraction to his studies as a Shadowhunter, especially if it wasn't classical music."

"How oppressive," Laura sighed.

"That's just how life can be," Veon sighed. "Sometimes it really hurts to even think about the things that can happen to minors with so many holes in the Law. Anyone under 18 is practically treated like they have no agency against their superiors. If Shadowhunters were incapable of love, they would be weapons of absolute destruction."

"And they wouldn't be allowed under the rules of the AEGIS Covenant," Selina said.

"Oh, that's a given," Laura scoffed. "Angels like Raziel are bound by the Covenant of the gods as tightly as the rest. Normal Nephilim are outlawed because of how destructively strong they could become."

"What kind of destruction are we talking?" Veon asked.

"Well the weaker of the True Nephilim are probably born from the lowest of angels, and even they would be capable of fighting some of the demons on the levels of the Greater Demons of today. You must understand that back during the initial wave of demon invasions that incited Jonathan Shadowhunter to summon the angel Raziel in the first place…the demons back then were savage and fierce and became as commonplace as any other demon or monsters in mythology. Society today would never exist - humans would never be unaware of demons and the Shadow World and the supernatural - if not for the efforts of the AEGIS Covenant to protect and separate humans from all this danger and chaos."

"Raziel had to agree to some terms in order for his new breed of Shadowhunters to be allowed to exist, but it was such a dangerous situation back then that there was not a lot of room to deny how useful having humans with angel blood would be," Selina went on. "At first, Raziel's Nephilim were…well, we actually thought they were pretty cool. Then they grew arrogant, their rituals felt strict and cruel, and they refused to discern between what was pure demon and what was only half-demon. Anything that wasn't mundane levels of human wasn't human - so Downworlders - but they also felt that we gods were a threat to them as well."

"We began to place strict rules, using our powers to strike them down when they rose arms against us and against the AEGIS Covenant's laws that were created for the sake of peace. We created an entire branch for them in the Covenant, and eventually we stopped treating them like humans and agreed to make contact with them diplomatically when necessary."

"We gotta refine the new rules as the modern age changes," Selina sighed. "We'd been wanting to improve things for a while now, and thankfully Clary and her influence has at least made a bit of a difference while we've all been distracted."

Veon sighed. "You can't make instant changes. You can defeat the evil king and put a righteous king in his place, but as the generations go on, any line or position can become corrupt. Corruption is easier than cleansing because corruption uses dirty methods."

"Appropriate," Laura said.

"It is a soul, it is choice, that makes you mortal and makes you worthy," Selina shrugged. "As long as humans, warlocks, vampires, werewolves, faeries, and anything else has the agency to choose, we will treat them as worthy of protection. Even the angels agree to that - though they are less inclined to intervene unless their 'God' directly tells them to."

Finnegan came out of Dearil's room, glancing back at her constantly as if to check if she was still there.

"She doing okay?" Selina asked.

"She fell asleep," he said lightly.

"Well she has a big day tomorrow," Veon said. "Kieran's almost done organizing supplies with Andy and Val and he'll hopefully get some rest too."

Finn stared back at Dearil sleeping with her stuffed bear. He looked so despondent that Selina didn't even need her parabatai bond to know that he was missing Fionn but also growing attached to Dearil herself. They'd only had a short interaction, but the two already seemed to at least like each other and connected through music.

"You should sleep too, Finn," Selina said.

He sucked in a deep breath. His entire body was shaky. "I'm not sure I really can," he admitted.

"I can brew you something if you want," Veon offered.

"Yeah, that'd…that'd help."

He sulked off to his guest room and Veon frowned before moving to gather a few little ingredients for a potion to help Finnegan sleep.

"Poor Finn," Laura sighed. "He's on the brink of losing his lover in two forms."

Selina frowned. "And you're risking losing Phoenix, yes?"

"Faerie is filled with a lot more enemies and a lot more allies, but Dearil herself is less developed in terms of Phoenix's powers. We can't track her right now because she's off the godly radar. Fionn barely touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Phoenix's power, and that took years of knowing you. We definitely knew about Lorcan Dearil, but she's more than strong enough to handle her own."

"So why didn't you take Lorcan in for protection?"

"Because though she was well-known, she refused to work with us or Phoenix. She…well, she didn't want to get involved. Especially when she learned…" Laura sighed. "Especially when she learned it would mean she'd have to help her father."

"But…doesn't she have to renew the Infernian blessing on the Unseelie Court or it'll start to die?"

Laura shrugged. "Guess that didn't matter to her. She had finally been given freedom after years of thinking…well, that she had no choice, that she had to wait for others to tell her what to do, and that she had to let her biology dictate her life. Veon freed her from that life, and she didn't want to do something that was decided from before she was born."

Selina sighed. "I suppose I understand that."

"In any case, we've informed the PR members in Faerie and they'll decide how to move forward. We're not exactly a subtle branch of PR, but we're not exactly the strongest either. With bigger threats come bigger protections. Both Lorcan and this Dearil are going to have to eventually accept Phoenix and the burdens that Phoenix must uphold. I fear if they don't-"

"We're all pretty much screwed, yes. But the problem is…Fionn was under his spell, yes, but he barely wanted to be Phoenix, Lorcan doesn't want to be Phoenix as far as we know, and at the moment this Dearil definitely doesn't have the constitution to be Phoenix either. PR really should have someone guiding them to Phoenix's awakening. And don't tell me it's illegal; Phoenix and his power have come close enough to emerging and awakening that we could argue technicalities for days."

Laura sighed. "You know how hectic things are right now; I don't doubt that we could feign innocence and help out at least wake Phoenix. But our little crew here…we've done all we can under those technicalities. And we got commands from the higher-ups - the really higher-ups. The ones that know what we've done without even needing to spy or anything. There's a…lock." She held her hand up to her chest. "Like chains binding my heart, they clench down on my very existence whenever I act out of line. Those blindings hold us all in check, you know that, but I can feel them watching carefully - the chains hold fast and tighten even further than before now. Our crew is basically on house arrest right now after all we've interfered."

Selina snorted. "I'd hardly count the amount of 'interference' that's happened punishment-worthy."

Even so, Selina knew exactly what Laura was talking about. Seline was bound, same as the other gods, by the invisible force that kept fate in line as it should be. Gods and angels and celestials could only watch and keep the course of fate on the correct path; none were ever meant to do anything more. Many Astrals who were more humane could go about their days even as normal mortals, with only a small tug in their gut if they ended up meeting an important person or witnessing an important event. They knew when they should interfere and when they shouldn't, and when they stepped out of line in a way that could majorly alter history, their very existence could be put in agony and stopped by force. It wasn't like a policed monitoring system or anything - it was simply built into the very energies that made them deities in the first place. The same way a magnet would repel its same charge, deities were repelled from any foolish actions.

"The higher-ups have things as they want them. People, events, fate - they believe everything is where it should be as we go forward. Whether that's a good or a bad thing, Seline, we can only wait and see."

---

Chapter title: 'Missing' by Evanescence

The song Finnegan sings is 'Melodies of Life' from Final Fantasy 9 - a beautiful game with beautiful music if only the gameplay didn't have such stupid mechanics.