Hello everyone! This is my first (published) story, but I'm not going to say "be nice" or anything like lots of other people. Be mean if you hate this (yes, I'm giving you permission to tell me that this story is horrible, I for one know it is far from perfect). The writing style, the characters, any of it. If you love it, that's great too! Feedback is awesome, and it helps me learn what to do in the future. This story is somewhat planned out, with a few of the chapters already written. I have no set updating schedule, and probably won't for any time in the foreseeable future, but hopefully I will figure something out. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Lots of love, ~Auna

Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this: all the characters and anything recognizable belongs to the lovely Sarah Maas.

I swept my eyes over Rhysand's cold body and steeled myself. There was no way all of the High Lords would give him a piece of power and bring him back to life, so I would just have to do it myself, the hard way. I stood, tears still streaming down my face, and approached the Cauldron. Everyone froze.

"Feyre? What are you doing?" Amren's voice was wary, as it should be. A breeze blew through the trees and rustled everyone's bloodstained clothes and hair but mine. When I spoke, my voice was cold, alien and hard, different even from the Queen I had become in the Court of Nightmares. I didn't look at her. I didn't look at anyone, staring down into the black depths of that Cauldron.

"I once told Rhys I would endure every second of hell and torture again just to find him. So that is what I'll do." As I reached a hand towards the Cauldron, several people gasped and skittered away from me. My night powers were completely unleashed, swirling about and eddying between things like a curious kitten near ones' ankles. Amren was the only one brave enough to step forwards rather than back, a hand stretched out towards me.

"Feyre..." She said warningly. I ignored her, my night magic a chill of black, like the shields around my mind, separating her from me. She couldn't push through it. I dipped an elegant finger into the middle of the now small cauldron. Something detrimental inside me had snapped when Rhys died. Something more than our bonds, than my magic. Something that made me, me.

'Hello dearest.' Whispered the Cauldron in my head. My lips gave a phantom upward tug. The tear tracks on my face were dry now.

"Hello." I breathed back.

'You put me back together again.' It whispered louder, the voice stronger in my mind. A small smile grew on my face, the echo of a smirk that always had an answering one falling onto Rhys' face.

"Yes." I said simply, before spooling my magic down, down, down into the depths of the Cauldron. Just before it could hit the bottom, I stopped, and the long rope of Night Court magic swayed inside as if on a gentle breeze. "I brought you back to life," I whispered, hissed, to the Cauldron, "And you too my mate's life in exchange. I want to make a bargain with you."

An upset rumbling seemed to come from the Cauldron, before it replied. 'Go on, dearest."

"In exchange for this magic," I gently tugged on the string of it inside the Cauldron, "And the body I now inhabit, I want you to do two things for me." A rumble, slightly louder than before, sounded as the Cauldron seemed to inspect the magic it had dangling down inside it.

"Feyre, no!" Amren cried having partially pushed through the swirling band of black keeping her away from me. I sent a thought and my magic skittered, sending her reeling back even than all of the High Lords, who stayed behind to observe.

"Young made one, dearest of the Cauldron, I will do two things for you for this bit of magic and your body. What will they be?" It spoke aloud this time, and everyone heard it. The slimy voice seemed to echo through the onlookers and indeed the entire battlefield, caking over everything and yet touching none of it at once.

"First, I want you to allow me to keep the rest of my magic, memories, soul, etc, everything I have now, inside my regular, mortal body exactly as it was the day I killed the Fae wolf Andras." I soft exhale ended my brave, confident statement.

'Very well.' The words in my head were my only warning before my body was shifting, like it was made of water, and then I was in my human form again, my mortal body. I felt like me, distantly. Closer to me than I had felt in a long time.

"Feyre, stop! Think about what Rhys would want!" I pushed Amren even farther away this time, past the High Lords and Fae and Illyrians standing stunned on the hilltop. Distantly, I noticed that neither my sisters nor Azriel, Cassian or Mor were anywhere to be found. I pretended the ache in my chest was my heart adapting to my new body, rather than anything else.

'And your second, dearest?' I exhaled sharply, inhaled once, glanced and Rhys' body and then returned to staring into the depths of the Cauldron.

"I want you to return me, exactly as I am now, back in time to replace the Feyre in the woods before she kills the Fae wolf Andras, leaving only you and I with the knowledge that I traveled back in time, the knowledge of anything that happened between that moment and this one." A pause before the reply.

'For this bit of magic here, I am to do all of that?' The question was dry, empty of emotions. I inhaled and made a gesture with my head as if to say "here goes nothing."

"Yes."

'Very well then. Say goodbye to this world, Feyre Cursebreaker. You will never see it again.' Abruptly, I could no longer sense the bit of magic I had dangled into the Cauldron. 'Climb in.' I turned to catch one last glance at Rhys' body, at the battlefield of carnage and destruction. I would not let that happen again. I stepped into the Cauldron, and didn't have time to look up again before the world outside turned into an empty, black void.