Chapter 9

Raey

It hurt. It hurt to see my family looking at me with nothing but mistrust and suspicion in their eyes, backed by a deep unfamiliarity. They didn't know me, and by the looks of it, didn't want to. Their questions had run out, and by the looks of it, hey had no idea who I was. Typical. Rhysie was getting rusty.

I forced the cold, unfeeling mask back up, and reinforced my glamour.

"Well. Time's up. You get one guess and then I'm leaving."

Rhys frowned, violet eyes narrowing. I felt as bonds of dark magic wrapped around my limbs, as if restraining me. How cute. I could tell that he had no idea. None of them did. I guess 500 years was a long time. Still, disappointing. I had thought I was a little more memorable.

"Why should we guess anything? You're trapped here. We'll get the information out of you eventually. Just tell us."

I tutted.

"That wasn't part of our deal at all. I'm sad to go, but I must bid you adieu."

Rhysie scoffed at my entirely insincere tone, but his eyes widened in panic when he registered what I said. He leaned forward, lunging for my arm.

"Wait, sto-"

His voice disappeared, as did the image facing me. I had winnowed to the borders of the Summer Court, my second favourite court, after my home, of course.

I sank to my knees in the forest, roots and pebbles digging into my flesh as I stared at the sky. The faint pull in my gut had started when we'd landed in the mountain palace, a gentle but insistent tugging just above my navel. I hadn't felt this pull for a while, a couple hundred years at least.

A bit of background: There are different worlds. Worlds just inches from ours in the fabric of reality, worlds that brush and touch each other every second of every day. Worlds that are endlessly connected by branches and webs, a never-ending circuit. Some worlds are endless darkness. Some worlds are eternal light. Some hold humans and Fae blessed by the gods. Others hold gods cursed by the darkness, and all of them are connected by pathways. Pathways that can be traversed if you know the language of the gods. Of the gods, of the Mother, of the three-faced goddess. The language of power. Wyrdmarks.

523 years, 8 months and three weeks ago, the High Lord of Spring killed me and my mother. We were on the way to meet my brother, and they killed us. Don't listen to what they tell you. Death is cold. It is dark and cold and numb and endless. There is no other side, there is nothing waiting. They hacked off my wings before they had the mercy to kill me. Then they sent my head in a box down the river.

My soul was drifting there in the void. I was sure it was the end. It was forever. Then a glowing thread bound around my and pulled me out, trapped. In our world there are many beings of great power, including sorcerers and witches. Both are rare, but it's even rarer for them to work together. Siblings, united in their thirst for power. That's why they combined their power and made me a new body. Identical to my birth body, healed from death. And then they made a soul-binding contract. I would live and do all of their bidding. I didn't have a choice. If I had, maybe I would have chosen to spend forever in that blank emptiness. I don't know.

They knew of the Wyrdmarks, I don't know how, and how to traverse worlds and open doorways between them. Wyrdgates. I became an assassin. Some worlds feared my greatly, some worshipped when I would come to their shores. I spent thousands of years travelling the worlds, trying to forget the family I left behind. I murdered leaders and destroyed armies, with blade, body and power, whoever my masters wanted me to. I had already had great power, but with them behind me, I was invincible.

I was trapped.

I was a slave.

I returned home exactly once.

It was to kill a man and a woman, who the masters had deemed dangerous and likely to war. The King and General of Hybern, a place just off the coast of Prythian. I met with my masters. I had served them loyally for thousands of years, never once attempting to escape. I asked them a boon. They sent me back, brought the three of us back, to the day my mother had died.

But I couldn't interfere. I killed the witch and the sorcerer of the past, and the me of that time died irrevocably. I was still at their service, and while my deeds in other worlds still took place, and I still had fame and fear in many of them, my deeds in this reset world had not happened. So, I killed the leaders of Hybern again. Poison in the drink of the General, and a blade through the throat of the King. There was blood everywhere.

With almost all of their enemies dead by my hand, they decided to seep into the shadows and watch from afar, what became of our world and others. I was set on assignment in the Spring Court, to gather intel until they called for me again. I arrived three days after I had "died," and slipped into the minds of everyone there, including the High Lord and all his sons, and convinced them that they knew me, they had known me forever, I was just another servant, just little Millie.

I was there the night my father came to the Spring Court to exact justice for the deaths of me and my mother. I saw their deaths, I saw my brother again, and his friend, and saw them leave me once again. So, I stayed there for another 500 years, gathering intel, getting their trust, rising through the ranks. Until I decided I needed to leave.

And now I was here. In this forest. The familiar tugging in my gut grabbed my attention, growing stronger by the second. It was how they had always summoned me back to their side, and I knew that if I did not submit to it, it would take me by force, and that was just unnecessary and painful.

I allowed myself to be pulled through the world, the travel so similar to winnowing, but darker, tainted by the power that comes from death and destruction.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I landed in the yard of the small cottage on the mountain they shared. The sorcerer stepped forward, his scarlet robe billowing in a non-existent wind.

"Welcome." His gravelly voice boomed across the courtyard, stopped by the wards that circled the place a few metres into the trees.

I bowed my head, knowing what this was about. It had been my job, my assignment to gather intelligence from the Spring Court, and I had left my post without contacting or seeking approval from them.

Pain seared through my wrists as they were yanked together, tied by cold faebane that I had found on Hybern years ago. My hands were tugged into the air, and my knees buckled beneath me, leaving me hanging from his power.

The door to the cottage creaked open, and the witch stepped out, her dark gown flowing over the cobblestoned path as she sauntered towards us. Her blond hair streamed behind her, and her brows arched as she took me in in disapproval.

My tunic and pants were torn and bloodstained from the run in with the Naga, my short brown hair hanging limply around my chin. I lifted my eyes to meet her gaze, and her black eyes pierced into mine, searing into my soul.

In her delicate hands rested a large knife. It was longer than a dagger, smaller than a short sword, and very sharp. She stepped into my breathing space, and smiled, a terrifying, brittle thing. I felt a whisper of wind against my neck.

I glanced down, surprised, to see a few delicate brown strands float to the ground, cut by the sharp edge of the blade. I knew what came next.

They interrogated me for hours, asking me why I left my post prematurely, without command, and ensuring I would never do it again. As they sliced into my flesh, as my blood dripped down my skin, something was different.

Usually during these re-education sessions, I reflected on where I had gone wrong, or why I disobeyed. But then, as they tortured me, all I could see was Rhysie's face, cold and harsh, not recognising me. And Cassian and Azriel, treating me with mistrust. And Morrigan, all her joy tightly under wraps.

And I remembered.

I remembered dancing through fields with Mor, tracing Az's scars in the dark of night, sparring with Cass until I could best him, a huge grin on our faces.

And flying.

Flying with Rhys in the night air, the moonlight shining on our wings, signs of our Illyrian heritage. Soaring with my mother, my father, my family.

And I knew why I did it. Why I left the Spring Court.

Why I would do it again in a heartbeat, even knowing the pain that would follow.

Because they were my family.

And that glimpse, that snapshot into their lives, their dynamics, their court, my home was so beautiful. Beautiful to see them as I always knew they could be, taking care of our world.

And so I knew.

It would always be worth it.