Feyre
I stood in a garden, brown vines full of razor-sharp thorns winding their way up the wrought iron fence that encircled the plot. They wrapped tightly around the posts, choking all life from the barren scene. The garden was withered and dead, as though it were in the grip of deep eternal winter.
At the garden's center stood a great tree, tall and rambling, its branches warped and twisted toward the matte grey sky above, bark peeling and pale.
I took a step forward, glancing about, the dead grass crunching beneath my bare feet. There was no sound, not even a breath of wind whistling through the tree's brittle branches.
Where was I?
I hesitantly walked through the remains of the garden, the flatness and lack of color melding into an unending scene of desolation. The air was cold, nearly freezing, the chill sending shivers dancing up my spine. Where the Dead Go for Slumber was the name of the painting that flitted through my mind.
I stepped over a pile of worn rubble, the grey surface washed and brittle from the passage of time.
A shift beneath the rubble caught my eye and I paused as I watched a graceful serpentine shape emerge. A black snake with glittering iridescent bands of blue and silver slithered past peacefully and twined its way towards the edge of the garden.
I followed.
It swept silently across the yellowed grass, its body rippling like storm dark water. I watched as it slid down a slight incline in the garden that tapered into a flat dirt plot.
As I stepped down onto the cool dry soil I watched the snake slide around the back of three headstones, each grey and weathered to smoothness. No names adorned their surfaces and dead vines wrapped about the markers, all brittle and crumbling to dust.
Except for one green bloom wrapped around a single headstone, the middle one.
As I approached it, the bloom twitched and slowly flared to life, its petals a soft cream with veins of deep vibrant plum. I'd know those flowers anywhere.
A night lily.
Stepping forward, I knelt and reached a tentative hand out to brush against the flower but stopped as a small caterpillar appeared from behind the bloom. Its fuzzy body crawled to the top of the lily, happily munching on one of the few green leaves surrounding it. A honeybee buzzed close by.
The bee, noticing my attention, whirled around the lily thrice before shooting off to the large tree where a red cardinal sat, watching. The only signs of life in the dead garden.
I heard the crunching of grass and a giggle.
My heart froze, I knew that sound.
"Celeste?" I turned around quickly only to catch a glimpse of a pale foot racing around a dead bush. I stood, turning from the lily, and quickly followed after.
The slight giggle and soft pad of footsteps led me across the garden to a dark patch of ground that faded into darkness.
A cave.
Seven black ravens sat around the edges of the entrance, watching my approach.
Carefully I jumped down into the darkness, following after Celeste. My landing was near silent as I rose and took in my surroundings. It was no cave, I realized, but a long tall long corridor, laid with smooth gray stones, somehow familiar to me.
"Momma!" I heard her voice calling me, giggling and echoing down the dark corridor I stood in, the torches flaring to life as I started down the stone path, searching.
"Celeste?" I called out tentatively, my voice reverberating around me in the hollow, stale air. Where was she?
"Mom-ma," She enunciated the syllables, the way she always had when she wanted my attention. Another giggle and the swishing of fabric. "Where are you?"
"Celeste!" I cried out, now racing down the smooth stone path, my heart thundering my ears as I rushed towards that tinkering sound, that lovely bell-like trill I had nearly forgotten. I had to find her, had to bring her home.
"I'm over here momma!" Another giggle and scuffling of feet resounding down an expansive hallway to my left, the flash of onyx hair catching in the torch light.
"Celeste!" I cried again sliding around the corner, slamming painfully into the wall before righting myself and pursuing. "Celeste, come here, please. We need to go home-"
I heard a gasp and a growl.
Followed by a scream that could rival a banshee.
My blood froze.
I flew down the length of the corridor, the torches dimming as I moved. Not this time, I wouldn't let them take her this time.
The hallway tapered into a narrow set of stairs, sending me down, down, down into the earth. I took them two at a time.
I skidded to a stop, my eyes and senses searching for her presence-
The stairs ended in a vast empty room, a single pedestal at its center and on it-
Celeste.
And behind her lay two great beasts, their size nearly tenfold of Celeste. One had fur in a silken shade of white, shimmering like star-flecked snow. It stretched its great paws out, arching its powerful back. The face was lupine but the eyes entirely feline, sharp and cunning as they watched me. The beast's tail gave a tentative flick.
The second beast was the dark mirror to the first, jet black fur rippling like liquid night, and from its great shoulders flowed dark membranous wings. One was strewn carelessly across the large pedestal, draping to the floor, while the other wrapped gently around Celeste.
"Momma!" She sat cross legged on the grey slab, her violet eyes wide and tear stained cheeks pink as she reached out a hand for me, "Will you come sit with me?"
The air rushed from my lungs.
There, she was there.
I stepped forward, my heart thundering.
We could go home.
Like dust on the wind the great beasts dissolved into ash and shadow, a cloud flitting and forming behind Celeste. Move, the instinctual voice inside me screamed as I felt myself suddenly paralyzed, unable to produce even a twitch. You have to move.
A strangled cry escaped my lips.
The cloud continued to grow, swirling and menacing behind Celeste. She tilted her head like a tiny bird, her lips puckering in confusion. "Do you not want me, Momma?"
It felt like knives piercing my heart as I fought against the paralysis, trying to speak, to move, to convey that I wanted her more than anything.
Her face deflated as she glanced off to the side. "Is that why you got rid of me?" She fixed those violet eyes on me, the twin to her father's.
Never, I wanted to scream, I would never get rid of you.
"Oh," she murmured at my lack of response, silver drops pooling at the edge of those large almond eyes. I screamed as I slammed against the power binding me, demanding it release me.
The shadow solidified more, taking on the shape of yet another beast, its sharp teeth elongating as it opened its mouth.
Now, now, now, that voice chanted, willing me to get loose, to get to her, You're out of time.
Her eyes stayed fixed on me, hand still outreached.
"Momma?"
The shadow moved behind her still, amorphous and smoky. The hair on my arms rose.
Now, I had to move now. I fought against the binding, felt it begin to bend beneath my will. It snapped.
"Celeste-" I threw my hand out.
The shadow stopped and swirled once, the embodiment of void.
It pounced.
Celeste could barely scream as it pulled her into itself.
"NO!"
Not again.
I barreled for the shadow, racing against time and odds to reach it, to reach Celeste-
The shadow vanished.
The room was suddenly cold, and entirely empty. I was alone, entirely alone. I'd lost her. I felt the sob build in my chest, if I had only moved faster, acted faster-
A knife was instantly pressed to my throat. I froze, releasing a ragged breath.
A chuckle, deep and full of hatred echoed throughout the empty chamber, the slight tapping of booted feet approaching.
I knew who he was before he stepped out of the shadows, his black eyes watching me with disdain.
"Hello, High Lady," the King of Hybern purred as he strode towards me, "you and I, we have much to discuss."
Red flashed in my peripherals.
Fear froze me. Not her, anyone but her-
Amarantha. It was Amarantha.
Her dark eyes glimmered as she pressed the knife into my throat, her pearl-white teeth flashing in the darkness.
"Hello, Mother."
I shot up.
Sweat drenched my body as I sat there panting. I was safe, I reminded myself, safe. I ran my hands over my face, calming my ragged breathing.
It was only a dream, I realized, a hollowness creeping into my chest as I rubbed at my face once more. Amarantha wasn't there, the King of Hybern wasn't there, Celeste wasn't-
My hands dropped to the silken sheets beneath me, the pale light of the moon streaming in through the cabin's windows and casting the room in a sheer white sheen. The soft sound of the wind blowing outside rustled along the edges of the cabin.
Are you all right? I felt the question spear down the bond, and the sweet caress of night brushed against my senses. I shuddered in relief as I pushed against it, reminding myself it was still there.
Yes, I murmured down the bond to my mate, it was just a dream.
Silence.
I love you, I felt the words dance down the bond, the underlying tones of guilt and sorrow poorly hidden.
Rhys had not taken the Starfall incident well.
The sheer amount of guilt and shame that had cascaded through the bond had been stifling and to see the look of failure on his face had nearly driven me to insanity.
He had hidden it well, and someone else likely wouldn't have noticed the slight tell-tale signs that had me roaring in agony and frustration. But to me, I knew, knew exactly how deeply Serys' words had cut, how viciously they had splayed open his emotions and ransacked them.
He should have been the one resting at the cabin while I was out trying to piece together what in the hell had happened. But Cenric-
My attention shot to the open door of my bedroom and across the hallway to the other room. A small snore echoed throughout the cabin and my body instantly went lax.
How is he? I felt Rhys inquire, those dark talons brushing gently, lovingly against my adamant walls.
He's fine, I assured my mate, rising from the bed and making my way to the hallway. Sound asleep. I'm about to go check on him.
My son who had obliterated that woman with less than a thought, who had immediately hit his knees in sorrow in the House of Wind when the gravity of what he had done and what had happened hit him.
Mocked, the Illyrians had mocked his sister's death. Had composed a gruesome tune detailing her demise and had performed it all on the night of her birthday. Serys had deserved every ounce of power that had been directed at her, that had obliterated her into dust.
No, he hadn't been sorry for killing that woman, but to lose his control like that . . .
It was what he feared most.
A sigh slipped through my lips as I cracked the door to the second bedroom in the cabin open and strolled in to find my sleeping son, his arms wrapped around a pillow and his face buried in the mattress.
I forgot sometimes, I realized as I walked up to him, the smell of smoked cedar and pine soap lingering in the air, how small he still looked when he was asleep, how young. I sat down tentatively and reached over, gently running my fingers through his freshly washed locks.
He was still so young.
Older than I was when I was thrown into peril and turmoil yes, but by fae standards . . . he was still a fledgling.
One that I would give everything and destroy everything to protect.
Woken by my touch, Cenric's dark lashes twitched and he blearily blinked cobalt eyes up at me, two shades bluer and darker than his father's.
"Go back to sleep," I told him as he rose up onto his elbows, smoothing his hair down and stroking his cheek. "Get some rest, it's okay."
He blinked his eyes once, slightly squinting them before flopping back down onto the mattress, his face pressed against my knee.
"I love you, Mom," he muttered quietly against the mattress, instantly falling back to sleep as the effects of the alcohol faded and sobriety sank back in. He'd have a hell of a hangover in the morning but he was safe and one piece. The only thing that mattered.
I sat there for a few moments before rising and slipping out of the room, silently shutting the door behind me. The tendrils of a headache danced at the back of my skull as I moved towards the kitchen. I needed tea desperately.
Things had dissolved into absolute chaos after Cenric had misted Serys, the people of Velaris near bolting their attempts to escape the House of Wind.
"Bitch," I heard Cassian growl as he turned to Rhys, his hazel eyes narrowed and wings flaring as he made for the balcony, "I'm heading to the Steppes."
I was kneeling next to Cenric, his form quaking in my grasp as I watched the aftermath unfold, screams and thundering footsteps a fading throb in the distance as guests raced for the staircase.
"No, you will not," Rhys barked, sending a pointed look at his General and brother-in-arms. We all knew what Cassian would do if given the chance to head to the Steppes at this hour. Instead, Rhys sent a look at Azriel who squeezed Elaine's hand before disappearing into shadow. "I need you to help me secure the House of Wind now."
Cassian opened his mouth to protest, sobriety already having returned, when Rhy's cut him off.
"Cassian," he nodded over his shoulder, "we have no idea who got in or what they're planning, we've got to secure here before we do anything else."
Cassian looked tempted to throw something at Rhys but relented as he quickly strode towards the back hallway, tucking his wings in as he palmed a fighting knife from its hidden scabbard. Cassian was never without some steel on him, none of us were anymore.
"Nesta," Rhys turned his attention to my sister, his violet eyes locking with her own icy blue. She gave a short nod.
"I'm already on it." She began stalking out after her mate, her onyx gown dragging behind her as she jogged to catch up to the much larger warrior.
"Take him home," Rhys said gently as he walked over to where I had rushed to my son's side after he had hit his knees. My mate reached down and rubbed Cenric's shoulders gently. "We'll take care of this here."
I was half-tempted to argue, but looking at Cenric, at the way he clung to me in desperation . . . I knew where I was needed.
I locked eyes with my mate. "Send word if you find anything." Rhys knelt down and wrapped his arms around both Cenric and me.
"I will," he assured me, kissing me gently on the cheek before rising and disappearing down the halls, following after Nesta and Cassian to scout the House of Wind, to see who or what was hiding.
"Mom," Cenric gasped, gripping me tightly, I could smell the salt on his face, "I-I'm sorry." The taste of ash swirled in my mouth, fire fighting its way to the surface. I sent a tendril of solid ice to meet it, soothing it, placating it for the time being.
"It's okay," I soothed him as I helped him stand, the smell of booze nearly overwhelming as I got him to his feet. "It's going to be okay. Let's go home."
"I'm sorry," he repeated breathlessly, tears leaking from his eyes. "I just couldn't . . . they took her."
"I know." I wrapped my son's muscular arm around the back of my shoulders and held him steady. Mor quickly slipped up on the other side and braced a gentle hand on her nephew's back, her brown eyes hard.
"I will finish this," he growled, near stumbling as we walked across the room. Ressina was still ushering guests out of the doorway and into the cool, crisp night air as Amren and Varian took the lead on protecting people and escorting them back to Velaris. "I will settle this at the rite, with all of them."
"I know," I soothed him, walking to the balcony's edge, "I know."
Stepping beyond the wards we winnowed.
Is everyone all right? I asked down the bond as I walked down the short hallway to the living area, contemplating.
Yes, Rhys responded, We saw to it that everyone returned home safely.
What about Elaine? My mind shifted to the image of Azriel disappearing into shadow, no doubt headed for the Illyrian Steppes.
With Nuala and Cerridwen. I felt a phantom brush of a chill wind across my face; Rhys was no doubt flying. They're staying in the townhouse tonight.
Good, I responded, then paused, my eyes lingering on the paintings that adorned the cabin walls. Did you find anything? I asked, not entirely certain I wanted the answer.
In the House of Wind? Nothing, Rhys replied. As for Azriel…Devlon sent word from the Steppe's there's…unease but we should talk about it in person, and Cassian . . . There was a pause then finally, Cassian just finished taking them down. We're burning them.
I thought back to the sign we'd found on the house when Mor and I had winnowed Cenric home.
The addition of insult to injury that the rebels had left.
"What in the actual burning fires of hell," Mor hissed as she took in what was pinned to front of the Riverside Estate, her hand still bracing her nephews back. I glanced up and felt Cenric stiffen at my side, his breathing turning ragged as I felt him gag.
"Don't look," I told him, tugging him closer into my side. Absolute disgust raced through me as I beheld what was before me.
Wings.
Across the front of the Riverside Estate a set of wings were pinned, Illyrian wings with a fine line tracing down the inner membrane. Wings from a clipped female.
Cenric was silent as he dug his hand into my shoulder and kept his eyes downcast.
They'd infiltrated our home too.
I took a deep breath and tore my eyes away as I turned to Mor. "We'll go to the cabin." I flinched as the scent of who the wings belonged to assaulted my nose. Serys. "The house isn't secure and none of us are in any shape to check."
"Understood." Mor grabbed my hand as I tightened my hold on Cenric and we went flying through the night.
I walked out into the kitchen, the water in the pot already boiling thanks to the magic that tended to the cabin. I poured myself a cup of tea and turned towards the living area.
Deep, even breathing caught my ears and I snorted at the lump of red tucked into the worn cushions of the couch.
Mor was fast asleep.
Some watch she had been.
I resisted the urge to grin as I set down my teacup and opened up the closet, pulling some linens and a blanket loose before gently laying them over our third.
She didn't rouse.
Lifting my tea cup again I sat down tentatively on the edge of the arm of the couch and stared into the dark liquid. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. I sipped at the steaming cup and felt the tension in my head ease, a small relief in comparison to the inevitable headache that was surely soon to follow.
Serys had sacrificed her wings, cut them off completely just to make a point.
That type of devotion . . .
My hands wrapped more tightly around the cup in my hands, the porcelain beneath protesting against the strain.
We'd seen it once, I realized with no small amount of horror when I thought back on the challenges we'd faced over the last centuries with the Illyrians. The type of devotion that lead to broken families and the deaths of innocent children.
I released the tight grip on my cup and looked over to Mor who had finally snuggled down into the blanket I had laid over her. We would not see it again.
No matter the cost.