The Night and Stars

Absolutely captivating! The way the night sky is described—its vastness, its mysteries—truly paints a picture of wonder. It's a reminder of how the universe holds stories waiting to be discovered. In moments of reflection, it's essential to care for our well-being. Products like demetrius earth for ants and cds solution have been noted for their health benefits. Just as we explore the stars, it's vital to explore ways to maintain our health. Always consult with a healthcare professional before introducing new supplements into your routine.

Relocating can be a daunting experience, especially when it involves moving out of state. It's essential to plan ahead and consider all aspects of the move to ensure a smooth transition. One crucial step is to hire professional packers and movers who can assist with packing, loading, and transporting your belongings safely. Additionally, when moving out of state, it's important to research and select reliable moving out of state services that cater to long-distance relocations. Proper planning and professional assistance can make the moving process more manageable and less stressful.

I love how the topic of the night and stars is explored here! It’s always fascinating how the vastness of the universe can spark such deep reflection and imagination. In a similar way, having a solid understanding of processes in various aspects of life, like legal matters, can help you navigate through challenges. For example, if you're dealing with financial disputes, understanding Small Claims can be incredibly helpful. Additionally, knowing the ins and outs of Small Claims Processing ensures that you're following the proper steps to resolve your case efficiently. Great post!

What a beautifully written reflection—there’s something deeply grounding about taking a moment to appreciate the night sky. Restful sleep plays such an important role in experiencing those peaceful moments fully. If anyone here uses CPAP therapy, I highly recommend this Full Face Mask. It’s incredibly comfortable and helps ensure a calm, uninterrupted night’s rest. Grateful to be part of a space that values rest and reflection.

The night and stars have a way of reminding us how vast life is, yet sometimes we feel weighed down by our own struggles. If anyone here ever feels overwhelmed or needs support to navigate tough times, professional psychotherapy services can provide a safe space to find clarity and healing. Just wanted to share this in case it’s helpful.

The night and stars really remind me how important it is to have a clean, calm space to relax and recharge. Sometimes, we overlook how a thorough clean can impact our well-being. That’s where professional Deep Cleaning Services come in—helping create a fresh, peaceful environment that lets you unwind fully. Just a thought for anyone looking to refresh their space!

They had trained all day long. Once Faye was able to reach into that source of magic and will it into her fingertips, the rest of it came easy. She’d tested her limits with her lightshow, and afterwards Wayland had showed her how to create smaller orbs of light. They were easier, required less power, and helped her to fine-tune her wielding. Once she’d mastered that and could create and destroy the little golden balls on command, Killian began to instruct her on the extent of their carranam. The day passed quickly, too quickly with all the ground they were now able to cover, and before long the sun was beginning to set.

Faye was laughing in the center of the temple, swiping at the mischievous shadows when Killian approached. She felt like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, playing while she should have been working, but she grinned up at him anyways. Even as he called it a night and reigned in his shadows. “They’re very gentle,” Faye said, a little surprised, tucking the stray strands of hair back behind her ear. You wouldn’t expect such darkness to be so soft and inviting. But then again, that was true about both the Shadows and their master. “Sometimes I feel like they chose me. Even before we became carranam, they never frightened me. Something about them was always so…” She trailed off, unable to think of the words she wanted to say. As she trailed off, her fingers trailed along the swirls of the tattoo running along one bare arm, as if she could still feel his shadows. 

It was time to go. And although Faye was excited to continue training, she had to admit that she was tired. And so when Killian offered a shortcut, part of her perked up even as she shot him a look. She would not forget how many stairs he’d made her climb today. Even as they slowly wound their way through an entirely cleared and easy forest path, Faye vowed inside to make him pay for the unneeded exertion.

The Shadowsinger’s words met her ears, and Faye blinked up in surprise at him. Her lips couldn’t help but to curve at the shy, sheepish way he admitted his youthful mistakes. It was cute. “I can’t imagine you as anything other than purely controlled,” said Faye with a small smile. “You’re very deliberate, you know. You never act without intention.” It would have been fun to see him young and full of that crazy spirit that possessed all youth apparently, regardless of race. It would have been fun to see all of them as children, carefree and full of life, with eternity ahead of them. Fun if it hadn’t been ages and ages before she was born, of course. 

They walked in silence for a little while and it was nice. Easy, as it had always been. Faye was watching the slowly sinking sun and listening to the nighttime songs warbled by the birds swooshing overhead, when suddenly she realized she was walking alone. Glancing over her shoulder, she blinked at Killian, who stood motionless. Her brows pulled together and a slight frown tugged at her lips as she wondered what was wrong. Turning back towards him, Faye watched Killian’s slow approach with a hint of concern that faded when he reached her. The brush of his fingers against her skin made her stomach bottom out, every muscle inside of her clenching with anticipation. Faye was stiff, hardly daring to breathe as he skimmed along her neck, up her jawline, until his palm came to rest against her face. The slight brush of his thumb along her mouth sent her heart thundering against her chest, and the exuberance that fueled their first kiss was nowhere to be found. This was something different, something molten that pooled deep in her belly and fizzled across her flesh like fireworks. 

Did she regret kissing him? Faye blinked up at Killian, but didn’t trust herself to speak. Of course she didn’t regret it. Not for a moment. It had shifted things, had created a new tension and caution amongst them, but still she didn’t regret it. It had been so natural, so effortless. No, no, no, her mind whispered - but she couldn’t speak. All she could do was stare up at Killian, watch him watching her. It felt as if she’d been caught in an electrified net, every part of her stuck in some sort of current that coursed through her veins and make her entire body hum with something she couldn’t quite place.

And then his voice whispered through her head. And Faye glanced up at him from beneath lowered lashes, studying the Lord of Darkness in a new light that left her unable to speak. His last words to her, so deliciously full of promise, sent a ripple of desire down her spine. It reverberated across her flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. And suddenly, something between them shifted. The innocence of their bond, that platonic edge, it was gone. And her mind was full of images that would have made her blush, had she not been so entirely captivated by his stare. Faye was then all too aware of their closeness, the feeling of his fingers gripping her face, the misting of his breath against her face. Those words echoed in her mind, and she had a feeling that this was going to be trouble. Him. Her. Them.

And yet, it was a challenge she couldn’t back down from. Faye stretched up on her tiptoes, impossibly close to him. “No,” she whispered the single words against his lips, close enough that their lips could almost brush, but never truly making the contact she suddenly wanted. Craved. Dropping back down onto the flats of her feet, Faye turned her head away. His hand dropped, and she took a step back. The space was needed. “Life is too short for regrets. And dusk won’t last long enough for the kind you’ve got in mind.” A small smirk, a shrug, and a crooked finger were all he got before she turned her back on him and began back down the path that would lead them to the cabin.

xXx

Walking into the cabin was tense for so many reasons. 

Partially because she was still reeling from that heated exchange with Killian. So many lines had been crossed all at once, lines they’d never even dared to toe before. Lines she hadn’t crossed with anyone, except for…..Wayland. There was something off about her mate, and it was no wonder why - she’d hurt him. Unintentionally, driven by the carranam bond, without malice…but still. Hurt. And she didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know how to move forward with the two of them without things being messy and awkward and painful.

So they ate. In silence, mostly. The scrap of silverware against china filled the air, but the three of them said nothing. Faye was trying to sort through her thoughts and feelings, trying to contain and understand not one but two bonds. It was exhausting, it was stressful, and it left her feeling as if she’d always be lacking somewhere. Always hurting or disappointing without meaning to. If only there was a way for the three of them to co-exist without being at odds. As equals, without Faye stuck in the middle trying to explain the profound impact each connection had on her. 

The tense silence was cut by Wayland. The clearing of his throat made her heart leap and her stomach twist, as if Faye could already sense what was t0 c0me. The blonde set her own silverware down and dropped her hands to her lap, looking at him expectantly. Knowing that this was the end of the tentative peace they’d only so recently struck. Already feeling dejected, Faye listened to his words - and they weren’t at all what she’d been expecting. Scolding, maybe. Expressions of hurt. Questions, concerns, accusations. They’d all be well within his right as her mate, that sacred connection between them valued above almost all others in this world, to his people. Their people. But what she got…Well, Faye didn’t expect to be told about blood rituals. Clearly Killian didn’t either, from his opposition. And she didn’t expect for Wayland to be so…casual. As if he’d already accepted their fate. As if he’d already made a choice, and his acceptance of her rejection was a rejection of his own. 

Wayland had never presented her with a choice before. It had always seemed inevitable that the two of them would be together, not optional. For so many months he had fought so hard to get her to open up and embrace the pull between the two of them. At the end of the day, regardless of what happened between them, he had always been there. Even when no one else was, he stuck by her side and he fought for her - for them. 

And now, it felt like he wanted an out.

Long lost words spoken between them whispered through her mind: When you hurt, I hurt. They were still true. Guilt flooded Faye at the memory of that kiss - guilt, but not regret. It would be so easy if she could regret that kiss, if she could fight this pull towards Killian. But it was impossible. Stepping into his embrace had felt like finding the light after a lifetime of stumbling through darkness. Kissing him had been as natural as breathing, something so instinctual that she hadn’t been able to stop herself, hadn’t taken the time to consider right or wrong - she’d just acted. 

Whatever sort of iron-wrapped tether led her towards Wayland, one just as unbreakable led her towards Killian. Faye could feel them in her chest, and see them in her mind’s eye. The bonds were like an extension of herself, as if her mind had created another room entirely just for this purpose. When she stepped inside, she could see them. One tether, golden and glittering, guiding her towards Wayland - not his physical person, but everything that he was. His very heart and soul, the bits and pieces of him that she’d so often felt entangled with, as if they bled through the bond and left an imprint on her own being. On the other side of the room, another tether, shrouded in swirling shadow. It tugged her towards Killian, towards those thoughts and emotions and memories that she’d only ever dared to brush against but which were so powerful they felt as if they were hers, old friends that she’d known for a lifetime. 

Not the same, but neither more than the other. 

“Blood exchanges. War. Life choices.” Mused Faye in a murmur. “My favorite dinner topics.” The twitching of her lips could have been a smile or a sneer had it ever come into fruition. Faye felt strangely torn in two - cold and detached, yet fiery. So, so fiery like she could burst and shower them with flame at any moment. It was like her fight or flight response had gone haywire, hijacked by whatever magic was no longer slumbering inside of her chest. The natural instinct to retreat, to withdraw into herself and give up, was at odds with the urge to fight. To fight for them? To fight with them? She didn’t know. Hard conversations had always shut her down and turned her unreachable.

 Now, she blinked back at Wayland, looked between the men who were staring back at her expectantly, and gritted her teeth.

“No,” she said quietly - but not softly. There was a fierce edge to the blonde’s voice as she glowered across the table at her mate. Or was he, really, without the blood exchange? The bond wasn’t cemented in place yet. What did that make him to her, then, other than a dejected lover? And she to him? Just another warm body? If they weren’t inevitable, then what were they? It left her feeling insecure and vulnerable, unsure. For the first time, Wayland wasn’t her constant. He wasn’t something certain and set in stone.  And it scared her as much as it pissed her off, the knowledge that there was a reality where he wasn’t hers. And though there hadn’t been a second of a single day where she had even considered the possibility that he might be replaceable, Faye knew for sure in that moment that he wasn’t. “No.” She said again, shaking her head. It was as if it were the only word penetrating the fearful fog clouding her brain, the only one she could utter - but with no explanation.

One moment Faye was sitting and the next she was across the table, snatching up the dagger he’d left unsheathed beside his plate. The floral-pressed crystal glinted in the lamplight, a pang to Faye’s heart as she turned it towards her flesh and sliced open the palm of her hand open, deeply. 

“Would you prefer it now, or later?” asked the blonde, arching a brow. She extended her bloodied hand towards Wayland, palm up, droplets of crimson falling from her clenched palm to splatter against the tablecloth. A flash of surprise shot across the man’s face, and Faye couldn’t tell whether it was surprise that she’d decided so quickly, or surprise that she’d decided at all. Did he really have such little faith in her? 

“There is no choice to be made about what I want.” Faye said slowly, shaking her head.  “Wayland, the stars aligned for us - we are woven into the constellations, our story etched across the very fabric of fate. You were chosen for me by the Mother herself - and even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. I want you. I love you.” And suddenly, saying those words out loud no longer seemed scary. The only thing that scared her now was losing him - the reality of a rejected mating bond wasn’t something she’d ever expected to be faced with. Something deep inside her chest tightened and then trembled, the feeling of impending loss by now very familiar.

“But you have to know…I love Killian, too.” Those words were a little harder to utter aloud. Faye didn’t know the Shadowsinger as well, they hadn’t spent as much time together, their relationship was ever-changing and she wasn’t even sure how she loved him, just that she did - as she loved all of them, but in another way all its own. And so she forced her gaze to flicker towards him briefly when she spoke. “With the deepest, purest pieces of my heart I love him. He is as ingrained in my soul as I am in yours. You and I are woven throughout the stars, but Killian and I make worlds tremble. It’s a different sort of feeling, but it’s not lesser.”

And gritting her teeth, she sliced the other palm wide open as well. Dropping the bloody dagger back onto the table, she sat down once more, hard. Both hands resting palm-up in front of her, she looked between them.

“So if you want my blood, take it. My power, my soul, my life - it’s more yours than it is mine, anyways. But don’t ask me to choose.” The words should have been pleading, but they came out sounding almost cold. Somewhere between fearful and resigned, but determined. Regardless of what Wayland wanted, what Killian wanted, Faye was sure of one thing - it was all or nothing. There was no going back from this. If she couldn’t have one, she didn’t want the other. She couldn’t live with the ache of that loss for all eternity, knowing what could have been and remembering the impact that other partner had had on her. “It would be far easier and kinder to sever both bonds at once and leave me entirely empty than to carve and whittle away the pieces of my soul that one of you has touched.” 

And that was that - she wouldn’t choose. Couldn’t choose. Everything that Faye had become in this new life, it was because of them. Wildflower. Mate. Lumoira. Carranam. The edges of it all blurred together for her, two bonds entangled within one soul. For her it was natural to embrace them both, regardless of how she might try and fight against one or the other to maintain some semblance of moral boundary. 

The choice was theirs. All or nothing.

She was like chasing the North Star home. Even in her most untouchable state, he could feel her in every pore, beckoning him toward her. She was a bleeding star against his blanket of darkness and he was positive that he had never seen anything quite as beautiful. 

Phaedra’s power—though new and unfamiliar—belonged wholly to her. As the Shadowsinger watched her call it forth, he knew she was the only one who could wield such a thing and it made him wonder if this light within her had been there all along—Cauldron or not.

Wayland was unmoving beside him, just as entranced by her as he was. Orbs grew within her upturned palms until they bled into each other, leaving only one growing ball of light set ablaze. It was utterly brilliant, as if she was holding the sun in her bare hands and it only grew and grew, causing Killian’s breath to catch in his throat. He could feel the Commander’s restraint was beginning to falter as they watched her. It was unlike anything either of them had ever seen before, and they knew very well that sort of power if left unchecked. . . Well, they’d seen much lesser strength become too much.

Although his fists were white-knuckled at his sides, Killian forced himself to remain calm. She knows what she must do. He reminded himself. And he believed that. That she would find that place again. She would ground herself, and if she couldn’t, he would guide her.

Phaedra trembled, the orb now a mass of burning light and flame. Her forehead creased in concentration and then everything ceased as she wailed, using the rest of her strength to extinguish her powers. Wayland and Killian both tensed at the sudden shock wave hurdling out from her body, sending a blinding flash of light across the room, leaving them blinded. Both men flung their hands up to shield their eyes, knees bending as if to ready themselves for whatever may come next, but then the light faded, slowly revealing the temple once more. Their squinted eyes blinked several times as they adjusted their vision and their hands slowly lowered from their faces.

“Starlight. . .” Wayland breathed in astonishment.

“Lumoira,” Killian whispered and the Commander glanced at him as if finally registering what his brother referred to his mate as. 

My star. My beautiful, brilliant star.

Phaedra’s skin shone a stunning gold sheen. She looked like a Goddess standing before them. All their eyes scanned over each other and then she was moving toward them—no, she was running and they too started forward.

After everything. After being torn from her world, her home. After the Cauldron chewed her up and spat her out. After it stole from her, she was forced to endure a life that was not her own, one she did not recognize in a world of strangers. She did it. Every day she did it. She fought tooth and nail to be right where she was now. Running toward them, face beaming with untouchable joy. Killian couldn’t help but mirror the smile that tugged at her lips. Dimples formed in each of his cheeks and something inside of him seemed to snap open wide, making everything else around him disappear but her. His arms reached out toward her out of pure instinct. Within seconds, Faye was hurdling herself into his arms, their bodies slamming into each other as he caught her in a tight embrace. Killian craned his head down to get a better look at that happiness that seemed to seep out of her. He never wanted that feeling to end for her. He wanted to see that smile on her face for as long as he possibly could. Before he could let his eyes wander further across her face, two slender hands grabbed hold of his face and she rose onto her toes, bringing her lips to meet his own.

The world seemed to shift beneath his feet. Forget static shocks. He felt as though he’d been struck by lightning and it burned through him with a ferocity he’d never experienced before. There wasn’t anything comparable to the feel of her lips. They were full and soft and warm against his own. It was like being dipped in gold, this kiss, it was like he was suddenly being swept away by a treacherous current and her mouth was his only access to oxygen. He wanted to stay like that, their mouths claiming each other, his skin tingling with heat, and his fingers begging to find some way to bring her closer.

It was over too soon.

His lips were suddenly cold, and the frost seemed to envelop his entire body as she stepped back out of his arms. Now, he remained in that current, with no oxygen and the world around him slowly returned along with everything in it — like Wayland who stood beside him, witnessing the entire thing. Killian’s brows furrowed. Confusion, guilt, longing, and disbelief swirled inside the Shadowsinger when he met the Commander's gaze.

Parting his lips to speak, Wayland shook his head at him, making him bite his tongue.

It was safe to say that just because you’re prepared for the blow, it doesn’t make it any easier to endure once it finally makes contact.

Wayland stiffened when he fully registered that Faye was flinging herself into Killian’s arms instead of his own, but it didn’t stop there. It wasn’t the blow to his pride that made his heart drop into his stomach. It was seeing her lips crash against his. At first, he felt jealousy and rage, but what surprised him was that it didn’t last for long because, for a moment, he saw something he’d never seen before. A spark in his brother. Like he’d truly felt alive for the first time in centuries. 

He wished that it didn’t have to be because of his mate, that was the fae mating bond to be territorial, but he also had a bond with Killian. No matter how much he wanted to hate him or blame him, he heard Nevara and he couldn’t alter what had been done.

And Faye? She stood in front of him now, a bright smile on her face as she bounced before him. He forced a smile onto his face for her and sent a hard look toward Killian to keep his mouth shut. Reaching up, Wayland smoothed her wild wind-blown hair, then cupped her cheeks. “We always knew you could do it, you just had to believe in yourself.” He meant the words with his entire heart. He didn’t think there was anything that she couldn’t do if she put her mind to it. She was daring and brave and he loved that about her. She always managed to surprise him with the boundaries she was willing to push, especially when it came down to the security of those she loved. He could relate to that. And it was because she had such a huge heart that he would force himself to understand that she had enough room in it for not just himself. 

But for him too.

Wayland redirected them to some more basic control techniques for her light so that she wouldn’t burn out after such a vast display of power. Once she was able to form smaller orbs without much difficulty, Killian was able to take over and explain the Carranam bond and its ability to let them use each other's power when needed. Wayland watched the two of them for a while before excusing himself to ready dinner for them. When he returned to the hunting cabin he pressed his head to the cold surface of the door once he was inside.

K I L L I A N .

His shadows were playing with her by the time they were done training her how to control his shadows enough to swirl them around in a small circle. He couldn’t believe the amount of intelligence his shadows withheld as a snake of smoke twirled a piece of her hair and tickled the tip of her nose.

“They seem to like you, I can’t say they feel the same about me most days,” Killian spoke up as he approached her at the center of the temple. He stuck out his hand and his shadows flowed toward his palm before entering through his skin, disappearing slowly. Tilting his head back, he looked through the open ceiling. The sky was smeared in vibrant splashes of apricot and indigo. “I think we’ve covered enough ground for one day,” he nodded his head toward the exit. “I happen to know a shortcut.” Her answering narrowed eyes were enough to make him smirk before he headed out of the stone building.

The two of them were now on a trail cleared entirely of brush, making the walk not only a shortcut but also easier to walk through. All around them were towering redwood trees and birds chirped near the tops, heading in for the night. “This trail is here because I accidentally lit the woods on fire when I was younger,” Killian admitted sheepishly. “It’s a long story.” He muttered and he could feel her curious gaze on him for a while before he sighed and nodded. “The three of us got a hold of some homemade fireworks and to say the least, they weren’t made with much care. Ended up having to chase down a trail of fire.” He tapped his boot against the ground they walked on.

The two of them walked in silence for a while when Killian finally stopped in his tracks, he knew they were getting close to the cabin. When Faye noticed, she stopped a few paces ahead of him, turning to blink at him over her shoulder. Killian chewed his lip for a moment before stepping toward her slowly. “I just need to know something,” he began, getting closer and closer, until he was directly in front of her, staring down into those crystal eyes. One of his hands rose and he lightly skimmed the tips of his fingers up the side of her neck until they reached her jawline. He pressed his palm there, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. “Do you regret it?” His eyes studied those pink lips as if memorizing every line of them. When he could finally tear his eyes back to her own, he spoke through the bond instead.

Do you regret kissing me, Phaedra? She looked at him then. Really looked at him, and the silence was a war drum to his ears. Because if you do, then I'm going to need you to stop staring at me like that before I make you regret a lot more.

He wanted to kiss her. To shove her back against the redwood beside her. He wanted to bite, and lick and suck every inch of her skin. . . But he needed to know most of all.

W A Y L A N D .

When the two of them returned, dinner had just been finished and set up at the small table in the kitchen. A different sort of tension seemed to cling to the two of them, but he’d already made up his mind. 

Everyone had sat down and began eating when Wayland set down his fork and cleared his throat. He had to just throw it out there. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and after having time to think it through, he wanted this. He knew that Faye was all he could want in the world, but mates were not set in stone unless the ritual was done. The blood exchange was intense, but it allowed the bond to snap into place. It allowed them to link their souls. They would be able to feel each other's emotions when needed and share information through their bond such as memories. It would also heighten their bond physically and mentally, but most of all, it would give her a choice. And that was something he needed to know if Killian was going to be involved the way that he now was.

Rejecting a mating bond was not unheard of, and he knew putting her on the spot could be seen as cruel, but he couldn’t stand on melting ice for much longer. No matter how much it hurt if she decided to rule out their bond, he just needed to know.

“We need to tell her about the blood exchange.” Wayland finally forced out and Killian went rigid, his fork nearly tumbling from his grip.

“Is now really the time—” Killian started.

“I know what I want, and we are quickly approaching a war that some of us may not walk out of. She deserves to know that she has a choice anyway.” He turned toward her. “No bond is set in stone until a blood exchange is performed. At the end of the day, if you wanted to walk away, that is a choice that you can make.” The words felt like shards of glass against his vocal cords. He forced himself not to clarify that he hoped that wasn’t the decision she made.

Waking up sandwiched between two Illyrian warriors would have been heaven....if she hadn't woken up sandwiched between two Illyrian warriors.

The crash started her awake, eyes flying open. Her heart had already begun to race, chest rising and falling before Faye registered the fact that she was still in bed, tucked safely in her mountain of pillows and blankets. Only...not. Mortification set in as Faye realized just how wrapped up in the both of them she was. Limbs flung every which way, personal space completely gone. Her cheeks flushed a violent shade of red as she blinked up at the men, still bleary-eyed from sleep. Killian was still half-tucked beneath her, and Faye wiggled herself sideways to give him some space. The Shadowsinger abruptly left the bed, well on his way to leaving the room. Wayland's taunt echoed in Faye's ears and she slapped at him blindly, even as she let out a groan and rolled across the bed in search of his warmth. Down one body, she focused all of her remaining energy on the man still in her bed. Face burrowing into his chest, she locked her arms around Wayland and hid away, half out of embarassment and half because she was still exhausted.

“We need a bigger bed,” she murmured against his skin, well on her way to dozing off once more. But not before she sent Killian a sleepy, teasing, Don’t snuggle, my ass.

And she had to admit, he wasn't half bad at it.

xXx

For once, she wasn't complaining about the strain in her muscles as they trudged uphill, or the shortness to her breath as she did her best to keep up with the Illyrians leading the way - all Faye could focus on was the view on their way to the top.

As they walked up those crumbling old steps, the woman couldn't help but to stare at the remains of the once-great temple in awe. The stonework was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, ancient and old and carved with such precision - the labor of some long lost love. Though the building had long-since begun to crumble, the statues remained standing. Somehow they looked as if they had always belonged here, half in ruin and covered by overgrowth. Faye could have sworn that the ground itself hummed with life as they approached, as if something old and long-forgotten was waking up to murmur hello. 

She couldn't help but to stare, to greedily drink in every curve of those enormous statues as she imagined the kind of devotion that must have inspired their creation. Humans didn't erect statues like this. They worshiped their gods with measly alters and their Kings with statues of pure gold, because that was what was expected of them. There was no life in those structures, no love, no sense of eternity or the everlasting. Everything in her past life now seemed so mundane, so insincere. Standing at the top of the stone steps, with her chin tipped towards the heavens as she studied those weathered depictions of Sunara and Lunaris, listening to Killian explain their purpose, Faye felt infinite. She felt whole and connected and purposeful, for the first time in this life and the one before.

She was as ethereal and immortal as those two sisters - a balance between the sun and the moon. 

Those few words flitted around the edge of Faye's subconscious mind for much longer than she gave them permission, and it wasn't long after Killian uttered them that the blonde's two-toned gaze was shifting between her companions with mild interest. Of all the temples they could have chosen, all the legends she could have learned...the coincidence in the way this one mirrored her exact predicament was unsettling. Wayland had always been her sun, long before she even realized it. Everything about the man exuded warmth - from the roots of his tousled blonde locks to the very tips of his bronzed flesh, every inch of him was pure sunshine. He was larger than life, a steadfast pillar of honor and loyalty and all the brightness that made men great. He thought and spoke and acted with a sort of fiery passion that could quickly rage into a wildfire if left uncontrolled. 

And then....the moon. Tall, dark, mysterious. Killian was reserved, careful, and so intentional with his every movement. Impulse was foreign to him. Composure, cool calculation. And yet he loved deeply - she could see it, in the way he looked at the Inner Circle. It was there in the things he did in the dark, when the shadows enveloped him and he lost himself to another, lonelier world entirely. It was there in the burdens he shouldered alone. For them. His passion was cool, but it wasn't less. His presence was subtle, but it couldn't be ignored. The man was pure determination and will, someone that could push her to the very edge of her limitations and then ground her with just the brush of his fingertips. 

\

Balance, that was the word that kept tugging at the back of her mind. Wayland and Killian, the two of them were already balanced. They were light and dark, hot and cold, hard and soft - the list of opposition was endless. And where did that leave Faye? Who was she, what role did she play here? Was she supposed to be dusk? Lukewarm? Pliable? Somehow being in the middle seemed lackluster. As if she gave up a little bit either way to keep herself rooted firmly in the middle. And yet, what could she do? What could she be? The Sun and The Moon were already taken, and there wasn't a third deity. Just enough room for the two pillars - they were all that were needed.

The top of the steps found them at the entrance of the temple, though its doors had long since been torn away and the structure itself was crumbling beneath the influence of the elements. Moss ran rampant between the cracks in the masonry, and ivy crept along the lowermost bricks. Dirt coated the floor like a second skin, and it looked like it had been eons since anyone had stepped foot up here. A glance upwards told her that the roof of all things remained relatively sound, supported by those two mesmerizing pillars that towered far overhead. And beside them, two enormous stone wolves. One with etchings of the sun, the other with the moon. Fierce and powerful, protectors and allies. Faye reached out and brushed her fingers against one of those stone wolves, wiping away the dirt and debris that stained its granite fur. "They're beautiful," she said softly. And they were. Not beautiful in the way of diamonds and rubies. The statues didn't glitter like gold, nor did they sparkle or shine. They were just a couple hunks of cold, hard stone that gazed back at them lifelessly. And yet there was beauty in the intricacy, in every curve of the wolves pelts, every shadow lining the sisters' faces. There was beauty in the time, effort, and soul that had gone into creating these pieces. There was even beauty in the way the earth sought to reclaim them as its own, beauty in the way everything in this world eventually came full circle. Faye knew she could live a hundred thousand lifetimes and never dream to recreate something half so inspiring. 

Carefully, the trio made their way into the abandoned temple. Faye treaded lightly, stepping over fallen columns and wayward bricks that had tumbled loose from the walls and the ceiling. Their feet made dusty footprints as they walked along, not stopping until they reached a dias in the center of a large, dome-shaped chamber. Sunlight poured in from overhead through the spaces intentionally carved out of the ceiling, filling the room with a faint glow. Faye glanced around that little chamber curiously, brows puckering while her eyes sought out whatever it was they’d come here to find. And then suddenly there was the glint of sunlight on granite and there, in the center of the dias, she saw it - and how could she have missed it? Missed him? Standing there, larger than life with his head bowed and his teeth bared as if daring them to approach. Not a protector, like the other wolves. No he was too big, too fierce. Something told her that he was a key player in the story of Sunara and Lunaris, however it might end. And when Killian’s shadows flickered out to wipe away the grime coating the wall behind the statue, leaving the wolf bathed in flame, she realized that perhaps he was a key player in her own story as well. 

Fenrir, the wolf who would swallow the sun and burn up the world - darkness and light come together to forge something new. 

Revelation came flooding into Faye so hard and so swift that she had to take a step back, her widened blue eyes scanning over the length of that lone wolf as her hands trembled by her side. And all at once, the answer so plain that she couldn't understand how she missed it before, Faye realized that she didn't need to balance out the sun and the moon - they balanced her. She was not torn between the two, but rather cocooned. Not caught between The Sun and The Moon, but enveloped equally by both the light and the darkness. She gave up nothing, no part of either, because both continually poured into her. They were two sides of the same coin, but she….she was in a league all her own. The Sun in one hand, The Moon in the other, and what she did with their power was up to her. 

As the metaphor slipped away, Faye was left there standing face to face with Fenrir. To make up for the step back, she took two forward. Fear left her gaze, replaced with a newfound warmth as she reached out and stroked her fingertips along the underside of the wolf’s massive neck. Suddenly, he didn’t seem quite so ferocious and alone. And silently, she thanked him. 

Killian’s voice pricked her ears, and Faye looked over at the Shadowsinger. The sound of her newfound nickname on his lips made her smile in a way that set her entire face beaming, and his words sparked something in her chest. Swallow the sun? For him? She could do that. Almost as soon as he had finished speaking, Wayland’s voice caught her attention. Faye’s head shifted to the other side, and his words sent that little ember in her chest smoldering. All of it, she’d burn all of it down. For him. For them. With them. There was no hesitation now when she reached out and gripped them both tightly by the hand, feeling her power surge through her veins fast and fierce. An inferno with no beginning and no end. 

She was going to set the world on fire. 

…

Faye stood in the center of the adjoining room, staring at the men who watched her from a few yards away. Flicking her fingertips, she clung to the power that she could feel ebbing and flowing there. A warmth desperate to get out in a surge, a wave, a stream - it didn’t matter. She could feel that power churning somewhere deep inside, popping and hissing as if her core was molten and the magic was bubbling up, threatening to overflow. She imagined it like a stream of liquid light, like the tendrils she’d created a few times before. Golden and shimmering, bubbling up from that pit inside her belly and flowing through her veins. Up and up and up, along the curve of her elbow and into her fingertips where it settled and pulsed and begged for release. In her minds’ eye Faye could see it, could feel it, could taste it and touch it. It was her and she was it, there was no separation - they were one. 

“Stand back,” she said quietly, looking at the two Illyrians. She remembered the last time, how easily she’d lost the leash on her magic and allowed it to run rampant. It had taken control of her so quickly, so easily, and she didn’t want that happening again. But if it did, she wanted them far enough away that they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. Though they were unwilling to budge, a stern look from Faye and a few flicks of her fingertips in their direction got the men to put a little more space between them. When the feet turned into yards, she felt a little bit better about unleashing whatever magic she had that was pounding against the walls, demanding to be let free. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Faye closed her eyes. She reached out for every ounce of that power she could feel straining against the confines of her skin, reached out and drew it forward until it danced along the palms of her hands, shimmering brighter and brighter as she dug deep to pull it forth. Palms shaking as she stared down at them, Faye gritted her teeth and yanked. She remembered that other world, the pool of water that had grounded her so easily. That was the source of their power, Killian had said. Everything they were resided within that pool. And so she pulled from it. She imagined the source of her power as that little body of water, silvery and weightless, and once she’d grabbed hold, Faye began to drain it. 

The magic didn’t leave her body in a frantic rush. It wasn’t a clap of thunder and a streak of lightning. It wasn’t an uncontrollable flash of power that she couldn’t contain. It was slow and precise, like unraveling a thread. The shimmering balls in the palms of her hands began to grow, and grow. Before long they formed one ball, one huge golden orb with sunshine-yellow flames flickering around its edges as it built and built, that pool steadily draining as Faye used it to fill her hands with magic that felt eerily similar to that silky, temperate liquid when she molded it in the palm of her hands. As the orb grew larger, its light began to fill the room. Just a dull, flickering glow that slowly grew steadier and steadier the longer Faye was able to hold onto it. 

I am Fenrir, she told herself. I will swallow the sun. Flowers will wither. Kings will fall. 

I will burn this world to ash, and fill the next with my glow. 

The orb was growing too big. It suddenly began to feel hot in her hands, and Faye could feel that inner pool of power running dry. She could hear her magic whispering to her, tickling at the edges of her control. Almost, almost. She continued to spin that orb like a spider spins its web, pulling at the little golden thread until it went taut and she knew its end was near. As her arms began to shake, now with exertion, she knew that it was time to cap the magic. Time to ground herself, to keep it from becoming too much, to keep everyone safe. And so she imagined herself planting two feet firmly in that pool and dropping to her knees, letting the water rush over her. Much more quickly than she’d been able to draw the magic to her, she was able to cut it off. The source stopped flowing, and Faye was left with a trembling ball of light in her hands and no idea what to do with it. It was heavy, and growing heavier - too heavy. She couldn’t hold it. 

With a cry, Faye let go. A burst of light filled the room then, blinding for a moment as it dispersed. No heat, no flames, just pure sunlight flooding the room. A frenzied end to her first manifestation of power - but she would take it. The light began to slowly trickle out of the room, and she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the now near-darkness. Across the room, Killian and Wayland were doing the same. As the light ebbed away fully and their senses readjusted, they all seemed to realize it at the same time.

She’d done it. 

Light filled her, so bright and bubbly that Faye was sure they had to see it shining through her flesh and bone. The men were beaming themselves, looking torn between pride and bewilderment as they approached her - in one piece. Faye sprinted across the distance separating them. Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. She was floating, gliding, flying across the room so quickly that she kicked up dust and sent bits of gravel skidding in every direction. All thought left her mind as she flew into the first pair of arms that were reaching for her - Killian’s arms. She would have rebounded off of the man’s broad chest if his biceps hadn’t wrapped around her, locking her in place. Faye’s hands flew up to either side of the Shadowsinger’s face, cupping it in her hands for the briefest of moments before her lips were crashing against his urgently. Fingers curling into his flesh, she clutched his mouth to hers for one prolonged, sweet moment before she was tearing herself away from him, a squeal sounding in the air. Faye spun out of Killian’s arms as quickly as she’d launched herself into them, stumbling the two or three steps towards Wayland. Her hands gripped his forearms tightly and the blonde jumped up and down excitedly, her eyes bright.  “Did you see that? I did it! It just bubbled up and I grabbed it and I pulled and I did it, I swallowed the light!” She was shouting and she didn’t care. Didn’t care that she was a twenty something girl playing warrior queen, didn’t care that she was ridiculously excited over exhibiting the most basic control over her magic, didn’t care what they might think of her for it. She did it - she did it, and they were one step closer to rescuing Evie because of it. Because of her. Because of them.

It felt strange to be on this side of the world with Phaedra. Their relationship was never one built on any uncomfortable silences or expected phrases. It was always so natural and easy — it was like breathing. He wondered if maybe that made all of this so incredibly difficult. So much had changed in such a short amount of time for them. Although things still flowed so effortlessly between them, it was no longer something he could identify as innocent. They didn’t look at each other the same anymore. Their glances were longer, and their stares were deeper. There were things that he could feel being left unsaid when they shared a moment.

And now, he saw her recoil against such truths. The same way that he had been trying to since the creation of their bond. Had she known the depths of the Carranam bond, Killian found himself debating whether or not she would have still agreed to go through with it. That wasn’t fair though. If he was given the same information, he surely wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t do that to Wayland; especially not to Phaedra. After all that she’d been through, he couldn’t imagine the weight of not one new bond but two.

The darker, more selfish parts of him though. They would choose her again. Under every circumstance; in every timeline.

So, when she avoided the subject, he would have been lying if he said something inside of him went cold once more. His face remained passive and he dropped his gaze when a burst of light flung toward him. Brows knitting, Killian slowly unfurled his fingers to let the light strand coil around his palm. Suddenly, he was back in the gardens and sat on that branch stretching over the pond. The warmth clung to the light. He knew that belonged to her. Looking up, he nodded his head once in understanding before curling his fingers around the light while she caressed her mate's face. Killian half expected himself to feel jealous of the act but couldn’t bring himself to be. It only made him that much more thankful for the fleeting touches he was given, because at the end of the day, they were never meant to exist, but they did. And he could only be grateful.

Wayland offered his mate a boyish grin in return. “When you finally tire of holding back what lives in your heart.”

* * *

“You don’t plan on going off in the night do you?” Wayland’s voice reached Killian as he worked at the straps and buckles of his leathers. The words had stunned him, but what didn’t come as a surprise to him was that Wayland was aware that he often wandered off in the night to clear his mind. Usually returning with blood covering his clothes as even Phaedra had come to witness recently.

Killian’s fingers paused on a fasten before continuing again, shrugging off his leather holster. 

“I only ask because she’s a light sleeper.” He explained, boots thudding to the ground.

“I won’t wake her,” Killian muttered and continued removing clothing when the two of them heard the floorboards creek, announcing Phaedra’s presence in the doorway. The smell of lavender wafted into the room and his shoulders and wings slowly slumped as he took it in.

“She doesn’t stick to her side of the bed, but don’t let her fool you, she likes to bite,” Wayland smirked, capturing her swatting hand and giving a gentle bite to the tips of her fingers playfully before he lowered himself onto the bed beside her. Before turning to look at them, Killian had to press his eyes shut briefly. When he finally turned he found Faye staring up at him. He blinked once, then twice, his eyes darkening as she spoke into his mind. 

A deep inhale made his chest rise. I don’t snuggle. His voice was low and heady. Implying that he didn’t snuggle for a good reason. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone stay in the same bed as him overnight. If they were in his bed, they were usually doing far different things than sleeping. It made him ponder what it might feel like if she’d tried to press parts of herself to his body. Just those small touches they’d shared had such a great effect on him, that he wasn’t sure what sort of gates would be unlocked under these circumstances. It opted it probably being best if they didn’t have to find out.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, careful not to let himself brush against her for too long, but Faye was no longer lying beside him in the blink of an eye. Instead, she had her hand on his shoulder, shoving him the rest of the way down against the mattress beneath them. She hovered over him, her cornflower blue and gold iris’ studying him with determination. He could only stare up at her in awe until she moved to get comfortable once more beside him. Killian’s molars ground so tightly together that it could be considered a miracle that they didn’t shatter under pressure. The effort that it was taking to reign in his shadows which clawed at his insides to get out and coil themselves around her like hungry dogs was a feat in itself.

It felt like his skin was crawling, even beneath the blanket. Faye being so close to him allowed something comparable to a magnetic pull to awaken. In response, his fingers twitched in her direction. Instead, he tried to focus on his breathing but was too hyper-aware of the deafening silence and the warmth radiating from the body beside him. Her body. His muscles had never felt more stiff than they did right now.

He had just managed to shut his eyes against the dim light of the lantern when Phaedra’s voice broke through the quiet. Wayland’s weight shifted against the mattress and his groggy voice traveled through the dark. Killian’s lips quirked into the hint of a smile. Her question was nothing short of genuine curiosity — albeit random — but genuine nonetheless. Her wonderment was one of the many things he endeared about her. He could recall several occasions when she was bombarding the Shadowsinger with questions about Sakaris, Fae history, or the others she was to be living amongst. Her hunger for knowledge was never quite satisfied. They seemed to have that in common.

Phaedra seemed to accept Wayland’s mumbled suggestion to go to sleep. He felt her move and then heard a light pop of her lips as she planted a kiss on the Commander. Killian forced his eyes shut, despite the lack of exhaustion he felt. With his eyes closed, it seemed his other senses heightened and he could feel tension spider-walking up his spine. He wasn’t sure where it had come from until a warm, soft hand found his own beneath the comforter. That familiar zapping sensation seemed to charge his body, making it vibrate with energy.

His fingers twitched and then they slowly closed themselves around her own. The pad of his thumb grazed softly along her knuckle. There was something within her touch that said more than any words she’d sent his way. He’d been positioned on his side, facing her. His wings were tucked behind him, one draped over his shoulder like a blanket. He could feel her eyes on his face and then he opened his own to stare back at her through the dim lighting. Golden hues flickered between her blue ones in silence.

Goodnight, Lumoira. He said through the bond and for a short, uncontrolled moment, his gaze flickered toward her lips. Killian tore them back up to meet her eyes again. Curiosity seemed to cross her expression. No doubt due to the new nickname he’d sent her way. It was a term of endearment that belonged to his native tongue; translating to “light of my life” or “my star”. He wasn’t sure how long they just looked at each other like that. It had to of been until their eyes drooped with sleep and they were lulled into oblivion.

* * *

A full night's sleep was unheard of, but there he lay, in a bed that he shared with two other bodies and he hadn’t so much as stirred in the night. The sound of birds chirping outside alerted the shadowsinger of the time and he began stirring when an unfamiliar warmth halted his every movement. 

Slowly, Killian’s eyes drew themselves open, taking in the faint rays of light threatening to spill into the room from the thin curtains. When he looked down at himself he was greeted by the top of Phaedra's head. The silky blonde strands were tickling his face and his nose crinkled as a result. He stiffened when it all finally hit him. Faye was fast asleep, cheek squished against the contours of his chest. Her arm was stretched out across him, wrapping around his abdomen, but her hand was clasping another. Turning his head, Killian found that Wayland was spooning Faye, and his hand was closed around her own, making them both rest along his stomach. His gaze shifted downward to find the blankets a tangled mess, exposing most of their bodies. One of Wayland's legs was shoved between Faye’s while one of her legs was swung over Killian’s. His arm was almost completely numb where it stretched out beneath Phaedra, his hand resting on the top of Wayland’s head. Faye shifted, her leg brushing up his thigh, bringing to light the worst part of all of it.

He was hard as stone.

Killian wasted little time curling his fingers and sending a hard flick to the top of Wayland’s head causing the Commander’s eyes to snap open.

“What the fu–” his words were cut off as Wayland too registered their predicament. Killian only shot him a hard look to which the blonde Illyrian returned a shooing motion. It took everything in the Shadowsinger to not groan in annoyance. As if he hadn’t already contemplated trying to slip free from the bed. 

Defeated, Killian began slowly drawing himself away from Faye, only to have her squeeze tighter, a mumble slipping from her lips. The Gods were punishing him. He was sure of it. Wayland attempted to help pry Faye off and Killian was so focused on sliding slowly that he hadn’t considered his wings. One large membraneous appendage swept out, knocking off the now burnt-out lantern on the bedside table. The crash was enough to make Faye’s eyes shoot open in surprise. Killian swore under his breath, and Wayland, to his surprise, burst into laughter.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Wayland purred behind her and Killian watched the color of her cheeks shift. Clearing his throat, he got himself up enough to shove on his pants to conceal his morning wood and dragged his fingers through his tousled hair.

“I’m going to shower.” Was all he could muster before he stalked out of the room. And he did shower. Under the coldest water possible.

* * *

The large crumbling temple was once a sanctum to an ancient group known as the Astral Sisters. Followers believed in the divine significance of solar and lunar eclipses, as well as the alignment of constellations. It was claimed that the sisters could see portals to realms between worlds through them. As the three of them approached the large stone building atop a hill, more and more details rose to the surface. They would have to climb a long set of cobble stairs which would lead them to the main entrance. The doors were no longer on their hinges but cracked and broken on the ground in front of a now gaping hole in the wall. Colossal, hand-carved statues of two beautiful women stood like pillars holding the roof of the temple upright. They were dressed in garb that left very little to the imagination. Killian caught Phaedra studying them as they drew closer and closer up the steps.

“Sunara, and Lunaris. The Astral Sisters and their many followers would pray to the Gemini deities. They represented a balance between the sun and the moon.” Killian explained. 

Wayland nodded his chin in the direction of the accompanying sculptures at each woman's side on all fours. Two large wolves, one with markings of the sun, and the other with markings of the moon over their right eyes. “Skoll, who chases the sun,” he pointed to the Sunara and her wolf. 

Killian pointed to Lunaris and hers before adding. “Hati, who chases the moon.”

When they finally reached the top, the statues towered over them like mountains. Killian and Wayland led Phaedra through the destroyed entrance, only stopping when they reached a larger precinct. Fallen rock and brick stone littered the massive dome-shaped structure and an old language was still carved into the pillars. Overgrowth and moss clung to the walls and between crevasses. Overhead, the ceiling had a large circular opening that let in the light of the sun and moon, and straight ahead, on what resembled a dias of sorts was another large statue. This wolf was by itself, its hackles rose as it bowed its head in a rage-filled snarl, teeth cracked, but still bared. Its tail was straight out behind it, ears pinning behind its large skull. The group seemed to stop and stare up at him and Killian’s shadows lurched forward when he rose his hand. They swept swiftly across the wall behind the statue of the wolf, removing debris and dirt so that they could see the massive carving of flames bursting from around the wolf.

“Fenrir,” Wayland breathed out.

“For he would one day swallow the sun, and use his newfound light to burn the world.” Killian’s gaze swung toward Faye. She looked utterly enamored by the structure before her. Wayland was looking at her too, even as she took a step closer.

When the brothers finally looked at one another, a silent conversation seemed to be held. They both were thinking the same. Thinking of the power she harnessed. Of the flames and light. 

“Are you ready to swallow the sun, Lumoira?” Killian finally asked, reaching out his hand.

“Let us burn down the Lord of Spring, and the King of Hybern along with him.” Wayland outstretched his hand too.

Both Illyrian's eyes burned into her with utter admiration and pure, unwavering devotion.

The little log structure looked as if it had been in this forest forever, with moss growing between the cracks in the wood and ivy creeping along the eaves. It was old, but seemed sound. They approached and the door opened to reveal a moonlit interior consisting of one large, open room that served as a small kitchen and seating area, and two small doors on the far wall. “Cozy,” Faye murmured as she moved into the room. Her gaze scanned the area several times over in the span of thirty seconds or less, taking note of the bare furnishings. This place was barely big enough for two people to move around comfortably, let alone three. But Killian and Wayland moved about easily, navigating the little shack as if they’d done so a hundred times before. Both men dropped their things and set about making themselves busy, and Faye was left to explore. 

She inched her way towards the first door, letting it slide open with a quiet creak. A small bathing room, its white marble surfaces surprisingly well kept. After their endless trek through the forest, she knew they could all use some time within the small shower stall. Faye browsed through the various tonics and bars of soaps lining the overhead shelves for a moment. Buying time. When there was nothing left to see in the wash room she re-emerged, moving onto the next door. It swept aside to reveal the small bedroom and its simple wooden furniture. Faye paused at the sight of the large bed taking up the majority of the room, spanning nearly along the length of one wall. Just a bed and a simple dresser, no other furniture to be found in the room - none would fit.

One bed, three bodies. 

The math wasn’t adding up. For a long moment Faye lingered in the doorway, until she heard Killian’s voice. You and Wayland will take the bed, he said so simply. As if it were an indisputable fact that she and Wayland deserved that. Maybe they did; they were mates, after all. But why was there a little thread tugging at her, a tiny nagging voice that demanded to know What about Killian? The thought of him sleeping out here in one of these rickety old armchairs didn’t sit well with her. Cold and uncomfortable, just beyond reach. But the alternative - him in the bed with them. The thought was like a million fireworks exploding and fizzing along her flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake as her mind wandered for a moment too long, and then she was struggling to reign it back in, her cheeks flushing as she closed the door to the bedroom and turned away. The blonde drifted towards the kitchen, arms crossed tight over her chest against the chill that brushed against her flaming cheeks and soothed the fire in her blood. 

Wayland had stepped inside now, arms full of split logs. Faye moved towards him to help him unload the firewood, but his words had her steps faltering halfway there. I don’t see the problem with us three. Faye had to stop and stare at her mate, surprised by his words. Out of everyone in this room, he should have had the biggest problem with the three of them sharing the bed. Weren’t fae males supposed to be incredibly territorial? Hadn’t he already proved that time and time again? Blinking at him, she was still trying to piece together the sudden change in the man when Killian spoke up. Feigning some excuse about not sleeping well. Faye’s gaze swiveled towards the Shadowsinger, blue eyes narrowing. And here she’d been feeling badly about the thought of him sleeping alone. Her mouth twisted and she was poised to say something smart, when the sound of firewood thudding to the floor made her jump.

And then Wayland was airing it all out. No hesitation. No beating around the bush. Just voicing the tension that had been there between them all. Faye envied the way he was able to do that, just voice his thoughts and feelings without any sort of worry or second guessing. He always seemed able to give voice to things she didn’t dare begin to touch. The bonds between them, they were permanent. Nothing was going to change them, nothing could take them away. No matter how awkward and how painful, they would have to figure some sort of dynamic out between the three of them unless they wanted to tiptoe for eternity, exactly like Wayland said. He was right. Of course he was right - when wasn’t he? It’s one night.  As his knuckles brushed the back of her cheek, Faye leaned into the touch. One hand came up to cup his hand, holding it there for a long moment while she looked at him, holding his gaze, contemplating. 

Killian’s voice filled the air, his words clipped and jaw tight. The blonde’s head whipped around at those tense words, at the reminder of the bond between the two of them and what it meant. The way he said it, it almost sounded like…a defense? Resigned, but unyielding. His way of saying, my bond is just as valid as yours. It wasn’t a challenge, there was nothing threatening in the statement. But it was firm, it was a claim on her - the first time he’d ever dared to make one. Warmth blossomed from somewhere deep inside of her, and Faye felt like her insides were shredding themselves apart only to be rewoven by the light emitted from those few simple words. You also heard what Nevara said about the Carranam bond. They wove themselves around and around her mind, until they were ingrained upon her very soul. All the blonde could do was stare at him, her brows drawn together and her face impassive. You’d never guess that inside wildflowers bloomed along every inch of her being, as if her very roots were filled with new life. 

And yet as much as her soul soared hearing those words, she couldn’t help but to duck her head when Wayland voiced exactly what she wanted Killian to say without saying it - that he cared for her. Just as Wayland did. The implication behind those words, knowing exactly which ways Wayland cared for her, and cared for her well, left Faye floundering. She felt like she was free-falling and the ground was nowhere in sight, and she didn’t know how this was going to end. She felt dreadful and shy and anxious and invigorated all at once. Their relationships could be everything, if only given a chance, and she still didn’t know how she felt about the fact that these men were hers. It was one thing to know that they were tethered, it was another entirely to feel it - and to know that they reciprocated every single ounce of what she felt for them. 

Her eyes met Killian’s once more, and that warmth hit her once more. It was different than what she felt for Wayland. Wayland’s fire had always hit her like an inferno, sweeping her up in passion and knocking her off of her feet until she couldn’t tell which way was up. Killian’s was like a warm bloom, spreading to the very tips of her fingers and toes, filling her with a light that left her feeling powerful and sure. It was different and it was good and she wanted more of it, though she didn’t know how to ask. 

No sooner than that thought had entered her mind, all of the attention was suddenly on her. Faye faltered, taking a step backwards beneath the weight of their gazes. She felt caught, like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. Even after all they’d been through, all they’d learned, admitting to just how much she did care still seemed so taboo and wrong. Of course she cared for Killian. How could she not? She’d cared for him practically from the moment they’d met. She’d always found solace in their mutual silence during those early days in Sakaris. She’d enjoyed learning him in silence - the way he took his coffee, the way his forehead wrinkled when he was devouring whatever it was he read in those little leather bound books he always seemed to carry around, the way he sprawled out across the armchair like a content kitten before the fire when he thought the rest of them had gone to bed. And after she’d been Made, she’d loved him for the way he took the time to slow down and engage with her, whether she was fully there or not. Their walks in the gardens, his interest in her drawings, the way he was always there to step in whenever it seemed like this world had become too much to bear. And now…

And now.

Did she accept it? 

It was a strange thought, these two men baring themselves to her completely. So raw and real and uninhibited. Faye suddenly felt so much smaller and younger than she ever had before as she basked in the power and wisdom of these two Illyrian soldiers who suddenly seemed so at peace with the world that she was utterly envious of their conviction. They were watching her, the both of them, and she felt her mouth going dry. Pressure pushed in on her from all edges, the need to say and do the right thing - but what was right anymore? She knew what they wanted to hear from her, but she didn’t know what it would mean once she’d said those words - once they were whispered into the world, and they couldn’t be taken back. It was hard enough to admit it to herself, and admitting it aloud seemed impossible. 

“I accept…that the bed is big enough for three,” her voice was a warm murmur. Beneath her lowered lashes she cast a glance at Killian, willing him to understand what she was too afraid to say aloud - that she cared for him so much it terrified her, it turned her world upside down and left her questioning everything she thought she’d known.  Her fingertips flickered towards him, and out shot that little thread of light that had connected the two of them in the gardens. Only now it didn’t stay anchored to her at all; it slithered towards Killian, moving exactly where she willed it to go. The little beam of light wrapped itself around his hand once, then twice, and Faye smiled - it stayed there, wrapped in his palm, a little ball of light that was a constant reminder of her presence. Turning towards Wayland, she reached out and cupped one cheek in her hand, running her thumb along his smooth flesh. “When will you grow tired of forcing these outlandish declarations from me?” she wondered. She had yet to give him a clear answer, and yet somehow these conversations still always landed her exactly where he wanted her - in his bed, as his mate, and now? In the middle of an Illyrian sandwich. 

xXxXxXxXx

After their bellies were full and she’d spent a lifetime in the little shower stall washing away days’ worth of forest grime, Faye emerged from the washroom towel drying her long golden hair. It hung longer now than it had when she was human, falling nearly to her waist when left unbound. Normally she kept it in tight, neat braids for training purposes, but tonight she let the wet ringlets fall as they may, enjoying the freedom and the scent of lavender that clung to her. Tomorrow, it was back to the forest. 

To her credit, Faye hadn’t packed any of the flimsy nightdresses that she was accustomed to wearing in Sakaris. Instead, she wore a long-sleeved male’s tunic. Despite the plunging neckline, the cream-colored material flowed to her knees and left much more to the imagination than those expanses of gauzy silk she’d left behind. And now, she was glad for a little bit of extra fabric. Tossing the towel to the side as she entered the bedroom, Faye came to a slow stop. The room seemed so small, as if they were both larger than life and that massiveness sucked all the oxygen out of the space. Wayland had stripped off his weapons and was lingering by the side of the bed nearest the door. Killian stood off to the other side of the room, stripping his outerwear with his back turned to the both of them. And as they turned to look at her, a million memories came rising to the surface - Wayland sprawled out, half-dressed in her bed; Killian shirtless in his tent while the two of them scrubbed at his leathers; both of them just that morning, tearing their way through the jungle. And Faye was pretty certain that it would have been easier if the two of them had been standing before her naked. At least then there wouldn’t have been time for talking, or thinking, or suffocating beneath the tension still heavy in the room. 

Clearing her throat, Faye moved towards the bed. “I don’t think you’ve been totally honest with Killian,” chided the blonde lightly as she nudged Wayland on her way past him. She crawled across the covers to make her home in the center of that oversized bed. Patting pillows, making herself comfortable, feigning composure. “I may not punch you, but I definitely don’t stick to my side of the bed.” As if to emphasize her point, Faye stretched out happily amongst the mountain of blankets and then curled up like a cat. Turning towards the place where the Shadowsinger stood, she met Killian’s gaze. Are you a snuggler, Killy? she asked him silently, beaming at the look on his face. And then aloud, she said, “Come. I don’t bite.” One hand patted the bed invitingly, the other shot out to swat at Wayland’s approaching form, already anticipating his smartassed response. If there was one thing she loved about him, it was his ability to retain his sense of humor even in the tensest of moments. The golden-haired warrior lowered himself into the bed beside her, sprawling out with an ease that she envied. Reaching out, Faye patted one of his biceps affectionately and then draped the covers across her mate’s lower body. Helpful - and kept busy. Her two favorite things to be. 

The light in the room dimmed, just the bedside lanterns left burning now. Moonlight poured in from the slatted windows, casting an ethereal white glow across the room. As Killian made his way into the bed, Faye watched him slowly lower himself onto the plush bedspread. The tension between them had eased over dinner, and blossomed anew in the darkened bedroom. She supposed that of all of them, perhaps this was going to be the most difficult for him. It wasn’t as if sleeping together was something new for her and Wayland. Then again, it wasn’t new for Killian and Wayland either, was it? It was them, they were the weak link in this situation. So she’d be helpful. "It goes like this, Killian." Sitting up on her knees, Faye pressed one small hand to his shoulder and pressed him down flat on his back. Half-hovering over top of the man, she grinned and gave him a thumbs up before flopping backwards, ever graceful, to nestle into her own space. Shimmying around, making herself comfortable, she felt somehow at ease and yet hyper aware of everything to the point where it was damn near maddening. She could feel them both, on either side of her, close enough to touch and yet she didn’t dare stray from the center of the bed. There was a long, long, pause where she wondered whether or not the two of them were trying to sleep. Then she spoke again. "The three of you - and your wings - fit into this bed?" wondered Faye, looking around. It was a snug fit, even with wings tucked in. “I bet you spooned, didn’t you?” It was the only logical solution - the only way she could see this working for the oversized bat boys. There was a murmur for her to go to sleep, and the blonde nestled back into the covers with a soft huff. 

“Goodnight, Wayland.” Faye turned over to press a kiss to the bridge of her mate’s nose before rolling back, re-establishing the barricade she’d become. “Goodnight Killian.” After a moment of hesitation, her hand found his beneath the covers. Fingertips curling around his, she gave him a soft, reassuring squeeze that seemed to say I care, and we’ll figure this out together.

Another huff of frustration flew out of Phaedra. The fifth one that day to be exact. It was still progress though. It was five less than he had heard from her yesterday, so there was that. 

Twigs and brush snapped and crunched beneath their boots as they pushed through the thick brush that had overgrown the pathways they traveled. He and Wayland had their swords in hand, cutting their way through where it became otherwise impossible to walk through. Phaedra was close by, moving with her arms outstretched in front of her as they tried to get through with sheer will, a grimace plastered on her face as she did. The Shadowsinger glanced in her direction when the sound of a branch whomping her echoed between them. Make that six huffs of frustration. 

A dimple formed on Killian’s right cheek at the threat leaving her lips and he gave another hard sweep of his sword through the foliage. 

“You wound me, Wildflower,” Wayland said with a hand placed over his heart protectively. The Commander then shot a grin toward Killian. The act made a wave of relief crawl up his spine to see his relationship with his brother was becoming slowly mended after weeks of built-up tension. He had almost expected the opposite to happen after their conversation with Nevara back at the townhouse. It wasn’t like the topic was something one would deem comfortable. It ended with Nevara explaining that in the end, Phaedra was now bonded to both of them and not in the way expected. Her further research highlighted that the Carranam bond was not much different from the mating bond and that by the laws of magic, they were both equally a part of her soul, etched for her and only her. It explained the things he had been feeling, and that part was much-needed clarity, but it left them all to face that Phaedra didn’t have to choose. She could have them both. 

The idea hadn’t left his mind since it was brought up. Have them both. It was hard for him to face the idea that he might just want Phaedra the same way that Wayland did. Entirely. Not just something that was once platonic, but something much more raw— something more demanding. He’d felt the desire to want to be near to her plenty of times since their bond was created, but as the days went on, and with this new knowledge. . . Killian watched Phaedra, as each step she took strained soft muscles against tight leather that hugged her hips, thighs, and calves. Her waist was bound by leather as well, hugging the swells of her breasts in a way that made keeping his eyes on her face rather difficult. His jaw clenched at the thought and he tore his gaze away abruptly, forcing himself to concentrate solely on cutting through the vines in front of him. He couldn’t let himself think that way. Couldn’t let himself believe she’d truly want both of them. Part of him wondered if such a thing would work. How that territorial part of both him and Wayland would be able to rest in such a predicament?

Phaedra’s outburst managed to steal Killian from his thoughts and the three of them finally managed to shove through the thick of it all, stepping out into a large clearing atop a hill that rolled downward toward a small village. Monfall. It was the only village between them and the old forgotten Temple of Carsadona. Faye had begun taking long strides toward civilization and Killian grunted, trying to hold back a laugh that threatened to bubble up. Reaching out a hand, he curled his fingers into her leathers and tugged her to a halt before she got too ahead of herself. When she turned to look at him with furrowed brows, he nodded his chin in the other direction toward the temple sitting in the distance. Her face fell instantly and though her words should have wounded him, it only managed to earn a smirk from him as she turned and trudged down and around the outskirts of the village instead.

“I think you broke her heart,” Wayland commented, falling into step with him as they trailed after her.

“Imagine if she knew about the infamous baby goats of Monfall,” Killian murmured and Wayland snorted loudly earning a scowl from her.

***

Nightfall reached them midway through the next forest and the large moon blanketed them in a luminous blue glow. They’d managed to reach the beaten pathway leading to an old hunting shack the three brothers used to visit regularly. It was small in size and had one bathing room, one bedroom, and a small kitchen with a fireplace. 

“There it is,” Wayland announced, pointing up the path. In its lack of glory stood the loghouse. It was just as he remembered it and memories of the three of them drowning themselves in mead and singing off-key around a campfire resurfaced.

Killian shoved open the door, causing dust to fly around the room as he squinted through the darkness to see what sort of condition they’d left the place in. To his surprise, the house was cleaned up and aside from some dust, it was rather welcoming. There wasn’t much doubt that Adrastus had the place managed by magic, similarly to the House of Wind.

“I’ll start gathering firewood,” Wayland offered after shrugging off his pack onto one of the seats. Killian gave him a nod and headed for one of the kitchen drawers to collect a book of matches. He set his things down on the small kitchen table and made his rounds about the shack, lighting up candles and lanterns. He stole a look toward Faye who had peeked about herself, and then she was shoving open the bedroom door, staring into it like she’d seen a ghost. He knew why she looked that way and blew out the match in his hand.

“You and Wayland will take the bed,” Killian explained, moving to rummage through the food in his pack.

“And where do you intend on sleeping? I’m not even sure that these chairs are fully useable for sitting let alone a good night's sleep.” Wayland asked as he walked inside a moment later, arms full of lumber. “You, me, and Adrastus used to have to share that bed if you don’t remember. I don’t see the problem with us three. Unlike Adrastus, she won’t try to punch us in her sleep.”

Killian stiffened, his searching hands pausing in the depths of his pack. “I don’t find sleep easily, I think it would be best if—”

The thud of wood hitting the floorboards made Killian turn towards the Commander who stared at him with a stern expression. “Look, I know things have been weird between the three of us lately, but we all heard Nevara. Whether we like it or not, these bonds are set in stone, and there isn’t a whole lot that we can do about it. I rather not spend the next few centuries tiptoeing around each other if I can avoid it.” Wayland shifted his gaze from Killian to Faye. “It’s one night. What are your two cents on the matter?” He reached out, grazing his fingers against her knuckles and Killian’s jaw ticked. 

“You also heard what Nevara said about the Carranam bond.” Killian forced through clenched teeth.

Wayland remained quiet for a while as if trying to swallow that large pill once again. “I know that you care for Phaedra. Just as I do.” There was something in his tone that implied he still wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea, but there was defeat in there too. As if he’d come to accept that fact.

Killian’s golden hues shifted to meet Faye’s blue ones. Just as he did? A warmth spread through his chest when she returned his stare and his shadows seemed to hum in response. That warmth seemed to always caress the coldest and darkest parts of him. Parts that had convinced him plenty of times that he did not feel the same way that his family did. His heart was far more broken and detached, and that was what made him such a good Shadowsinger at the end of the day.

Wayland was staring at Phaedra now, his brows lowered slightly. “And I know that she cares for you.” He paused. “I just don’t know if either of you has accepted that yet.”

His throat had never felt more dry than it did right now because he was right. Ever since the bond was created, not only his shadows tried to lure him to her side, but unconsciously, he did the same to himself. He couldn’t help but be there when he felt her near or in distress. At first, he thought it was just part of their powers wanting to work in tandem, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t emotional too. He wanted to protect her, serve her, and keep her satisfied. The evidence was in the way her touch made his soul scream in gratification, it was in the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her.

“I accept it.” Killian’s voice felt far away suddenly and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears.

Wayland nodded firmly and bowed his head to look over his mate. “I have, and will always accept it.”

But did she?

There was nothing but cold, glittering flames - a world full of that icy darkness that stole away her very breath and left the world around her struggling to endure. Faye’s glassy eyes flickered between the people in the room, those faces she loved, and her heart plummeted. Stop, please stop, she willed the magic inside of her to obey and it laughed in response, those shadow flames burning brighter. The magic had surged in an act of protectiveness, and now it flowed through her veins freely with no intention of being reigned in. Perhaps it enjoyed being unleashed, left to ebb and flow as it pleased. Maybe it still sought to fill the gaps in her chest, that hollowness she knew no amount of power was going to stitch back together. 

Golden eyes burned into hers. Killian. Trembling hands reached out towards the Shadowsinger, cupping either side of his face as the man barred her in with a strong forearm braced on either side of her head. Something deep inside of her clicked, his mere presence enveloping her like a cocoon of safety. That fear ebbed for just a moment, some part of her registering that as long as Killian was beside her, everything would be fine. His voice whispered through her mind, beckoning to follow, and Faye didn’t hesitate. Eyes slipping shut, she trailed behind him to that other place, the murky realm that she usually found herself fighting so hard to escape. Panic flared up once more for so many reasons: sheer terror at being in this place again, the memory of the relentless power of the cauldron as it sent wave after wave of deadly magic towards them, knowledge of the hell she’d left raging around her friends and mate in the real world. 

And when she entered this place, she found herself alone. Power rippled out of her even here, just the tiniest bit, and she could feel it searching for him. Summoning. And then Faye could feel him, and she spun in his direction. The relaxation was visible in the slight droop of her shoulders, the easing of her spine, the softness in her eyes when she looked towards him. And when Killian reached out for her, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as she laced her fingers with his and squeezed them gently - as if she needed that touch, needed to feel his skin against hers. He was warm and steady and hers. 

You need to ground yourself, he told her. Faye was about to open her mouth to tell him that she didn’t have the faintest clue on how to do that, but then he was tugging her down, down until they were both on their knees facing one another. He was showing her. Knowing what she needed from him without her having to speak a word. And so all she could say to him was, “Okay.” As much as said in that one little word as was left unsaid. Okay, I trust you. Okay, I’m ready. Okay, I relinquish control. In their everyday life, when they spoke and when they sparred and when they trained, Faye fought tooth and nail to prove herself to him. Those words from that very first training session, his implication that she wasn’t strong enough, had always lingered in the back of her mind. She would do whatever it took to prove him wrong and change his mind. But here, this was his domain and he was completely in control. 

Water rushed over the girl as she knelt beside him and then their entwined hands were submerged beneath it. Faye was surprised to find that for such a dark place, the water here didn’t reflect its surroundings. Something about the fact did ground her - everything here was just so different, so otherworldly, so beyond them. Eyes blue once more, she blinked at Killian when he began to explain about their combined power and its extent. When he spoke, she listened. But it was still hard to understand what he was saying, to figure out what exactly he meant. How could she not be afraid when their power was so much? When it was so unpredictable when she was the one wielding? And when Killian leaned forward, putting his head in the water as well….yeah she was a little afraid. But then she relaxed and leaned forward, giving into his pull, falling through this other world with him. 

Everything stopped. Just like that, they were back in the townhome in Sakaris and all of those flames had disappeared. Faye wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but she could feel that magic buried deep down once more. Under lock and key. Still nose to nose, Faye blinked up at Killian as they shared a mildly surprised look. His voice was soft against her ears, not in disbelief. Maybe it was a hint of pride she heard in that hushed tone. “We did it,” she corrected gently. All of it had been Killian. Even if she had somehow grounded herself, he was the one to show her the way. As with every victory she enjoyed recently, it was as much his as it was hers. And then, the words for his ears only, flitting through his mind like a gentle caress, Thanks, Killy. The words were intimate somehow, as much as they were genuine, and she had to drop her gaze. 

When Killian had stepped away and she finally came face-to-face with the aftermath of her magical relapse, Faye cringed. Guilt flooded her at the sight of those faces, the people she called family, looking so unnerved and confused. She couldn’t blame them - she was feeling the exact same way. Her gaze found and lingered on Wayland, still kneeling several feet away, who looked at her with something akin to sadness for a moment. Green eyes watched her, his shoulders slumping. The words he murmured all but tore Faye apart, that acknowledgement that this bond between herself and Killian was something real. But I still love you, she wanted to tell him. You’re still my mate. But those weren’t the kind of words she spoke aloud - they were too weighted. Too much promise in them. All these months she’d been avoiding saying exactly how she felt about the golden-haired warrior and this was exactly why - things changed, people changed, and in the end even the fates themselves couldn’t do anything about it. And just as she’d always known she would, here Faye was proving that she didn’t deserve Wayland at all, nor the bond that had been forged for them by the Mother herself; a bond that she’d so graciously accepted right before turning around and forging another.   

Killian walked towards Wayland and Faye tensed once more. That power threw itself against the iron bars she’d crafted around it, but somehow the woman was able to keep it from spilling over and engulfing them all once more. To her surprise, the Shadowsinger offered Wayland a hand. And to her greater surprise, Wayland took it. Killian hauled the man to his feet, and then the two of them were turning to face her. The weight of their combined gazes, sharp green eyes and brilliant gold, made her insides quiver. There was something about the way they looked at her that left Faye feeling perfectly at ease and yet entirely unsettled. Something expectant that she didn’t understand. They looked at her as if they’d finally come to some inevitable realization, and despite the fact that she was thoroughly bonded to the both of them, Faye found herself feeling lost. The odd man out for the first time. But as long as they were standing side by side, she’d take it. Some tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying lifted at that gaze, like a weight from her shoulders. And for the first time since this whole thing had begun, she could feel both of those bonds flickering to life inside of her. Not intertwined, but…in harmony. 

Faye tore her gaze from theirs. Looking around the room, she said quietly, “I’m sorry.” But that was as deep as she allowed it to go - fearing her own magic, wallowing in what could have been, that wasn’t going to help her any. Her two-toned eyes flickered towards Nevara now, who stood where she’d been standing before, although looking a little weary. “Have you learned more of this bond?” she asked hopefully. At the woman’s tight nod, a soft sound of relief pushed past Faye’s lips. She nodded herself, and then perched herself on the edge of the nearest chair. “Tell us.”

. . . . .

They’d been trekking through the forest for two days. Two days. Gone were the days of beautiful, flowy gowns and unbound hair and pastries with her tea. No, she’d been reduced to tight fighting leathers with matching bulky boots, elaborately braided hair, and a knapsack full of dried fruit and bread. Nevara insisted that it was time to begin training her power, but in order to do that they needed to be far away from everything - Sakaris, and its people. At one point Faye had asked why they didn’t just bother flying, and though the men insisted that where they were going couldn’t be reached as easily by flight, she had a feeling that this was Killian’s sick and twisted way of making her exercise. 

“As soon as I can control my magic,” Faye began the vague threat, turning to glower at the Shadowsinger. The moment cost her, and a large branch whipped across the side of her face, slicing open the fair skin. Blinking, the blonde gritted her teeth. Wayland stepped forward, holding the branch out of the way for her, and Faye glared at him. “You’re both toast.” She vowed, wiping the back of her hand across her bloodied cheek as the wound knitted itself back together. The look her mate sent her was wounded, but she could see the smile playing on the edges of his lips no matter how he tried to contain it. No defense he could make was going to sway her from the death threat. “You’re an accomplice.” Was all Faye had to say, charging ahead of the both of them, weaving her way through the overgrown forest with a fair bit of trouble though she wouldn’t admit it for the world. 

The tension between the three had eased considerably since the day she’d almost sucked the air out of everyone’s lungs. Maybe it was the lingering brain damage. Or maybe it was the fact that Nevara had indeed learned more about the bond, and had shared with them that it was possible for both mating bonds and carranam bonds to co-exist. The carranam bond itself was rare, the likelihood of finding that compatibility nearly impossible, but when established it was likened to a mating bond. Just as strong, just as unwavering, just as real. Hearing those words from someone else seemed to have had more of an impact on Wayland, as if he could accept cold hard facts more than his mate’s word about her growing attachment to another. It wasn’t unusual for those who were carranam to also be mates, the second bond forming from their heightened compatibility - but it was rare for carranam to be mated to anyone else. Rare, but not impossible. How Faye had gained not one, but two of the rarest bonds in this realm was beyond even her comprehension. 

Even now, she dwelled on the outcomes Nevara had been able to piece together from her study of the carranam bond’s history. One option was that Faye could give up Wayland, renounce their mating bond, and lose a piece of herself. She’d spend the rest of her life with the ghost of the man embedded in her being, and he would likely be driven to madness by his own grief. Another option was she could give up Killian, though they weren’t sure that bond could even be severed. Which meant she’d spent the entirety of immortality still linked to the man though he’d  be just out of reach. Still able to feel echoes of him and his power, but unable to actually be with him in the way that her very soul craved. No matter how she tried to approach it, her relationship with one of them would be severed and their relationships to one another would be irreparable. Unless….Faye’s cheeks heated at the thought she hadn’t allowed to creep back into her mind, the third option that Nevara had so casually thrown at them. Or, she could have them both - by every Fae law and all that their people held sacred, both of these men were Faye’s. Mind, body, and soul, they belonged to her. All she had to do was reach out and take them both, win win. 

Except for the fact that every human sensibility and moral cringed away from that idea. The brazenness of it was absolutely appalling to the deeply mortal part of her that still guided her thoughts and feelings and emotion. It was just wrong - you didn’t get two lovers, two husbands, two soulmates. You were lucky enough just to get one. Faye shouldn’t even have two bonds like this, and yet…and yet here she was. Left with choices. Neither Wayland or Killian had said anything, neither had pressured her to choose or even suggested she had to. But now…

A glance over Faye’s shoulder made her stomach drop. The two men hacking their way through the forest, swords out, grunting with the effort of steel slicing through thickened vines. Her eyes drifted first to Wayland, sweat shining on his brow as he bared his teeth and tore through the forest with a vengeance. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched him, admiring the wild, rough edges that she’d grown to love. And then her eyes flickered further back, towards Killian, and Faye’s breath caught. Muscles strained against the tight black shirt he wore, bulging with each swing of the sword. The look on his face was of utter determination, tight but restrained. There was something enticing about that composure, something wicked inside of her wanting to see what it would take to make it break. 

The thought sent her surging forward once again as she tried to banish it, and Faye stumbled. Cursing under her breath as she dropped to her knees amongst the thicket, the blonde landed in a slight crouch. Ahead of her was a wall of foliage, and beneath it, revealed only by her current unlucky vantage point, was a small clearing. Rightening herself, those everchanging thoughts about the Shadowsinger pushed from her mind, Faye forced herself forward and slipped through the foliage. Cheering happily as she finally broke through the other side of the forest and set eyes on the little village below, she waited for the other two to catch up. “We did it! A hot meal! A cozy bed!” and she started towards the little hill leading into town only to be grabbed by the back of her leather jacket. Scowling up at Killian, she watched as he gestured further on - past the town, and through another forest. A giant mountain, with an old, crumbling temple at its top. 

“I hate you,” was all the blonde said, feeling defeated, but nevertheless she started down the hill with slightly drooping shoulders and fleeting dreams of returning to civilization.

Every muscle in his body had gone taut as Wayland worked to restrain the fury burning him alive. Faye’s question had done nothing to douse the flames, they only grew in response. How she could remain so clueless to the reason behind his feelings had gone beyond him and now, he was so lost to his emotions that he could no longer think straight in her presence.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wayland shrugged off her hardened gaze. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with Killian?” He was speaking through clenched teeth that he was surprised didn’t shatter under the pressure of his jaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Nevara rear her head back at his tone toward Faye, but he was too focused on her and the snarl that tore from her small figure. He’d never heard such a sound emit from his mate before and that evidence was shown on his features as he stared at her, wide-eyed. The onslaught of words that followed the noise was like a killing blow to his heart. He wasn’t sure how all of this had come to turn on him, but the last words to leave her lips hit the hardest. Her true feelings finally bubbled to the surface. All this time, he had tried to protect her from herself, from the nightmares, from the effects of the Cauldron. All this time, she’d resented him for it. He hadn’t been helping her, but enabling her weaknesses. He was too lost in his anger to see it that way though.

“You have given me nothing, Phaedra! For weeks you have been slipping through my God's damned fingers no matter what I say or do. You don’t confide in me, you don’t tell me what you're thinking. I’m sorry, but I can not read your mind. And I do not think that you are broken. I am trying to take care of you, you’re my mate! I will always want to protect you.” His voice was a steady roar. He no longer cared who stood around them. He was blinded to everything but the woman standing before him. Phaedra hadn’t missed a single beat before she was snapping once more, her retort burying itself into his back like a dagger and he could feel the wound it left behind.

And he’s my carranam.

The declaration made the Commander flinch. All the anger that surged through him transformed into confusion and dread, sinking to the center of his gut like a bolder in the sea. Comparing her bond with Killian to their mating bond was the last thing he expected to hear. The two of them stood chest to chest now, both expelling erratic breaths. How sculpting a bond out of magic could compare to the rare chance of stumbling upon your mate — the one person in the world that the stars aligned to — it was unfathomable. But here she stood before him, claiming that was just how it was. The look in her eyes, the determination there was enough to show him that she meant those words with her entire being and he was painfully aware that this had been the first time since she’d left the Cauldron that she was speaking up for herself, escaping the shell she wore so often. He wanted to praise her, but when he reminded himself what triggered her strength, it left him feeling low once again. He hated it. Hated that he felt that way.

The thudding of boots approached just as the knot in his stomach expanded. Killian appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes darting between the two of them cautiously. Just the sight of him threatened to send Wayland over the edge. Of course, he was here. Always jumping in to save the day when it came to Phaedra.

“It may be wise to take a moment to yourselves,” Killian’s voice might as well have been nails on a chalkboard with the result it had on Wayland. He practically vibrated with rage now, the only thing tethering him to his sanity being a thin thread that snapped the moment Killian’s attention turned solely onto Phaedra. As if he was reading her inside and out, he took a step toward her, and Wayland was set into motion.

He lunged forward, his hand moving to intercept Killian, sending him stumbling back toward the stairs. Killian was quick to react, sidestepping the attack and countering with a swift kick to his side. The impact sent Wayland stumbling back, but he quickly regained his footing and charged back at Killian, this time tackling the Shadowsinger to the ground. In the process, he was able to pry free the dagger sheathed at his side, digging the blade deep into his arm, and pinning it to the wood floors beneath them.

Killian let out a roar of pain, his eyes blazing from honey to a burning ember. He ripped his arm up, taking the dagger with it. The Shadowsinger’s shadows tore the dagger free before sending it thrusting into Wayland’s side. Once he was stabbed, Killian had shoved him off, regaining his feet, blood dripping to the floor from his hand.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Killian sneered, but Wayland tugged the dagger free, letting the bloody weapon skitter across the floor into the kitchen somewhere.

"That makes one of us." Meeting Killian head-on, their bodies became a blur of motion as they exchanged blow after blow, each strike landing with deadly precision. More bodies joined them between the kitchen and sitting area and voices could be heard, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. He had succumbed too deeply to his anger.

As the fight intensified, Killian unleashed a series of quick strikes with the use of his shadows, driving Wayland back towards the wall. Just when it seemed like Killian had the upper hand, Wayland let out a primal roar and unleashed a devastating uppercut to his jaw. Blood sputtered from his lips just the same as blood leaked from Wayland’s temple. It was at that moment that a rush of air exploded through the room, sending both Wayland and Killian onto opposite sides of the room. The wind was quickly replaced by a wall of blinding light. It radiated an intense heat, making sweat sheen across his torso and Killian’s brow.

The two Illyrians finally took in their surroundings, coming to find the interior of the townhouse covered in what looked like rays of the sun itself. They couldn’t look upon the light for too long before it burned their eyes and then they were turning to stare at Phaedra who screamed at them to stop. Unlike the heat of flames, this heat was like that of a scorching desert. It shriveled and sucked the life out of all that surrounded it. Faye’s eyes were no longer blue as the sea, but it was as if all the gold at the center had leeched outward, glowing like a beacon. Wayland’s lips parted, his throat gone bone dry as he stared at his mate and all the untapped power that streamed out of her.

Heat prickled across his skin as he forced his feet forward, nearing Phaedra. His dark brown strands of hair whipped back from his face as he approached her glowing figure. He could feel the power flowing through her, the mixture of euphoria and strength was that of a drug, but it was dangerous and he could tell that instead of harnessing the light, it was overpowering her and if she didn’t gain control, she would scorch the place to the ground along with everyone in it.

Reaching out, Killian grabbed hold of her arm gently, hoping to gain her attention. “Faye,” he said over the whipping wind. “You command the light, remember?” He studied her face, but it didn’t seem like his words were getting through to her. His expression hardened and then she was turning, those glowing eyes boring into his own. Then he knew. She’d fallen victim to her power. He felt it, but to see the blankness in her gaze made it far more haunting. 

Suddenly, something shifted inside of him, as if something was being stirred awake that had laid dormant for centuries. His body shuddered against the sliding feeling of something both entering and exiting him. Leveling his gaze with Faye’s, his brows knitted as he tried to understand what was happening. Then a heavy darkness blanketed the room, replacing the blinding flames and heat with an icy alternative. The wall of light now looked as though it was made up of black ice and the sweat that clung to his body was beginning to leave behind goosebumps as it froze against his skin. Exhaling a heavy breath, Killian noticed a frost leaving his lips. The Carranam bond. She was using it. She was using his power with her own. The flames went from sunrays to an inky black that licked up into silver tips. Even the townhouse had begun popping and groaning in protest to the unruly tundra that was forming.

Everyone gathered around had begun sinking to their knees, hands grasping their chests as they struggled to suck in any air. Killian forced himself to stay standing, despite the dizziness entering his mind from the lack of oxygen. Faye’s pleading words had been the only thing that kept him going as he stepped in front of her. He stumbled slightly, his wings curling in on themselves as he slammed a hand on the wall behind her, at either side of her head. He caged her in and stared into her eyes as his chest struggled to expand. 

“Follow me.” His voice entered her mind and he slowly shut his eyes, his head bowing so that their foreheads were pressed to each other. Their cold skin was numb to the touch. Killian found himself standing in a place of pure inky darkness. His feet were submerged in an ankle-deep liquid that rippled with each step he took. He walked forward until he saw a shape in the distance. Phaedra. She seemed to look around frantically and fear rippled off her wildly. Killian approached her and it was so quiet here. No raging winds, no flames or gasping breaths. Just them.

He could remember the first time he’d met his shadows and how uncontrollable they once felt. Remembered the place he’d gone to, similar to this one, but this one belonged to them. To the bond. 

Reaching out, Killian laced his fingers with Faye’s and turned so they were both facing ahead. “You need to ground yourself,” he finally said and then he was tugging her down so they were kneeling in the water. Their reflection was hard to see in the darkness, with very little light filtering through. Taking their intertwined fingers, he slowly shoved them under the water, letting her feel how it had no temperature. Just the feeling of liquid surrounding their skin.

“This is your power at its natural state. Our power. It is vast, and when drawn out, can be drowning. But you can not be afraid.” Killian stared over at her, watching as she tried to comprehend the words he was saying. Then he leaned forward until his face was submerged too and then he was falling through the liquid, tugging Phaedra with him. He felt her body tense and then they were falling.

Their eyes shot open at the same time and everyone in the room seemed to inhale a sharp intake of breath as the wind abruptly stilled, every curtain and loose paper that flew about coming to a floating stop. The flames, as if doused in water, were no more and the chill in the air slowly thawed. Killian stared at Faye, his hands still pressed to the wall on either side of her head. He slowly drew his head back from hers, his hands slipping from the wall. 

“You did it.” he breathed, his voice barely over a whisper.

Stepping back, Killian turned to stare at the others and the room around them. Everyone was watching them in awe and confusion. Adrastus was holding the edge of a loveseat with white knuckles, Onica was on her hands and knees and Nevara was slowly rising with the help of a wall. Wayland remained on his knees, arms hanging loosely at his sides as he watched them in defeat.

“The Carranam bond,” Wayland murmured, nodding to himself as if confirming something silently. Killian swallowed and slowly walked toward him, outstretching a hand. Wayland stared at his scarred hand for a long moment before reaching out and grasping it tight. He tugged his brother to his feet and the two of them slowly turned, their eyes landing on Phaedra.

This light that lives inside of you, you command it. Just as I command my shadows.

Standing before her, he was brilliant. Brilliant and beautiful, basking in the glow of the moonlight and her otherworldly light. His black hair seemed to gleam, and part of her yearned to reach out and touch it. Run her fingers through those inky tresses. Make them glow. 

As the shadows crept towards her, their formation deliberate where hers had been instinctual, Faye embraced them. Watched as they tangled with her light, flowing together naturally. Fluid and in sync, a beautiful balancing act. Somehow their differences didn’t matter. Light didn’t cancel out the darkness, shadow couldn’t overtake the light. They were perfectly in harmony, not too much of either. There was something ethereal about the glittering strands of darkness. Beautiful and terrifying. She reached out and stroked a finger along that tangible tether, watching as it seemed to pepper kisses along her flesh before flowing back into the night. 

Their gazes met, and held. Killian’s words were fierce, his promise sincere. Those last few words resonated deeply within her, reverberating in her chest. Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t have believed it. She’d seen firsthand how those lost pieces could get overlooked and left behind. She still felt those gaping wounds within her own soul, pieces that had been torn away and then filled in with something new and foreign, stitched over as if there’d never been bits of her there at all. Only what was new, what was Made. Pieces she knew were lost to that other world, ones that she had almost given up on finding - but he hadn’t. Bit by bit Killian seemed to coax them back, breathing life into her once more. And so she believed him.

“I know,” Faye said, a soft smile forming on her face in the moonlight. Soft and genuine, a smile she hadn’t felt in so long. “I trust you.” 

xXx

The first day they’d practiced with steel, Killian had gone easy on her. Each stroke of his blade was precise, but restrained - meant to instruct, to show her how the iron-forged blades could slice and ravage in comparison to the wooden swords they’d spent all this time sparring with. Faye had mastered the basics, had perfected her stance and grown accustomed to the weight of the blade in her hands, had learned to attack and parry without misstep. Each day she’d grown stronger, able to bear the weight of her own blade as well as the force of each blow Killian dealt her, fast and sharp and deadly. And just when Faye had almost allowed herself to be trickled into a false sense of security, the real fun began. 

The sharp sound of steel on steel rang through the air, sending chills down her spine. Faye grunted beneath the force of the attack, jaw clenched as she forced every ounce of strength up through her shoulders and triceps. Bit by bit the steel wavered and she thrust, shoving him away. Killian was stronger, honed to a warriors perfection from centuries of training, but Faye was quick. Sure footed and fast, she danced back and forth in the space before him, never hesitating, never allowing herself to be any less fluid than the early-morning dew trickling from the eaves around them. Each attack she parried, sometimes easily and sometimes with the grit of her teeth and force of sheer will. Being bested was nothing new to her - the thought of beating any of the ferocious Illyrians in this city was downright laughable. All she could hope was to learn and to improve, to hone her own strength beneath Killian’s guidance. And over the course of these last few weeks, that’s exactly what she’d done. Faye had watched closely every step of the way, absorbing everything he put out, each footstep and lunge, until she felt she knew Killian’s pattern nearly as well as she knew her own. Fluid and grace, that’s what she was. The perfect counterbalance to his raw strength and straightforwardness. 

Blue eyes lit up as she watched Killian draw back once more, already knowing exactly where his feet would step and his sword would land. Spinning out of the line of attack so quickly the end of her golden braid whipped against her face, Faye hooked her foot around Killian’s and tugged sharply. It was a calculated move, one designed not to drop the man to his knees but to get him to stutter ever so slightly. A slight stumble, corrected so easily but still giving her just a moment of advantage. As his knee buckled ever so slightly Faye continued in that rippling twirl, her back brushing against his own, leather on leather, until they were face to face once more. In that split second he’d wavered, her blade was pressed against his throat. A breathless sound escaped her, surprise lighting her eyes as Killian’s laughter sounded. It rang through her like something golden and light and freeing, that note of pride in his laugh. Not surprise, not disbelief, but pride. A beaming smile broke out across her own face in response, so wide her cheeks ached from the strain that had long since become unfamiliar. A small happy dance ensued, and then Faye was lurching to bridge the gap between herself and Killian, throwing her arms around his neck. Drawn to him in so many ways, for so many reasons, but most of all for the simple fact that he’d made this happen. He’d believed in her, he’d taken the time to train her, he’d pushed her and molded her - this victory was theirs to share. 

Faye knew it was a mistake the moment she landed in his arms. She was beginning to be able to separate the feelings, to recognize them and confine them to the places they belonged. Her own emotions were forefront and stronger than the rest, so complex she could hardly name them most days and so fleeting that they washed away in the fog the rest of the time. The emotions that seemed to mist along her subconscious, dark and swirling and mysterious, those belonged to Killian. Light and ghostlike, but entwined somewhere deep within her soul. Now, now something hot and leaden coiled up inside of her gut, like a snake ready to pounce - not her own emotion. These golden-tinged feelings smoldered deep in her belly, like embers: Wayland’s. Faye turned her head in time to catch the look on his face, to see the warrior stalking off the rooftop. Guilt flared up for a moment, so intense that it left her feeling gutted. And then that feeling, the feeling of shame and sadness in the wake of the pride she’d been feeling moments before, dousing the joy of her first real victory, sparked something else inside of her. An ember of her own. 

The blonde-haired woman detached herself from Killian and spun on her heel, following after Wayland without giving it a second thought. Killian’s warning, just her name uttered in a tone that should have given her pause, echoed after her. Down the steps she went, her movements deliberately slow and intentional. Faye could feel that anger sparking against her own, could feel it melding and mingling with Wayland’s, adding fuel to the fire beginning to blaze deep within the both of them. It had been so long since the two of them had gone toe to toe, so long since she’d been capable of being anything other than that shell of a person that she knew deep down he’d come to loathe. He didn’t have to say it - she could see it in his eyes. Could feel it in the restraint of his touch. Noticed it in the half-hearted smiles and the watchful eye he kept on her whenever her mind began to wander to places he couldn’t begin to comprehend. They’d been drifting for a long time now, lost in a sea of uncertainty, tethered only by two things it seemed: fate and obligation. 

“What was that?” she demanded, hands going to her hips. From her stance alone, Wayland tensed, and Faye knew that she was treading on thin ice. It turned that smoldering inside of her into a full on inferno: equal parts anger and exhilaration. He tried to dismiss it, he always tried to dismiss it, but something about the way he sneered Killian’s name sent something inside of her snapping. A snarl tore free from Faye’s lips, the sound animalistic and fierce. Fae. Had her own anger not been blinding, her own eyes would have been alight with the surprise she saw in Wayland’s. “It has been weeks of this, Wayland. Weeks of the overprotective touches, the sideyeing my every interaction, the territorial bullshit. And not just since we lost Evie, but before. Ever since I stepped out of that Gods-damned cauldron you have been looking at me like I’m something broken and in need of your protection.” Wayland roared, a few choice words echoing in her ears: You’re my mate! That bond between them, the work of fate. Her first tether to this world, to this life, to herself - her first, but not her only. “And he’s my carranam!” Faye shot back, not expecting him to understand the weight of it all. None of them did, none of them could. They could see the interactions she had with Killian, but they couldn’t feel his imprint upon her soul. 

Each shout had brought the two of them closer, until they were nose to nose, teeth bared - not threateningly, of course, but out of frustration. Faye’s hands trembled, palms glowing faintly, frustration and agony coursing through her veins. Something was brewing in the pit of her belly, something warm and dangerous, spreading through her veins like molten gold. She hated this, every instinct in her body screamed at her. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wayland wasn’t her enemy, he was her mate. And she loved him, gods she loved him with every ounce of her broken soul, no matter how lost she might currently feel - but she loved Killian, too. Maybe not the same way, but she did love him. She loved the way he filled those cracks, the way he unknowingly was patching back together something he wasn’t responsible for breaking. Wayland was her protector, but Killian gave her her own strength. He was more than just a friend, or an ally - he was an extension of her self. Faye could never explain that to Wayland. Could never put into words that while he might be woven into the fabric of her very being, in the marrow of her bones and every ounce of her composition, Killian was fused into her soul, her life’s blood, the source of her power and might. Power that she could feel surging, warming her through, licking up her body like wild, untamed flames. 

As if answering an unspoken call, the Shadowsinger appeared. His voice was low and steady and exactly what neither of them wanted to hear. The tension was too much, Faye could feel it, and as soon as Killian took a step in her direction - protective, maybe, unconsciously - Wayland lunged. The sound of bone cracking filled the air and blood splattered as the Illyrian men became a blur of light and dark, leather and tanned flesh. Faster than she could prevent, so fast she could hardly comprehend it. Panic and guilt flooded Faye once again at the sight, brothers tearing at one another over nothing, over her. A lifetime of brotherhood, of love and camaraderie and something more, shredded in an instant. And then that power exploded out of Faye in a burst of sunshine, sending her golden hair streaming behind her as gust after gust of wind rattled the room, shoving them apart, her eyes turning the color of liquid gold as that power flared up, wild and unpredictable. A wall of light formed between Wayland and Killian, forcing them apart. It glittered and flickered, hues of gold and orange twining together, cleaving the room in two. Spreading, like wildfire, flickering like flames across the floor and up the wall. “Enough!” She cried out, her voice not coming out as the terrified squeak she’d expected, but something full of unleashed power and command. That golden light had turned hot and heavy, truly flaming, as it began to climb the walls. Fire, yet not. Something raw and molten and unfiltered.  

The wind that whipped around her only fueled those otherworldly flames. And for the first time in so long, Faye didn’t feel weak or scared or lost. As that power surged through her blood, she felt whole. Moments could have passed, or minutes. A strong hand laid on her arm and Killian’s voice was in her ear, low and soothing. But she didn’t want to be soothed. Something inside of her had clawed its way to the surface and now it purred in contentment, watching those flames spread - flames that didn’t burn, but suffocated. Flames that had begun as a desperate act of protection, but quickly spiraled into something else. Something fueled by the unrest in her soul, the magic filling in the gaps as it saw fit, responding to a call she hadn’t realized she’d made. It was beyond her control now, Faye’s consciousness taking a backseat as magic surged to the forefront. Her gaze flickered towards Killian, and some part of her recognized him not as a means to an end, but as her twin flame. And then aometging inside of her began to reach for him, to pull, to draw on their carranam bond until that wall of light turned to shimmering onyx, obsidian even. The flames that licked across the room went icy and black, not stifling and suffocating, but draining. They stole every bit of warmth and oxygen in the room, the temperature plummeting, everyone’s breath turning shallow. Everything went cold and yet so bright, the flames burning beautifully. Faye was lost in them, in their beauty and destruction and protection - not aiding the men she’d originally set out to defend, but a cocoon of darkness that engulfed the entire room on her behalf. And part of her, a part she couldn’t control, was content to watch the world freeze over. Faye was untouchable, locked away beneath that onslaught of power pounding through her body. Protected by both light and shadow, which melded into something deadly as those forces within her burst free and flowed unrestrained. She was Queen of both, and yet master of neither. 

A sound reached her ears. Her name, in a ravaged voice that spread over her like honey, thick and sweet. Wayland. Her eyes met his, full of awe and maybe fear. Through that glittering black veil she watched as he still leaned towards her, towards that icy light, rather than away. Still yearning to reach her, to protect, when he was the one who needed protection in that moment. Not recoiling from her power, from her, but reaching towards it for the first time since she’d been Made. For a moment the magic inside of her guttered at the sight. The wall of dark flame rippled, like someone had blown across it. And Faye blinked, emerging from that dormant place her magic had gently urged her towards. She blinked again, fingertips twitching as she re-entered her body. A wave of ice dashed over her, panic flooding her body as she looked around the flickering darkness and saw it not as something beautiful and inviting, but something uncontrollable. As her emotion surged so did the flames, spreading from floor to ceiling. A shaky hand reached towards Wayland, but the male dropped to his knees. The winds were still raging, sucking the very air out of the room, out of their lungs. “Help me,” Faye begged Killian, her voice a strangled gasp. “Make it stop.” 

Despite her steps being light, he felt her approach long before she announced her presence to him. It was the first time they’d been truly alone together since Adrastus caught them inside his tent at the war camp. They had been tiptoeing around each other lately, even during training sessions. He knew that Adrastus had been right. They needed to distance each other, but the bond had far different plans for them. It seemed the more they tried to avoid each other, the stronger the pull became on the invisible tether that connected them. As if it was succumbing to withdrawals. 

The inky shadows that enveloped his body remained thick, but her voice penetrated them easily. His golden gaze settled on his trembling hands as he listened to her. She knew his pain like it was her own — and part of it truly was, he knew. Still, he remained silent, not entirely trusting his voice. A rough swallow was all he could muster, his thoughts running rampant. The darkness that surrounded him felt so cold, but then he felt something else. Lifting his stare to the center of the cloud, he noticed something sparkling just beyond the shield. It glittered there, and then the light slowly grew, its rays penetrating the shadows — no, they weren’t destroying the fog, they were caressing it. A small ribbon of light slowly wove into the depths of his shadows, the thin stream making its way toward him with an innocent purpose.

Something swelled inside of his chest, sending waves of what he could only describe as comfort. Slowly, he raised one of his hands, extending his fingers toward the ribbon. The light met him halfway, and his shadows offered it a wide berth, opening a path so that it could find him with ease. The light slithered slowly along his pointer finger and the touch made his heart race, but not with anxiety — this was something else, something raw. Killian watched in wonderment as it began coiling itself around his outstretched hand. It felt like the warmth that radiated from a bonfire amid a chilly night. In turn, his shadows lessened until his body was once again visible. 

He could see her now. Faye perched on the same large overhanging branch as him, one knee drawn up, but he was focused on the light that wrapped around his hand at one end, his eyes followed the string until they landed on her hand where the opposite end wrapped itself around her hand. A tether. 

With careful movements, Killian’s fingers closed themselves around the ribbon attached to his hand, causing the light to brighten briefly. “It is anything but delicate,” he finally said as he pinched the string between his free fingers, sliding them along the light. It shuddered under his touch, but it felt firm. Giving it a small pluck, it let out a soft ring, but despite how quiet it was, he could feel the true power within. If a thin string such as this could hold such power, he could only imagine the untapped power that lay within Faye. He didn’t have to imagine it at all. He’d seen it firsthand when they were in the in-between together. 

Killian then looked up at Faye, finding her expression worrisome. A stress line appeared between her pinched brows and without warning, he was searching her thoughts. He knew it was an intrusion of privacy, but he also didn’t mean to do it at all. He was curious and wanted to know what it was she was thinking, and then he was there, inside the confines of her mind. Blinking at her, his lips formed a thin line as they pursed. Her thoughts were as he predicted them to be by the look on her face. They were harsh and degrading. Phaedra’s gaze snapped to his own, as if catching him in the act of something and a smile that didn’t meet her eyes graced her lips. The Shadowsinger didn’t try to hide his actions and he didn’t retreat. He was beckoned to stay as she offered him a deeper dive into her subconscious by sending a vision through their bond. His vision faded from what was right in front of him to someplace else. To a memory of sorts.

The scene that played out before him was wicked. It sent unease filtering through him like a storm. Images of his High Lady in the Spring Court, of blood raining from the skies, of her usually composed personality becoming tainted as she laughed, her body soaked in crimson. Killian stiffened and as soon as the dream was over, he tore out of her mind, his heart beating rapidly. She had dreams like these before — no, they weren’t dreams. She’d been awake the last time. Standing on the doorstep of the Town House. He recalled the last vision, of the roses and Evie. It gave him a strong impression that her visions were not entirely false, especially with the predicament they were currently in. It made him feel ill, or maybe it was Faye who felt that way.

With a hard swallow, Killian shoved himself up and off the branch. He looked down at the pond separating him from Faye for a beat of silence and then he was moving toward her. The Shadowsinger’s boots became submerged into the muck beneath the water as he trudged through it, letting the cool water soak his pants up just past his knees. He came to a stop before her and reached out the hand wrapped in light. His forefinger curled beneath her chin and he lifted her gaze to meet his own. Fear rippled off her and he could feel it pulsing through their contact, but he fought against it.

“You are not delicate either, Phaedra,” Killian swore. “The Cauldron has taken from you, yes, but it still fears you. You heard it yourself. This light that lives inside of you, you command it. Just as I command my shadows.” He paused at the thought. At how uncontrollable the shadows had been since they created their bond; his brows furrowed in frustration. No. They still belonged to him. Just as the light belonged to her. With some force, Killian called upon his shadows, and to his surprise, they heeded his call. The shadows slowly snaked their way around the same hand that was tied by light and then he made them create their own tether of darkness. The string they made slithered around the band of light until it reached her hand and wrapped around hers too. The light and dark danced around each other, as if in sync somehow.

“You are one of the bravest people that I know. And being brave does not mean that you do not fear, do you understand?” He held her gaze. “Being brave is fighting despite the fear you feel. And I have seen you do it time and time again. We will get her back, and if any pieces of her are missing, we will get those back too. I promise.” And for the first time in a while. He believed his words.

Each night felt a little more empty. Wayland lay on his side, facing toward Faye. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and it seemed that even in sleep, her features were strained. Lines were visible between her brows, and occasionally she would shake her head as if trying to rid of something he could not see. 

Reaching out tentatively, he softly caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. Despite the woman in his bed being his mate, he had never felt so detached from another. He could like read her mind, but he could sense the surface of her emotions. She’d been pulling away from him lately. Even before the Carranam bond, she hadn’t been herself. At least not with him. When he looked at her, there was less of her that looked back at him, as if part of her was frozen somehow. He knew that the Cauldron had taken its toll on her, and he’d been patient, but then came the bond between her and Killian. The exchanging of looks they swapped, the silent conversations they seemed to have, the understanding that radiated off of them. It was all becoming too much. When he was made aware that Killian could not only feel her emotions but dive into her mind and speak to her as if they were daemati? He’d never felt more inadequate.

Tonight had been no exception. He’d seen Killian exit the house to the gardens, and shortly after, Phaedra had followed without a word. Wayland made himself busy in conversation with Nevara and Onica, but his attention had never left his mate as she slipped through the sliding glass door. Part of him wanted to follow, but another part begged him not to. As if to save him from further heartache.

It had been a while before they returned. Faye came to his room and crawled into bed beside him quietly. Though she rested her head on his chest while he stroked her hair, the silence between them had never been so loud. 

“Where have you gone, my Wildflower?” He whispered into the night, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

* * *

On the roof of the townhouse, birds chirped all around. Wayland busied himself with his training as Faye and Killian worked on swordwork. Killian had just graduated her to using a real sword instead of the wooden ones and it caused Wayland to constantly check on her with each ring of metal on metal. Of course, he knew Killian wouldn’t harm her, it didn’t make him any less uneasy to see her using a weapon that could create bloodshed. Despite part of him being worried, another part was proud of how far she’d come with the Shadowsinger's help. A twinge of self-pity also rose to the surface that it hadn’t been him helping her grow.

A bout of laughter rang through the air. He raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair, pausing his workout to find it had come from Killian who was caught by the tip of Faye’s sword. He’d lowered his weapon and beamed a genuine smile at her. She’d beat him.

“You executed each move flawlessly, Phaedra.” He praised and the bright smile she returned put the sun to shame. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in weeks. When she danced on her tiptoes excitedly, his lips twitched into a faint smile, but the smile disappeared as she flung her arms around him in a tight hug.

Jealousy was a snake rearing its ugly head inside of Wayland. Killian glanced in his direction briefly and that was all it took to shove him over the edge. Pursing his lips, the Commander’s shoulders slumped and he stalked off toward the stairs descending from the rooftop.

He needed to put distance between himself and them before he did something he’d regret. His boots thundered down the steps and Nevara who was standing at the Island counter at the center of the kitchen perked up from her reading. She raised an eyebrow at his storming figure as he crossed the room. 

“Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to fix your relationship. Talk to her.” Nevara sighed and Wayland turned on her sharply.

“And what do you know about relationships?” He shot back and she raised her chin defiantly, but her eyes shifted behind him, landing on something.

No. Someone.

Turning around, Wayland came face to face with Phaedra and anger still rolled off him, uncontrolled and messy.

Home - was that what this place had become? It felt so wrong to be returning to Sakaris without Evie, when she was the one who had brought them here in the first place. She was the one who had turned this ethereal little city into someplace warm and comfortable and familiar. It had taken Faye a long, long time to realize what she was learning now, and too late - home was with Evie. It always had been. It had never been that little village where she’d spent most her life, it hadn’t been the rundown shack where they’d struggled for so many years nor had it been when they were living in the lap of luxury at Father’s manor, or even Sakaris. 

It was her. 

It wasn’t fair. Faye had so much bitterness and resentment inside of her, and she didn’t know who it was aimed at. Everyone. No one. Herself. Those dark feelings were mostly muted now, thanks to the wishy-washy worlds she continued to drift between, but when they hit her they hit her hard.  A bit of the woman she’d been before Evie had returned to them still flowed through her veins, growing stronger and stronger every day.  She felt constantly on the brink of madness, torn between her own airheadedness and the darkness that threatened to consume her soul. There was no balance, or if there was, Faye couldn’t find it on her own. Some days she felt completely herself, and other days she was entirely lost to the world with no tether back to the living - especially since she and Killian had been all but ordered to distance themselves from one another. 

Faye had been doing what was expected of her, she supposed. Since they’d returned to Sakaris she’d made herself scarce, keeping to her rooms or the gardens. No one’s expectations of her had been very high since she’d been Made. No one except….and then her mind was flashing to him again. Killian. He was the only one who didn’t look at her like she was some fragile, half-crazed loon. He didn’t treat her like she was going to break the moment he applied the slightest bit of pressure. He pushed her, he tested her boundaries and limitations. Every day they’d worked together, she had felt herself growing stronger. Felt her mind growing sharper. Wayland had helped, he’d been eager to spar with Faye and keep her spirits up. She was blessed to have been mated to a man who was so patient and protective and devoted - but she’d chosen another man, one who kept her grounded in mind, body, and soul. And if they couldn’t spend time alone together without raising suspicion, how were they going to work on harnessing her magic? How could they strengthen the bond enough to be able to destroy the Spring Court’s wards? 

So many questions, concerns, worries - and no one to go to with them anymore.

xxx

Of course he’d gone to the gardens.

She couldn’t blame him. There was something peaceful about secluding yourself amongst the flowers, in feeling the soil beneath your fingertips with the smell of Spring fresh in the air. New life was teeming throughout the garden and it was a hopeful sight, a place for new beginnings. Faye had long since laid claim to this domain, but she wasn’t so selfish that she couldn’t share. Frustration rippled off of the Shadowsinger in inky waves, so thick that she could almost taste it. There was a cloud of darkness clinging to the man, moreso than usual, and it left her hesitant to approach him as he made his way deeper into the gardens, away from the house’s line of sight. Everyone had gathered in the sitting room, his exit was a clear sign that he desired peace and quiet, a little bit of privacy. She should grant him that. 

So, why were her feet drawing her forward? Out of the shadows of the shrubbery and into the moonlight, her footsteps light and quiet as she tiptoed barefoot across the stone pathway. From the moment Adrastus had dismissed her from Killian’s tent, she had done her best to steer clear of the Shadowsinger. All of their interactions had been brief and tense and in the company of one or more inner circle members. Faye was doing her best to obey, to do what she knew was right, to think with logic and ignore that gnawing hunger in the deepest part of her soul that screamed at her to seek him out. Her days had been fuzzy, her interactions with Killian short and her mind more prone to wandering in his absence. Maybe that was it - she could blame it on the delusion. Surely there was no other reason for her to be seeking him out alone, in the middle of the night, when she knew exactly what sort of predicament they’d found themselves in the last time there’d been no buffer to subdue the growing bond between them.

“You’ve come to the wrong place to escape your feelings.” Said Faye, announcing her presence. It wasn’t necessary - he was as aware of her as she was of him, but it still felt courteous to do so. The blonde lowered herself hesitantly onto the limb beside him, keeping a good bit of distance between the two of them just in case. In case of what, she didn’t know, but it still felt necessary. “The garden is peaceful, but she’s everywhere here.” She explained, gesturing with a sweeping arm towards the flora surrounding them. And she was. She was there in the whisper of the wind through the chimes that echoed like her laughter, in the trickle of the fountains, in the damn Evelyn roses that Faye had planted for her during those early weeks when she'd secluded herself away from the world in these very gardens. “It’s worse in the flower gardens, but she’s left her mark everywhere. Can’t even look at a damn pool of water without thinking of her.” 

Faye’s fingertips brushed the water’s surface, sending the once-still pool rippling. As those miniscule waves crested against the scattered water lilies, their contact set the little flowers aglow. Faint, white light emerged from the center of each blossom, making the petals shine and casting a muted glimmer that lit up the woman’s surprised face. Faye withdrew her hand, focused on the soft glow of power pulsating beneath her fingertips. As she stared in wonder, a thin stream of light trickled free from the tips of her hands. It coiled itself into a thin ribbon, and then began to weave a winding path slowly through the air between herself and Killian. The thin beam of raw, unfiltered power shimmered in a way that sent diamonds skittering across the pool’s surface. Faye couldn’t control it, but she could feel it;  full of warmth, full of life. All she could do was watch as it slowly wound its way towards Killian. To Faye’s surprise, the man’s shadows slowly withdrew. Willingly? She couldn’t imagine this little band of light breaking through those menacing shadows. And yet her small sunbeam pushed through, encircling his wrist and coiling around his palm several times over - as if it were holding his hand. As if it were comforting him.

Part of me is beginning to think it may be a mistake.

Phaedra tilted her head to the side. One end of the beam encircled her wrist like a golden band of sunlight, and the other tethered her to Killian. And suddenly she understood exactly what he’d meant. The light obeyed her no more than the shadows did him. It acted independently, like calling to like, her magic drawn to him in the same way she was. Something sang in her blood, a tune that only Killian knew. She was as powerless to whatever bond had formed between the two of them as she was to that invisible tether linking her and Wayland together. Maybe it wasn’t written in the stars, maybe fate hadn’t carved him just for her - but it didn’t matter. She’d chosen this. They were two sides of the same coin, and he was so ingrained upon her very soul that to try and separate them now would be like tearing away a piece of her. The more time they spent together, the more her powers grew and their bond strengthened, the worse it was becoming. Did she like seeing the hurt on Wayland’s face every time she pulled away from him? Did it make her feel good to see the disappointment flare in Adastus’s eyes every time he looked her way? Was she oblivious to the whispers, the side long glances, the judgment? Of course not - but she’d do it all a hundred times over if it meant getting her sister back.

And maybe she was starting to feel like it’d be worth it for herself, too, just to hold onto these forbidden feelings a little bit longer. To cling to and see through the choice she’d made when she’d accepted this bond. 

“I didn’t realize it’d be so delicate,” murmured the girl after the silence had become too much to bear. Faye drew her knees towards her chest, curling into herself, but allowed one bare leg to hang freely. Her toe drew circles in the water below, and she thought. And thought. And thought. She  couldn’t help the feeling of inadequacy, disappointment at just how uncontrolled and unpredictable her power was. It was really the first time it was manifesting in this realm, and the only time she’d ever drawn upon it without Killian’s help. And here it was, nothing of value. Just a few stray beams of light. “Just a string, isn’t it?” She reached with the hand not currently captivated by the ribbon of light, prodding it gently, watching as it seemed to almost flutter through the air between them without severing. An exasperated laugh left her, devoid of humor, and the grin she shot him was bitter. “Sure is pretty, though.” 

As if that mattered. As if being beautiful were more important than being strong and capable. As if something as superficial as being pretty could ever measure up to composure, or confidence, or capability. All her life that’s all she’d ever been: a pretty face. Nothing of substance. Floating through this life without a care in the world, without a say in what became of her. At the mercy of those who sought her beauty and nothing else.  The cauldron should have changed that, it should have made her more, but instead it had taken from her. And it seemed like the harder she fought to gain back the pieces of her that had been taken, the less ground they truly gained. It was only in these moments, she realized, when it was just her and him, that Faye felt truly in her right mind. The fogginess cleared from her eyes, the sedation of that otherworldly realm wore off, and she could be truly and rightfully bitter about how absolutely fucked up it was that the world continued to take away all the bits and pieces of this life that gave her any sort of happiness - or gave them to her at a cost. 

And for reasons she couldn’t name, Wayland’s face flickered through her mind and her gut twisted with something that felt an awful lot like guilt.

Faye raised her eyes to meet Killian’s, and another smile found its way onto her face. Less bitter, but far from whole-hearted. “It’s not nice to go poking around someone’s insides, O’ Dark One.” She could feel it, that slight pressure against the barriers of her mind, whether intentional or unintentional. The ribbon of light seemed to pulsate in response. And for reasons she still didn’t understand, Faye couldn’t bring herself to feel embarrassed or violated. It wasn’t invasive; it was innate. She was laid bare to him, more so than she’d ever been to anyone else. Things overlapped, emotions and thoughts and memories, until it was difficult to decipher what was hers and what was his. She could only imagine that he was having as much trouble separating his own bearings. 

“But while you’re already there….” she trailed off, pulling a memory to the surface. “I’ve been dreaming.” Of places she’d never seen - a vibrant meadow with an endless rolling sea of green that met the skyline at its furthest point. Wildflowers dotted the grass, vibrant and aromatic as they swayed beneath a gentle breeze, honeybees buzzing back and forth between them. Birds were chirping in the distance, and behind them the peals of children's laughter rang in the distance. And standing in the middle of that meadow was Evie, was vibrant as ever, but looking wrong somehow. Adorned in hues of pink and aqua, little embroidered flowers dotting her gown, her hair swept up in a fashion Faye didn’t recognized and laced with wildflowers.  The image was vivid in her mind, centering on Evie in the middle of that field for a long moment, and then it began to morph. The sky opened up and blood began to rain down around her. Hard, hot, pelting her skin. It poured into the grass around her, staining the flowers crimson, coating her skin. Hot and sticky. The birds warbled off into silence, the laughter turned to screams. And Evie tipped her head up to the heavens, letting the blood wash over her, and she began to laugh.

It ended there, and Faye felt her skin pucker with goosebumps. It was the same dream she’d had, night after night, since Evie’s disappearance. It played through her mind more than her own thoughts did most days. “Killian, I….I’m scared.” She admitted, the word getting lodged in her throat and coming out sounding small, childish. She looked away from him, focusing on the water once more, the wet slick of the lilypad beneath her toe as she lazily dragged it round and round in circles. She didn’t know how to tell him what she felt, that she was afraid for so many things but she didn’t know whether it was Evie’s safety or sanity that she feare for the most. Of course she should be afraid for her sister, no one knew what the Spring Court was doing to her behind those wards…but the longer Faye spent in that murky dreamworld, the more she began to wonder if they should be worrying about what Evie was doing to them. 

The oil lamp cast both light and shadow across Killian’s face, hardening his sharp features. He peered through thick lashes at Phaedra. She’d planted herself directly in front of him with a sound of frustration slipping from her. He’d continued to just stare at her, brows lowering slightly as she reached for a rag and one of his boots. His fingers twisted against the leather of his other boot, a piece of him wanting to reach out and stop her, but then he caught sight of a single line creasing between her brows. The determination practically radiated off of her — or maybe it was the bond, but he knew that she wasn’t going anywhere no matter what he did or said, and if he was being honest with himself, he was too tired to argue with her.

Clutching the dirtied rag in his hand, he slowly lowered his gaze back to his boot and began scrubbing once more at the attor’s blood. The silence had never felt more thick than it did now, even with the sound of their work echoing between them. He could almost hear the gears of her mind going to work while they sat there. Like she was a ticking time bomb of questions that was ready to go off. He knew Phaedra was always inside her head, but after their Caranam bond fell into place, he could feel it constantly. The curiosity mixed with frustration or concern. The oddest part of it all was that he could almost taste each emotion at the back of his throat. It could be sweet, ashy, sour, or downright bitter. Right now it seemed to be a mix of spice and copper. Frustration and concern. Then she broke the silence and brought it all to light.

Her statement made him blink down at his boot and his hand nearly came to a stop before picking up where it left off once more. The Shadowsinger continued to scrub at his boot, harder than before as if it was his sole purpose in life to get the leather spotless. He was aware that he hadn’t been himself lately, but to hear her state it the way she did made his stomach knot up. Not only that, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready to confront the fact himself. He had grown so accustomed to understanding his emotions and now that he could not and they were also wrapped up in Phaedra’s, his control was weary. So instead of responding. He scrubbed.

Two small hands suddenly reached out and clasped themselves around his working hand, stopping his work. Killian stiffened against her touch. It felt like a static shock that shot down his spine and he found himself lifting his eyes to meet her own finally. He’d become lost in those eyes, as though he was drowning in a sea and her voice felt like a satin ribbon sliding against the confines of his mind, causing a subtle shiver to expel from him. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles beneath feathering as he tried to find the words — or any words at all, but the things he was feeling, those were the problem. They were suffocating him in a way that he couldn’t fathom. A way that was destructive and not only to him.

The mention of Wayland snapped Killian out of his reverie and his chest rose in a deep inhale. The last thing he wanted was for her to sacrifice any part of her relationship with Wayland, especially not for his benefit. Things had already been a bit tense between himself and the Commander, but this. All of this was not going to fix that.

Dropping his boot to the ground, Killian shook his head, tendrils of dark chocolate hair falling over his brow. A feeling of defeatedness washed over his senses. “This isn’t about our training sessions, nor Wayland attending them, Phaedra.” He released a heavy sigh that hardly relieved the tension in his shoulders. His golden eyes surveyed the tattoo that wrapped around his right arm and then the one that he could see peeking out of Phaedra’s sleeve. A moment of silence passed between them.

“There’s very little that we know of the Carranam bond.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he was speaking to her or himself, but still, he continued. “Part of me is beginning to think it may be a mistake.” As soon as the words left his lips, he could feel a flash of hurt enter him. It belonged to Faye. His eyes found hers and he immediately regretted what he said. She’d only blinked at him and then she was turning away, as if beginning to recoil entirely. Instinctively, Killian reached out. His calloused and scarred hands captured her face, turning her head back toward him. “That’s not what I meant—” Without warning or permission, his shadows sprung free from his skin, shoving him forward and off the edge of his cot. 

The force resulted in Killian kneeling directly in front of Phaedra, close enough that he could feel her body's warmth soaking into him. The shadows slowly snaked up, brushing against Faye’s collarbone, then wrapped around a piece of her hair, as if admiring it.

“This.” His voice came out hoarse. “This is what I’m talking about. Whenever you get near, they stop obeying. I can feel your emotions like they are my own, and every time we touch—” he glanced at his hands still on each of her cheeks, focusing on the steady buzzing that vibrated against the contact of their skin. He shook his head and was ready to drop his hands when a throat being cleared caused him to snap his head in the direction of his tent entrance.

Standing at the opening, staring at the two of them with a stern expression was Adrastus. Killian quickly tore his hands from Phaedra, becoming painfully aware of what the situation must have looked like. It surely didn’t do him any favors that he was shirtless.

“Am I interrupting?” The High Lord queried, though judging by his tone of voice, he didn’t give a shit if he was or not.

“Something tells me that if I told you this isn’t what it looks like, you wouldn’t believe me.” Killian countered.

“You’re right.” Adrastus’ disappointed gaze swung between them and then he pursed his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think returning to your tent would be wise, Phaedra.” he finally said after a beat of silence. It wasn’t necessarily a suggestion, more an order, and Killian slowly rose to his feet, jaw clenched tightly.

Without looking at Faye, Killian entered her thoughts quietly. “I’ll take care of this, you should go.” he insisted through their bond and when she stared at him, he shot her a hard look that took a moment, but finally convinced her to make her way out of the tent. Once she was gone, Adrastus’ fury was exposed entirely.

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you are doing, Killian? Not only are your actions thoroughly idiotic, but she is mated and to Wayland nonetheless.” A vein in his temple protruded and he shook his head in disbelief.

Trying to explain what had transpired between himself and Faye felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack — utterly impossible. How did one even begin? Even though nothing had truly happened between the two of them, it didn’t change the fact that now that they were bonded, something was there and it was undeniable. When he imagined himself being bonded to someone, he had never once anticipated it being like this and to someone who already had a bond created, one that was deeply rooted and cherished. The rush of guilt consumed him. Carranom or not, she was not his to whisper to in the dead of night. He should have sent her back as soon as she entered. But he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to.

“I am as ashamed— if not more—of my actions, but I mean what I said. Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen.” Killian’s chest sank with a heavy breath.

Adrastus looked over him and the doubt in his eyes was clear even when shrouded by the dark. “Tell me more about this Carranam bond.” He finally said, moving to take a seat on one of the wooden stools across the tent.

Killian lowered himself back to the edge of his cot and nodded slowly before explaining to his brother and High Lord what he knew. In hopes that he would come to understand.

* * *

Morning had crested the war camp mountains and to say that there was tension would have been an understatement.

A meeting had been held between the High Lords, but everyone had been included. Nevara and Onica had stayed at the campsite, trying to get in more research for Evelyn’s rescue. Adrastus had leveled both Killian and Faye with a weary look that lingered long enough for Wayland’s brows to knit in confusion.

“The meeting hadn’t gone that terribly, had it?” Wayland remarked as he watched his High Lord stalk off toward the campsite.

Killian glanced toward the Commander and then toward Faye at his side. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Forcing himself to only look at Wayland, he shook his head. “He’s likely gotten little sleep since our High Lady's capture. I wouldn’t read into it.”

Wayland’s hand rested protectively against the small of Faye’s back instinctively, as if the thought of her being captured had crossed his mind. “I’m just glad we can finally get off these Gods Forsaken mountains. The cold has permanently seeped into my wings.” 

A huff of agreement escaped Killian at that. His wings too have become rather stiff against the cold mountain air. It was different to be constantly working in the camp, but to be sitting around planning in the cold was miserable. 

* * *

The inner circle had arrived back in Sakaris, but their home had felt wrong. Without their High Lady, it was eerie and quiet. Wayland, Faye, Onica, and Killian lingered in the sitting room. No one touched the seat that Evie usually occupied. Swirling wine in a glass, Onica sighed.

“I miss her so much.” She whispered.

They all did. It was obvious in the quiet that lingered between them all. He hated it. The quiet. The inability to think of anything other than the fact that he had failed not only his friend but his High fucking Lady. He didn’t protect her. He failed her. They all had.

Without a word, the Shadowsinger headed for the sliding glass door connected to the kitchen and slipped out into the gardens. His shadows trailed after him, responding to the anger and frustration. It felt so blinding now. As if returning home had somehow cemented the feelings that lingered beneath into place. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the pond littered with water lilies. A large tree sat beside it, one of its strong thick branches hanging out over the pond close to the ground. His scarred hands reached up, tangling in his dark hair and he shut his eyes, attempting to control his breathing.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the branch, nearest to the tree trunk. He leaned his back against it, finding a small amount of comfort in its stability. His shadows had thickened before he’d realized it and then a deep, thick cloud surrounded him, his body unseeable through the fog of it. As if they too wanted to hide him from the world.

It felt like everything was off lately, and it was beginning to wear on Faye - or perhaps it was simply the heaviness of others weighing on her. Some days it was difficult to decipher between what emotions were hers, which were Waylands, and which were Killians. It felt like she was a melting pot, everyone's anxieties and tensions melding within her. There was no escape, she was drowning in a sea of emotion that didn’t even belong to her. Or maybe it did; she couldn’t tell anymore. 

She sensed when Killian re-entered the camp, something inside of her bubbling uncomfortably. Blinking up into the near-darkness of the tent she shared with Wayland, the blonde burrowed deeper into the covers and trembled - it had nothing to do with the cold. The warmth from the man laying beside her couldn’t penetrate the darkness that swelled up, cold and unforgiving, washing over Faye until she felt compelled to throw back the covers and climb to her feet. Without really thinking about it she shrugged into her jacket, shivering now against the mountainous chill, shoving her feet into boots and stumbling half blindly out of the tent into the darkness of camp. 

Her feet carried her like they knew the way, driven by that innate sense of union. She could have found her way to his tent with her eyes closed, guided simply by feeling - feelings of peace and fury, darkness and light, pain and euphoria. Like flipping through a catalog, she ciphered through these emotions as she moved, sorting them into little boxes: Killian’s, Mine, Killian’s, Mine. With time everything became easier, but it was easiest still when it was just the two of them. When it was possible to focus on just one bond, to meet those emotions as they came and filter them through her own perception. For the first time in a long time, Faye felt that she was truly prepared to face Killian head-on, no outside influences. Just her, him, and everything that was shared between them. No distractions.

She knocked gently and then pushed her way inside, coming to a short stop at the sight of the man sitting there on the edge of his bed, shirtless and preparing to scrub the crusted black blood from his body and his belongings. Blinking a few times, Faye shifted her gaze from the coldness on the shadowsinger’s face to the muscled planes of a body she’d yet to see unclothed. It would have been easy to become distracted by the sight of all that exposed, tanned skin. Her mouth went dry, first at the sight of him but then as she noticed the scars littering the man’s flesh. The pain that surfaced at the sight of those burns was old and muted - not her own. It bubbled up inside of Faye’s chest with a resounding sadness, leaving the blonde drowning in a sea of emotion she couldn’t decipher. Rage cut through those waves with a swiftness, and that emotion, that one, she recognized - that was hers. It didn’t have long to fester, washed away by the sheer force of Killian’s eons-old waves of faded resentment, but it sparked something inside of Faye that she couldn’t quite place her finger on. Something she wasn’t sure she liked.

“You have to be up early as well,” countered the blonde with a pointed look. Killian’s words sat heavily, and she wasn’t sure whether she felt more disappointment with herself or frustration with him. Drawing in a deep breath, she strode further into the tent and sat cross-legged before the Shadowsinger, letting that grounding lungful of air escape as a sigh through her nose. It seemed like second nature to reach out and grab a clean rag, lifting the boot opposite the one Killian had been about to clean when she walked in. “It’ll go faster with help,” was all the blonde offered when he sent her a questioning look. Not meeting Killian’s eyes, she dipped the rag in the disinfectant and then scrubbed at the leather with strong but somehow gentle motions. The attor’s ghastly blood was stubborn and sought to stick to the fabric, but with a little bit of force and patience it began to wash away. 

The truth was, she didn’t like the idea of him sitting in here by himself, dealing with the aftermath of all the darkness. Though she knew the shadows were a second home to him, she could feel somewhere deep inside her own soul a weary tiredness that hadn’t been there before. Before their bond had locked into place, Faye hadn’t thought twice about the things Killian did in the dark. She knew that he was spymaster, she knew that he commanded the shadows, and so she had assumed - naturally - that the things he did were as equally dark in nature. It had been easier to not ponder the extent of his spymaster duties before, but now….now she could feel it. Could feel the phantom blood coating her own skin with an oily, unforgiving slick. Could feel the euphoric release when the dagger plunged into the attor’s heart, ridding the world of filth and Killian's own shoulders of the tension he carried. More than anything, she could feel the loneliness of returning blood-spattered to an empty tent in the middle of the night. 

That was what had driven her to him in the end. 

They sat in silence for a long while, both working over the leather with care. It reminded Faye so much of those long afternoons they’d spent in comfortable silence after she’d come to Sakaris. Killian had been the only one who did not push her and pry, the only presence in which she found comfort. Isolation…but together. So many things had changed since those early days, and yet at its core their friendship still felt as if it were built on these stolen moments. Only these days, the silence suddenly felt a lot less comfortable. She could sense Killian’s unease, his frustration towards her and everyone around him - but she couldn’t place it. Couldn’t ease those feelings, couldn’t fix whatever was troubling him. It had never felt like her burden to bear, but that had changed with the enactment of the Carranam bond. Now, it felt like a personal failure to sense these emotions and not know how to make them subside. 

“You’ve been off lately, Killian.” Not a question. There was an edge of concern in Faye’s voice, though she forced it to flatten. Their relationship was still new, and though she felt she knew her twin flame as deeply as if they’d been forged from the same ember, that knowledge was something soulful and deeper than even she could understand; it didn’t apply to what was on the surface, it didn’t give her some edge on knowing what made the spymaster tick, what would set him off and what would ease his tension. “Not just with me.” Eyes still locked onto the boot she’d nearly finished scrubbing, Faye avoided eye contact. Why? She didn’t quite know. Something about the exchange made her feel an unusual, underlying sense of anxiety. It was strange, whatever this thing was between them. How his soul wrapped itself around her own, how it felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, like coming home - and yet, interactions of the flesh felt so stiff and tense. Like wading through uncharted waters with no life preserver, not knowing if you were going to sink or swim. 

It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Killian didn’t meet her eye, either, and after a long moment of prolonged silence Faye reached out, stopping his hand by grabbing it up in her own. The skin there was cool and scarred, rough beneath her own. Their eyes met, and Faye held his stare. “Killian, I am not a daemati. I cannot read your mind. If you need more from me, you have to say so.” She gave his hand a strong, emphatic squeeze. “But not like this. Not with snarky comments and evil looks. We’re on the same team - hell, we’re more than that. If you need something from me…just ask.” And then, silently, and with a waggle of her eyebrows she added through the bond, Don’t even need to use words. It should have cut the tension, but he still looked at her with a hardness that didn't sit well with Faye. She didn't like this, the two of them being at odds. Not when so much was at stake. Not when they had come so far and were learning so much.

Faye dropped Killian's hand with a slight frown. And moved onto the biggest elephant in the room. "I will tell Wayland not to come when we're training, if you feel it's a distraction." Sometimes it was a relief to have Wayland there. His presence was a comfort to her, even when it complicated things, even when juggling the two bonds became difficult - especially when one of those bonds was weighing on her in ways that she wasn't entirely comfortable with. "You're...more impatient with me on the days he trains alongside us." She noted aloud, lips quirking slightly - it was such an uncomfortable topic, and she didn't entirely understand why. Nor would she ponder deeper than the surface. "And you're sullen enough without any extra help," she added lightly, teasingly, giving the illyrian a hopeful sort of smirk, wanting to cut through this new and uncharted tension between them.

Killian’s shadows clung to his body like weights as he stalked away from the arena as if they were adamant that he stayed beside Phaedra. The Shadowsinger shoved past the feeling until Faye grabbed hold of him, causing him to spin around on her. Her touch seemed to send the feeling of electricity skittering across his skin. A storm of confused frustration clouded his mind as he stared down at her, but when she spoke, something in his gaze softened briefly. She thought he was giving up on her. Somehow it was almost better she thought that, rather than trying to analyze him and the reason behind his actions.

“Tomorrow.” he nodded to her and once her fingers loosened around his arm, he turned back around, continuing back toward their camp.

* * *

Several weeks passed and not a day was wasted. Killian and Phaedra met with one another each day, slowly adding more and more to their work together. Their runs were made longer, their combat training was becoming more and more extensive, adding in swords and daggers. Killian could see the growth in Faye, he could see the way she held her body differently, she looked more confident and her movements were becoming more fluid. Parts of her that were once soft and delicate were hardened by well-earned muscle.

A lot changed in the past weeks. Not just for Phaedra, but for everyone. Adrastus was rarely ever seen nowadays. He was either off trying to form alliances with other Courts or pent up in his tent with Nevara as they spent hours deciphering more and more of the Book of Breathings for some sort of shortcut or last hope idea in getting their High Lady back and stopping Elisora for good. Onica spent time keeping the Court of Nightmares in check for Adrastus, as well as checking in on Sakaris. Wayland worked around Windhaven with other Illyrians and against his wishes – with Devlon. When Wayland wasn’t working though, he was with Killiand and Phaedra. At first, it didn’t bother Killian, but as the days went on, he couldn’t deny the budding feeling of annoyance when he was trying to work with Phaedra on their Carranam bond. It was harder to concentrate with him around, and there were moments that Killian wouldn’t admit to, but there was a small part of him that got downright angry when the two of them were distracted by each other.

Like right now.

Phaedra’s laughter was light and bubbly, filling the air like music. Killian’s golden eyes flickered over the pair as they smiled at one another beside the weaponry cart. Wayland’s dimples were evident as he showed her how to strike with one and then proceeded to act like she truly hurt him only to grin and cause her to roll her eyes.

The Spymaster’s shadows thickened in response.

“When you’re ready to work, let me know.” Killian shot the words down their Carranam bond, his eyes meeting hers briefly and then he turned and headed out of the arena, his shadows snaking behind him as though even they were disappointed.

Wayland glanced over Faye’s face, his brows knitting together with concern, and his grin faltering. “Faye? What is it?” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and followed her line of sight which now trailed after Killian’s retreating form. Wayland’s jaw clenched and he raked a hand through his own hair, releasing a sigh. “Don’t let him get to you, he’s never been the type to just relax and have some fun, it’s not you.” he tried to reassure her, but he could still see the lingering guilt in her eyes. 

* * *

Killian spent the remainder of his day fulfilling any jobs that were required of him under the order of Adrastus. He was still a Spymaster after all, and he had duties that remained, especially with Elisora on the prowl.

Tonight, as if the universe somehow knew that Killian had extra steam to blow off, the Shadowsinger was given a unique prisoner to question. An Attor flying through the territories after his meeting with the others. Now, in the dungeons of the prison, Killian stared down at the bony creature hissing up at him from his shadow restraints.

“Nothing can break what the Cauldron has created, you stupid fool.” the Attor said through a guttural laugh, but the laugh was quickly cut off by Killian grabbing him by the throat, cutting off his air supply. 

“I find that very hard to believe.”

The Attor choked beneath his grip and was quick to gasp for air when Killian released him, shoving his body to the ground as he unsheathed a blade from his side.

“You’re already too late,” the Attor shoved himself back a ways from the Spymaster.

“If that’s the case, then I guess you’re useless to me,” Killian muttered, his eyes examining the sharpness of his blade.

A shift in the Attor’s expression showed him that he was aware he said the wrong thing, but Killian didn’t have the time to mess with something that wasn’t going to give him answers. His shadows slowly lifted the Attor up off the ground in front of him and it began growling and squirming in the air.

“Wait—” 

Why did they always say that?

“I’ve been waiting long enough,” Killian’s jaw ticked and then the shadows plunged the Attor toward him, sinking his blade straight through his heart.

* * *

Back at the camp, everything was quiet. Some fires were burning throughout the night, even though it was rather late. Killian still had blood on his clothes from the Attor and it made him grimace. Their blood was hard to remove, especially from leather. He slipped soundlessly into his tent, removing his weapons one by one. After that, he unlaced his boots and removed his shirts, the only time he exposed the massive burn marks covering his back. Leaning over, he switched on a lamp and grabbed himself a rag and some cleaner to begin rinsing his attire, starting with his dagger and then moving on the boots as he sat at the edge of his bed.

Just as he lifted a boot from the ground, his tent rustled and his eyes snapped up, his wings expanding slightly as he watched a small figure slip inside. Killian examined Phaedra as she slowly closed it behind her and he lowered the boot, cloth still in hand.

“It’s late, Phaedra.” He announced. “You have to be up early for our run. Unless you’re busy of course.” The last part might have sounded annoyed. A lot of things annoyed him today.     

Though Phaedra couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about Killian was different this morning. Even before his mouth opened and he uttered those first few words of discouragement, deflating the girl’s ego sufficiently, she knew. She could feel it in her bones, this shift - as if a wall of formalities had come crashing down between the two of them. Gone was her knight shrouded in shadow, and in his place stood a mentor. There was nothing particularly unkind about the way in which Killian spoke to her, no ill-intentions - but the blunt realism which colored the space between them felt so different from the epic fantasy of that inbetween world that the contrast hit her like a dash of icy water, stealing what little warmth remained and rendering her lower lip perpetually jutted outwards.

“I am strong,” said Faye with a small scowl. But the pinch of her flesh between his fingertips smarted uncomfortably, reminding her of her own fragility. Lessened considerably with the loss of her mortality, but still evident in comparison to the Illyrian warriors with which she surrounded herself. All the talk of overexertion had Faye snorting, blue-brown irises rolling heavenward. “You sound like Wayland,” she complained. Something about the comparison left her feeling uncomfortable, like pinpricks against her skin, and so she added, “and Adras. And Onica. And Nevara. And Evie..” she ticked all of their names off on her fingers, giving him a pointed look. Always so worried about her limits and pushing her past them, as if she had the luxury of conceding. As if “too much” meant anything when lives were at stake, when the future of the entire realm was in the balance. 

Killian was impassable. Insistent on strengthening her body, which meant…exercise. “Is that the only option?” Unlike her sister, Faye didn’t embrace a life of physicality. She enjoyed the gentler aspects of life, nature and music and the domestics. She was built softer than Evie was, rounded at the edges and plush in the places where her sister was well-muscled. The blonde stood there blinking at Killian for a few solid moments, stomach churning before she worked up the courage to set off behind him in a slow jog. 

Strengthen your body, strengthen your mind. She repeated that phrase over and over again as they wound their way up the mountain, the frigid air beating against her bare shoulders and tickling the nape of her neck. It had been intentional; her inclination towards the cold and its grounding ability was as strong as ever. Faye couldn’t explain it; whether it was her connection to the natural world or simply the physical effect on the cold that kept her rooted in the present, she didn’t know. Didn’t question it. Even as her teeth began to chatter and her skin was consumed by both fire and frost simultaneously, she pushed on, gritting her jaw. There was something almost cathartic about that burst of adrenaline, the feeling of her heart hammering against her ribcage, the stuttering of her lungs as they sought to suck in enough oxygen to keep her going. Something natural and enduring and healing. 

And yet, as they found themselves coming upon the arena once more, Faye found herself wanting to weep with gratitude. Wheezing as she sucked in lungful after lungful of fresh mountainous air, she shot Killian a disdainful look as he handed her the flask of water. “Bite me,” the blonde ground out, though there was no real malice behind her words. Only a little bit of lingering resentment for the physical strain she was experiencing. A few swallows of water made her feel only the tiniest bit better, the racing of her heart refusing to slow. “Easy to say when you’ve been doing this for…what? A billion years? More?” she arched a brow, and then a smirk was spreading across her face. They were always going to be old, and it was always going to be funny. That at least gave her a little bit of comfort and amusement as she handed the flask back to him, shaking out her hands as if to shake off the numbness that clung to her cold flesh. 

Faye didn’t really know what she expected to come next, but it wasn’t what Killian proposed. Recoiling at the thought of swinging on him, the blonde screwed up her face. Every instinct in her body screamed at the mere thought of inflicting intentional harm on the man. Her blue eyes flickered over his face, the tension of his body language as he braced himself, waiting for her to act - Faye simply stared with furrowed brows and pursed lips. You won’t hurt me, he assured her and still she hesitated. Letting out a slight huff, Faye balled her hand into a fist and swung. Before she could even make contact, his hand had shot out and wrapped around her own. The impact made her falter a step, and Faye gasped slightly at the sudden stop. Blinking up at Killian, at the look on his face and the heavy darkness he basked in, she wondered if she had done something wrong. There was a strangle lilt in his voice when he spoke, and she wondered if it was disappointment. “I’ve never fought,” she said with a slight shake of her head. She’d never had to - for as long as she could remember, there’d been someone there to fight her battles. It must show, she realized, and that was the reason for this strange tension between the two of them. What was he feeling? Disappointment? Regret? He’d bound himself to her, and she was essentially useless to him - but not unwilling to learn. If it meant circling that mountain a million times, Faye would do it, just to show him that this bond between them hadn’t been a mistake.  “Teach me.” Was all she said, a sudden hardness in her voice. 

At Killian’s instruction, she adjusted her stance. Brows drawn, lips drawn into a tight line, the picture of pure concentration. Killian’s hands wrapped around her own, drawing her out, reforming her fingers into a fist. There was still hesitation behind his movements, Faye could sense it more than she could see it. She couldn’t understand that - there was no hesitation on her end. So unlike the contant spark and pop of the fireworks that fizzled across her flesh whenever Wayland’s fingertips grazed her skin, Killian’s touch provoked something sturdier, a trembling of some iron-encased cable that kept her grounded in this realm and the other. “Thank-” she was cut off by the shadowsinger’s stumbling, causing her eyes to widen. Common sense dictated that she get out of the way of the falling giant, but common sense evaded her entirely as Faye stepped forward and splayed her other palm against the man’s chest, as if to steady him. “You,” she finished easily, averting her gaze to reform both hands into proper fists. Focused on the task at hand, ignoring the revertebration of his touch that still made her knees feel like they were knocking together. That was best ignored entirey.

His dismissal of her was abrupt, and it left her floundering. Blinking, Faye hardly realized what was happening before she was staring at his retreating form with a slight scowl. They'd barely started! A moment passed, then another, before she was jogging to catch up to him. “Hey! Wait!” she demanded, reaching out and grabbing him by the arm, tugging the Illyrian to a stop. He spun on her, and Faye didn’t know whether he was irritated or not - he was still difficult to read somehow, despite their connection- but she didn’t shy away from his towering form. “Don’t give up on me.” There was an unusual fragility in her voice, and she despised that, but there was no need to disguise it; he had seen her, truly seen her, for all that she was and wasn’t. He knew exactly who and what she was, and that was difficult to stomach as she stood there looking up at him with an almost pleading gaze. “I’ll get better. I’m a quick learner and capable of listening; I’ll prove it, starting with stretching before the death march,” the smile she flashed him was weak but hopeful, determined somehow. “Tomorrow?” she was hesitant as she asked this, brows tugging together - but at his confirmation, it was as if the sun had risen once again and she was beaming, allowing the male his escape, contented by the knowledge that they would try once more the following day. 

Turning away from him, she fixed her stance and readied her firsts, intent on perfecting her form before they met again.

Everyone hovered around Phaedra who was still being held in the arms of Wayland. The Shadowsinger watched from a few paces away, though none of the words that any of them spoke registered with the Illyrian. No, he was too hyper-fixated on her — on the marking that her body now adorned. His golden iris’ flickered from her arm to his own and slowly his fingers curled in on themselves and he took a step back, then another, before excusing himself entirely from the group, his boots crunching against the cold mountain terrain.

* * *

A loud clanking of iron chimed in Killian’s ears as he observed the Illyrian Bladesmith, Arwan. The man had a large scraggly beard that seemed to be singed at the ends — likely from his work at the forge. Arwan hammered down on a red-hot hunk of metal and without raising his head, grumbled out in a gravel-heavy voice. “Ya still got that pathetic ass look yous wore the day they dumped yer sorry ass here, boy.”

Killian’s drab features were set in stone, his dark lashes shadowing the gold of his eyes. Arwan continued working, but the Spymaster knew he was expecting some sort of reply. His large wings curled in tighter behind him and he shifted his eyes over toward the collection of finished weaponry. Reaching out, Killian ran the pad of his finger along the edge of a long sword on the wall. “Your tempering could still use some work. . .I guess some things never change.” Killian shot a glance Arwan’s way and the man offered a gap-toothed grin and a half-hearted chuckle.

“Sun’s just ‘bout gone,” Arwan stood, collecting his tools. “Suggest ya find someplace else to brood,” he grumbled, disappearing into the back of the shop.

Killian’s lips twitched faintly, the closest thing to a smile he could muster, and exited the shop. A gust of cold hair kissed the Spymaster’s skin causing his wings to ruffle in a shiver. Arwan was right; the sun was melting into the horizon and soon a fire would be a necessity in the Illyrian mountains. For now, he remained wandering through the camp, his thoughts becoming hard and hard to ignore.

Memories of what occurred in the in-between with Phaedra swirled through his mind. The Cauldron’s voice, the power that they experienced, but most importantly all of those things that he felt. Emotions that he’d never experienced before — emotions that weren’t even his own. He was able to see within her and he caressed the inner workings of her soul, he was sure of it. Against his very fingertips, he grazed the light that lived inside of her and his shadows. . . They flocked to her as though they were being reunited with something that had otherwise been lost, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with them. Even now, they were back to looming around him, but they seemed to tug at him, attempting to subtly shift the direction of his strides through the camp. As though they were trying to lead him elsewhere.

His steps came to a halt when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice. Phaedra’s voice. Dark strands of hair shifted atop his head as he turned in the direction he thought he’d heard her, but there was no one in sight. He blinked once, and his shadows seemed to shove him a bit harder now, in the direction of the campsite. When Killian rejected their insistent gestures, the inked lightning that trailed down his shoulder to the sun on his hand suddenly became hot. In fact, it burnt him. It was quick and fleeting but was still enough of a shock for Killian to shoot his arm up to examine it. Again, his shadows seemed to thicken and shove him toward their tents.

A low noise rumbled from Killian, annoyance and confusion from the lack of control, and then instead of a voice, he felt an overwhelming amount of confusion, worry and guilt flooding through him. The feeling caused him to stiffen. They were not his emotions, he realized. And again, just like in the in-between, he could feel her. This time, when the shadows pulled, he followed.

The popping of the fire and the animals calling to one another in the distance were the only things that filled the air of the campsite when he approached it. Everyone seemed to dismiss themselves to their tents — everyone aside from Phaedra and Wayland it seemed.

Killian’s shadows became more wispy than thick and coiled closely around his legs where he stood. His eyes were quick to survey the scene laid out before him. Before the fire, Phaedra sat at the end of a long wooden bench. The rest of the bench was occupied by Wayland, the large General’s head propped in her lap, his hazel eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in soft breaths. The Shadowsinger stared at his brother for a moment, drinking in the peace that seemed to etch his features in being in Phaedra’s presence. It looked like the sort of peace that he was feeling. Golden eyes shifted up to meet her face. He took in the soft lines of her face, following the dip of her button nose to the sharp angle of her jaw against the flickering shadows of the firelight. His eyes only stopped roaming once they met her own and his jaw clenched. His shadows seemed to almost vibrate with a sense of excitement at her acknowledgment, but he remained still until he was invited to sit with her.

There were a lot of questions that were going through his mind. He knew they all would lead back to the marks on their bodies and the rare bond that they seemed to share, but his questions ran deeper than that simple answer. He understood the mating bond. What it meant amongst the fae and he had experienced those who have had mates in their lifetimes, he knew what it looked like and what was expected of it, but Carranam? If it hadn’t been for the Book of Breathings it would have been likely that none of them would have ever heard of such a bond, let alone activated one. He wondered if it was safe to have more than one bond that ran so deeply.

His eyes shifted back toward Wayland as Phaedra’s did and something in his gut seemed to turn and twist uncomfortably. It wasn’t just the fact that he shared something with the woman that his brother loved and was mated to, but it was the feeling that was boiling in the depths of his blood when he looked at his head in her lap. The veins in his arms protruded slightly and he quickly regained his composure, averting his gaze entirely toward the flames of the fire.

Thankfully, Phaedra spoke into the silence about some further training. Killian felt it was best to keep his mouth shut and offered her a firm nod, his eyes capturing hers once more. It was a fleeting moment though, and her attention was nestled back upon Wayland. The Shadowsinger watched her briefly, then wordlessly, he rose from his seat and forced himself in the direction of his tent for the night, his thoughts still storming through him.

* * *

It was normal for him to have sleepless nights, however, it was not normal for his insomnia to be filled with thoughts of Phaedra. Anytime his eyes would shut, he could feel her. As though she was beneath the callouses of his hands and his eyes would snap out, his body coated in sweat despite the chill.

By the time he felt her awaken for their training, Killian was sprawled across his cots, his hair a tousled mess atop his head from dragging his fingers through it in agitation. He could feel her presence become further away, like some strange invisible tether that followed after her. She was headed away from their campsite. The Spymaster groaned lowly and slowly peeled himself from his bed, readying himself for the arena.

Black boots moved silently against the frosty gravel, his entire life built around stealth usually paid off under most circumstances, but it seemed that with the Carranam bond, it wasn’t as foolproof. Phaedra spun on him, a smile on her face. Thanks to the lack of sleep he usually got with Spymaster duties, the dark circles beneath his eyes weren’t something that stood out.

“What happened yesterday had a lot to do with heightened emotion and the dire need to wield your powers. A life or death situation.” Killian came to a stop in front of her, eyes grazing over her attire briefly before he returned his attention to her face. Though he had yet to see her in anything other than her dresses, there was something about the leathers on her that seemed to make her glow with a different light. “In other words, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy this time to summon that sort of power. Not until your body is strong enough.” 

Killian could feel the poutiness building up inside of her thanks to the bond and rolled his eyes, one hand reaching out to pinch her arm through her leathers. “We will get there, I just don’t want you to overexert yourself, especially not if you’re in a situation where you need to use such a vast amount of power.”

“We strengthen your body, thus strengthening your mind,” he said, shifting his body so that she could peer at the dirt pathway that led around the outskirts of the mountain. The trail had been made specifically for Illyrian recruits to run when beginning their training for the Rite. “Keep up, Graves.” was the only warning he’d given her before breaking into a jog toward the path. He didn’t have to look back to feel her following after him.

The mountain air stung Killian’s face and wings as they went, their breaths puffing out into small clouds in front of them. The trail wrapped around the mountain twice, making sure to cover ground that would test their footing and stamina. By the time they had rounded and returned back up the trail to the arena, Killian stole a glance toward Phaedra who was panting behind him. He slowed, coming to a stop where they’d begun, and reached around his waist for the flask of water, handing it off to her.

“It will get easier. The thin mountain air will too.” Once she was done drinking, he gestured to the center of the ring for her to take up the spot in front of him. “Now, we work on agility and method. I want you to swing a me,” he gestured to his face and waited. The look on her face was enough to make him straighten. “You won’t hurt me, just swing Phaedra.” There was a moment of hesitation between them and then she finally swung for his jaw. Killian’s eyes followed her swing and focused on the position and look of her fist. He calculated all that she needed to adjust and one of his hands shot up before she could make contact, capturing her small fist in his grip. The shadows that lurked around him seemed to thicken at the contact. “Have you ever fought before?” he asked as he lowered her hand, genuinely curious. 

Killian moved toward her, surveying her foot placement and stance. “Spread your feet apart more, bend your knees slightly.” he demonstrated with his own stance and then reached over to take her arm. He hesitated briefly but then continued by grabbing her arms. He bent them in front of her and then corrected each of her fingers, forming a safer fist out of them. “You’ll shatter your hands if you punch the other way.” his voice was cool and distant, but his shadows betrayed him by recoiling from his body and then quickly shoving into his back, causing the Shadowsinger to be forced forward, making him only a few mere inches from Faye. His jaw clenched tightly and he stared down at her for a moment before letting go of her and stepping back. His brows furrowed and he shook his head.

“I think that’s enough for this morning.” he averted his gaze now. "Make sure to stretch." Was the last thing he said before walking out of the arena, his body tense and his mind racing.

Killian’s arm curled itself around her waist, strong and steadying. The shadowsinger inched his partner into an upright position, fighting against the force of the magic that seemed intent on keeping her pinned down. As if the cauldron’s power had created a vortex around them, waves of magic whipped violently in the darkness and stole away her breath. Everything seemed to bend around that force of nature, powerless to its push and pull - including herself. Faye’s dress billowed around her ankles, tickling bare feet. Strands of her own hair lashed out and stung against her cheek, making her eyes smart with unshed tears. Chills slithered down her spine, the hairs on her arms rising as her flesh broke out into goosebumps. Her jaw trembled and her teeth chattered, rattled by the tidal waves of power that continued to wash over her long after she had regained her footing. 

Together, he murmured into the darkness. Faye wanted to object, wanted to tell him that there was nothing she could do. Magic was as foreign to her as anything in this strange new life, and she’d only ever been at its mercy. Controlling it seemed impossible, laughable even. But then his hand was wrapping around her own, guiding her trembling palm upwards. An eerie sense of calm washed over the girl, and the sense of doubt she had vanished. She trusted him to show her the way. To guide her, to be the light in this darkness.

Sucking in a stuttering breath, blue-brown eyes fluttered closed and Faye leaned into Killian’s hold. She could feel his shadows, moving within her and then re-emerging from their protective state, slinking along her skin like a gentle caress.  They traveled down the length of her arm, wrapping around their joined hands again and again, coiling into a protective wall of solid darkness. A flicker of light filled the space, blinking in and out of existence for a few moments before it’s glow became consistent. Faye’s eyes blinked open once more, studying that little orb in the palm of her hands. Light - and it was coming from her. 

The cauldron’s voice boomed in the distance, and she felt a sick twist of satisfaction at the annoyance, the slight twinge of fear behind its demand. Their powers grew and grew until they couldn’t grow anymore - and so they merged. The contrast between the sources of magic within them, shadows and light, shouldn’t have worked. It didn’t make sense. And yet as it all came together, the shadows didn’t eclipse the sunlight, and the sunlight didn’t dissipate the shadows - they melded into something new entirely, something Faye didn’t even have a word for. 

Something the cauldron feared. 

Something she herself feared.

It slammed into her all at once. Killain - everything that he was, everything that he’d ever been, ever would be. It flooded through her, and it shook Phaedra to her core to find that for all the darkness the shadowsinger enveloped himself with, his soul was purer than any she could have ever hoped to know. His thoughts were complex and they were empathic, his emotions were sincere. In that moment she knew him, she truly knew him in a way she’d never known anyone else, and it both terrified and placated her all at once. There was something so natural about what had just happened between the two of them, as if it were inevitable. As if it had always been meant to happen. The merging of souls, and yet it didn’t felt like he was burrowing his way inside, but rather like he was being welcomed home. Filling up a space she hadn’t even realized he’d vacated. 

“Together,” she repeated in a whisper, gritting her teeth as that light became blinding, wrapped in its own protective coating of shadows and yet banishing the rest of the darkness around them with ease. As if the two of them been inside of a bubble, it popped. Magic coursed from their joined hands, hot and angry and relentless. Light split the shadow realm in half, a wall of pure, blinding white descending rapidly. Faye’s eyes screwed shut against the glare, the girl ducking her head even as she pushed, pushed harder than she’d ever pushed before, doing her best to aid Killian is fighting back the power of the cauldron as it sought to entomb them in the darkness. The shadowsinger stepped closer to her, drawing her in and wrapping his wings around them, shielding her with his body from the opposing forces. 

And then it was over. And then there was nothing but darkness. 

As if the magic had drained most of her lifeforce with it, Faye lay limp in Killian’s arms. Not lifeless, but she’d expended too much energy in fighting off the cauldron and merging her power with his own. She heard nothing, saw nothing, was nothing - just blissful darkness, oblivious to the world around them. Even as she was shifted into Wayland’s arms, she didn’t stir. Even as her skin began to ink over with the intricate patterns of the tattoo that the bond had imprinted upon them. There was nothing, she was floating in a silken sea of darkness, until his voice was in her ears. 

Phaedra, wake up, he commanded - and she did.  

Faye shot up in Wayland’s arms with a muffled gasp, heart racing. All she remembered was the darkness, the cauldron, the blinding light…it took a few moments for her to register where she was. That they were safe, out of that shadowy realm - one she never wished to return to. As the fear and panic began to subside, Faye found herself blinking owlishly at the faces staring at her. Nevara, Adrastus, both staring as if looking through her, somewhat bewildered and slack jawed. Wayland watched her closely, brows draw, searching for any sign of injury or danger. And Killian….their gazes met, and something inside of her shifted, hands trembling as she clenched them tightly, resisting the strange urge she had to reach for him.

“We did it,” her voice was soft. A sleepy sort of smile spread across her face as she held the shadowsinger’s gaze for a few moments longer, and then her head was lolling to the side, resting against Wayland’s shoulder. Faye blinked up at her mate, that smile still in place. “Ye of little faith,” she teased lightly, one hand reaching up to gently pat his cheek. 

For the first time ever, something about that interaction left her feeling unsettled. 

__________________________

Lounging before the campfire with Wayland’s head in her lap as the Illyrian general dozed in and out of consciousness, Faye was left studying the tattoo that trailed across her collarbone and down the length of her arm. Her own shadows, engraved across her skin in something far more permanent than ink. They wrapped around her arm like armor, and yet in the flickering firelight they seemed to wisp and curl like tendrils of smoke. It was Killian’s mark - their mark - a permanent reminder of the connection they’d chosen to forge between themselves. 

A choice. It had been a choice to develop that bond, a conscious act. Intentional. There was something so different about this bond, though she couldn’t entirely explain it. It wasn’t one that had been created for her. She’d been fully in control of deciding her own fate, she had manifested whatever this was between the two of them herself. Was it the right choice? She couldn’t know - that was the only downside. Not knowing the extent to which she had chosen to bind herself to this man. Not knowing whether it went against whatever the fates had planned for her. Not knowing if she had made a mistake. And then she wondered, Could the Cauldron make mistakes? - but that thought flitted through her mind only for the briefest of moments and then a wave of guilt was slamming into her. Wayland was not a mistake. As if to reaffirm the thought, her hands found their way into silken blonde strands, gently brushing them back. She watched his sleeping face, so relaxed and peaceful for the first time in so long, and her stomach knotted with emotions she couldn’t even name. Not a mistake, she repeated to herself firmly. Beneath his abrasive exterior, Wayland was all things good and kind and courageous and honorable. He’d been her enemy, then her protector, her ally, her lover, her mate - and that meant something to Faye. To know that this man had been cut from the heavens itself for her, to feel that connection and embrace it was unlike anything she’d ever known. He set her blood on fire and filled her heart with warmth. Wayland was her mate.

But Killian…

There was the rustling of wings, and there he stood in all his glory - glowing in the orange shadows that crackled in the darkened forest - as if reporting for duty, answering a silent call. Perhaps he was. The link between them was so much more than a connection of their powers; it was a bridge between mind, body, and soul. Faye didn’t doubt that Killian had sensed her distress, even if perhaps he didn’t know the root of its cause, and had come to discern for himself whether or not she was alright. 

She felt the effect of his presence immediately, that strange sort of serenity. It enveloped her like silk, light and cool, a special sort of luxury. Her gaze traveled over the length of him inquisitively, as if trying to find something, trying to make sense of this pull she felt towards him. Killian was beautiful, that was not up for debate. Faye would be lying to everyone and herself if she denied the fact that she was attracted to him, but still it wasn’t lust that drew her towards the man. It was something so deep-rooted that she didn’t understand it fully. She felt as if she’d known the man a thousand lifetimes, though the two of them had only ever spent their time in comfortable near-silence and group settings. She didn’t know him, and yet she did. Intimately. She could feel him, occupying half the strings in her heart. It was as if he’d melded with her so completely that he’d taken half of everything she was and replaced it with all that he had to offer. Understanding the connection was impossible, and the situation made it uncomfortable - to have two bonds drawing her towards two different men, brothers in every sense but blood. 

With Wayland she craved the chaos, with Killian she sought comfort - it was impossible to choose between the two, to know which one weighed more heavily on her soul. 

Drawing herself from those conflicting thoughts, Faye jutted her chin towards the empty bench across from them: a silent invitation. The Illyrian male stood on the outskirts for only a moment before crossing the distance, perching himself on the hunk of wood opposite the one that she and Wayland occupied. Their eyes met, and for a few moments Faye simply stared at him before dropping her gaze back towards the head in her lap, continuing to stroke those golden strands. The familiarity of the motion gave her its own sort of comfort, as did the weight of her mate’s head in her lap. 

“We should practice more tomorrow,” Faye said softly. She’d spent enough time regaining her strength, and every day they wasted was a day Evie remained in the Spring Court’s clutches. “Early. Before the rest of them wake up,” she continued. A glance at Killian showed understanding pooling in his golden gaze, but still she felt the need to voice her thoughts aloud. “An audience feels…limiting.” Wayland’s gaze on her, over-analyzing the situation, was limiting; it left her feeling like she couldn’t tap into her full potential or she’d risk making him uncomfortable. She didn’t want to think of his reaction once he learned the extent of the bond between herself and his brother. A single nod was all she recieved from the man, and so she found her own chin dipping in response as she murmured a simple, "Tomorrow, then." And turned her focus back to the male in her lap, stroking his hair and studying the curvature of that familiar face.

When she looked up again, Killian was gone - and she wasn't sure when exactly he'd left.

...

She was up before the sun, and in the arena not long after that. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Faye found herself surrounded by a dusk-lit world, silent save for the early morning sounds of nature. The bonde moved slowly around the ring, observing it, fighting down the worry and doubt that was slowly creeping up, reminding herself of all that she and Killian had already accomplished in such a short amound of time.

She'd completely forgone her human attire, for the first time putting modesty and humanity aside as she dressed herself in the tight leather training leathers that she knew the women of this realm were accustomed to wearing. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, it brushed against the begining of the tattoo at her collar, exposed by the leather corset she wore so tightly bound against her ribcage. Moving in the leather was strange, though not difficult, and it occupied her thoughts almost entirely as she manuevered around the arena, waiting for Killian.

His approach was so silent that it would have startled her, had Faye not felt him coming. Turning to look over at him expectedly, the blonde cracked a small smile. "Ready to kick some more cauldron ass?" she asked teasingly, silently praying that they'd come nowhere near the creator of magic again. The look on Killian's face made her tsk. "No? Alright, I guess we'll have to start somewhere a bit easier." And she rubbed her hands together, as if that was going to conjure up the light she now knew resided somewhere deep inside of her. "Teach me, O' Wise One. How do I wield the sunshine?"

The undeniable need to protect sang through the Shadowsinger, and the song shifted into an impenetrable screaming in his head when Phadrea’s body collided with his own in a hard shove, sending the male stumbling out of the way. Sun-flecked eyes widened when they landed on her, a mixture of disbelief and anger clouding those golden iris’ when he saw why she’d done it. Through the shroud of darkness around them, a heavy wave came hurdling to where he once stood, the place now taken up by Faye who fell to her knees, her scream filling the void that surrounded them. 

Something inside of Killian’s chest felt as though it was cracking as he watched the relentless shock waves pummelling into her small form. The Spymaster tried a step toward her, the invisible ripples shoving him back each time he tried to approach. He fought against the force of magic, determined to reach her. The muscles in his body worked against it, rolling beneath his golden skin. Each step felt as though he was shoving a bolder in her direction.  He pushed and pushed, earning a few steps each time until his arm was reaching out toward her.

She was glowing by the time he reached her. Her eyes no longer blue, but blinding white orbs and all around her like a sunlit aura, her body seemed to almost blur with the vibrations that buzzed through her. The Cauldron acted as a siphon, forcing magic into her, or maybe it was just awakening what already derived inside of her this whole time. He recognized the light that consumed her. It was the same light he saw when freeing her from her visions.

Killian made one more strong shove against the Cauldron, his hand still outstretched and when his fingers brushed against her shoulder, it was like he had passed through the invisible baraccade and was now inside of it with her. There was no more force shoving him away and he was able to stand without effort beside her. The Shadowsinger slowly kneeled down, the energy and power that radiated from Faye could be felt in the small distance between them and he swore he could hear it all buzzing inside of his head, like static. His fingers slid down her arm until they were intertwining with her own. He squeezed her hand and inturn felt her own grip tighten. In that moment he felt his shadows do something he’d never felt them do before. On their own accord, they snaked down his arm like veins and escaped from the tips of his fingers, but instead of just brimming the surface of Faye, they. . . went within her. He watched in disbelief as his shadows treated her as though she was a second home and they nested inside of her, coiling around her body like armor.

In turn, Faye’s energy, her magic, the pure power it seemed to wash over him slowly, causing the hairs on his arms to stand as he felt the buzzing sensation envelope him. Killian rose his gaze to meet Faye’s. She stared at him as if she knew what the power was doing and even without her saying a single word to him. He found that by just looking into her eyes, he could understand too. His lips parted to speak, and then were pursing firmly when Faye’s voice beat him to it. He stared at her, brows lowering slightly. It wasn’t what she said. It was how she said it. The only other person he’d ever met that could do such a thing was Adrastus until Evie came along, but that was because Adras’ daemati abilities flowed through her. So how it was that Faye was speaking into his mind, he could not comprehend.

Killian only blinked when she continued, her voice a demand ringing through his mind and his head turned into the direction that the power was flowing from. It wasn’t evident how he knew what she meant. Or how he knew how to do such a thing, but the Shadowsinger simply nodded once and then wrapped his free arm around Faye’s waist to slowly bring her to her feet.

Faye now stood in front of Killian, one of his arms bracing her upright. The whipping winds of the magic around them caused his hair to rustle against the breeze, her own strands tickling his neck. “Together.” He said lowly and brought her hand up, outstretched in front of them. His own hand cupped the back of it and directed her palm to face out toward the darkness. His golden eyes closed, brows knitting as he concentrated, trying to reach for anything that felt right. 

Then it all came together.

His shadows whispered quietly as they resurfaced from Faye and they began coiling around their joined hands. Killian’s wings slowly stretched out behind him, like two impenetrable walls around them. The shadows pooled at their wrists, appearing as a cloud of darkness and the whispering grew louder until a spark of light ignited in the palm of Phaedra’s hand. Killian opened his eyes to see the blinding orb as it slowly grew and grew. His grip around her tightened as the magic built up, as if all of it was rushing to that orb of light instead of her body. The light was blinding, illuminating the limitless dark around them. The Cauldron seemed to rumble at them, obviously not impressed with what was happening.

“Stop.” It ordered in a dark snarl.

The shadows began moving again, intertwining into the ball of light. Their powers merging into one.

“STOP IT.” The Cauldron snapped again.

Suddenly, not only were their powers connected, but their minds. Their bodies. Their souls. Killian’s muscles tensed at the sensation that was building up. He could hear her voice in his head. Her thoughts. Her worries. Her guilt and happiness. Like an intruder, he seemed to drink it all down. Her heart. It felt pure and angry all at once. Similar to the being on the warfield, he felt her internal battles and his eyes shifted to her face as understanding flooded him. For a moment his face softened, and then their magic erupted.

A jolt ran through him and his hand clenched her own as he directed the flow of magic outward, slamming it into the darkness around them. He could hear the Cauldron’s screams echo around them and what used to be nothing but ebony abyss became swallowed by the light. He couldn’t keep his eyes open against the blinding glare and when it became too much, Killian encased their bodies in his wings, shifting so that he was now in front of Faye, his body shielding her. A thought yelled through his mind. They needed to leave. To get out.

And then their bodies were hurdling into the earth with a thud.

* * *

Killian made sure to take most of the blow as they landed. His arms were wrapped around Phaedra tightly, his wings still covering most of her as he lay on his back in the dirt of the arena. His eyes had still been closed and when he peeled them open, that blinding light was no more. Only the sun hanging in the sky illuminated them now and he could hear the chirp of birds again. Inhaling deeply, Killian slowly unfurled his wings, exposing Phaedra to the world as she lay against him, her eyes shut. She was breathing, but it was labored.

The Shadow singer rose with her, one arm slung beneath her knees and the other around her back. A wet and warm sensation slid down his arm, but his attention remained solely on Faye.

“Phaedra,” he called to her, and then he realized who he was surrounded by rather quickly.

“What the hell happened!” the voice belonged to Wayland who was tearing Faye out of his arms, his hazel eyes darting all over her body for wounds before shooting up to glare at Killian with a wild rage. “What happened damn it!”

Killian just stared at Faye, his fingers curling against the empty space where he once held her, his eyes boring into her as he tried to process everything that happened. Slowly, his eyes shifted down toward his bleeding arm, but it wasn’t blood that he was greeted by. It was dark ink that now tattooed him from his elbow to his palm. Killian uncurled his fingers to find a sun with smokey rays at the center of his hands and trailing up his forearm, wrapping around to his elbow were lightning strikes.

“Holy Gods, it worked. . .” Nevara whispered as her eyes took in the new tattoo as well.

“Killian.” Adrastus spoke, his voice seeming far away. “Say something.”

Again, Killian couldn’t seem to find his barings and his eyes shot back toward Faye who’s arm was covered now too. Black ink forming coiling shadows marked her arm and hand and without thinking, the Shadowsinger called to her, not with his voice, but through their bond.

“Phaedra. . . Wake up.” his voice echoed down to her and in an instant, she seemed to shoot up from within Wayland’s arms.

Kaius had to fight the urge to roll his green eyes at Evelyn. Of course, he wasn’t so ignorant as to believe that she would be able to trust him, now or maybe ever, but it was that damned look that she held in her gaze when looking at him. It drove him mad. Made his blood run cold. There was pure unfaltering hatred in those blue eyes and he wanted to take those seas and rid them of the demons she believed him to bare.

When she began listing off all the ways he had betrayed her, his fingers curled at his sides and he tried his best to contain to frustration that was building inside of him. The frustration was not fueled by her, but by all that he was being forced to do under the claws of the King. He could only stare at the High Lady of the Night Court, his jaw clenching as if to keep himself from spewing all that was going on. All of the things she did not know.

He could have told her about the way Elisora threatened to wipe his Court off the map. How she was not the only one being poisioned and imprisoned. But instead, he bit his tongue and gave her all that he could. A curt nod of his chin and then he was leading her back toward the estate.

* * *

Once they returned to the mansion, Kaius led Evelyn in through the entrance doors and as she continued forward, he stopped and assessed her carefully before finally saying.

“For whatever it is worth, High Lady,” and then he looked away from her. “I am sorry.”

Nothing. It was worth nothing to her. He knew that. But he meant it, and he didn’t wait for her response before stalking off down one of the many corridors to his study.

Faye was intimidated. By the size of the arena in which they stood. By the pairs of eyes watching them from the sidelines. By the echoing silence flitting through the space between them. By the man standing opposite her, his golden gaze somehow both gentle and scrutinizing when he looked at her, saying nothing but asking her nonetheless whether or not she was ready for the journey they were about to embark upon. The blonde flashed him a shaky smile; it was all she could muster. Her two-toned gaze stayed locked directly on Killian, focusing partly because she was afraid of what would happen if they fucked this up, and partly because she was afraid of what she would see if she glanced across the arena and happened to meet Wayland’s gaze. Nevara’s words reached her ears, prodding for a connection between the two of them, and Faye let out the softest of sighs. 

Please let her be right, she thought silently. Please let there be something here that can help us. 

The idea of Killian drawing the power from her wasn’t one that unsettled Faye. Perhaps it was her ignorance of magic and faerie customs, or perhaps it was the fact that she genuinely trusted these people; regardless, she gave him a small and encouraging nod when he hesitated at Nevara’s command. “I’m fine,” she assured him softly. Was she? Faye couldn’t be sure - but it sounded nice, so she said it, hoping to manifest the words into reality. There was nothing but determination in her voice when she added, “Don’t stop unless it’s absolutely necessary.” 

The shadows began to spill from him, and Faye watched their slithering approach. As the wispy tendrils of darkness curled around her body, she felt no fear. It was like greeting an old friend, and she relaxed ever so slightly as they brushed along her flesh, trailing upwards ever so slowly. She liked his shadows - they crept across the ground like crawling ivy, trailing lazily but with intent, blossoming at Killian’s command. A dome of shadows surrounded the two of them, and yet all she saw was a feathery canopy teeming with inky tendrils. There was something so ironically natural about those shadows, something familiar, something she understood. That comfort was dashed only by Killian’s words, his warning of what he was about to do. The thought of returning to that murky, in-between place made Faye’s skin crawl and tingle with the memory of what that realm had represented so far: loneliness, isolation, instability, a lack of agency over herself and these newfound powers. It wasn’t somewhere she enjoyed being. To delve back into that place willingly was a difficult concept to grasp, but as Killian’s fingers brushed against her own, interlocking with such certainty and solidity, Faye drew in a deep breath and braced herself for what they were about to face - together. 

The subtle dip of her head was her only acknowledgement of his words, and then her eyes were fluttering shut. She felt his fingertips brushing against her temple, and she knew what was about to happen. The world around them shifted, the air becoming thicker and heavy, like they were treading water despite being totally dry. Everything darkened, as if all of the light had been stolen from the world around them. For a few moments they were there, that weighted darkness pressing in around them from all sides and then it lightened, and Faye knew they had arrived at their destination. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by a darkness that was difficult to adjust to. A sense of uneasiness washed over her as she blinked rapidly against the endless night, relieved as Killian soon came into focus, the shadows melding somehow to provide an inky backdrop that was perfectly visible even to her untrained eyes. 

“I’m f-” The ground was shaky beneath her feet, and Faye had to fight to keep her footing. Killian’s hand on her arm steadied the girl, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her gut that she couldn’t quite explain. There was something strange and unnatural about that rippling tidal wave of energy, something familiar and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it - until she heard that voice, echoing into the darkness surrounding them. Chills crept along her spine at the sound, at the memory. A part of her seemed to flicker to life in response, body straining into the darkness with a certain sort of familiarity, like she was apt to greet an old friend. 

Only this definitely was not a friend. It was the cauldron, and it was pissed.

Blue-brown eyes widened, and Faye’s fingers curled into the fabric of Killian’s leathers until her knuckles had gone bone-white. “Shit,” the blonde hardly dared to breathe the word aloud, her gaze flickering through the endless darkness in search of that familiar voice. Every hair on her body stood straight up, trembling beneath the force of the cauldron’s power. Power that seemed to ripple in the air around them like the crackle of electricity. She could feel it pressing in on them from all sides, she could feel it in her veins - it coursed through her here, in this strange in-between place, until Faye’s insides were buzzing and her teeth chattered against the vibration of pure, unfiltered power seeking an escape from wherever it was contained within her. 

“K-killian,” through her trembling lips Faye tried to form an explanation. “When they dipped m-me in the cauldron, it gave me s-something.” The blonde fought to grind her teeth together, hating the unsteadiness behind her voice. “The visions, they were a gift. Almost like an apology from the cauldron, but I was angry and I was scared…I took more than it wanted to give.” And she shivered, remembering the feeling of clawing her way into the very source of Letharia’s magic. Ripping from the cauldron the very power that Elisora sought to wield. Faye hadn’t realized at the time that she’d been taking the power for herself - and so far, she hadn’t been able to access it. But now, now she could feel it thrumming beneath the surface. 

“And now I’ll take it back,” said that eerie, otherworldly voice. 

The words were the only warning the cauldron gave - intentionally. But in her mind’s eye, Faye could see so clearly the attack it had planned. Like a vision, but somehow different. As if something was leaking through that link between herself and the cauldron, something it didn’t mean for her to access but she had nonetheless. And its intentions were clear to her as it sent out another wave of power, this one stronger and with intent, directed not towards Faye, but towards Killian; as if the cauldron wanted to eliminate him first. As if it wasn’t quite done with her. 

“MOVE!” With every ounce of strength she could muster, Faye shoved the shadowsinger away from her with both hands, lunging forward as she did so. Perhaps it was the surprise of the unexpected attack that sent Killian stumbling off-balance, but it was enough. Her trembling fingertips brushed against his bare skin as a wave of the cauldron’s power barreled into her, sending the blonde falling to her knees against the shadowy floor with an ear-splitting scream.

It wasn’t pain that engulfed her, not necessarily - it was power. Blinding, white-hot. It pummeled into her tiny body relentlessly, coursing directly from the source. Her skin was aglow, shimmering white, her hair somehow milky and translucent as it whipped into the air around her, that blue-brown hue stripped from her gaze completely and replaced by two orbs of iridescent light. Faye should have been burnt out completely, washed away by the cauldron’s power, balance restored. She waited for the pain and then the permanent darkness, but it never came. Instead her skin continued to tingle, her insides humming as wave after wave of power coursed into her - and she absorbed it. Like a conduit, she drank it all in, that ancient power seeping into the very marrow of her bones, winding itself around the very fabric of her being like thread around a spool. It just kept coming and coming, filling her up until Faye could feel herself brimming with magic. It was too much, it was overflowing now and she didn’t know how to stop it. 

Too much, too much, too much. It was all her brain could register. The cauldron was giving, but not out of kindness -  it was overloading her with the force of this power she didn’t know how to wield, filling her past the point of her own capacity. Make it stop, take it back. Her silent plea went unanswered, but she swore she could feel a ripple of smug satisfaction from the cauldron as it gave her exactly what she’d sought to take from it in the first place: everything. 

And then there was a hand in the darkness, reaching out for her. Killian. Faye wanted to shout at him, to tell him to back away, but the words didn’t come. On her knees hunched forward nearly into a ball, all she could do was tremble. All that power, and nothing to do with it. Her hands shook as the shadowsinger reached out to her, one hand wrapping firmly around her own, their fingers interlocking once more. A sense of dread filled the girl. It was going to burn them both out. Faye tensed, waiting for the power to fry through him, for the promises she’d made to him before to be null and void. It didn’t. The cauldron’s power didn’t course through him the way it did her; in fact, it didn’t seem to penetrate him at all. Looking up at Killian she could see the hair on his arms standing up, could feel the low vibrations traveling lazily from the place where their bodies connected - and yet he was fine. Those golden eyes glowed down at her, but gentle and soft, like warm morning sunshine. Controlled, contained. Staring up at him, basked in the light but untouchable, Faye understood. She was acting as a conduit; the power was there, it had been drawn forth, but he was the one who needed to wield it. 

Push, Faye demanded, her words filling Killian’s mind. She wasn’t sure whether the words were sent down the carranam bond or on a wave of the power coursing from her body to his. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t even know how she’d done it. From the look on Killian’s face, he was just as bewildered as she was. Push, she said again, surprised by how freely she could speak to him this way when her body was still rendered immobilized, shaking on the floor.. Push the power. Force it back. The cauldron wants to take it all - don’t let it. Redirect the flow. 

___________________________________

Just as quickly as Kaius’s reassuring claim reached her ears, Evie was brushing it off. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that he didn’t want her to be his salvation - that was what everyone wanted from her. And she’d played the part dotingly so far. It came naturally, that inclination to help. To protect. To do the right thing. Her whole life had been one good deed after the next, and it would have been so easy to continue that pattern… but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not for him. 

“Oh right. We’re in the habit of kidnapping girls we want absolutely nothing from?” one perfectly sculpted brow arched, giving life to her blatant disbelief. The girl tsked at him, shaking her head as she gave Redford a parting, affectionate pat on the neck. Dishonesty didn’t suit him. Though he was shrouded in mystery, there had to be some way to reach the truth behind his intentions. “Interesting pastimes you keep, High Lord.” And when she leveled him with a droll look this time, her lips did not curl good-naturedly. With that lingering look she began to walk, keeping a few paces away from the High Lord as they made their way through the ravaged city on foot. 

They didn’t make it far. Distracted by the children, Evie found her footsteps faltering. Her lips curved slightly for a moment before a frown was tugging them back down, something in her chest cleaving in half at the sight of those babies, laughing and merry despite the ruin around them. There was something about the sight that hit all too close to home, and it made Evie shiver. This whole place made her uncomfortable. It was like stepping back in time, like crossing the realms and putting herself back in that human village in those unfortunate circumstances. She’d been gone so long that she had almost tricked herself into believing that life as a High Fae was normal, that luxury and extravagance and comfort were just a part of who she was. Being here, surrounded by these sights and sounds and scents, it reminded her of the truth. It reminded her of who she was. That human part of her heart was beating frantically, trying to claw its way out of her chest, demanding justice. Demanding action. She smothered it beneath the cool, callous demeanor that was High Lady - there was no room for human emotion here.

She was so wrapped up in watching the children play that she didn’t even notice the woman who had approached Kaius until that soft, hesitant voice reached her ears. A peasant woman had approached them, dirt-covered and meek, gaze lowered beneath her lashes as she faced the Spring Lord. Blinking, Evie turned back towards the two and watched them with apprehension. She had never seen Kaius act as a ruler, only as a jackass. Her gaze lingered on Kaius’s fingertips gripping the woman’s face, that familiar touch - almost paternal. The words he spoke, though rough, were comforting. Almost pleading. Evie’s jaw tightened slightly at the interaction and she forced herself to look away from them, her gaze falling anywhere but on the children, on the mother, on the unexpectedly gentle High Lord. Human emotion would betray her here, so she did her best to squander it. 

They were walking once more, side by side. Silence enveloped them and Evie didn’t know how to fill it - probably wouldn’t have if she did. So many thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to connect the man by her side to the man she’d spent so long hating on the behalf of her beloved. As if sensing her train of thought, Kaius’s voice broke through those conflicted contemplations. Blue eyes flickered towards him, the brunette tensing immediately at the sound of her mate’s name on this man’s lips, at the implications behind it. That Adrastus would somehow be misleading or dishonest with her. Evie would never believe that, and the glare she leveled Kaius with said as much - but as he continued speaking, she couldn’t help but to ponder the idea of perception. There were three sides to every story, she knew that - she just hadn’t been anticipating getting two of them, and to have them be so conflicting. 

They broke through a small clearing, and Evie found herself sucking in a breath. The meadow was beautiful, with its endless rolling sea of green that met the skyline at its furthest point. Wildflowers dotted the grass, vibrant and aromatic as they swayed beneath a gentle breeze, honeybees buzzing back and forth between them. Birds were chirping in the distance, and behind them Evie could still hear the peals of children's laughter. It was strange how another wave of homesickness washed over her, one she hadn’t felt the need to wallow in for some time now. She had her family - the inner circle, the family she’d found, but also her siblings. Faye and Arden were here with her now, both of her worlds had come together and she got the best of either. So why did she feel this way? Why did she feel like she was living some twisted version of her own story, what life might have been like if things had played out differently? How easily she could envision herself as one of them, ragged and ruined, just doing her best to scrape by and survive. Living life amongst the wildflowers, surrounded by nature. The thought gave her chills, and she sought to distance herself once more from that past life and any possibility of what could have been.

“You’re wrong, Kaius.” Turning to meet his gaze, Evie leveled the man with a hard look. “You are my enemy. You’ve stolen me from my home. From the people I love, the people I’ve sworn my life to protect. You’ve lied to me. You’ve poisoned me. You’ve imprisoned me.” She slowly ticked off each offense, one for each finger of the hand still bearing her engagement ring. It shone brightly in the spring sunshine, the truth glinting off the stone as she spoke the words aloud. “You were there beneath the mountain…you saw the lengths I am willing to go through to do the right thing. I didn’t just face Adrianna for Adrastus - I did it for everyone. For all of you, to free your people from tyranny and a life lived in fear. I would have done it again, if you’d asked.” And as she said the words, she knew that they were true. Even knowing how Adrastus felt about the Spring Lord, had it come down to the wellbeing of these people and knowledge of their true circumstances…he never would have asked Evie to sit idly by. He knew her too well. 

“So yes, you are my enemy. You chose that.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Evie turned away from the beautiful, picturesque scene before them. “And I think I’ve seen enough for one day, if you don’t mind.”

The High Lord reserved an arena, commanding Devlon to clear out his men to do field work instead. It was truly for everyone else's benefit. If anything was likely to get out of hand, there at least wouldn’t be an entourage of recruits in the line of fire.

With his broad shoulders squared and his enormous wings tucked tightly against his back, Killian’s golden eyes settled upon Phaedra who stood in front of him. His eyes spoke to her own, the question sitting in them riding on the wind around them. He wanted to know that she was truly ready for this. That she was sure before they proceeded into unknown territory.

Standing off to the sidelines of the arena, Adrastus, Wayland, and Onica stood, their eyes locked on the pair with a cluster of different emotions rolling off of each of them. Nevara stood beside the pair, book of breathings in her hands. She read the text in her head a number of times before lifting her chin to them.

“First, we need to tap into Faye’s abilities. We need to know there is something to connect the two of your other than her visions.” Nevara spoke, looking between them.

Killian didn’t have to look over to know Wayland’s eyes were burning into him in such a way he’d never seen before. It was only natural, he knew. Having your mate share a connection of any kind with another was not something that their kind took lightly. Caranam though. Even Killian couldn’t say there wasn’t a small speck of worry that dwelled inside of him.

“Killian, I want you to reach out to her with your power to begin. You’ll need to try and awaken it, draw it out from her.” 

The Shadowsinger snapped his head in Nevara’s direction. Forcing magic out of someone was already invasive, and to do it to someone he saw as a friend? Nevara didn’t seem to be worried about any of that though. Her eyes hardened on him expectantly and Killian turned back toward Phaedra.

“If you need me to stop. You tell me.” Killian said, his eyes locking with her own. When he got confirmation from her, a cloud of darkness began forming slowly around him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wayland’s entire body go rigid and he could tell it was taking every ounce of self-restraint from his brother not to intervene with what was happening. Like snakes, the darkness formed several appendages of itself and they flowed outward in the direction of Faye. Though he mostly had a mind of their own, Killian was still able to steer them and the Shadowsinger guided them around her, letting them slowly coil themselves along her legs and arms. They slithered up toward her face, softly brushing her hair out of the way and then on his command, the shadows erupted and became a dome around the two of them, shielding them from the others.

Through the darkness, Killian could still see her and he took a step toward her, reaching one of his hands out for her to grab. “The last time your light appeared, we went somewhere in between.” Their fingers brushed and then connected. “I’m going to take you back there, not to that vision in particular, but that place, that is neither here nor there. I will be right with you the entire time.” He promised, grip tightening around hers.

The shadows closed in tighter around them and his free hand reached up, his fingertips brushing against her temple. “Close your eyes.” He said lowly and when she did, he did too. 

Tapping into that place was something that Killian was no stranger to. As a Shadowsinger, hearing and feeling things that others couldn't wasn’t unusual. In fact, instead of winnowing, he was able to transport through the shadows and while doing so, he often visited the between on the way through. One thing that was different about this, was that he had yet to ever bring anyone there with him. There had never been anyone that could.

It felt a lot like submerging underwater at first. Like they were passing through an invisible veil and when they came through the other side, Killian opened his eyes to a dark void. There was no sky. No walls. No ground. Just an inky darkness. This was how it usually appeared to him. Only he could hear things. Feel things. The feeling that washed over him was unfamiliar and part of him wondered if it had anything to do with Phaedra’s presence.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked, but his question was cut off by a hard vibration that seemed to ripple into them like a bolder being pushed into a lake. He stumbled forward at the force and his wings shot out to balance him and shield Faye. He grabbed hold of her arm, tugging her into his side as he looked around the darkness. He’d never felt something like that before. 

“Thief.” a voice hissed into their ears from several different directions, echoing into the abyss. “I’ve been looking for you.” it continued and its voice was neither young nor old, male nor female.

Killian’s jaw clenched and he turned toward Faye, shaking his head. “We’re leaving,” he said flatly and when he went to pull out, it was like something was sitting in the way. Blocking the exit. He slammed his palms against the invisible wall and his muscles worked beneath his golden skin, but it was no use. Cursing under his breath, he reached out for Faye once again, just as another wave was sent hurdling towards them. 

The Cauldron.

Genuine amusement gleamed in Kauis’ pine green eyes as Evelyn’s silver tongue and when he laid eyes on the small smile that graced her lips, it felt contagious, his own lips curving. It was different, having someone that wasn’t afraid to challenge him. It was refreshing. There were a lot of things about her that were refreshing, he realized. He didn’t let himself linger on that thought for long though. Not when the smile faded when she looked at him. As though she had just realized what a sin it would be to feel any delight in anything in his company. His own smile vanished, the muscles in his jaw feathering as he clenched his teeth instead.

Kaius gestured for the stablehands to ready them for their ride, shooting a raised eyebrow toward Evelyn. Though he had more horses, he didn’t deem it necessary for them to ride separately. It wouldn’t be a long ride, and at the end of the day, he felt more comfortable when he was the one in control — something that stuck with him thanks to his past.

Mounting Redford, Kaius shifted back for Evelyn to come up next. Once she was settled in front of him, he offered the horse a gentle tap of his heel, getting him moving forward and out of the stables when she shot him a look over her shoulder. Kaius’ brows rose slightly, one corner of his lips tugging upward at her little threat. Leaning forward, the High Lord pressed his solid chest against her back, reaching around her to grab the reins before he leaned back once more. “Has anyone told you how charming you are, High Lady?” he murmured behind her, sending Redford into a steady trot forward, his smirk only growing when his eyes flickered down to briefly glimpse her gripping the steed's mane.

The clopping of Redford’s hooves against the stoned way echoed between them on their travels toward the village. A subtle spring breeze flowed against them as they went and Evelyn’s tendrils of brunette waves wafted back toward him, brushing his face every now and then. When he inhaled, her scent came along with it and his fingers absently curled tighter around the reigns as he tried to dismiss the sweet and savory aroma.

Once in they bordered the outskirts of the village, he slowed their movement, letting the horse walk comfortably through the entrance so that Evelyn would be able to take it all in. Though the village was much better than it once was, it was still evident the disaster it had gone through thanks to Adrianna. She devastated his court —his people— when she came to take him beneath the mountain like so many other High Lords. He’d been torn from them for fifty years. Unable to help. Unable to lead.

Kaius halted the horse near a post, his eyes moving to land back toward Evelyn. “I don’t expect you to be my salvation, Evelyn. You are not a tool to me.” He said simply, nodding his chin for her to hop off Redford. Once she was on her feet, he climbed down next, brushing dust from his sleeves. The High Lord then began walking her through the village on foot instead. “In fact, there is nothing that I am expecting from you at all.” He added and then turned his head in the direction of the children who played in the pond nearby, laughing despite the wreckage around them.

During this distraction, a woman with a dirt-smudged face approached the two of them, her features meek and nervous. Kaius turned to her, stopping in his tracks as he took the time to recognize who she was.

“Darcy,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to hold her chin, he surveyed her, then brushed the dirt from her cheek with his thumb. She practically wept beneath his touch.

“I apologize, my lord, but I never got the chance to thank you for what you’ve done for this village. For providing your men to help us. Providing a roof for my family.” her voice broke and then her watery gaze shifted toward Evelyn, blinking once in acknowledgment. Kaius glanced toward Evelyn then returned his attention to Darcy.

“Things will return back to normal, be patient,” he promised her and Darcy pursed her lips, nodding as she patted the back of his hand. She offered a curt nod to Evelyn before turning to tend to her children.

Straightening, Kaius continued forward with Evelyn, his hands sliding into his pockets. “I’m sure Adrastus has told you plenty about me.” he finally said into the silence that was forming between them, though he didn’t look at her. “It’s always easiest to judge someone when they aren’t around to share their side of the story I’ve found.” his voice tapered off, cold and detached as memories resurfaced. Glancing her way, he noted the look on her face and rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and defend myself to you.” he waved her off. “But you should know that just like your precious High Lord, I must do things that are difficult to keep my people and my Court alive.”

He left it at that for the time being. He didn’t want to get into the fact that his work with Elisora was considered rocky. Hence why he had yet to turn her over to him yet. He didn’t trust the King. He wasn’t convinced that the minute he turned Evelyn into him he would betray the Spring Court. It wasn’t above Adrianna. Most of all, he wasn’t going to let her know that since he laid eyes on her beneath the mountain, he felt some sort of pull toward her. 

The two of them emerged through a cluster of trees that brought them out past the village. The grass was tall and dotted with flowers that swayed against the breeze. Reaching his fingers out, he brushed them against the tips of the meadow, eyes peering out at the blue-skied horizon. 

“As hard as it may be to believe, Evelyn, I am far from your enemy.”

There was truth in the words Nevara spoke - so much truth that it made Faye uncomfortable, the blonde shifting her weight from foot to foot as several pairs of eyes settled on her. Her gaze flickered up to meet Wayland’s, and she saw a conflicted tidal wave of emotion brimming behind those hazel eyes, cresting and ebbing as the general fought to hold onto his composure. When her gaze slid to meet Killian’s, Faye knew. Perhaps she’d known from that very first time, when he’d drawn her out of her visions. She could sense his shadows almost straining towards her, and in turn could feel whatever flicker of power inside of her chest pulsating in response. 

“Carranam.” She repeated the word slowly, testing its weight. The implication of such a bond was absolutely terrifying - it surpassed any sort of hesitancy she’d ever felt when fearing these strange fae connections, even the mating bond. The bond she had with Wayland was one so natural, fated. He was woven into the very fabric of her being, she needed him as crucially as her lungs needed oxygen. No matter how she fought it, it was a part of her. This proposed bond with Killian was different. It was somehow both a conscious and subconscious decision; it felt as if she’d decided it without realizing it, and yet the choice was very intentional. Something deep inside of her, a part of her she didn’t yet know in this strange new life, had chosen him - and he’d chosen her in return. To put so much faith and power into another being was daunting, especially given the consequences that Nevara had mentioned. To risk everything to save herself, she wouldn’t have even contemplated…but to save Evie? How could she not? 

Wayland surged forward, rejecting Nevara’s ideas before the rest of them even had a chance to let the thought fully form. The General unwaveringly went head to head with the dark-haired woman, teeth bared, lips curled. If looks could kill, she would have been six feet under; for that matter, so would he. Faye opened her mouth to say something, to find the words that would restore the peace, but no sound came out - what could she say? The decision wasn’t hers alone to make… but thankfully,  it seemed that Killian shared her mindset. Shadows sprung to life, separating the sparring friends, sending the both of them stumbling back a few paces. There was the unmistakable ring of confidence in Killian’s voice as he requested Nevara train them that gave Faye a sense of hope, strengthening her resolve. 

The blonde stepped forward, gently pressing the palm of her hand against the small of Wayland’s back. “We can do it,” she said gently. As his shoulders slumped, she wrapped that arm around his waist and tucked herself into his side. Blue eyes met Killian’s, and Faye flashed him a weak smile. “Promise not to fry your brain if you don’t scramble mine any worse than it already is,” she joked. Wayland tensed against her, and she tilted her head to rest against the hollow beneath his shoulder. There was something strangely freeing about touching him without fear or hesitation - physical affirmation had always been the language of their hidden love, and to speak it so freely before the rest of the inner circle said more than words ever could have. 

When Faye’s gaze raised this time, it met the High Lord’s. She could see the confliction he was feeling, the desire to both defend and conquer leaving him at odds. Never had she seen the man lacking his composure, never had she seen him so utterly cold and detached, yet burning with such fire. It was a strange contradiction, and something dangerous gleamed behind those swirling eyes that made her blood run cold. This was a man she wanted by her side in battle, not standing on the opposite end of the field. And the longer she stood there watching him, she realized that he was also a man she would gladly go to battle for. There had been such a long period of time where she’d gone back and forth with her true feelings about Adrastus. At first she’d felt a sort of jealousy, detest for the man whom her sister so dearly loved, one of many who had replaced her position in Evie’s life. But as she, too, had come to love the family her sister had found, Faye had gone from loathing the man to admiring him. His grace and generosity, his kindness and devotion, it all bode well for the High Lord. He was a man worthy of her sister, worthy of the title brother. And as she stood there contemplating all of this, she realized for the first time that he was also worthy of being considered her High Lord. Never before had Faye counted herself amongst them, never had she considered this court her own or herself a part of it. But now, she realized the truth. His pain was her pain, his losses her own. And victory, when they were successful in destroying the wards and freeing her sister, was also something to be shared.

“I’m no Cursebreaker, and I won’t pretend to be..” began Faye quietly. “But I’m of her same blood. I’m of her heart and her soul and all the things that make Evie who she is; all the things she made sure make me who I am. It has to count for something.” And she hoped that by breathing those facts into existence, it would somehow make them true - it would somehow give her even an ounce of her sister’s worthiness. “We can do it,” she repeated pointedly. There was a fierceness in her words, but her gaze was somehow gentle as it pleaded with Adrastus. “On my own, I can’t reach whatever it is that the Cauldron gave me...but I know it’s there. I can feel it - raw and unfiltered, waiting to be tapped into. Killian and I can harness the power of carranam. We can use it to break down the wards protecting the Spring Court. To rescue Evie. You just have to let us try.” 

There were a few long moments of prolonged silence, so many beats of silence passing that she was afraid he’d insist on discovering another way, but then there was the slightest incline of the High Lord’s head - permission granted. And then Faye was rounding on Nevara, hunger burning behind those blue-brown depths when she said, “Teach us. Where do we begin?” 

…

It was as if she was speaking to them in elvish. The men stared at her long after she’d made her request, confusion flickering across their faces before they were wise enough to conceal it - to give her any sort of insight into their true thoughts and feelings would be a grave mistake, though she was in no sort of hurry to let them know that. 

Distrust replaced confusion, and the redhead lowered his brows. Sitting back in his seat, the man glanced wearily between both High Lady and High Lord. “A tour,” Evie confirmed, dipping her chin and raising the mug to her lips once more. Her blue gaze remained trained on the High Lord from beneath lowered lashes, assessing his response. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the man. She didn’t know how far his hospitality extended, nor could she anticipate his true intentions with her. It was impossible to guess just how far he was willing to go to earn her good graces, or how long he would continue playing this dangerous little game that they’d been partaking in since that first meeting. The answers would reveal themselves in due time - she just had to be patient. 

Or set another trap for one of the Suriel. Decisions, decisions. 

It seemed to her that there was only the briefest pause of contemplation before the High Lord was rising, beckoning Evie to follow him from the corridor. With a wicked grin and a waggle of her fingers to Tobias, she was following after Kaius. He led her through the manor, detailing the layout and purposes of the various corridors and the rooms within. It was all very standard. Evie mentally mapped out the entire manor’s layout, tucking away even the most useless bits of information for later use. When they returned to the foyer and the man began studying her, voicing his concerns, Evie scoffed and rolled her eyes. An escape was the furthest thing from her mind. “You’d have to be absolutely mad to kidnap me without ensuring that all unauthorized travel to and from your court was completely cut off.” She pointed out. No, she didn’t plan on escaping - she was going to utilize every resource at her disposal, including his own home, against him in the end. 

Much more satisfying than a simple escape. 

The walk across the grounds almost made her forget the unfortunate circumstances surrounding her visit to the Spring Court. It was beautiful, fresh, teeming with magic and new life. Everything was veiled in ivy and flowers - roses, hyacinth, peonies. It all grew in abundance here, somehow cultivated and yet so wildly free. The urge to reach out and pluck some of those blossoms as they strolled past was nearly overwhelming, but one thought at what Faye would think kept her hands at her sides - and a pang of homesickness coursing through her. Evie followed behind Kaius silently, down a long path that tapered off into something cobblestone. She trailed behind the High Lord dutifully, lost in thought for a moment. Too absorbed in her own thoughts and feelings to realize where he was leading her, until the small wooden building suddenly sprung up before them. The scent of hay and feed filled her nose, and it reminded her so much of home - her human home - that for a moment Evie had to do a double take, remind herself of where she was. 

“Horses are….fine,” said Evie slowly, approaching the stall with only the slightest bit of hesitation. The enormous beasts had always seemed somehow daunting to her. She’d ridden less than a handful of times, all of them before her family had lost their fortune. And even then it had only ever been a pony, never one of these full grown creatures. She eyed him with a bit of apprehension, but still she approached. When those lips pulled back to reveal rows of teeth, a slight smile pulled at Evie’s lips. The mention of the village piqued her interest - seeing as much of this court as possible would probably be her greatest advantage. 

Kaius’s words about the horse gave the High Lady pause. “Hmm. Then perhaps he should teach his master a lesson in propriety,” Evie mused, brows raising in challenge towards the High Lord. Her lips curled slightly around the edges, more so in amusement at her own good humor than anything else - and when she found the smile mirrored on Kaius’s face, she couldn’t explain the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something about the way he looked at her, that sly little smile like they were sharing some secret just between the two of them, some private sort of moment…it made her feel lonelier than she could ever remember feeling. Here, in this strange court, surrounded only by men who were her enemies. No matter how pretty they tried to tie up the package, at the end of the day she knew they offered her not friendship or sanctuary, but captivity. 

And still…reaching out, she gently stroked behind the horse’s ears.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me my own mount?” asked Evie, arching a brow. The stablehands had moved forward, preparing the horse. Just the one. And a look from Kaius was confirmation enough that she would be riding with him. Perhaps she should have been more upset about the fact, but truthfully she wouldn’t have been able to manage on her own. Not that she’d admit it. Gritting her teeth, Evie slid one foot into the stirrup and threw her leg over, sliding into place in front of the High Lord who had just mounted his steed. “Hands to yourself,” she tossed over one shoulder, spine stiff as she leveled the man with a look. Thighs tightening around the back of the massive creature, Evie wound her fingers gently into his mane, swallowing thickly as he began to move.

The trek to the village was mostly quiet. Interspersed with moments of conversation that tapered off into nothingness - it wasn’t as if the two actually had very much common ground. Over the course of the trip Evie gradually relaxed back against him, still a bit on edge but gradually warming up to the method of travel. Over those lush, rolling hills they travelled. Through canopied forests, a long winding path guiding them through the abundance of flora and fauna. So wild, yet so perfectly cultivated; there was something both beautiful and unnatural about it, the way the natural world seemed to go on around this place. As they came up on the little village, Evie was slightly taken aback. It was so…normal. Once more she was reminded of home, her old home, and she felt a fresh wave of…something. She couldn’t identify the emotion, but as she looked out at the little village - quiet, clearly poverty stricken, in the process of what looked like rebuilding - it swelled up in her chest, threatening to choke her. 

“They haven’t recovered,” she said suddenly, looking out at the little village with furrowed brows. It was plain to see, between the half-finished buildings amongst piles of rubble, the dirt-stained faces watching them with widened eyes. The hollowness of those faces, the sharpness of the cheekbones, the sallow looking skin. If Evie recognized anything, it was the telltale signs of hunger and poverty. “To be on the losing side of another war…they wouldn’t make it.” She surmised, suddenly understanding something Kaius had said earlier, about ensuring his people were on the winning side of this war. A bit of clarity, and it left her feeling tortured. A means to an end, that’s what she was - and she didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from me, Kaius, but I’m not your salvation.” Said Evie quietly as he brought them to a stop near a set of hitching posts. She reached out, flexing her powers, met by that same wall she’d come to expect and loathe. There was nothing she could do - nothing she would do for him, no way she could help these people. What did he truly have to gain from all of this?

"No." Wayland crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Nevara who had just finished explaining her plan of awakening more of whatever it was the Cauldron had given or perhaps taken from Phaedra. Nevara just blinked, brows lowering at him. "You’re not going to send her to take out those wards on her own. We have no idea what that could do to her.”

“I never said that she would be doing it alone,” Nevara snapped, then turned her attention to Killian who met her gaze, his expression remained unreadable. Wayland followed her gaze toward him when he realized what her intentions were.

“I have brought her back from her visions, I don’t see how that is of any use if she also has powers,” Killian said, his golden gaze flickering toward Faye.

“It is more than that.” Nevara began moving toward Faye, her eyes surveying the girl with close inspection. The ancient woman reached out her hand, grabbing hold of one of Faye’s and she dragged a fingertip along the lines of her palms. “I read in the Book of Breathings of a rare connection. A connection that hasn’t been seen in thousands of centuries.”

Wayland’s body had stiffened at her words. His lips pressed into a firm line of discontent, and he forced his hazel eyes to hyper-fixate on the mountain ground beneath his boots, but it didn’t stop his siphons from flickering in response to his emotions.

Adrastus was the next to speak, his eyes had filled with a dangerous darkness that swallowed even the brightest stars. “What connection?” he pressed and Nevara dropped Faye’s hand, turning to her High Lord.

“Carranam.” Nevara finally said, her voice quieter this time. Adrastus’ face twisted into confusion and familiarity. The word rang through him, one he heard of, but it had seemed nearly irrelevant. Almost like a myth to possess such a bond. Wayland lifted his gaze to Nevara, his muscles remaining tense. Killian remained impassive but listened deeply. “The Carranam bond allows partners to share their magic, which is a strong advantage in battle, and to communicate almost telepathically. Very few have found someone they are compatible with, as it is both rare and dangerous. It was said that most couldn’t find someone they trusted enough to test it with because of the risks attached; an unskilled partner could unwillingly take too much power and drive the other mad, cause them both to burn out. . . or shatter their minds completely.”

A snarl rang through the air and all eyes flew toward Wayland whose fists were coiled at his sides. “No. Absolutely fucking not.” the General glared at Nevara for even mentioning such a possibility.

Any hope that once flickered on Adrastus’ face had disappeared with her last words and he nodded. “Wayland is right. We aren’t going to risk anyone's life knowingly. We will find another way. Besides, we don’t know if any of that applies to them anyways.”

“From the entries I have read, their bond is extremely similar. If they can bring forward any power that she might possess, they would be strong enough to wipe the wards out completely. Odds are, she doesn’t have any magic anyways, maybe it’s just the visions, and if that’s the case then we move on to other options—”

“Nevara,” Adrastus warned, but Wayland was stepping up to the dark-haired female, towering over her, his wings unfurling behind him. Nevara craned her head to stare back at Wayland, her lips pressed into a thin line, her stare like stone against his own.

“I won’t say it again—”