“Share some knowledge with me, then,” I say, clearing my throat in an effort to change the subject.
Solena dips her chin in acknowledgment. “As you wish.” Her gaze sweeps the throne room before landing on the large tapestry draped over the doorway—the same one I remember from that night of the banquet. She motions for me to follow her, and when we stop before the dark fabric, she points to the image embroidered on it. “This is the Pale Eye,” she begins, indicating the pure white eye that stands out against a dark, starry sky. “She is the Mother Above—protector, seducer. As the moon shifts, so does her influence. The Mordorin believe she watches over us, guiding us through life’s cycles, testing us with temptation and indulgence.”
“A test I’ve seen you fail more than once,” I say.
Solena grins, playful and unashamed. “Perhaps. But aren’t we Fae supposed to be creatures of indulgence?”
Her words are light, but something in me stirs, and suddenly I’m reminded of my nightmares. That vision of smoke and ash, eyes burning into me, the words echoing in my mind like a curse. I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until Solena’s expression changes.
“Father Below.”
Her eyes widen, and her voice tightens. “What did you say?”
I blink, snapping back to the present, shrugging it off with more casualness than I feel. “Nothing. Just something I think I heard once.”
Solena steps closer, her playful demeanor gone, replaced by something colder, more serious. “Where did you hear about the Father Below?”
I’m still certain it was just a dream. A nightmare spun from the shadows of Baev’kalath, but I tell Solena everything. Every detail. The room, the altar, the monster of smoke and darkness forcing me to choke on its essence. And how I fought back—how I never dreamt of it again.
“That’s how your hand healed?” she asks, eyes wide with disbelief.
I nod, flexing my fingers at the memory. “I still don’t understand it. I don’t know how I managed to absorb the pain or where it went. It was just a dream.”
Solena exhales sharply, her expression tight with unease. “You don’t just dream about the Father Below, Amara. If you’ve seen him… it’s because he sought you out. And if he seeks you… it’s for a reason.” A chill runs down my spine as she continues. “A terrifying reason.”
“You believe me?” I ask, the words catching in my throat.
She nods, her gaze firm, unwavering. “Yes.”
“And you’re saying it was… real?”
Solena scans the throne room, checking for any prying eyes even though we are utterly alone, as if she worries the shadows are watching us. Her hand shoots out, gripping my arm as she pulls me closer. “Baev’kalath is cursed—there’s blood in these stones, stains from tragedies that even the rain cannot wash away. While the Pale Eye is worshipped openly, there are those who wear the inverted crescent. In secret, they praise the demon of the void. His name is Gygarth.”
The image of the beast surges behind my eyes, sharp and searing like broken glass. I wince, clutching my head, desperate to block it out.
“Princess!” Solena gasps, holding me steady. “Are you alright?”
I shake my head, feeling the throbbing intensity growing. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Of course,” she says, quickly guiding me from the room. She’s urgent now, almost frantic, as she hurries me back to my chambers.
Once there, she helps me out of my dress and into a nightgown, her fingers trembling as she dims every candle to ease the strain on my eyes.
“Do not tell Lanneth,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I don’t need her hovering over me.”
Solena nods gravely. “I’ll check on you during the night.”
As the doors close behind her, I am left alone. But the solitude is fleeting. As I lie in bed, cradling my aching head, smoke begins to form at the foot of my bed. That familiar wraith—the ghost of Baev’kalath—has returned to torment me.
“Not you. Not now,” I moan, turning over and pulling the covers over my head.
“Where is the prince?”the ghost asks, its voice hollow and distant.“I… I cannot feel him.”
“He’s gone,” I groan. “And if I wish hard enough, maybe you’ll be gone too.”
“You were both gone for a time,” the ghost continues, its smoky tendrils creeping across the room toward Ashen, who sleeps soundly by the fire.“What did you do?”
“You ask more questions than Lanneth,” I mutter, each word another stab of pain behind my eyes.
