I know better. This silence has nothing to do with me or my Blades.
Zyphoro and the Golden Son reached the Legion’s encampment the same day we arrived here. Perhaps he holds them at bay, restrains them from inflicting more harm on these people. Perhaps he’s done exactly what I asked of him.
But then why hasn’t Zyphoro come to the Grove to tell me just this?
I must find her.
I bow low. “Thank you again, Keeper Erania. If you’ll excuse me, I need to debrief with my Blades.”
I step past her, careful to keep my distance. Smoke coils from my skin until my wings unfurl, vast and shadowed, wisps of dark vapor curling from their edges like breath.
Erania’s eyes widen. “I have not seen wings like that before.”
I glance back over my shoulder. “They’re… new.”
My boots grind into the soil as I ready myself to leap skyward.
“Wait,” Erania says, her voice halting my ascent.
I pause mid-motion, wings half-spread.
“Why would Amara risk her life? What was she protecting?” Her mouth hardens. “Not you, I hope.”
There’s a glint beneath her scowl, a faint curve of a grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I find myself matching it.
“No. Not me.”
Then the truth hits me like a blade through the ribs. She doesn’t know.
Not about Estra. Not about Gygarth.
My breath falters. My face drains of all warmth. How do I tell her something so monstrous?
My wings fold back, then unravel into slow, curling wisps of black smoke that fade into the air.
“There was…” My voice cracks, splintering apart along with my heart, my soul, everything I am. “A child, Keeper. Our child. A daughter.”
The air shifts. Cold. Sharp. Heavy as grief.
Erania’s skin pales, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You had a child together?” she manages.
Her hand trembles as she clutches her staff, as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. I reach out instinctively, but she flinches from my touch.
“Amara has a daughter? Half human.” The words hang heavy between us, her voice softening only to harden a heartbeat later. “Half Fae.”
I see the conflict ripple across her face, the shock, the disbelief, the flicker of joy at the thought of a child of the forest still breathing somewhere in this broken world. But that joy quickly fractures, fear seeping through the cracks. Fear that this child is not wholly human. That her blood carries the taint of the very beasts who’ve kept humankind beneath their heel for centuries.
I stay silent, letting her turn it over in her mind, letting her face what it truly means. Slowly, color returns to her cheeks, a faint warmth chasing away the pallor, and a whisper of a smile ghosts across her lips.
“A daughter,” she breathes.
I nod once. “Her name is Estra.”
Erania lifts her head, eyes wide, the hope fragile as a spider’s web. “Where… where is she?”
The tremor in her voice cuts through me.
I swallow hard, pushing down the storm clawing its way up my throat. “Taken. By Gygarth. The Father…”
