Kerym
An Oakgards’ Fae…
He didn’t particularly care. He and Thissian had never known their parents—had never known what heritage they carried—and neither of them had been interested in discovering more, not after finding out the little the people who had brought them up knew.
Some Fae soldiers had found the two of them in the woods, barely a day old, apparently left by whoever had birthed them, and they’d almost frozen to death before the males were able to get them back to the camp.
They’d grown up there, raised by soldiers and guards amidst weapons and training and danger. First, it had only been the two of them. Then Raine had stormed into their lives with his contagious laugh, and finally Merrick had shown up with another camp, and despite his grouchiness, which he’d already mastered as a child, he’d asked to stay with the three others.
Despite their differences, they had become friends—brothers. Kerym and Raine had made sure their life, which consisted primarily of training and war, wasn’t too serious, while Merrick and Thissian had kept the two of them alive more times than Kerym could count whenever they got into too much trouble.
A jab of loneliness struck Kerym’s chest as he thought of those early days, and he ground his teeth as he nudged his horse to move faster. He threw a look at the sisters riding on a red mare slightly behind him and the half-witch man who was slumped over his white horse to ensure they were keeping up.
It was fucking fitting Thissian had died like he did—the light of a hero going out. Even if Kerym missed him so much it felt as if his heart might flee his body, he knew Thissian didn’t regret it, especially now being back with his mate.
Kerym cast another glance at Pellie, who kept her beautiful face straight ahead, looking over the wide yellow fields spreading out before them and the vast sea glimpsed in the distance. They’d board a ship tonight to get them to Loche and Iviry in time for their big day—and the damned war about to break out.
Pellie had avoided him the past two days. While he hadn’t had too much free time—all his hours had been occupied with ensuring the wealth Rioner had collected was distributed without fucking sticky-fingered soldiers grabbing more than they were allocated, and barking orders in every town they passed to ensure every able female and male was getting on the ships he could see dotted on the horizon ahead, already heading to the border—whenever he’d sneaked away to find her,Pellie had been missing.
He knew she was doing it for herself—to make it easier to leave. But he wasn’t staying behind. And he was definitely fucking not going to Jordeina, or whatever the cursed land was that the Oakgards’ Fae had fled from.
He needed her to understand that those things didn’t matter to him.Shedid. She and his friends and his brothers were the only things that mattered, and with Merrick now off to some faraway realm and Raine hopefully getting his shit together with Frelina… he would follow Pellie wherever she wanted to go.
Kerym had never cared about holding back, and he wasn’t about to begin now.
He loved her, and that was that.
Sneaking another look at her, he almost hissed when the half-witch rode into his line of sight, and Kerym bore his eyes into the old man’s brown ones when they kept moving over him. “What do you want?”
“Something is different,” the man mumbled. “Something happened to you.”
The wind died down around them, and despite being over four hundred years old, Kerym couldn’t hold back a shudder. His mind went to that thing that had overtaken it. When it had left… he hadn’t dared speak it out loud, but there was something… something that almost vibrated in his veins as he rode through the tall grass.
He could nearly feel the essence of the yellow blades, could sense the life in the mud their horses trotted upon. It was fucking terrifying.
The man’s eyes darted forward, and he sucked in a breath. “You’re an earth wielder.”
Somehow Kerym knew what he’d see if he looked ahead, and sure enough the tall grass parted for him of its own accord, bending softly to allow his brown horsean easier passage. And it… it almost felt as if he stopped to listen, the grass would whisper to him—tell him he wasn’t alone.
“What does that mean?” Kerym asked, sensing Pellie’s eyes on him for the first time since she’d left him in the castle garden. “And why have I never noticed before?”
The half-witch half-Fae smiled a sorrowful smile. “It’s devastating how we’ve all but forgotten where we came from…” He quieted for a moment, and while Kerym had little patience left—especially as he was losing his mind over the fiery little witch now staring openly at him—he remained silent, something in him—perhaps magic itself—telling him to calm.
“In the beginning, we were all Fae,” the man continued, his fingers reaching down to brush the grass, a sigh dropping from his lips. “Shifters, witches, humans… even gods. We were once one people. But then we started spreading out, and we began forgetting the core of our souls, focusing only on our differences. So those differences grew. And grew. And grew. Until we finally changed completely.”
“What do you mean the gods were once Fae?” Kerym asked. “They created us, didn’t they?”
The man brushed some graying hair out of his face. “Yes and no. They were amongst the most powerful Fae, finding early how they drew magic from different sources. The soul or the mind. From earth. From water. From sky. From life itself. They began by consorting only with their own kind, becoming leaders of each type of magic wielder; thus, their bloodlines became stronger, and their gifts became morerefined. And all the time the ones now calling themselves gods led them, guided them, told them how to live.”
Kerym’s mind worked hard as he took in the information. But that would mean?—
“The gods were never intended to be worshipped. Not by magic. Not by life or mind or earth or sky. They created that reality themselves when they split our people up, making sure they remained the strongest of the ones with gifts like themselves.” The man almost spat out the next words. “That’s why guardians—or witches—were born. Tasked to keep the balance, witches turned into shifters, who turned into humans—races with less magic, needed to counter the power pulsating through our worlds.”
Pellie and Soria came up on Kerym’s other side, their horse nipping at his own as Pellie spoke. “But we aren’t weak,” Pellie argued. “We still remember the spells and the magic our people held.”
The man eyed her for a second. “What you remember might not exist anymore. It doesn’t where I come from… Where he comes from.” He jabbed a thumb in Kerym’s direction. “Magic is all but poisoned in our world.”
Both the sisters’ cheeks paled, their light eyes dulling, and Kerym couldn’t stand it—couldn’t see the hope that must be the thing Pellie clung to instead of him diminish—so he quickly addressed the man.
