Cold.
Silence.
Until hurt, despair, andragesear through my bones.
The obsidian box clatters against the table, the crystal undisturbed in its velvet lined recess. As my chest heaves, I straighten myself and take notice of the state of Ryc’s study.
Destroyed.
Furniture fractured and ruined, shelves emptied, windows shattered, curtains shredded… a few, free-falling sheets of parchment curl and slice through the air, descending upon the floor like leaves cast from branches.
What have I done?
I shift, stepping in a puddle of water—no.Tea.
Teacup, kettle, and saucer lie smashed, leaving a growing pool of barely discernible red upon the black marble floor. The jagged pieces bathe in the slow spreading sea, as doesThe Elder Mythos.
Face down and open.
Fishing it out of the tea, crimson runs down my wrist as I turnit over, its pages now stained in a bold vertical wash, severing the pages in half—as if it’s been bathed in blood. My eyes narrow. It’s fallen open to the start of a chapter,Aether, it looks like.
The Mother of Magic.
Grasping at the end of my shirt, I wipe it across the page, hoping to pull the excess away. My shirt grows soaked, but the crimson lingers. Half of the landscape depiction on the left now has a hellish hue.
I pause, staring at the image.
It’s a rolling field under a night sky, filled with flowers and vines.
The field of blue…
“Little love,”Ryc’s voice sears through our bond.“Are you hurt? Are you safe?”
Before I can reply, the dark-haired fae appears in a flash of white light. In a quick few strides, ignoring the state of his study, ignoring the mess of tea he walks through, he pulls the book from my hands, casting it aside. It lands on the couch behind me.
I stammer, struggling to understand everything before me. My mind feels fuzzy and frayed, as if I’m still dreaming.
“You feltcold,” he says, framing my face with his hands. “Like the other day.”
The day I slipped into the veil.
The day he’s convinced I died.
“Your office—” I wince, a hand flying to my throat with the unexpected soreness.
“I don’t care about the office,” he says in a low growl. “What happened?”
Tears spring into my eyes and worry flashes across his unnecessarily beautiful face.
“It’s mine,”I send the thought through the bond and his brows furrow.“The soul crystal is mine, Ryc. I saw—”
The office door flies open and Cyran appears in the doorway, the expression on his face one I’ve never seen—shock.
“Your Majesty,” he says, his wide eyes finding us in a heartbeat, “the center courtyard, you’re going to want to see it.”
Ryc presses a soft kiss against my brow, and there’s a burst of light before the study vanishes. The cool breeze of the eveninggreets my skin as the last of the sun loses in its eternal battle against the moon. Lifting my gaze, the brightest stars take stage overhead.
Leading me by the hand, Ryc treks forward, down the few steps toward the front gate. Doing my best not to stumble, I follow, dragging my eyes down from the heavens.
