“Why?”
“There are special trees there that absorb the dead,” Nolan explains.
My mouth drops open in horror as I stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”
Nolan rears his head back, as if I’ve offended him. “I can assure you I most certainly am.”
“Absorbed? By a tree?” I splutter.
Nolan’s brows furrow. “What exactly do you not understand?”
“Everything,” I breathe, shaking my head.
Nolan rubs his forehead and looks at Valric and Raiden.
Valric steps forward. “You were too young to grasp the concept as a child, but when a high fae dies, there is a special tree with golden leaves that absorbs our souls.”
“You don’t just . . . bury them? Or . . . set them on fire?”
Valric shakes his head. “We need to give back to which we were made.”
“I’m not following.”
“The first fae were born from the tears of the fae gods,” Nolan explains, his head tilting to the side. “You really should know this.”
Valric cuts him a sharp look and steps forward, his voice dipping into a somber, almost reverent tone. “The first fae were born from the tears of the gods. It was Morrigan, the Great Goddess of War, and her consort Dagda, the All-Father, whose grief and love for the world flowed into the earth. Their tears fell upon theseeds of ancient trees. And from those seeds, the fae were born.” Valric continues, his voice taking on a deeper cadence. “It is said that Morrigan wept not only for the bloodshed she witnessed on battlefields, but for the fragility of all living things. Dagda, in his wisdom, wept with her, not from sorrow, but from the joy of creation. And so, their tears did not merely water the land—they gave it life. They infused the trees with power, a sacred bond between the fae and the natural world.”
“As the trees grew,” Valric explains, “they took on a dual purpose, acting as both sentinels and guides. When a fae passes from this world, their body is returned to the trees. The trees absorb our souls, reuniting us with the universe, releasing the souls through their leaves.”
I swallow hard, struggling to take in all this information. It doesn’t help that Nolan is looking at me like I’m already failing.
“Okay. I think I get it,” I whisper.
“You’ll understand better when you see it for yourself,” Valric assures me.
“You have a lot to learn. Your time away from Faerie and your lost memories will make this difficult,” Nolan adds, though the softness in his voice surprises me.
“There is one more thing.” Valric lifts a small brown satchel over his head and places it carefully on the table. Curious, I step closer, my heart beating a little faster as I watch him reach inside.
His hand emerges slowly, and when he turns toward me, holding the object, my breath catches in my throat. Instant tears flood my vision, blurring the world around me.
“How?” I whisper, my voice trembling, barely audible. My hands instinctively reach out, but I pull them back, too overwhelmed to touch it.
Valric’s eyes soften, his face full of understanding. “Before the soldiers came and looted the castle, a few of us—myself and some loyal followers—managed to save a few things of great value. I have been keeping them safe for when you returned to us.” His words are calm, but they carry the weight of everything we lost, everything we had to leave behind that night.
I swallow hard, running my tongue over my teeth in a feeble attempt to stave off the tears, but it’s no use. My eyes are fixed on the crown in his hands—my mother’s. The sight of it is like a punch to the gut, the kind of pain that’s both sharp and deep, yet tethered to something beautiful. The green jewels catch the light, exact replicas of her eyes—the same eyes I now see in the mirror every day. The gold is intricately twisted, woven into delicate vines that resemble the marks of the mating bond on my skin. It’s almost as if the crown has always been a part of me, waiting for this moment.
Valric steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine as he lifts it. “May I?” he offers gently, as though he knows the weight of this moment, not just for me, but for everyone who remembers her.
I can’t find my voice, so I simply nod, a single tear slipping down my cheek. The room is silent, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but all I can focus on is the crown in Valric’s hands.
He smiles softly and places it on my head with reverence, his fingers brushing through my hair to adjust it. His touch is light, but it sends waves of emotions crashing through me, memories of my mother flooding my mind. When he steps back, I lift my eyes to meet his, and I’m surprised to see his own are glistening with unshed tears.
“You look just like your mother,” he remarks, tone thick with emotion.
A quiet sob threatens to escape, but I manage to hold it back.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I reach up, my fingers grazing the cool metal. The sensation is almost surreal, like a part of her is here with me now, watching over me, guiding me.
