Tristan and Kian were right; the journey to the Bluffs is long. We left in the morning and have been traveling all day, and I can see the sun is close to setting. The convoy has grown steadily as we’ve traveled through Skora, with mourners joining along the road, all coming to say their goodbyes to their former queen and to those of noble descent who had passed with her during the battle. Rayna, too, will be honored among them. True to his word, Tristan has kept to the carriage’s side, Kian on the other, while Storm and the wolves stay at the rear, a quiet but ever-watchful presence.
Zaria’s head rests on my shoulder, her breathing deep and steady, the rhythmic sway of the carriage having lulled her into a fitful sleep. Gently, I reach over, giving her a soft shake. “We’re here, Zar,” I whisper.
Her eyes blink open, disoriented, before she sits up straight, her cat-like ears twitching. She looks ahead, her expression shifting as she takes in the reality of our destination.
The carriage slows, finally coming to a halt. Lutin and Senka, who have been seated across from us, stand and step out, their faces somber. Lutin extends his hand to help guide me down the steps. I reach out and take it as I climb down, feeling the press of the silent crowd surrounding the convoy, their faces drawn, eyes lowered.
The Elysium Bluffs stretch out before us, vast and steep, with the mist swirling up from the cliffs, giving the entire landscape an ethereal, almost haunting feeling.
As soon as my feet touch the ground, a feeling of pins and needles shoots up my legs. “Oh my god, my ass is numb,” I mutter under my breath.
After ten long hours cramped in the carriage, every bone in my body aches. The endless jolting over uneven roads, the constant rattle of wheels, and the close quarters are more than enough to drive anyone mad. A part of me is almost tempted to find Alivar as soon as possible and beg him to transport me back home tomorrow.
The thought of his magic whisking me away from this claustrophobic box on wheels, straight to the familiar comfort of my own chambers, is extremely tempting.
Kian swings a leg over his horse, dismounting. He hooks his arm in mine and smiles warmly down at me. My chest aches as I look at him and I give him a weak smile.
“I’ll just keep a hold of you until your legs are steady. I wouldn’t want the future queen to cause a scene.”
Tristian takes Zaria’s arm, giving her hand a reassuring pat. “Let’s go and give your sister the sendoff she deserves.”
The hush in the air is heavy, thick with anticipation and respect. The wind blowing across from the cliffs seems to absorb even the faintest sounds. My attention drifts forward to the front, where Raiden and Fenris sit atop their horses, standing watch with the stoic grace of seasoned warriors. Raiden’s eyes meet mine, and he gives a subtle nod before his gaze moves to Zaria.
With Anika and Nymeria flanking Kian and me, I peer over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Storm munching on grass beside the rumbling carriage.
Movement catches my eye—the Seelie Court, gliding forward toward the heavy mist. As they approach, towering trees rise from the haze like something out of a dream. I feel my breath catch, a quiet gasp escaping as I take in the scene.
“Oh, wow,” I murmur, mesmerized.
The massive oak trees have leaves that are a stunning, burnished gold, their bark the deepest, richest brown I’ve ever seen, as though they’ve been soaked in magic for centuries.
There’s a pulse in the ground beneath my feet, a hum of ancient magic thrumming softly, guiding us forward. The golden leaves seem to catch and hold the light in ways that defy reason, casting a warm glow that fills the misty expanse, an ethereal path leading us deeper into the grove.
With a deep breath, I begin to move toward Alivar and Queen Anwyn, my steps careful yet purposeful.
To my left stands Nolan, while on the other side of him are Alivar and Queen Anwyn. On my right is Kian, followed by Zaria and Tristan. I haven’t caught sight of Valric since we left the war room, leaving me unsure if he even came along.
The sun is getting low. I know the rites are about to begin, but I have no idea what to expect. I watch as fae move some of the bodies to the base of the ancient trees.
My mouth drops open in silent awe as the mist rises from the earth, swirling up to shroud the figures placed at the base of the ancient trees. The mist moves with purpose, as though it is alive, wrapping around the bodies and swallowing. The trees tower above us, immense and powerful, their golden leaves pulsing with life. Then leaves begin to shift, turning from gold to a deep, fiery red that ignites the sky above, casting everything in a crimson glow, as if setting the world on fire.
One by one, the high fae are honored as we stand witness. The air thickens with reverence, every soul here held captive by the solemn beauty of the ritual. The sky darkens over the cliffs, the sun setting on the horizon.
Then Raiden steps forward, carrying Rayna in his arms. He holds her with such tenderness. The sight has my heart clenching in my chest like someone is quite literally squeezing it.
Stepping from the line of soldiers, he moves with steady, measured steps. Rayna’s light blue gown drapes over his arm, the fabric fluttering gently, her head nestled against his massive chest as if she were only sleeping.
Oh, how I wish she were just sleeping.
My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. Rayna—bright, bubbly Rayna—is truly gone.
Zaria steps forward, Tristan steady at her side, his arm still looped through hers in a quiet act of support. Raiden kneels on the ground, placing her gently at the base of the tree. And for a moment, she looks peaceful, almost as if she might wake and smile at any moment.
Then Zaria begins to sing. Her voice rises, light as the breeze but resonant, filling the air with a haunting melody that carries sorrow and memory, grief and loss. The song is gentle yet filled with aching heartbreak, a sound that seems to echo in the very roots of the trees. The crowd stirs, silent, listening as the melody weaves through the branches, wrapping us all in its embrace.
Raiden’s silver eyes swirl with grief as he moves toward Zaria. As her voice fades, he reaches out, cupping her face in his hands. His forehead dips to hers, a quiet, shared solace passing between them. Tristan steps back, releasing Zaria’s arm, giving them this moment.
The mist thickens, and the tree’s leaves seem to shimmer, the crimson light casting a warm glow over Rayna’s body. And then, almost reverently, the great branches bend, dipping low, as if offering their own farewell, as the mist rises, covering her completely.
