Short but confirming—contact that communicates what words would take too long to express. He's okay. He's here. He'swithme.
In my mind, I know this will be another hurdle we'll have to heal from.
The trauma of the transformation.
The memories of almost destroying me.
The particular anguish of being trapped in a form that couldn't communicate.
But this is the start.
This is where healing begins.
I look back to Professor Eternalis.
Her ancient features carry pain now—the lava that dripped onto her shoulder has burned through layers that should be impervious to damage, evidence that whatever she is, she's not invulnerable to the elements I've turned against her.
"Something always bothered me," I begin, voice carrying the weight of revelations that have been building since I first sat on that throne and received memories I didn't know I was missing.
"Since I sat in the throne and gained the memories of what I once was," I continue. "One small detail that I haven't shared nor questioned."
I pause, letting the anticipation build.
"Until Gabriel's departure."
The mention of my brother carries weight that makes something in my chest ache—loss that I haven't had time to properly mourn, separation that circumstances forced before we were ready.
"Elena's obsession to be healed," I say, returning to the thread I'm building. "Or more importantly... to take the place of the throne that was never hers to inherit."
Professor Eternalis's ancient eyes narrow.
She's listening.
Good.
"Fae despise women taking the throne," I observe, the statement landing with implications that extend across realms and cultures. "And I feel my parents would have made an exception."
I pause, considering the history I've been piecing together.
"But they did when Gabriel and I were born," I continue. "Because we were a gift. A blessing in two."
The weight of my parents' love settles into my words.
"And thus, they yearned to create an academy," I say. "A world sought out for from those from various paranormal planes. That would want to experience a place that held no boundaries like the rest of the world."
I let that vision hang in the air—the dream that my parents held, the goal that their academy was supposed to achieve.
"When Nikki was abused," I continue, shifting to another thread that supports my argument, "it was bad enough by the world around her that a seed awakened. Awakened the sibling she would have lost."
The memory of Nikolai's explanation surfaces—the trauma that created him, the desperation that gave him form.
"Which created Nikolai and made them into one being."
I pause, letting the connection I'm about to make settle into the consciousness of everyone listening.
"So it had me wondering..."
My voice drops to something approaching dangerous.
