He sees only danger in her, a threat to everything he swore to protect—his home, his people, our mission.
His glare is like a blade at her throat. Cold. Controlled.
“She was never supposed to see this. Never supposed to know.” Not just anger—fear flickers beneath his scowl, fear for our home, fear for what she might bring.
His gaze flicks to me, sharp as steel. “This is your fault.”
The light in Elyssara’s eyes dims just slightly. Before she can speak, I do.
“You’re right. Itismy fault.” I tilt my head, let my voice go cold. “Because I make the fucking rules, Zak.”
I meet his gaze, let the words settle between us, cold and callous.A challenge.
Zakarius exhales sharply through his nose, barely concealing his disdain. He doesn’t argue. But the tension between us stretches taut, a thread pulled to the edge of breaking.
Not yet. But soon.
Elyssara’s expression is neutral now, but I feel her curiosity—an eager, searching thing—pressing at the edges of my mind. A whisper of thought against mine, seeking, prying.
I turn back to the others. “Starborn are free, yes,” I concede, “but that doesn’t mean Elyssara won’t be hunted for her power.” I meet her gaze, her piercing green eyes locking onto mine with quiet conviction. “Either to be used as a weapon... or removed as a threat to the throne.”
Or fucking breeding like that fucking asshole from the Covenant said.
Elyssara’s eyes narrow, and at first, I think it’s in fear, but I feel something else.Resolve.
“There’s a lot to learn, and as much as I loathe to agree with Zak, we should go,” Merrik states.
He’s right. We mount the horses and commence the last section of our journey home to Thornewood.
We enter the Riverian Jungle—the jungle I spent summers in as a child, ran through with Nalya, foraged in, hunted in, and now, fight for.
The moment we move beneath its emerald canopy, I feel like I can breathe.
The ground, rich and dark, pulses with life, each step sinking slightly into the fertile soil. Towering trees stretch toward the heavens, their trunks thick as fortress walls, their bark webbed with veins of glowing blue—a faint bioluminescence that pulses like a heartbeat.
Vines twist and coil around the massive roots that carve through the earth, weaving an intricate tapestry of green and gold, their leaves broad and waxen, shimmering where sunlight filters through the canopy. Native fruits, plump and glistening, dangle from branches high above, their colors vibrant—deep indigos, searing oranges, and all manner of hues that whisper of magic.
The river runs alongside us, a cascade of molten silver in the moonlight, its surface dappled with the glow of tiny, luminescent fish that dart like scattered stardust.
I inhale deeply, and for the first time in weeks, I feel the weight in my chest loosen.Home.The Riverian Jungle is alive in a way that no other place in Aevryn is—wild, untamed, unconquered.
And as I glance down to Elyssara, watching as she tilts her head back onto my chest, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in wonder, I know she feels it too.
This place ispower.A secret that has been guarded for centuries—since the curse. A land untouched by the hands of kings and conquerors.
“How is this possible?” She whispers, disbelief and hope tangledin her voice. I know exactly what she means—how can beauty like this still exist when everything else has turned to ash?
“The Shadow Wastes are real,” I start, “they’re just not the whole story.”
“Obviously,” she says with sarcasm, gesturing her arms around the Riverian Jungle.
I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips. “Good point.” I suck in a long breath, readying myself to reveal my kingdom’s well-guarded secrets. But she deserves to know. She deserves to know what we want her to fight for with us. But more than that, Iwantto tell her.
Nyx is smooth underneath us, the rhythm of his gait a steadying presence that urges me on.
“These lands were not always The Shadow Wastes. Centuries ago, the entire land looked like this jungle. The entire place was a paradise,” I close my eyes, recalling the stories from my father and his father. Stories of beauty, and peace. “We call these lands Zerynthia.”
Elyssara’s eyes widen in realization. “Zerynthia,” the words come out in an awed whisper. “How did the lands become like...that?” She points back to where we’d come from.
