Once, they had called her weak.
Once, they had claimed she wasn’t enough.
Once, she was a little girl, bowing in submission to the world.
Not anymore.
Arianna could still hear those distant words, echoing through the long corridors of her soul. She could still see the images of the barely disguised disappointment when she had underperformed.
They had all claimed she couldn’t lead. That she was too kind. Too soft-hearted. A soul like hers wasn’t capable of making the necessary hard decisions. She wasn’t suited to the role of a warrior’s life. Of a queen’s role.
They had claimed she was nothing like the prior leaders from Móirín.
They had been right.
She was so much more.
Arianna was the epitome of power itself, raw and all-consuming.
She was the light that shone in the darkness. A ray of hope that would never be extinguished. She was exactly what this world needed and not even the echoing remnants in her mind could make her believe otherwise.
Arianna soared through the sky, feeling the wind rush past her body.
She had once asked Talon what it felt like to fly.
He had called it freedom.
He’d been right.
Arianna flew above Rion. Her mate. Her stronghold that would ensure their victory.
She had healed the masses with barely more than a thought.
She hadn’t expected the pulse of magic that had spilled from her, but she recognized it as the source that had been building for months, clawing for escape. It had been a deep ache that she’d been unable to escape or console. Now she knew what it had been waiting for: a moment to change the course in their history. A moment for her to finally transform into what she was meant to become all along.
Arianna stared down at the mass of dark bodies burning below, then back up to the male who had set the chaos in motion. He had once looked so formidable. An enemy they could never hope to prevail against.
Now he was nothing.
She was stronger, her magic far older than the infantile creature attempting to take charge of their world. He had wanted to alter the course of history as if he were a god himself.
Such insignificance.
The power within her body was as old as the continent. As old as the foundations of their world. She could feel the first queen’s power, moving, urging her forward. She could feel the connection they’d had with the gods. The connection she now possessed.
Arianna could feel—nearly remember—the day her ancestors had first been granted this power. The way they’d knelt before a majestic being. The way that being had smiled down at them, granting the power to rid darkness from the land.
They had achieved victory back then.
They would achieve victory today.
Her mate’s flames continued to consume the Dark Fae. She’d seen the harpies fly in from the north—no—“seen” wasn’tthe right word. She'dfeltthem moving across the land, their fury matching her own as they rose to fight for the territory she’d gifted them centuries ago.
A place where their nests would no longer be disturbed.
A safe haven.
But Arianna also sensed their grief, heavy as the day the Fae’s younglings had been murdered.
