Finnick flies down. The usual mischievous light in his eyes is gone, replaced with something like fear. I’ve seen Finnick be a lot of things, but fearful is rarely one of them, which only adds to my guilt. He peers down at his brother; the raw pain on his face guts me where I stand. “How…what happened?”
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t find the words. They sit stubbornly on the tip of my tongue, refusing to leave my lips. Then Evangeline is suddenly at my side, reaching out to steady herself by grasping my shoulder. She does what I cannot do and explains what happened in the prison. How the Nephilim conjured magic and Niko valiantly threw himself between us and the curse.
I know why he did it. Evangeline is the key to all of this, and we must protect her at all costs. Niko did what any trained soldier would do to protect the most important person in our kingdom, but that doesn’t make thisany easier. Damn him. It should have been me. They both could have been safe, and that’s all that fucking matters to me.
I don’t even realize Lady Thalia has started down the stairs until she’s suddenly in front of me, silent and swift, like a shadow moving through light. She reaches out with trembling fingers and gently cups Niko’s cheek, her touch delicate. The look in her eyes steals the breath from my lungs—raw, aching grief barely contained. It’s the same look I saw the day she lost her mate, the day her world cracked open. I wait for her ire, but it never comes, and that’s almost worse. I deserve her anger.
And now, she’s staring at her son with that same unbearable sorrow. She’s already lost one piece of her heart. I can’t—won’t—let her lose another.
“You’ve always been the stubborn brother.” Finnick narrows his eyes, speaking softly as he approaches. “If you wanted to be the center of attention, there were easier ways to go about that.” He tries to joke, tries to make sense of what he’s seeing, but there’s no making sense of this.
Despite the pain Niko is in, he laughs. “I’ll remember that for next time. Zephyr—” He turns to me, our gazes meeting. His face is unreadable, even as he offers me a smile. “Put me down. I can walk.”
I do as he asks—begrudgingly. Niko gets his feet under him, swaying slightly, pretending it’s not a great effort to keep himself upright. Stubborn male. Evangeline reaches for him, her hand hovering over him as if afraid to touch him. Nico notices and takes her hand,offering her a smile. It’s much more of a wince, but if Evangeline notices, she doesn’t comment on it.
“Please tell me your dangerous endeavor at least proved fruitful,” Lady Thalia asks, stepping closer to her son with barely concealed worry. Her eyes never leave Niko, watching him like a mother hawk ready to swoop in should he show any sign of faltering. Every inch of her is taut with concern. I would have preferred to have this conversation somewhere more private, but curiosity keeps me rooted. If nothing else, I need to believe Evangeline hasn’t risked herself for nothing.
Evangeline bites her lip, and I know I won’t like what she has to say. I brace myself as she admits, “I don’t know. I don’t know how useful this information is.”
And just like that, the crushing weight of failure presses down again.
“Why don’t you tell us what you saw?” Niko suggests. “Maybe we can help you make sense of what he told you.”
“That’s the thing. It wasn’t a conversation. Not really. I felt like I was intruding on his memories or a vision. Like our minds were connected, and he wasn’t happy about it at all. That’s why…” she trails off, biting her bottom lip. She doesn’t meet Niko’s gaze, but we all know what she was about to say. The Nephilim’s angry reaction was to get Evangeline out of his mind, and it worked, just at a great cost to everyone.
Evangeline sucks in a sharp breath and continues, “It was a beach. Hot sun, rolling waves. But the strangest part wasn’t the setting but who was there. Dozens of Nephilim, just standing there, waiting. And one inparticular—a large male with an eyepatch—its aura was different. Stronger, like it was in charge of the others.”
She glances around the room, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “It stood next to a well that was old and out of place. Definitely didn’t belong there. It felt… wrong, but also ancient. The air around it felt heavy. I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but I caught a few words: ‘poison,’ ‘Pixie Cove,’ ‘destroy the fae,’ and ‘no survivors.’”
The moment the wordwellleaves her lips, Lady Thalia goes still, catching the attention of us all.
“Mother?” Finnick tilts his head to the side, watching her closely.
Her gaze lifts from Finnick and snaps to Evangeline, eyes narrowing with sudden intensity. “A well, you say?”
Evangeline nods slowly. “Yes. It was covered in moss. The stones were cracked, and it glowed. Faintly, but… sinister. It wasn’t like any well I’ve ever encountered before. Not that I’m an expert on wells, it’s just this felt different.”
Lady Thalia turns away from the group, her eyes distant as if searching through time for a distant memory. “There’s a story,” she murmurs. “An old one. A warning passed through whispers and fireside tales. I never gave it much thought until now.”
“What kind of story?” Finnick watches his mother with wary curiosity.
She turns back to us, her voice grave. “It was said to be a relic of the Ancients. A source of magic that predates even the fae. Not light or dark, but something else entirely. A neutral force that absorbs intention. It can beused for creation… or devastation. The ‘Wishing Well,’ some called it.”
A cold chill settles over the room.
Lady Thalia continues, “If what Evangeline saw is true, and this well has resurfaced after years of lying dormant… it could be the source of the poison infecting the land.” She places a hand over her heart, concern rippling across her features. “I’ll need to research it further. There’s an old tome I haven’t touched in decades. It might hold something we can use.”
Niko shifts where he stands, his breath shallow again. His complexion has taken on a worrying pallor. “Good,” he says softly. “I’m glad we’re not starting from nothing.”
“You should rest,” Lady Thalia tells him gently. “You’ve done more than enough for one day.”
He manages a tight smile. “Just for a little while. I’ll be fine.”
He’s not. Every one of us knows it. Even if he doesn’t.
Still, no one argues when he turns and begins walking slowly up the last of the stairs and presumably—hopefully—toward his room. Evangeline and Finnick flinch with each uneven step, but Niko waves them off with a weary flick of his fingers. “Go,” he tells us. “Talk. Plan. I just need to lie down for a bit.”
Finnick lingers near the hall, reluctant to leave, but eventually follows Lady Thalia. She pauses at the door, one last glance at her son softening her features. “I’ll return once I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
