3. Danica

Danica

3

T he morning light peeks through the cave's mouth with the tentative touch of dawn, pulling me from slumber's grasp. Wishful thinking might have me believe that yesterday's insanity was a twisted dream, but reality's grip is too strong, too cold.

Sitting bolt upright with an urgency that defies logic, I pant like I've been running marathons in my dreams. Hyperventilating isn't exactly my chosen workout, but here we are. This is no time for tears;Rhylandand his brothers are still out there, and I can almost feel the weight of their absence, a tangible force.

I smother the rising horror with a hefty dose of sarcasm. Panicking is so last season. It's time to face the music—no wallowing in what-ifs. I'm out the door and scanning the space for my unwilling host.

Fadeyrn's in the main cavern, where breakfast is being served with unsettling calm. His forest-colored eyes latch onto my impromptu entrance. "Eat. You'll need the strength," he says, all cool Fae confidence.

I glance at the spread with a squirming belly. My cooperation with breakfast is reluctant at best, but the bread goes down, solidifying the knot of anxiety already camping out there.

Silent prayers toRhylandare sent with every disheartening flutter of silence from our bond. I'm trying not to think of the cosmic "Out of Order" sign that seems to be slapped on our connection.

"He's out there, Fadeyrn," I press with a voice sharpened by worry. "We need to search—now."

He's thoughtful, frowning and knitting his brows, taking in the situation like it's some elaborate chess game. "We'll track along the river," he decides, sounding like he's read the last line of the script and knows how this ends.

And yet my mind's thrashing with doubt. How bad are the others? Are we going to get a Hollywood ending or a Shakespearean tragedy? I'm no damsel in distress but one bad day away from feeling utterly helpless.

My bread has become cardboard, and Fadeyrn's posed like a model of mystique, giving me that 'I-wish-I-could-read-your-mind' look with enough intensity to power a small city.

"You walk like a queen with your little headpiece, but you're not Fae," he observes.

Ugh, the crown. It took forever to wrestle my hair free from that mess. My face is now so hot you could fry eggs on it. Suddenly, my lap became the most fascinating thing in the room.

Smooth, Danica, let's keep it together.

His affirmation awaits, and I'm caught in the headlights. "So, why are you here?" He's done with the niceties now.

I'm mentally pacing before launching the truth in his direction like a catapult. What choice do I have? I'm flying blind here.

"Okay, cards on the table," I say and go all-in with the prophecy that's got my face pasted on it, the storm brewing like a bad cold front and that glittering Faerite stone that's supposed to amp up my inner sparkle.

Trusting Fadeyrn is like juggling soap bars, but times are desperate. Here goes nothing, I think, with an internal gulp.

His jaw drops like I've just announced I'm the long-lost princess of Atlantis. Can't blame him, though; it's not every day you meet a walking, talking ancient legend.

"You claim to be the prophesied one, the herald of the ancients penned in forgotten tomes?" His voice is shaky territory, like he's asking and telling all at once.

I nod despite its sheer lunacy. "Wild, right? But it's no joke." His skepticism is front-row, and I can see the gears grinding. "Do you think I'm pulling a Houdini with this prophecy stuff? Please, I've got better tricks up my sleeve," I say, half baiting, half begging him to believe.

"I'm the universe's choice and don't carry proof in my back pocket. But this..." I let a ball of light hover above my hand, flickering with promise, "...is my resume."

His breath hitches, and I can't help but smirk. "Oh, and I didn't just wander into Wonderland. I made my own road."

Extinguishing the light, I fold my arms with a flourish of faux casualty. "And this stone?" I lift my chin. "Think of it as my battery upgrade."

Fadeyrn's still processing, gears meshing in his head. Then he splutters, not quite mastering the look of the collected guide. "You... you are imbued with light magic? But how?"

I declare head held high, oozing confidence like a royal flush in a high-stakes poker game. "Elysium? Have you ever heard of him? Yeah, that's my celestial postcode. I'm the heir with the stars in my veins and thick magic—you could spread it on toast."

MutteringElysium's name, he goes wide-eyed. "The Light god's descendant? Incredible...the prophecy doesn't describe who or where the Savior comes from."

Fadeyrn leans forward with keen interest and seriousness. "The Faerite stone you mentioned? It has been lost for countless generations." His ageless eyes gleam. "You think it's still here?"

I nod firmly. "It is here, and I have to find it. With the Faerite, I can stop Azrael and Moretemis' dark plans."

Fadeyrn's expression turns solemn. "Moretemis' ilk bring only chaos and destruction in their wake. But the Faerite's location hasn't been spoken of at all, even by most Fae. Seeking it will be no simple task."

Questions teemed in my head like uninvited guests—what's Azrael planning with my borrowed magic? How many frequent flier miles does portal-jumping get you, and do they expire?

Pushing the now toxic food away, my quiet words carve through the air like a quotation. "Fadeyrn, I can't play hide-and-seek in tree houses. Those I cherish—Rhyland,Lucian,Erik—are out there, and the thought of them in danger is driving me to distraction."

Taking my stand, I'm laser-focused—the antithesis of subtlety. "I've got enemies stacking up like Tetris, and we've got ground to cover. The clock's ticking."

He looks at me with confusion. My vocabulary going straight over his head. His interrogation feels weighty. "These friends—what do they mean to you?"

The seriousness doesn't blur my vision. "Rhylandis my mate; his brothers,LucianandErik, are… family. And yeah, they might bite, but only when asked politely." I grab his wrist—an SOS in my grasp. "I'm not a betting woman, but they're the rare kind worth risking it all for—not your usual blood-sucking fiends."

Desperation is now a tangy flavor on my tongue.

But dread slams into me hard, a sucker punch to my senses. They're exposed to the sunlight, and time's a ticking bomb.

His face registers another shock. "Vampires? Damn, this isn't good." Faderyn's hand finds mine, the gesture unexpectedly grounding. "We'll find them, Dani."

My hold is unforgiving. "They need me—my blood is the liquid lifeline for vampires. Consider it an SPF upgrade for the sun-challenged."

Fadeyrn does a double-take, "SPF?"

I keep forgetting I'm in the land of doublets and codpieces. "Oh, yeah, it means it protects them from the sun."

The plot twist takes him by surprise. But it's onward and upward; our time is dwindling.

Just like that, I find myself hitching a wild ride astride a horse, and we're off, tearing through the forest with the kind of breakneck speed that would give even the trees whiplash.

"Hold on tight." Faderyn hollers over his shoulder.

Around us, the landscape is a masterclass in ‘Fae arts and crafts'—a spectacle to behold. But amidst the allure,Rhylandand his brothers are lost, and my heart yearns toward them, a magnet pulled by an invisible force.

After enduring what feels like an eternity's worth of sitting, complete with the agony of grade-A butt cramps—boom, it's like hitting the power button. Everything changes. The scene goes macabre. We horseback through a land of shadow, where even the bravest light fears to tread; it sucks all warmth from the air.

Soothing certainty flows from Fadeyrn, and I latch onto it, eyes closed and honing in on that invisible tether that binds me to Rhyland. My center of gravity shifts—something spiritual, not physical—a homing signal buried deep within.

We're walking over an ocean of volcanic glass, the sharp contours of the land both awe-inspiring and frightening. A forest of shadows looms, greedily swallowing every speck of available light—starkly contrasting the shimmering beauty we'd left behind.

I can't suppress the shiver that races up my spine—the kind that's an instinctive warning. Here, in this place, dark things tread.

"We enter the Shadow Court now," Fadeyrn says ominously. "The ancient lands of the Dark Fae."

The shiver I stifle is no performance; dread grips me, but it's quickly forged into a blade of unwavering purpose.Rhylandis here, in this dark webbed fortress, and I'll tear through hell to find him. "He's around here." I point to some black, creepy eye sore.

Fadeyrn's face fills with dismay. "The royal palace? If the Shadow Court has your mate captive..." He trails off ominously.

The chill of fear constricts my heart; visions of Rhyland's suffering flash through my mind, vivid and horrifying. I can almost hear the echo of my frantic heartbeats, loud in the silence of my resolve.

"Get us over there, please." The words rip from my throat, every syllable laced with urgency.

Fadeyrn responds immediately, kicking our horse into a full-on sprint. The world tilts dangerously as we barrel through the dark forest. My fingers dig into the solid muscle of his shoulders, seeking purchase.

Faderyn brings us to an abrupt stop. "This is as far as we can go."

I unstick myself from Fadeyrn, clumsily rolling off the horse, my legs shaky with adrenaline as I confront the monolith of Rhyland's prison.

About fifty yards ahead, the sight before me is something out of a fairytale nightmare, not just in the looming darkness of the stronghold but in the very essence that it exudes—a beacon of malevolence. The gates, massive and forbidding, seem poised to snap shut on any who dare enter, and the stench of oppression is thick enough to taste.

But the fear twists inside me, metamorphosing into something fiercer, harder: determination. This is where Rhyland is and where I must go. There's no room for hesitation in this chess game with shadows.

Fadeyrn's body remains tense. His voice is grim when he finally murmurs, "This place is scouring with Dark Fae. Tread with the utmost care, Dani."

I suppress a shudder, rendered mute by surrounding evil. Getting Rhyland out of this nightmare fortress will require a miracle. But failure is not an option when my mate's life hangs in the balance.

"Who rules this creepy Dr. Suess castle?" I ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Fadeyrn's face spells trouble—storybook villains, not a prince. "King Alinarand Queen Amara reign here."

The venom in his voice resonates, but it does nothing to still my racing heart. Vulnerability breathes down my neck, sending a chill that's not part of the cold landscape.