Chapter 6

Elanor

Iknew what I wanted to do the moment I remembered Azran, though it took me ages to admit it, and even longer to decrypt Death’s instructions.

I’d let the fear surrounding the uncertainty of my future trap me in the spirit world, and forgot that I always had control over Death’s realm. It is mine too, after all.

My mind made up, I retreat inward, letting the illusion of the Dark Forest fade. Following the thread of power vibrating in my core, I focus on Averion and everyone I left behind. Repeating their names, visualizing the palace and the living world, I walk the path between life and death for what feels like eternity, until sensations return to my body.

My fingers twitch before gripping a cool, silky, smooth fabric—bed sheets.

Fluttering my eyes open, my vision blurs as I try to focus on the tall shape before me. The fog retreats and a grey-eyed Fae comes into view. His face marked by age, a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones give him an awfully serious air.

“Mor.”

The name dies on my lips, my throat closing as I attempt to talk, and wrinkles line the corner of his eyes in what I interpret as a smile.

The haze in my mind dissipates as the healer presses two fingers to his lips and murmurs a silent prayer.

“Welcome back,” he whispers softly.

My head snaps to other side of the room when the door swings on its hinges, and Mor’s shoulder twitch when it crashes against the wall.

No glimpse required; I would recognize that tornado in an instant.

Vesta comes into view, her fiery hair in a braid, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat on her forehead.

“Thank the gods, you’re awake.” She jumps on me before I can utter a word, crushing me with her armored body, but I return her embrace instantly.

Calen stands next to Mor, panting but smiling proudly.

“Welcome back, Ela.”

“You scared the shit out of me, L,” Vesta adds, letting go of me to scan my features as I sit up.

Everything is as I left it, undisturbed. The same sheer terracotta curtains decorate the wide glass panels on the walls, and embers burn in the fireplace. Taking a deep breath, I let the smell of fresh linen and smoking logs fill my lungs. I’m home. I made it back to Averion.

I motion towards the bedside table for water, and Vesta jumps on the task before I’m done gesturing. She fills the glass so fast it overflows, giving me an apologetic smile. I would have laughed if my throat wasn’t on fire, and settle for a dry chuckle.

Once I’ve quenched my thirst, I give her a small smile.

“Thank you. It’s good to see you all.”

Other than my throat, my body feels surprisingly rested. I guess it was only my mind that wandered in Death’s territories.

I crane my neck past Mor and Cal, scanning the room through the narrow gap between their shoulders, but it’s just the four of us.

“Where is he?”

An excruciating quiet blankets the room as the group exchanges stalled glances. When Calen’s brows draw together, my throat closes up and doom settles.

“Where is Az?” I over-articulate each knife-edged word, warning coating my tongue.

I’m ready to stand and go search for him myself by the time Calen finally answers.

“In Zetrea. He had to leave.”

My chest hollows as the words ring in the air, trying to permeate the resistance in my mind and the last dredges of hope in my heart.

“No.” The choked syllable tumbles out unrestrained. “He should be here.”

I shove the covers aside, refusing to remain in this cursed bed any longer. Azran is going to walk through the door any second.

Vesta moves to stop me, the look of pity on her face twisting the knife deeper. Recoiling from her gesture, I scramble back on the mattress, bringing my knees to my heaving chest to shield myself from the heartbreak.

My arms tighten around my legs as I scan the bond inside me, only to find it strained, lit ablaze by Azran’s absence. My throat closes up as I attempt to swallow and endure the waves of pain coursing my nerve endings.

Relief wars with renewed longing as reality hits me. He survived Adria and left me. Pieces of my heart detach, turning to dust as the organ is pulled out of my chest inch by inch. I can’t see him, touch him, feel his warmth. His memory lingers though he remains out of reach, and every fiber of my being calls to him. There is only absence, stark and life-draining as collapsing stars—annihilating light and warmth, leaving me void.

“He’s been gone for weeks, Ela. He tried waiting for you, but we couldn’t wake you up.” Vesta approaches slowly, taking my hand in hers.

“Weeks?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat. “How long have I been here?”

“Adria was over two months ago.”

The floral-scented soap Rina is using to bathe me smells heavenly, but the warm water does little to soothe me.

Mor left shortly after Calen and Vesta came to my room and caught me up on everything that’s happened since Adria. Braern is dead but his war lives on, and his allies need to be stopped.

I’m trying to wrap my head around it all as Rina runs the wet sponge down my back.

My Fae body healed perfectly, leaving my muscles without soreness and rested, but the lack of training and proper nourishment has weakened me. Nothing that can’t be fixed with Rina’s cooking and hours in the training center. It’s my mind that’s the problem.

For me, Adria was days ago, and I remember it all.

I remember the heat wave from when the blast hit me and Savage jumping to protect me, the screams of the dying soldiers, the mushy grounds soaked in blood and ashes beneath my boots, and Braern’s empty gaze as his head fell from his shoulders.

I remember the searing pain when Azran’s lifeless body laid in my arms, my heart disintegrating before my eyes so shortly after overflowing with love, and the pure madness that came with it, along with Death. The hurt consumed me, overwhelming my soul, pulling me under and devouring every cell in my body. An invisible pit appeared in my chest as our connection imploded, ripping through my body and swallowing me whole.

I remember my bargain with Death, and the spirit realm.

A shiver goes through me as Rina rubs my skin with soap.

“Is the water temperature all right? I could have someone—”

I lift my hand up to stop Rina. “It’s fine.” I give her a small smile, but she pinches her lips in return, seeing right through me. “I’ll finish on my own, Rina. Thank you.”

The old Fae lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t object. She’s always known when to push or let me be.

Once the door of my bedroom closes, my shoulders sag in the bathtub. When they all came in, I saw relief in their gazes but none of the grief my heart harbors, so I put up a brave front. To them, I’ve been peacefully asleep for weeks, resting my body, preparing to come back. In reality I’ve been wandering the land of the dead, haunted by illusions mixing with memories, and I left it with no more answers than I arrived with. I’m back in my body, though a foreign feeling lingers. Part of me remains in that realm. And now Az is gone, hunting down Braern’s allies and trying to extinguish the flames of war.

I wish I could hide in this room until he comes back, until it feels safe to get out and face the world after what Braern did. My choked laugh fills the air as I stand in the bathtub and grab the plush robe Rina left for me.

Wrapping myself in it, I make for the mirror console. I don’t know how I’m going to fool anyone looking like this. I tuck a piece of hair behind my pointy ears and stare back at my reflection. I force a smile to my face, but it doesn’t reach my bloodshot eyes.

I turn around and freeze in the bedroom’s archway, my gaze surveying the room and landing on the empty spot by the fireplace where Savage used to lay at night. My heart sinks and tears pool in my eyes as I relive it all. This time I don’t resist, letting the salted drops roll down my cheeks. He’s waiting for me in the spirit world, alone.

I’m sucked into the spiral of death and dark memories and left to debate what hurts most. The soldiers’ hateful gaze permanently engraved in my mind when I walked our army camp after the blast had decimated our ranks, the dismembered and burned corpses laying on the battlefield, Azran’s lifeless body, or his absence now.

Wiping the tears wetting my cheeks, I dig into the chest at the foot of my bed for clothes.

A pit in my stomach opens as I feel the bond once again, pulsing weakly, each wave more painful than the last, and my anger is born again. I can’t hide from the bond anymore, not when I’ve tasted it, tasted him.

How could he leave me and rob us of our first opportunity to see each other? To Zetrea, of all places. He’s so far away he had to cross an ocean to get there, a place I know nothing about.

Another jolt of pain shakes the bond and, just as quickly as it arose, my anger falls. Whatever ache I feel, I know Azran feels it too, and in a fucked-up way, our shared pain comforts me. It is as close to feeling the warmth of his embrace and the safety of his arms wrapped around me as I’ll get for now.

“You’re going to be all right,” I whisper to myself.

Azran is out there, alive, and I know in my soul that he will come back for me. If the past year taught me anything, it’s that he always keeps his promises. When Cal sends word, Az will make his way back to Averion. He will raise hell on earth to get back to me, just like he always has.

I repeat the words like a protective chant until they banish the fears shaking my heart.

I’ve finished dressing when a knock sounds and Vesta’s head pops through the opening door.

“There’s someone who wants to see you, L.”

My heart stops as my brain betrays me, taunting me with the foolish hope that my mate is on the other side of the door. The bond flares again, destroying the illusion as Varan walks in.

My heart sinks and I avert my eyes, unable to find the right words or meet his gaze after our last exchange in Adria. I only remember the venom in Varan’s words as his twin laid dying on a cot in the infirmary.

“What’s with the silence? Waiting for me to make my grand entrance?” My eyes snap up as Wyn’s cheerful voice fills the room.

He takes several steps forward and twirls around, his arms extended to better parade around. Without thinking, I crash into him and pull him in a hug. I tighten my hold around his chest, no doubt crushing a few ribs in the process, and he returns my embrace before clearing his throat.

“It’s good to see you too, Ela.”

“Stop playing favorites,” Vesta says, wiggling her brows at Varan. “I know I didn’t get the same hug.”

With a small laugh, I let go of Wyn, and my hand goes to the left side of his face, scarred all over. The rosy lines run high on his temples and into his scalp, leaving his blond hair shaved down the middle and still running wild on the other side.

Finally, I meet his gaze. His left pupil is white and veiled, and his glacial blue eye is watching me patiently.

“I’m so sorry, Wyn. I wish I could have done more in Adria.”

“Oh, this?” he asks, turning his head to better show me the extent of the damage. “The ladies and gents love the war hero look. And it was about time I give Varan a chance to be the more handsome twin,” he adds before shooting his brother a wink.

“Keep telling yourself that.” His tattooed brother crosses his arms over his chest, but a smile tugs his lips. Our gaze locks for a second before he looks away.

“You guys haven’t changed one bit,” I say, resting my hands on my hips.

“If you want my opinion, they’ve gotten worse.” Vesta rolls her eyes. “I’ve been stuck babysitting for way too long, L.”

“Oh, I’m not signing up for that,” I say in a huff.

“You two realize we’re standing right here, in the same room?”

The twins exchange incredulous looks and Vesta bursts into laughter.