8. Eldrion

EIGHT

It has been at least half a century since I thought about my mother, really thought about her. But since the night in the tavern, I have not been able to rid her from my mind.

Perhaps it was the way the patrons talked about me. He’s losing it. He’s past it. Rebellion.

She never said those things to me. She never told me she was disappointed in me or that she wished my brother hadn’t died when he did.

But I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me. As clear as day. She longed for him, not me. She believed the family’s gift died with him.

I am standing on the roof, staring out at the sunrise. Usually, I prefer sunset because it brings with it the shadows I find comforting, but today I decided to try and remind myself what it is I’m fighting for.

Early, like this, with the sea glistening under the sun’s warm orange glow, and the rooftops of Luminael slowly being brought back into the world of colour, the city is almost beautiful.

I am reminded of the days when gold-tipped spires glistened, and music rung out in the streets.

The days before I drove it to ruin in an effort to save it from itself.

The visions began soon after my mother died. As she was lowered into the family tomb, beside my father and my brother, something shifted inside me. I felt it. Like my bones were creaking and trying to bend, like my skull was too tight for my mind.

My wings itched to stretch and be free and soar over the city, even though I was told as a child that flying like that was a foolish pastime.

Something the frivolous Leafborne practised.

Not us.

Not the Sunborne.

I ignored the sensations, drowning them with whisky. I pretended they were not there, or that they were some form of grief, and that any moment I’d wake from the haze of my loss and feel able to rule the way I was supposed to.

They did not disappear.

They intensified.

The first vision almost broke me. It was one of the most vicious, visceral visions I’ve ever had. Even now, two hundred years later, I remember how it felt.

So real, so tangible. I woke convinced it had already happened; that the city had gone to ruin and everyone who lived in Luminael had been swallowed by darkness and fire and flood.

As I realised what had happened, something else settled in my core. Deep. So deep it has remained there for two centuries, digging in, gnawing, scratching.

I knew, after that vision, that something was coming to end us. Something within the city. Something no one could see or feel. Something that was creeping in plain sight.

I knew I had to control it, contain it, watch the city like the cruel overlord they expected me to be so that the moment the evil revealed itself, I would be there to stop it.

Two centuries. I still don’t know what’s coming.

All I can hold on to, the only true thing I know, is that Alana is important.

I started seeing her face soon after that first vision, and she was so different to the others that she drew me in without even trying.

My nightmares brought me darkness, and pain. Anguish and terror.

And then there was her... Porcelain skin, freckles on her nose, hair the colour of autumn. She was a light in the darkness, and yet despite the comfort she brought me, I did not trust her.

I craved her, and I loathed her. Because I wanted to believe she was the key to my salvation, and knowing how much I wanted it made me think she could be the opposite. She could be the one to end it all.

What if this woman, this ethereal fae with sea-green eyes and fire in her soul, is a temptress sent to bring me down?

What if she is not fae, but demon?

I stare out at the citadel, the water, the forests in the distance and the mountains beyond. She is out there somewhere, and she is too far away. Every fibre of my being needs her closer, craves her, desires her.

And yet, I hate what she has with the Leafborne boy. I almost obeyed her. For a flickering fraction of a moment, I almost let him live because I did not want to see the despair in her eyes.

When she fucked me in the tunnels, I could have captured her, brought her back here.

I could have dragged her here, kicking and screaming and naked.

But I needed her.

I hate how much I need her.

I hate that my heart beats with the rhythm of her name, and that I whisper her name when I am alone and the darkness is threatening to overwhelm me.

“Eldrion . . .”

A voice, like ice laced with poison, drips down my spine and settles in the crevices between them. My wings are outstretched, hiding the silhouette of the voice’s owner. But I know with absolute certainty exactly whose face I will see when I turn around.

“Mother,” I whisper.

A hand touches my shoulder. I turn my head. There she is. Piercing silver eyes, ochre skin, long silver hair tied in braids that cascade down her back.

She smiles, and for perhaps the first time in my memory, it feels like a true smile.

“You’re not real.”

She sits down on the parapet and crosses one leg over the other, as if we are meeting in a tavern for drinks and feasting.

“What makes you say that?” She tilts her head.

“I see the future. I do not see spirits.”

“You saw the future. You did not see spirits.” She taps her fingers on her thigh. She’s wearing the dress she was buried in, a silver gown that looks like the shimmering surface of the ocean when she moves. “Things can change, Eldrion.”

“Have you changed? Do you still hate me, Mother?” I stare ahead at the sunrise, but I can feel her watching me.

“I never hated you.” She stands and takes my hands. “I was scared for you.”

I look down and flex my fingers. I can’t feel her. She’s not here. My mind is playing tricks on me.

“I was terrified, after your brother died, that you’d be left all alone without the power to rule.” She touches my chin, turns my face towards her.

“Your fears were well founded,” I reply.

But, to my surprise, she shakes her head. “You are wrong, son. You have exactly what you need. You just haven’t realised it yet.”

“I have destroyed this city because I wasn’t equipped to interpret my visions. They are not complete, like yours were. And I am no prophet, like Raylon. I see snippets of what the future holds, but I can’t make sense of them.” I turn to stare out at the city. “Look at what I have done in the name of keeping these people safe. I have destroyed Luminael, and I have lost myself. My heart is black and wizened. I hate everything, and everyone –”

“And yet you still try to keep them safe... You search for the empath because you know she is important.”

My wings twitch at the mention of Alana. “You know about her?”

My mother inclines her head. “I have always known about her.”

“How?”

A slow smile parts my mother’s lips. “I know her, son, because I created her.”

Tar-like dread sweeps over me. My mind is playing tricks. This is not real. It cannot be real.

“What do you mean, you created her?”

“She is not what you think she is.”

“What does that mean?” Shadows start to swirl around my feet. My fingers splay out to the side, my wings block out the light of the rising sun. I am taller than my mother, and stronger. I tower above her, but she does not quake or seem afraid. “Tell me what you mean!” I reach for her. Grab her. Try to catch hold of her wrist, but my hand goes right through her.

She is not there.

“She is not what you think she is,” my mother’s voice whispers.

“Wait... stop.” I spin around, desperately searching for her. The shadows grow thicker and darker, they grip my ankles, my legs, they spread outward, over the parapet, down the sides of the castle. The sunrise quivers and darkens.

And then it starts all over again.

The screaming.

The demons.

The death.

The end.

I wake on the floor of my chamber. I don’t know if I was ever on the roof or if the whole thing was a dream. It is becoming harder to tell the difference between waking and sleeping, reality and nightmares.

I stagger to my feet, grabbing hold of the mantle above the fireplace.

I pick up my whisky glass and draw it to my lips. But instead of drinking, I throw it into the fire.

The glass shatters and crackles.

The flames burn brighter.

And then the voice comes to me again. “She is not what she seems.”