17. Finn

SEVENTEEN

Finn

" W hy are we not going straight to Luminael?" Yarrow growls. He is pulsing with dark energy, longing to take back what is ours.

"We need to recruit a few more to our army first, Yarrow."

"Here?" He waves at our surroundings. "You think Mountainside fae will fight with us?"

"No, not here. This is just a nice little rest stop on the way. A chance for us to exercise our newfound strength. To test ourselves." I pat his back firmly. "Think of it as a training exercise."

"All right," he grumbles. "But then where do we find these extra recruits?"

"Of all the creatures in this kingdom," I say, raising an eyebrow at him, "who could be best persuaded with the promise of power, and money?"

"The elves?" Yarrow mumbles. "They're not fighters, Finn. Good if you want some sacrificial fodder to go in the first wave, but?—"

"Not the elves," I tut. "The Gloomweavers, Yarrow. We're going to recruit the Gloomweavers. And they are going to be delighted to finally have free rein with their cruelty."

Yarrow begins to smile. He nods approvingly. "Gloomweavers," he repeats. "Perfect."

"But for now. .." I gesture to the trees ahead.

They are adorned with flags and ribbons. Pale pinks, and blues, and yellows, fluttering in the breeze. In the distance, music is playing. The sun is setting. How beautiful.

How sweet.

How wholesome.

Have we arrived in time for a celebration, perhaps?

We move through the forest as if we ourselves are made of shadow. We pass the villagers' cabins and their school and the place where they gather to eat and drink in the evenings.

And every single bit of it makes me sick to my stomach.

That they spent so many hundreds of years living like this while we, the Shadowkind, were bound and tortured and locked away. And it wasn't just the Mountainside fae. It was all of them. Every single sorry creature in this entire kingdom ignored our plight.

Because it did not suit them to see it, and it was not worth risking their own existence to help ease our suffering.

They are all ignorant, arrogant, despicable specimens. No better than Eldrion.

Because although it was his hand that did most of the damage, and his family who started our oppression, those who stand by and do nothing are just as complicit.

They just carried on living their lives. Having babies, playing with magic spells, fucking and dancing and living while we died slow, withering deaths behind Eldrion's walls. While our young were taken from their parents, and thrown into orphanages, wings bound, destined for a life of servitude to the ones who decided they were not good enough for anything else.

Not worthy.

Well, we are worthy now.

And we are about to show them what a mistake they made by casting us out and pretending we did not exist.

They will regret turning their eyes from our suffering.

As we approach the edge of the forest, I hear the roar of the ocean. We are near the cliffs. I turn to Yarrow, and his eyes flash in the gloom. "Take their eyes," I whisper to him. "But not until they have seen us and what we can do."

"Their eyes?" Yarrow's face sharpens into a grin that would send a shiver through any sane or normal being.

"They chose not to see us for centuries," I hiss. "Now they will have no choice. Take their eyes, but leave them alive."

Yarrow nods at me, still smiling, and then he spreads the word.

Murmurs of approval ripple through the trees.

We are not many, but we are powerful. And when we have shown our might, we will recruit more. The Gloomweavers will fight with us, and the elves too. Because elves are nothing if not whores for survival. At any cost.

I might take Garratt's eyes first, though. Because he really did betray me, and I really do not like that. At all.

When we reach the edge of the trees, I motion for everyone to stop.

We watch from the shadows as a crowd of Mountainside fae cheer and clap for a bride and her new husband. Their wrists are bound with pale yellow ribbons. They kiss, then the ribbons are untied, and they walk under an archway of their friends and families' wings.

They emerge smiling, elated. Music starts to play. The dancing begins.

And then we descend.

Yarrow takes the husband. I take the bride.

She screams delightfully as I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tight against my body.

Yarrow holds the husband's head still.

I was not going to kill her. I intended to do exactly as I said: take their eyes and leave them alive and bleeding. But perhaps that is not enough.

If I learned one thing from Eldrion, it is that sometimes a display of might is necessary to make your audience understand what they are dealing with.

So, while Yarrow makes her husband watch, I take my dagger from my belt and I slit the bride's throat. A long, clean line.

She coughs.

Blood spills onto her perfectly white dress.

I take her eyes next. She screams again, and the sound flutters down onto my skin like blossoms in spring.

I take a shuddering breath and let my wings fly wide.

The husband is screaming too. He tries to fight. He throws magic at me, but I bat it away with the flick of my wrist. And then I laugh because it is almost quaint that he thinks he might be able to overpower us.

Yarrow grins at me. "Now?" he asks.

"Now. The eyes." I inhale slowly. "And then do what you wish."

"Yes, my lord." Yarrow's voice is dark and dripping with blood lust. As he follows my command and leaves the new widower lying on the ground, scrambling to get away from him, I fly up above the trees and look down at the beauty I have created.

Shadows swirl and snake and choke.

Screams echo against the cliffs and drift up into the sky. Around me, my own shadows start to converge. They come to me and lift me up, and power vibrates in the air around me.

This is what we were destined to be.

We were destined to be the most powerful creatures in the kingdom.

And I cannot wait for Alana to see the world I am making for her.

As I think about her, something snags in the corner of my mind. A tingling sensation. Is she here? Is she watching me in her dreams?

I tip back my head and laugh, then swoop to the ground and pick up my dead, discarded bride. I lift her into my arms and walk to the edge of the cliff.

"Do you see, Alana? What we could be if we were together? What I am offering you?" I call into the ether, knowing, just knowing she can hear me.

"I am doing this for you! And you will be mine."