Chapter 12

I gape at the speaker for a few seconds as I try to digest what he's just told me. A goddess. Me? The urge to laugh fills me, and I can't contain my snort as I try to suppress my amusement. I desperately don't want to offend these people who have made me feel so welcome and obviously know more about my elf nature and family history than I do, but they have to be wrong. This story is completely different than what the queen told me. Where she believed that the elves thought I was a sign of their goddess returning, the wood elves have gone one step further by believing I am the goddess. I'm supposed to report these people to her, to tell her what I've learned, to persuade them that I'm not a sign of the gods and goddesses returning. That last part at least, I can do.

Suddenly the weight of all the eyes that are on me feel heavy and suffocating. They're expectant, like they're anticipating for me to do something grand to prove I'm their goddess incarnate. Self-consciously, I reach out and touch my goddess mark on my left wrist, needing to feel connected, grounded. "You must be mistaken. I am no goddess," I whisper, keeping my voice low. The last thing I want to do is upset anyone.

"She's right. There is no way that she is a goddess," Naril calls out, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. Vaeril sighs behind me, and I share his exasperation. We know the playful, teasing high elf and know he's joking, but these elves don't .

Pushing up from her throne, the female speaker with the delicate antlers takes a few angry steps towards him, her face twisted in disgust as she looks him up and down. "How dare you slight Menishea."

Spinning, I see Naril frown and take a step back as the angry elf advances on him. His whole body becomes alert, and I'm reminded that he's a warrior. He may not be like his twin, he's much leaner and spends most of his time dealing with court matters, but looking at him now, I know he's lethal.

"Naril," I murmur softly, shaking my head as he glances at me, his eyes narrow and calculating. "My companion was just joking, he didn't mean any offence," I offer as I face the female, stepping between the two of them. She instantly dips her head to me in deference, her anger seemingly gone, but when she raises her head and looks at Naril, I can see it simmering in her eyes.

Vaeril shifts and nudges Naril, whispering something I can't catch, but the lord sighs and nods. Taking a step forward, he places a hand over his heart and bows his head, holding the position. "I'm sorry if I offended you." I have to hide my shock, I've never seen Naril apologise to anyone other than the queen before. After several seconds of awkward silence, he stands straight and looks at the speaker expectantly.

She makes a small, frustrated noise, narrowing her eyes as she gestures towards me. "It's not me you should be apologising to."

Knowing that will never happen, I look at Vaeril to step in and smooth things over, but Speaker Hawthorn thankfully beats me to it. "It was a misunderstanding, Fawne," he addresses the speaker quietly, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If Clarissa trusts him, we should too."

The elf, Speaker Fawne, raises her jaw and looks down her nose at Naril, as if deciding whether or not he's worth her time, before nodding and stepping back to her chair.

"Thank you," I say, and I turn to address Speaker Hawthorn, my brow pulling into a frown. "But I really do think you're mistaken." I keep my voice low, not wanting to be overheard, but he just smiles and gestures to some benches to the side of where they're sitting.

"Why don't you take a seat up here with us, get comfortable, we're about to tell the histories," he informs me, before walking over to the center of the platform. A hush falls over us.

Doing as instructed, I step over to the wooden bench and take a seat, although calling it a bench doesn't give it enough credit. The back is intricately carved and scoops down to the seat part, which is covered in plush, fluffy pillows of all colours. Vaeril takes a seat next to me, casually taking hold of my hand, while Naril sits on Vaeril's other side, muttering something quietly in elvish.

"What are the histories?" I query quietly, sure I'm missing something. Why would they be telling everyone the history of the elves? Surely they know this already?

"They are stories of their history. They tell them at gatherings, passing down information of their ancestors. They never share them with outsiders, we should be honoured that they're going to tell them with us here," Vaeril tells me in a quiet voice, and I can hear his excitement at the prospect.

"Things might make a little more sense to you then," Speaker Hawthorn says to me, obviously having overheard Vaeril's explanation. "You can make up your mind once you've heard the histories."

Smiling, I nod my agreement. I'm still confused and don't believe that I'm a goddess, but I am excited to hear more about my heritage. I'm also hyperaware of Vaeril's hand in mine, but because we're very much on display here, I'll need to make sure we're on our best behaviour.

"Welcome all, thank you for joining us this evening," Speaker Hawthorn calls, and while his voice isn't loud, somehow, it travels around us, surrounding us. "This is a very special meet, as many of you will already know, Clarissa has returned to us." Pride and happiness practically shine out from him as he looks over at me. Murmurings around the platform fill the night air as many sets of eyes fall on me. Just as I'm starting to get uncomfortable, he turns away and addresses the group again. "Tonight, we will tell the histories of the gods and goddesses."

One of the other speakers stands and joins Hawthorn, speaking in elvish, and I realise he's translating. They must only be speaking in Arhavien for my benefit. Murmurs fill the air again along with happy, excited chattering, and I get the impression that this is a favourite tale.

Clearing his throat, he smiles as he looks over the gathered crowd. "Back when the land was first created, it was ruled and governed by seven very powerful beings that had willed it into existence," he begins, and I lean forward out of interest. I've never heard this story of the continent's creation before, and certainly not that there had ever been more than one god. In Arhaven we believe only in the existence of the Great Mother, and I wonder how she fits into this. "It was a land rich with nature, and for a time, it was peaceful, but the gods grew bored, so they created life." The speaker's voice has taken on a lilting quality that fully draws you into the story, and I can see why they chose him to tell the histories.

"The humans came first, created to care for the land, but the gods were greedy and always wanting more. They began to meddle in the lives of the humans, making them more aware and giving them the capacity to want more also. This caused the humans to begin fighting amongst themselves, so the fae were created to bring balance," the speaker continues, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I always thought the fae had been on the continent far longer than the humans, I had no idea it was the other way around.

Vaeril shifts his weight and leans towards me, his mouth close to the side of my face, his breath tickling the sensitive curve of my ear. "The fae were created in all shapes and sizes, living off the magic of the earth. Elves like to think we are superior to the other fae creatures, but ultimately, we are all related," he elucidates, and I nod to show I've heard him.

"The elves evolved from this. They had the best aspects of the humans, but with added speed, longevity, strength, and the magic of the land," Speaker Hawthorn carries on. "The gods were made up of four brothers, and three sisters—Holume, Macca, Jos, Nathius, Tia, Sabine, and the youngest, Menishea."

I glance at Vaeril at the mention of their goddess. He's smiling, like he can feel my gaze, but he continues to look at the speaker. Beyond him, I see Naril leaning forward, totally absorbed by the story.

"One of the sisters, Tia, was cunning, and had fallen for the humans. When the humans and elves inevitably started fighting, she felt the elves had an unfair advantage and wanted to do something to even the playing field." The speaker pauses, and I see the looks shared by some of the watching elves. Although they know what's coming, they're still listening with rapt attention. "The youngest goddess was kind and wanted the fighting to stop. She was convinced by her older sister to help give the humans a chance. With the desire to help, she, along with her sister Tia, sacrificed a large part of her power to the humans, and so the mages were born."

"The eldest god, Holume, was furious. He favoured the elves and hated seeing them being slaughtered by the magicians and their new magic. Feeling betrayed, he and his four other siblings turned on the youngest goddess and her sister. The cunning sister was killed, but they spared Menishea, as they knew she held only kindness in her heart and was now far weaker than they were."

Blinking at this new information, I think of what I know of my goddess, the Great Mother, who, from what I've been told, is their Menishea. In our teachings, the Great Mother is an all-powerful being, so I can see why the priests wouldn't want this version of creation being told.

"Over the years, the gods became bored as the humans and elves who once worshipped them began to forget them. Pulling their influence, they left, forsaking their creations." He pauses again as a smile returns to his face. "All except the youngest goddess, Menishea." Awed sounds and praises to their goddess fill the space, the elves' eyes glittering with pride and happiness. I am also in awe, but not at the goddess, at her people. They believe and worship her with every fibre of their being, which is completely different than their high elf cousins.

"Menishea loved all of her subjects and watched over them, but she was weak. She found a sect of elves who still fully believed and worshipped her, so she used her magic to help them grow and flourish, their love for her fuelling her own power. That is how the wood elves came to be." There is another pause as Speaker Hawthorn glances over his shoulder at the other speakers, who are nodding in agreement. His expression changes now, becoming somber at whatever comes next in the story. "We have continued to worship her ever since, until one day, she vanished." Some of the gathered elves make quiet noises of distress, shaking their heads at the loss of their goddess. "However, some of her magic remained in the very ground itself, and through the forest, we were able to see a vision. In that vision, a young lady of mixed race was going to come to us, and with her, magic would be restored."

Although the speaker doesn't look at me as he finishes his story, I feel the eyes of almost every elf on the platform land on me expectantly. Mother above , I pray, needing her guidance now more than ever. Falling back into my nervous habit, I reach over and start to twist the bands on my wrist, my finger brushing gently over the goddess mark. As soon as I touch it, it's like a jolt of electricity goes through me. My entire body becomes stiff, and my mark glows so bright I see many cover their eyes to protect themselves against the light. Vaeril turns and places his hand on my shoulder. I see his mouth open, but no sound comes out. Then, everything goes black.

I feel like I'm floating, my whole body weightless. I can't see anything, but I know I'm not alone. There is a familiar presence watching over me and surrounding me with love.

"Great Mother," I whisper, my mouth pulling up into a smile. I wish I was able to bow and show my proper respects. This is the first time I've been able to feel her properly since I escaped Arhaven, and I hadn't realised how much I missed her comforting presence.

My child , she replies, but it's like she's speaking directly inside my head, no sounds reaching me. You have done well.

"Where am I?" I query, then realise that's not important, so instead, I ask the question at the forefront of my mind. "Are you Menishea?" I whisper again, but it's not the awed tone from before, it's the voice of someone who's not sure they want to hear the answer.

Her pause is answer enough. Yes, I am both the goddess the humans worship, and the Menishea the elves worship , she explains in an even tone. If that is true, then were the elves right about the other gods? I'm struggling to get my head around it. Everything I thought about my goddess was wrong. No. That's not true. Sure, what the priests taught us was wrong, but how I feel about the Great Mother and her love for me hasn't changed.

There is a great evil keeping me from my people. The only reason I can speak to you now is because some of my magic is in the environment around you , she continues, pulling my thoughts back to the present. A great evil? What does she mean by that?

"But I could hear you back in Arhaven," I point out, confused as to why she would be weaker only in one place.

The evil is only surrounding the elves at the moment, but it is spreading , she warns, and a shudder takes over my body. I cannot stay long. I am weak, and even now, I can feel myself fading away . Her voice fades in and out as she speaks, as if to punctuate what she's saying. I have a job for you .

Her words make me nervous. What is she going to have me do? Is it selfish of me just to want to enjoy my freedom? Images fill my head, of the slaves back in Arhaven, of the sea elf who couldn't pay his taxes, of the ladies-in-waiting, and I know I could never rest easy while that was still happening. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't respond, instead, images appear inside my head.

I'm above the castle in Arhaven. There's a group of slaves being watched over by the guards, there must be at least twenty of them, and farther away, I can see more. Every single slave was slaughtered before I escaped, and to see these numbers rebuilt that quickly makes me sick to my stomach. Suddenly, the image zooms in, and I realise what they're digging—mass graves. Most of the bodies in the graves are adults, a mixture of servants, lords, and ladies, but I do see the worn-out, broken bodies of children in there too.

A noise reaches me now, and I realise it's fighting. The vision zooms back out, and I see the guards fighting with a group of people. They're all fighting back and trying to push through to two individuals standing on the other side of the guards—the king, and at his side is Jacob. I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I want to look away, but I can't, the images keep coming. Jacob's blank face as he watches the slaves work, the king's evil smirk, the faces of the townsfolk as they get cut down by the guards.

The images change again, and this time, I'm looking out across the land with Arhaven behind me. The barren lands have always been just that, but it seems to be spreading. Part of the forest we escaped through is dying, and I see imps, pixies, and other fae running deeper into the forest, trying to escape the threat that seems to be behind me. I try to turn, but the images are in control. Next, I'm zooming across the land until we reach Galandell. The city looks beautiful and peaceful, but as the vision zooms out, I see that the lands around the city are dying, and an inky blackness descends on the city. As the images fade, I hear the screams of the elves as they are swallowed whole by the darkness.

My eyes open, and I see a concerned Vaeril above me as my head rests in his lap. Several other elves are surrounding me, including Speaker Hawthorn. Their mouths are moving, but no sound is coming out. I can see them, but I'm not really seeing them, the images from the vision still fresh in my mind.

Defeat the darkness, my beloved , the Great Mother whispers in my mind, before her presence fades until it's almost completely gone.

Sound returns and batters my ears, making me wince, the cacophony loud against the silence of the vision.

"Clarissa. Alina . Can you hear me?" Vaeril calls, and I meet his eyes, nodding my head slowly. I close my eyes again, fighting the wave of dizziness that overtakes me.

"I need to sit up," I mutter, my thoughts feeling thick, my body heavy as several arms help me up into a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, I look around and see all eyes on me. Naril is sitting at my feet wearing a concerned expression, and I glance up at Vaeril who's behind me, helping me to stay upright.

Speaker Hawthorn gently puts a hand on my leg, pulling my attention to him. "Menishea spoke to you." It's not a question, but I nod anyway, not having the words to describe what just happened. His eyes are bright with excitement, but his expression is kind, like he knows the toll it's taking on my body. Vaeril is stiff behind me, and I know he's struggling against his instincts with all these people surrounding me. Reaching up, I place a hand on top of his, which is resting on my shoulder, squeezing it gently.

Movement catches my eye, and I glance over. I see a small female elf making her way towards me with a cup of what looks like water in her hands. Kneeling at my side, she offers it to me, and I smile gratefully as I take it, sipping at the cool water. "Thank you," I tell her before handing it back to her.

"You're welcome, beloved."

As soon as the words leave her lips, nausea slams into me, reminding me of what the Great Mother had shown me. Scrambling to my feet, I push past the elves and run to the edge of the platform, only just managing to reach it before vomiting over the side. I tremble, the meagre contents of my stomach being purged from my body as the horror of the vision finally hits me. I don't know why it took one of the elves calling me ‘beloved' to trigger the memories. A cool hand rests on my back, rubbing calming circles, and I know instantly it's Vaeril. My retching continues until there is no more for me to vomit, and I rest my forehead against the railing of the platform, my breath coming in pants. He doesn't say anything and doesn't ask me if I'm okay, because he already knows the answer. No, I'm not okay. How could I ever think I could get away from the darkness of the King of Arhaven?

Eventually, someone else joins us at the railing, but I don't bother to lift my head, I'm too exhausted. Assuming it's Naril, I just lean back into Vaeril, enjoying the cool, gentle breeze against my skin.

"That was an interesting meet." The voice makes me jerk upright, causing all my muscles to protest at the violent movement.

"Speaker Hawthorn," I blurt out, about to apologise for my poor greeting, but he waves it away with a gentle smile, his eyes taking in my exhausted form. "I'm sorry I ruined the meet."

The speaker leans against the railing, gazing back across the platform at the remaining elves. Most of them have started to split off into their own groups, heading back to their homes or meandering over to the large table laden with food that I only just noticed. "Ha! Don't apologise child." He laughs, shaking his head. "Menishea acts through you. We've not seen that much of her power for decades, it was a beauty to behold," he admits, turning to look at me. "I am sorry it's taken so much out of you though." I hear the hurt in his voice, and I know he means it. There's something in his eyes, something that wasn't there before the vision, and I want to know what it is.

Vaeril seems to sense this and shifts his weight before he cups my chin. "I'm going to give the two of you some space, Clarissa. I'll be with Naril. I won't be far," he promises, placing a gentle kiss against my sweaty forehead. Watching him walk away, I notice Naril is over by the table of food. His plate is overflowing with the delicacies, but his eyes are on me. His teasing has been just as bad as usual, but I haven't missed the concerned glances he's been giving me recently. I know he would deny it if I asked him, but he's come to care for me. Not in a romantic way like Vaeril, but in the way I love Wilson—like family.

The silence between Speaker Hawthorn and me stretches, but it's a comfortable silence, like one shared between two old friends enjoying each other's company. Now that I know I'm not going to vomit anymore, I mimic his stance, leaning back against the railing and facing the platform. We watch the elves as they enjoy the evening. The canopy of leaves above us is thick, but there are a couple of gaps, and through them, I can see the large full moon shining down on us. In my culture, that would be taken as a sign of good fortune.

Sighing, I break the silence, knowing this conversation is inevitable. "You believe I'm that woman from the story." I don't look away from the elves, but I can feel his gaze on me.

"Yes, you are her. I feel it in my soul."

His answer only corroborates what the Great Mother told me when she confirmed my goddess and the elves' goddess were one and the same. A great weight of responsibility sits on my shoulders, but I know I can't deny what the goddess asks of me. Even if I wanted to go against her, I can't let all those innocent elves and humans suffer. I just wish she had told me more. What is this darkness? Does she mean the king, or does she mean something other than that? I've seen the evil he can bestow upon his people, but if there is something else, something more… Is there any way we could possibly stand against that?

Shaking my head, I try to push those thoughts away, knowing there's nothing I can do about it right now. I glance over and meet his eyes. "And do you believe I'm the goddess reincarnated?" I keep my voice even. He already knows I don't think this is possible, but I don't want him to change his answer to try and please me.

He pauses at my question, his expression morphing into one of consideration, and I know I needn't have been worried about him changing his answer. "I'm not sure," he answers honestly, looking back over his people. "But I do know you are a sign that she will return to us. I already feel stronger, and the magic of the forest grows." He turns and gazes out over the forest, gesturing with his hand at the trees that surround us. Looking into the forest, I see he's right. It's not that anything appears any different, it doesn't, but there's a change in the atmosphere, a different energy.

Suddenly, his breathing hitches, and I look over at him sharply, mistaking his gasp as a sign of something being wrong, but his wonder-filled eyes are wide as he stares into the darkness of the forest. That's when I realise it's not dark anymore, at least not part of it. Frowning, I follow his gaze, my eyebrows raising when I see what's caught his attention. A bright light is shining through the trees, slowly moving towards us, and as it gets closer, I see it has the shape of an animal.

"Is that…" Squinting, I try to make out what it is. "Is that a wolf?" I ask with disbelief. I didn't see any big animals, except for a few deer, as we travelled through the forest, and as the animal continues to come closer, I realise it's huge. It's easily the same size as my horse. That thing could cause a lot of damage if it were to attack, but Speaker Hawthorn doesn't seem worried, in fact, he appears happier than I've ever seen him.

"That's a forest spirit," he whispers, as if he's afraid his voice will scare it away. The fact that we're up on a platform and far away from the spirit doesn't seem to register with him. "They usually reside in the trees, but they occasionally take the form of an animal. They're incredibly shy, and it's rare to see them. We are honoured that it chose to show itself to us. I've not seen one in…" Trailing off, he glances at me, and seeing my overwhelmed expression, he tries to tone down his excitement. The spirit stops at the edge of the clearing, its muzzle raised so I know it's looking up at us. "This is a sign—the magic is returning."

I'm not sure why or where it comes from, but I feel the need to show my respect to it, so I slowly bow my head and drop into a shallow curtsy. As I rise, I feel the speaker's approving gaze, but I don't look away from the wolf spirit. There's a pause, but slowly, as if mimicking me, it lowers its large head in a bow. Rising back to its full height, it turns and trots back into the forest, the glowing light fading as it disappears into the trees.

The presence of the spirit has awoken something within me. I feel alive, and despite the task the Mother has given me, I want to celebrate with my friends. However, I know this feeling isn't going to last forever, in fact, it's already fading and there's more I need to know. "Why did the goddess vanish?" I ask. "I know you explained some of it in the story, but what do you think?"

The speaker ponders the question for some time, still staring out into the forest as if he might see the spirit once again. Finally, he turns looks over at me. "Some think that she died, but I know that's not true." He's not talking about the wood elves right now, but the high elves who seem to have forsaken the gods and goddesses. "Others think she was so aggrieved by the slaughtering of elves and humans that she turned away from us." He pauses, his eyes running over my face as if worried about how to tell me something. Fully turning towards him, I try not to frown, to be impatient and demand he speak whatever's on his mind.

"Your grandfather was a firm believer of that. He thought we should be making peace with the humans." He sighs, shaking his head, and a deep sadness emits from him which makes me think he knew my grandfather well. I already knew this information, so it's not a surprise to me, but I am shocked at how much I'm still saddened by hearing it. "Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with him." His expression hardens. "The queen leaves us be because our belief in the goddess doesn't interfere with her, but as soon as Jaonos started urging us to forgive the humans…" He trails off, and I know he's thinking of how the queen banished him from Galandell. From Master Ardeth, I learned that Jaonos came back here for a few years before leaving.

Slowly, I nod my head, acknowledging his words. "And what do you believe?" I query, noticing how he very carefully hasn't told me his opinion regarding my question.

Sighing, he looks at me with a considerate expression, as if trying to decide whether to trust me with his thoughts. Not saying anything, I simply keep my expression open as he watches me. Eventually, he nods his agreement. "I think something is stopping her and keeping her away from us."

I remember the vision and how his words echo what the goddess told me. A shudder racks my body at the thought of having to relive the images the Great Mother sent me, but the speaker and my friends need to know what's coming.

The speaker, oblivious to my internal turmoil, continues with his thoughts. "The mages still have their powers, correct?" he asks, ignoring my raised eyebrows as I try to digest the change of subject. "If she had left completely, they wouldn't have their powers," he reasons, and I realise what he means. "She also blessed you in Arhaven, so her influence must still be there. There has to be something stopping her from reaching us here." He's looking into the forest again, but I can tell he's not really seeing it, instead, lost in his thoughts.

"You're right," I confirm, watching his eyes widen in surprise. Holding up my hand, I try to stop the barrage of questions I know he must have. "I need to tell you about my vision, but I don't want to tell the story more than once."

His expression changes to one of understanding, he's obviously remembering my reaction post-vision, and he nods in agreement. "That's not a problem. I will gather the other speakers together, and you and your companions can join us."

Following the direction he's looking in, I notice that he's searching for the other speakers, most of whom are still sitting in their thrones, chatting with each other or other elves who have gathered near them. I automatically look for Vaeril, and I find him and Naril still standing by the food, the latter of whom is chatting to his friend. It's obvious Vaeril isn't paying attention to him, though, since his eyes are still locked on me.

"Thank you," I reply, but as he starts to walk away, I reach out and touch him on the shoulder. "Speaker Hawthorn…" I trail off as he stops and turns to face me. It's clear he wants to join his fellow speakers and find out about the vision, but he pushes that aside.

"Yes, child?"

I should just let him go, say that it doesn't matter, but this question has been with me since I was first blessed by the Mother. At night, it eats away at my confidence and keeps me awake, and I can't stay quiet anymore. "Why did she choose me?" My voice breaks as I speak, and I hate it, but I can't hide how this doubt has affected me.

The speaker's expression softens. "You're pure of heart, you want to help others, and you are not influenced by greed," he answers easily, like he didn't even need to think about it, and I wish I could feel as confident as him. Except he doesn't know the truth, he doesn't know who I really am.

Taking a deep breath, I avert my gaze, not wanting to see his disappointment when he hears my story. "Back in Arhaven, I was a slave." His body stiffens next to me, but I continue, unable to stop now that I've started. "I have no memories before I was eight, and I was a slave until my twentieth birthday when I was blessed by the Mother and a mage saved me." The story keeps coming, along with all my insecurities. "I am not good. I've lied, I've stolen, and when I had the opportunity, instead of staying and helping innocent people escape, I broke Vaeril free—the enemy of my people. I left my friends behind and ran." The guilt of leaving Jacob, Wilson, Jayne, Aileen, and all the innocents in the castle is what really keeps me up at night.

Silence stretches between us, and I brace myself for his disgust, but instead he reaches out and, with a gentle hand, lifts my chin until I meet his gaze. "You've had a tough life, one I would never wish on anyone, especially that of my old friend's granddaughter." His voice is soft, but his grip tightens on my chin, not enough to hurt, but enough so I can't easily look away. "But you are a survivor, one who pushed past her hate to rescue her enemy. You saw that he was innocent and you did something about it, even though it went against what your people believed," he urges, his tone firm. "That is brave, and there's no shame in rescuing yourself," he continues, his eyes sparkling with an emotion I don't understand. "I am proud of you, and I know for a fact that Jaonos would be too."

His words break me apart, like he's taken a stake and jammed it into my heart, tearing away the disbelief, self-hatred, fear, and years of believing I'm worthless, exposing the raw emotions beneath.

"Clarissa?" Vaeril calls out gently, and I can feel him close by. Need pulls at my chest, not in a sexual way, but a desire to be comforted by my mate, and thankfully, Speaker Hawthorn understands that without me having to say anything.

"I'll give the two of you some time, come over when you're ready." Releasing my chin, he briefly cups my cheek before pulling away. He nods once at Vaeril and walks back over to the other speakers.

Without saying a thing, Vaeril simply opens his arms, and I hurry over to him. The first tears fall from my eyes as he wraps me tightly in his embrace, and we slowly sink to the platform. My sobs rack my body, but he holds me, protecting me and caring for me as I break apart. It's messy, painful, and not something I've allowed myself to do before now, but there's something about it that is also healing. By allowing the darkness and hate to leave my heart, although it's scary, it opens a whole new space for acceptance, love, and hope.