I sat up in the stands that ringed the great orb in The Room of Knowledge, speaking with my wife over all we had witnessed while the masses chattered on about everything they had seen too.
With our daughters trapped in that cavern and Clydinius out in the Fae world causing unknown destruction, my mood over their ascension had been replaced by a sombre heaviness.
“Why is it that any time my daughters get ahead in life, they fast find themselves in a bind once more. The Vega curse is broken, why does their bad luck persist?”
“It could be worse,” Merissa said. “They could be dead.”
“True,” I conceded. Clydinius had let them live, and we had chewed over the reasons for that.
Was he afraid he might be defeated in a fight against them? That was a high hope indeed, but a possibility all the same. Another possibility was that he didn’t see them as a threat at all, inconsequential to his plans of world domination. He had taken their form, and perhaps had been arrogant enough to believe they would perish in that cavern without him having to lift a finger. I had hoped the twins would find a way to break free swiftly, but so far, they were still trapped, and I was starting to worry they really would have trouble escaping.
I ran a palm over my face, the stress making me feel older than I had ever been in life.
Merissa placed her hand on my knee and squeezed. “This is not the end.”
“No, but it is the beginning of some fresh new hell,” I sighed, kicking the seat in front of mine.
The seat trembled then the ground rumbled beneath me, and I frowned, wondering if I had caused it. But the rumbling deepened, the walls shook, the arches which swept overhead began rattling and the stars released a horrible, tell-tale wailing noise which could only mean one thing.
Cries of alarm carried around The Room of Knowledge and someone pointed to the dark circle of sky above the orb.
Merissa and I shot from our seats, gazing up at the stars there which grew brighter, hotter, burning, blazing, blinding. Then among them all, one began to move, ripping a fissure through the sky that left a fiery trail in its wake.
“Hold onto your nellies!” Hamish yelled from somewhere in the crowd.
The falling star was blasted away from here, out of the sky, out of our sight entirely and the stars whispered words that carried all throughout The Veil.
“Our kin falls. Their time is done. Pay your respects to the fallen star.”
Someone’s arm shot up in the air, the keen asshole splaying their hand out wide then curling it into a fist and repeating the motion again and again while the rest of the crowd joined him. It was a salute to the fallen star, and as the pressure built around me, the magic of the stars zapping against my skin, I raised my hand too, offering up a moment of respect.
The palace shook violently, then all fell quiet and still.
“Let’s watch where it falls,” Merissa said curiously and we moved down from the stands, reaching the railing at the edge of the great orb.
Azriel joined us, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Where do you think it’ll strike? I doubt this one is bound for Solaria after the last one fell there.”
“It depends where it chooses to fall,” Merissa said and we looked to the swirling view within the orb to find the answer, asking it to give us the knowledge we sought.
We were shown a rocky mountain in a barren landscape, nothing but grass and stone for miles around.
“This is Solaria,” I said in surprise.
“Perhaps the falling star favours this land,” Merissa said, intrigued.
The sky lit up as the star came tumbling from the heavens, the trail of fire in its wake telling every Fae in a hundred-mile radius of its demise. The wind stirring the grass on the mountainside fell still as if nature itself was pausing to witness the star’s fall, and an energy crackled within the rocks as if in anticipation of its arrival.
With an impact that shook the entire mountain, the star slammed into the face of it, carving out a wide, burning fissure in the stone and sending huge slabs cascading down the steep slopes.
The wind picked up again, roaring and blasting this way and that with far more vigour than it had had before. The storm crashed against the mountain as if trying to touch the molten stone that glowed with heat from the star’s impact, and I gasped at the majesty in it all. The burning rocks hissed as the air struck them and the stone slowly cooled, leaving a gaping cavern that looked half melted, frozen in time.
Starlight glimmered from within, the pulsing silvery essence of that holy being sending waves of energy out into the air around it. I waited with bated breath for it to release its energy into the world, fuelling the Elemental power that lived in the blood of Fae. This was our truest gift from the stars, their death an offering of power to our kind. It was a law as old as time, and Clydinius’s thwarting of that law was what had caused such chaos in our kingdom for so long. Too long.
A glimmer of light caught my eye lower down on the mountainside and my gut clenched as Lionel, his shadow queen, Tharix and Vard appeared via stardust swiftly followed by his cohort of bonded Dragons.
“By the sun, what are they doing here?” Merissa hissed.
“They must have been close enough to see it fall,” I said. “Perhaps Lionel wishes to witness a Donum Magicae.”
It was one of the rarest events to ever be witnessed by our kind, after all. And Lionel tended to covet all things rare. Though I scorned him of the privilege.
At least he looked in no fit state. His fine clothes were unkempt as if he had not changed them in a day or more, and there was a tightness to his expression that told me of the stress he was under. I wondered if he even knew of our daughters’ ascension yet.
With a thought, the great orb showed us Lionel and his minions up close, and Lavinia swept closer to him, gripping his hand. “I can do this, Daddy. Just give me the chance.”
Lionel frowned, looking from her to Tharix then the Dragons at his back as if doing a mental count of his Guardians. They were still a powerful bunch of assholes, but they were on the back foot now, and the hint of worry in Lionel’s eyes told me he was desperate.
“You mustn’t die,” Lionel hissed, and Lavinia cooed, moving in to kiss him.
When she pulled away again, I could tell he had said the words not out of any sentiment for the monster, but his need for her. He couldn’t risk losing one of his dwindling allies. Especially not one so fierce as her.
“Come with me, Daddy.” Lavinia stepped onto an animal track that led higher up the mountain, bare toes pressing into the dirt.
“For the love of the moon, will she ever stop calling him that?” Merissa cringed.
“Her mind cracked long ago,” Azriel said. “She is but fragments of the past, clinging to a shattered soul.”
I didn’t mention the fact that Lavinia had likely claimed the term daddy from her time joined with Clara’s soul. The poor bastard didn’t need the reminder of his daughter’s infatuation with Lionel. At least she was past that now, and I knew she had enough regrets to last her an eternity in this place when it came to that Dragon.
“No, I will wait h-” Lionel started, but Lavinia’s shadows grabbed hold of him and dragged him after her up the path.
Vard hurried after them, but Tharix stepped into his way, the beastly creature wetting his lips with hunger. Vard staggered backwards with a murmur of fear, scurrying into the masses of the Dragon Shifters, and they all waited for their master to return.
The view through the great orb moved after Lionel and Lavinia, taking us with them into the deep cavern where the glittering star lay, about to release its power.
“What is Lavinia planning?” I murmured, unsettled.
“What can she do?” Azriel said.
“Surely nothing,” Merissa replied, but there was a note of doubt in her voice that drove my worries deeper.
Lavinia pulled Lionel close to her, the whip of shadows around his waist releasing him, and he straightened as his gaze fell on the star.
“Celestial heavens above,” he breathed. “It is truly something…” He crept towards it, his hand outstretched with the arrogance of a Fae who had never been denied anything in life. The want in his eyes was clear, the possessiveness of a Dragon rising in him.
Lavinia slapped his hand down, keeping him back. “It’s dangerous, my king. We mustn’t touch it. Not with our hands anyway.”
My throat tightened, her plan clear as she raised her palms and shadows slid out of her, four tendrils of darkness slinking carefully closer to the star.
The celestial creature hummed with building power, the buzz and drone of it speaking of how much magic was twisting around the two of them from that star.
Lavinia’s shadows slipped closer, hovering above the star’s shining surface, and the giant being pulsed and hummed faster, urgently preparing to release its power before the shadows could touch it.
The stars began to whisper around us, a rush of frantic, fearful voices telling me this ploy of Lavinia’s was not so foolish after all and concern gripped me too.
With a clash of power, the shadows lunged at the star, snaring it and spreading over its gleaming surface like ink spilling over a boulder.
The star screamed, the noise a high-pitched cry for help that made the stars above shriek in horror.
“No!” Merissa cried, her hand touching the orb, her eyes flashing with glimpses of futures untold.
The stars were wild and furious, their laws thwarted once again and this, it seemed, was the final straw as a giant crack burst up the centre of the great orb. Shards of crystal shot out of it and the souls in the room scattered with cries of terror.
Azriel pulled me back by the shoulder and I caught Merissa’s hand, tugging her with us.
“They don’t want us to watch any longer,” Azriel hissed, but my eyes remained riveted to the scene before me, certain the star would break free at any moment.
Lavinia stepped closer to it, power pouring from her in droves, her shadows smothering the star and trapping all of its power in its core.
“I can feel it,” Lavinia gasped, a moan leaving her as the shadowy coils of power that threaded between her and the star lit up with glimmers of light, all trailing back into her body. “I can feel it all.”
A sickening smile lifted Lionel’s lips while the room around us tremored violently, the archway overhead cracking, a chunk of rock crashing down close beside us. The stars shrieked louder, demanding we leave, and I let Azriel haul me away, towing Merissa after us.
My fingers tightened on my wife’s hand, and the horrors I perceived in her eyes told me all I needed to know about what she had managed to see of the future. She looked hopeless, desolate, and my heart fractured, certain that fate had twisted against our children once again.
“What can we do?” I pleaded, but she shook her head, eyes wide and full of endless sorrow.
“Nothing, Hail. Nothing but watch and pray.”
