4.

  Faelwen

  Don’t tell me you hit your head again, little one.

  Artemis’s voice curled through my mind like smoke, soft but unmistakable. My eyelids fluttered open, and the world swam in and out of focus. Pain throbbed behind my temples. “Autsj…” I groaned, pressing my fingers to my forehead. You’re always so clumsy.

  A wet nose nudged my cheek, and a soft giggle escaped my lips despite the pounding in my head. “Stop, that’s gross,” I mumbled, my voice sounding surprisingly young. The scent of burning wood, simmering soup, and aged timber curled through the air, grounding me. My gaze drifted around the room; the heavy oak beams above, the soft glow of the fireplace. I was lying on the floor beside the great dining table.

  Barnabas sat at his desk, his quill scratching faintly against parchment. His weathered face was half-lit by the flickering firelight, eyes narrowed in quiet concentration. Slowly I pushed myself upright, heart pounding in disbelief.

  I was home. Back in the past. Was this real? Or some cruel trick of my mind?

  Everything alright, Wen? Artemis’s golden eyes locked with mine as I reached down and scratched behind his ear. His fur was warm beneath my fingers, his steady presence a tether against the storm inside me.

  “Yeah…” my smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. My gaze drifted toward Barnabas. He was all I had left after the world had torn my family away. The one who gathered my broken pieces and tried to stitch them back together with quiet patience and fierce love. He had taught me how to survive. How to fight. How to grieve without losing myself. And most of all, he taught me that those we lose never really leave. They linger in the quiet corners of our hearts, in the spaces between breaths. In our memories.

  I stood and crossed the room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath my bare feet. When I reached Barnabas’s desk, I rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, brown eyes tired, framed by deep-set wrinkles I hadn’t noticed before. Had he always been this old?

  “Is everything alright, Faelwen?” His voice was soft but steady. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as I smiled.

  “Yes, Barnabas. I will be.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted, and his hand covered mine. His touch was rough, weathered by years of hard work. “Good… that’s good.”

  Come one, Wen. Let’s go outside.

  Artemis bumped his head against my leg, his golden eyes pleading. I hesitated, then glanced back at Barnabas. His gaze lingered on me with quiet warmth. “Okay,” I said, brushing my tears away. Barnabas squeezed my hand gently. “Have fun, child of mine.”

  Moisture gathered in my eyes again. My voice was barely a whisper. “Thanks.”

  As I turned toward the door, I stole one last look at Barnabas’s weathered face. “Goodbye, Barnabas.”

  His eyes softened. “There are no goodbyes, my dear. We’ll see each other again.”

  My throat tightened. “Alright… I’ll see you later, then.”

  “I’ll see you later, Faelwen.”

  My hand trembled on the doorknob. I took a breath and stepped through… expecting to see the garden.

  But the garden wasn’t there. Instead, a thin silver line stretched through endless darkness. No walls. No ceiling. Just shadow pressing from every direction. I froze, heart pounding. “Artemis?”

  “Go on, my child. Don’t be scared.” A woman’s voice drifted through the dark, soft as velvet. My breath caught. “Mom?”

  “Go back, little one.” My mother’s voice curled through the shadows, cradling my heart.

  A wave of warmth brushed against my skin as I stepped forward onto the silver thread. My bare feet tingled as the cold gave way to quiet heat.

  “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” I heard a male voice say. “Da?” I called. A child’s laugh, light and familiar, drifted from the dark. “Can I go play with her, Da?”

  Mira.

  Tears burned down my cheek. My knees buckled. “Mira?”

  “Not now, pumpkin. Later, when the time is ready.” My father’s voice was steady, wrapped in quiet reassurance as he answered my little sister.

  “But I can walk with you, Mira. Just a little bit?” I asked.

  A soft laugh. Warmth at my side. A cold, small hand curled into mine, though I saw nothing but darkness. “I’ll come back to play with you, Mira. One day. I promise.”

  “Okay!” she chirped. We walked together for a while until her hand slipped from mine. “You’re nearly there, Wen,” Mira’s voice whispered as the dark thinned around me. “Bye, sis.”

  “Bye, sis,” I whispered back, my lips trembling.

  Wen? Artemis’s voice sharpened, threaded with worry. Hope flickered in my chest hearing his voice again. “Buddy?” I called out.

  Wen?! His voice was strained now, panicked. “I’m coming!” Me feet pounded the silver line, the darkness unravelling at the edges. A figure coiled out from the shadow’s edge. A tall silhouette with glinting eyes and a cruel smile. “Going back so soon?” he purred, and ice curled up my spine. “I was hoping you’d come running straight into my arms. I’d given you such a warm welcome.”

  The Fiend.

  His dark form slid toward me along the silver thread. I ran harder. “Buddy!” I screamed.

  Wen! You’re alive!

  The silver line flared beneath my feet. A burst of warmth exploded in my chest, and suddenly… light. Pain. The sting of breath in my lungs. I gasped awake, feeling arms around me. A trembling hand brushing my face. “Hey, hey, shhh. Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Ash whispered, his voice breaking. His lips pressed against my forehead as his arms tightened around me. I struggled to sit up. pain burned across my skin. My arms were blistered, the flesh raw and peeling. I choked down a sob. A tall figure knelt beside me. His black hair hang lose around his face. Syltharin. He was in his elven form. I shrank back, but Ash’s grip tightened. “Shhh… it’s okay. He’ll help.”

  My gaze darted toward Artemis. He’s right, Wen. I spoke to him. He agreed to give us the runestone.

  Syltharin’s pale hands hovered over my broken skin. A soft glow ignited beneath his fingertips as he began to chant. Coolness flooded through my veins. My eyes fluttered closed as a strange white light wrapped around me. Ash’s hand smoothed my hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, his breath warm against my ear. “Close your eyes, my love. Let the magic do its work.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Safe in his arms, I let the light pull me under.

  When I opened my eyes again, strength coursed through me like the first rays of dawn breaking through the night. The weight of pain and exhaustion had diminished, leaving me with a strange, almost ethereal lightness. A soft hum wove through the air, gentle as a lullaby carried on the wind. It took me a moment to realize it came from Ash, his voice a soothing balm as he held me close, cradling me in his warmth. “Ash?” My voice was barely a whisper, yet he heard me.

  He looked down, his emerald eyes shimmering like sunlight on leaves after a storm. Love and relief danced in their depths, so intense that my cheeks flushed with warmth. “Are you feeling slightly better, darling?” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. I nodded and tried to sit up, though the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me. Ash’s arms tightened around me, steadying me with unspoken reassurance. When I finally sat up, my gaze swept across the chamber. Artemis was studying the ancient runestone, his keen wolfish senses attuned to whatever unseen power still lingered upon it. A little further away, Spook lay motionless on the cold stone floor, his face pale yet peaceful. A cloak had been folded beneath his head, as a makeshift pillow. Beside him, Elora sat, her fingers entwined with his, her expression unreadable.

  “Is he…?” The words caught in my throat, fear curling tight around my heart. I dared not give voice to the worst possibility. “No,” Ash reassured me softly. “He’s alive, but his body needs rest. Magic takes its toll, your body is accustomed to it, but his isn’t.”

  I exhaled, tension uncoiling within me. “I see. What happened after I…?” My voice faltered, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my mind. The moment before unconsciousness was a blur, lost to the tides of magic and chaos. And I had no idea what happened to me and how I ended up in my old house. “After I fell unconscious?” I finished hesitantly.

  Ash’s jaw tightened, a shadow passing over his face. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I blacked out before you did. When I came to, the dragon was gone. Syltharin had returned to his elven form. Artemis was nudging me awake, and you were there, lying still, your heartbeat a mere whisper.” His voice trembled, and he turned away, his fingers clenching into fists. “I thought I had lost you.”

  “You haven’t.” I reached up, tracing my fingers along his jaw, guiding his gaze back to mine. His rigid stance softened under my touch, and as I leaned in, our lips met in a kiss, gentle yet filled with quiet promises and unspoken love.

  “I need to check on Spook and speak with Artemis,” I murmured as I pulled away, rising to my feet. The moment I did, the world tilted dangerously and my knees nearly gave out beneath me.

  “Woah… easy, darling.” Ash caught me, his grip firm and yet careful, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of my lingering weakness.

  Once the dizziness passed, I made my way to Elora’s side. Lowering myself beside Spook, I placed a hand on his forehead. His skin was cool, but not deathly so. His chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. Relief pulsed through me.

  “How is he?” I asked softly.

  “He’ll be fine,” Elora assured me. “Syltharin saved him. If it weren’t for his magic, he wouldn’t have survived.”

  A lump formed in my throat, the weight of what could have been pressing down on me. Elora met my gaze and, for the first time since I had known her, offered me a reassuring smile. “He’s a strong man. He’ll pull through.”

  I arched a brow, my lips curving into a smirk. “That’s the first time you haven’t called him a boy.”

  Elora chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, I know. And that’s precisely why we’ll keep this between us.” She winked, mischief glinting in her eyes.

  A soft laugh escaped me, the moment a welcome break from the weight of everything that had transpired. But my mind still swirled with unanswered questions. Rising once more, I turned to where Artemis and Syltharin stood, their silent conversation woven between them in a way only beings of ancient power could understand. As I approached, Artemis’s ears perked, and he trotted toward me, tail wagging with an energy that felt almost infectious. Feeling better, Wen? His voice brushed against my mind like a familiar breeze. I am, I answered through our bond. But tell me… how did you convince Syltharin to relinquish his rune?

  Artemis’s wolfish expression shifted into something akin to amusement. I showed him what would happen if he didn’t. I reminded him of what his creator would have wanted, of the balance that would shatter if the Fiend had its way. I made him see what was at stake.

  My gaze flickered toward Syltharin, his back turned to us, his posture rigid. Even in his silence, he radiated the weight of an immortal burden. You work in mysterious ways, Buddy, I mused, a small smile tugging at my lips and a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Artemis merely grinned, his golden eyes gleamed with fake innocence.

  ? ? ?

  After what felt like an eternity, Spook finally stirred. His movements were sluggish, his limbs trembling as he fought to sit up. Though unsteady, he was awake. With Syltharin’s aid, we began the arduous journey back to the inn. The ancient dragon in elven form, led us through a labyrinth of tunnels carved into the very bones of the mountain, passages so ancient that time itself seemed to whisper along their walls. Shadows stretched and twisted in the flickering torchlight, but Syltharin moved with the confidence of one who had walked these paths for centuries. At last, we emerged through a hidden exit, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of stone behind us.

  As we travelled the road, Syltharin spoke of his brethren, two others who stood sentinel over two of the other runestones. One resided in the snow-crowned Aelwhyn Peaks, the other in the forsaken ruins of Zan’kareth, a city swallowed by legend and time. His words carried more than just knowledge; they bore a warning as well. The darkness that pursued us was not confined to the shadows… it had agents in these very lands. The Fiend’s reach was long, its influence increasing. Even here, we were not safe from his reach. He also handed to us the necklace we were to collect for the stranger who gave us his name saying he could get it back at any time. Since it was a family heirloom and always found it’s way back to his bloodline.

  Back at the inn, the warm glow of lanterns and the scent of ale and roasting meat did little to banish the weight of exhaustion. Elora retrieved a sending stone, her fingers tightening around it as she murmured incantations to contact her father while walking upstairs for some privacy. We waited in silence, the room filled with only the crackling of the hearth and the distant murmur or patrons. When she finally came back to us, all eyes turned to her. “Well?” Spook asked, leaning back in his chair. Fatigue still clung to him, evident in the pallor of his skin, but then again, we likely looked no better.

  “We’re going to Zan’kareth,” Elora sighed, dropping into the seat beside him. Spook arched a brow. “You don’t sound thrilled about it.”

  Elora shot him a pointed look. “You wouldn’t be either if you knew what Zan’kareth truly is.”

  Unfolding a map of the Fae lands across the table, she traced a slender finger over its surface. “Here,” she said, tapping a range of jagged peaks in the southeast. “The Aelwhyn Peaks. And here…” she moved her hand to the northeast, past forests and rivers, to a desolate expanse marked only by runes of caution and myth. “Zan’kareth. Nestled in the heart of the Vortharyn Wastes.”

  Spook’s frown deepened as he leaned in, studying the map. “You mean the desert.”

  “Precisely.” Elora sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’d much rather face the cold of the mountains than the hellish heat of the Wastes. But unfortunately, my father has already made arrangements. He’s been in contact with the lord of Sylvaeris, who is mobilizing forces for the war. A unit from his ranks will be sent to retrieve the runestone in Aelwhyn Peaks. Sylvaeris is in the Everbloom Wilds, close to the mountains and thus near the Aelwhyn Peaks, so they’ll reach it faster than we could. Meanwhile, we will have to journey all the way to Zan’kareth.”

  She traced the route for us. The beginning at Eryndalis, across the Ralnor Hills, past the glimmering Twin lake, and through the treacherous expanse of the Silver Mountains before reaching the Wastes. My stomach twisted at the sheer distance. “That’s going to take ages,” I murmured, dread settling in. “And with the war raging, who’s to say we’ll even make it in time?”

  Elora placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It might ease your mind to know that the humans have pushed the demons back to the Wetlands with the help of my father’s forces. They only lost Townhaven for good after they tried to reclaim it, but Dew and Erandur have been reclaimed. And more reinforcements are coming from overseas. Your king may have been a fool at the start, but he’s finally seeing reason. He and his brother sent word to their trading allies, and a fleet of six thousand soldiers is on their way. They’ll arrive within five days.”

  I barely heard her after she mentioned Townhaven. A cold weight settled in my chest, pressing against my ribs like an ice shard. Townhaven. The place where I had spent most of my childhood. Where Thalor and Gwen, an old kingsguard and his wife, my protectors, my friends, had lived. My vision blurred, tears burning in the back of my eyes. Were they safe? Had they escaped in time?

  I clenched my jaw, forcing the grief down, burying it beneath resolve. Breaking now would serve no one. “Alright,” I exhaled, steadying myself. “What now?”

  “With the reinforcement arriving and Westray holding its ground, we can afford a few days to rest and gather supplies,” Ash said. His voice was calm.

  “And don’t forget…,” Spook added, “We still have to give the necklace to the stranger who gave us Syltharin’s name. I’ll do that.”

  No one argued.