Page 159 of A Fate so Cruel

An idea sprang to life. Perhaps . . . perhaps this was where he was meant to be. Isolated, sure, but . . . a new home. He could build a new home with his own two hands. Maybe it wouldn’t be permanent. Maybe he’d never truly find his place in the world. But here. He could do it here. No assassins would dare enter the forest. No eyes would watch him with absolute hatred.

Rion surveyed the area again. Caol, as loathe as Rion was to think about the male, had taught him how to build. They’d worked on the cabin together. Rebuilt a shed after a storm. He’d taught Rion how to construct fires and how to hunt for food and find clean water.

He didn’t need slaves or servants to bring him anything. Rion didn’t need anyone to survive.

He started a fire, no longer fearing if it drew anyone’s or anything’s attention, then set to work.

Rion used his magic to cut down trees and haul stones from the nearby river. He laid the foundation in two days. The walls only took him one, and by the end of the week, Rion finished the roof.

He was finishing the fireplace when the ground shook beneath his feet.

Rion stood, his magic circling his body in a frenzy. The atmosphere shifted, the animals scurried away, and the ground shook again.

Something big was coming.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and Rion separated himself from the nearly built cabin. He stood beside the outdoor fireplace, the setting sun at his back, and waited for the monsters to arrive.

The earth beneath Rion’s feet shook again and he fed his magic through the ground, letting it stretch toward those rumbling footsteps. Rion nearly gasped at the size of the creature. The weight. It was definitely bigger than anything he’d ever encountered.

The Dark Fae. It had to be one of them.

Rion didn’t move. He merely stood, waiting like a statue to finally glimpse the creatures the world avoided.

The beast’s steps slowed. He could hear its chuffing breath now. Rion’s magic swept across his shoulder, as if it might whisper details to him about the strange creature in the forest.

Then the Fairy Folk emerged.

But they weren’t running. They popped their little heads out of the ground and hidden tree hollows with tiny reeds intheir grasp. An ethereal tune started. It grew louder and louder, rising through the trees and taking the buried pieces of his soul with it.

Rion gazed up into the canopy and saw the glow around their hands. The slight halo of magic that surrounded their frail bodies.

The Dark Fae emerged then, casting a looming shadow over the tiny beings at its feet. Rion sucked in a breath. It towered well above his head, but not as tall as his imagination’s creation. Bark-like skin covered its wide body and bright blue flaming eyes studied him. Neither moved for several heartbeats.

Long, branch-like fingers stretched from both hands. The Fairy Folk continued playing and Rion finally understood.

If someone were to stumble upon this creature, they’d see claws. If fear consumed their thoughts, they might assume the mouth to be full of jagged teeth. But this creature didn’t have teeth at all, just an uneven jaw shaped as if it had cracked under pressure.

The being opened that jaw and a long groan escaped, reminding Rion of the trees when they refused to bow to the wind. Rion let his magic settle. He watched the Fairy Folk dance and sing.

Then Rion stepped forward. The tree-like Dark Fae didn’t move. Rion stepped again until he’d closed the distance, then peered up into those eyes like flame itself. “You’re not here to kill me,” he said, not as a question, but as a statement.

Because the Dark Fae weren’t dark at all. This one wasn’t, at least.

They were misunderstood.

Just as he had been.

Rion placed a hand on the creature’s leg and the Dark Fae reached down, grazing Rion’s shoulder with those branch-like arms. As if to provide some semblance of comfort.

A mountain full of monsters.

Home.

The Cursed Fae and Freedom

Chapter One

Rion adjusted the pack around his shoulders and marched toward the main gates of Nàdair. He didn’t summon his magic. Didn’t reach for his weapons, either. He’d felt strangely at peace for the last few decades. Like the rage that had once consumed him no longer prodded the edge of his subconscious.

---