Page 33 of Faeheart
My own emotions were a churning mess of guilt, fear, and a strange sense of responsibility I didn’t fully understand.
“What exactly is coming?” I asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.
Councilor Ashwick exchanged a look with his companion before speaking. “Intelligence suggests the Purity Front is planning something they call the Final Cleansing. A coordinated strike against every major magical institution that teaches or harbors mixed heritage students.”
“They’re building toward war,” Dean Thornfield added grimly. “And they see your bond as the catalyst that will rally others to their cause or against it.”
Wild’s agitation reached a fever pitch, his magic crackling visibly around his fingertips. “So what, we just disappear? Let them terrorize everyone else while we hide away playing magical training montage?”
“The safe house isn’t just for hiding,” Professor Blackwood interjected. “It’s where Lydia conducted her original research. Her notes, her artifacts, everything she discovered about triune bonds is there.”
That got my attention. “My grandmother’s research facility still exists?”
“Hidden,” Councilor Vael confirmed. “Protected by wards she and your great-uncle Sorrel wove together before their bond was broken.”
I turned to Blackwood. “You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me?!”
“She did not,” Councilor Vael interrupted. “The Elder Council was aware, but the information was kept secret. We…hopedthat things would never escalate to this level of violence, that we could quell the Purity Front before it got out of hand.” She let out a long sigh. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.”
“Where is it?”
“Hidden between the realms,” she said. “It’s the one place the Purity Front can’t reach you.”
I felt something shift in Wild’s emotions, curiosity beginning to temper his panic. “Between realms? Like, actually between the fae realm and the mortal world?”
“A pocket dimension anchored to both but belonging to neither,” Councilor Ashwick explained with obvious pride. “One of the last remnants of the time before the Great Separation.”
Caden looked up at Atlas with desperate eyes. “How long would we be gone?”
“That depends on how quickly you master the bond,” Dean Thornfield said carefully. “And how long the academy can hold out against whatever the Purity Front is planning.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. We might not have an academy to return to.
Through our connection, I felt Wild’s internal war between his need for freedom and his growing understanding that this might be our only chance to become strong enough to actually fight back. Caden’s emotions were simpler but no less painful, the agony of being separated from his mate warring with his loyalty to us.
“There’s something else,” Professor Blackwood said quietly. “The safe house... it’s not just where Lydia did her research. It’s where she, Sorrel, and Thorne lived. Together. For nearly three years before the attack that separated them.”
“You mean they were actually bonded?” Wild’s voice was barely a whisper. “A witch and a fae?”
“More than bonded,” Councilor Vael said softly. “According to the records, they were married in the old way. A joining of magic, soul, and body that transcended the boundaries between realms.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “But she married my grandfather.”
“She did,” Professor Blackwood nodded. “And had children with him. But Sorrel remained her true bond throughout her life. It’s possible that they continued to meet in secret, although we have no way to prove that.”
“I… I never knew.”
“Nobody did,” Councilor Ashwick said. “They did an excellent job of keeping their relationship secret. It wasn’t until Lydia died that Sorrel turned over everything to us before he returned to Briar Hall and passed away himself.”
“Speaking of Briar Hall,” Councilor Vael said, pulling a crystal sphere from her robes. “I have a message for you, Mr.Briar Hall. It’s from your parents.” She handed the scroll to him, a surprised look in his eyes. “They recorded this and asked me to give it to you.”
Wild stared at the crystal sphere as if it might explode in his hands. Through our bond, I felt his emotions cycle rapidly between confusion, dread, and bitter amusement.
“Let me guess,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “They want their disappointing son to come home immediately and stop embarrassing the family name?”
Councilor Vael’s expression remained neutral. “Perhaps you should listen to the message before making assumptions.”
Wild activated the sphere with a pulse of his magic, and suddenly the room filled with the ethereal voices of his parents. Even through the magical recording, their fae nature was unmistakable, their words carrying harmonics that made the air itself seem to shimmer.
