Page 71 of Eluvonia
The bindings on my arms loosen with every movement, the fabric ripping away bit by bit. I can feel the dark marks beneath them pulsing, writhing like living things. My claws catch the light, gleaming black as obsidian, and the swirling patterns on my arms creep into view, crawling up my wrists and forearms, stopping just below my elbows.
When the last Fae retreats beyond the village’s borders, I stand amidst the wreckage, chest heaving. The fires rage on, casting flickering shadows over the blood-soaked ground. My claws drip with gore, the stench of death hanging heavy in the air. The shadows around me finally retreat, sinking back into my skin.
Declan approaches, his face pale, his gaze locked on my arms. He sucks in a sharp breath, the sound sharp against the quiet crackle of flames. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t know they’d gotten this bad.”
I glance down at my arms, my breath slowing. The dark marks twist and swirl over my skin, stark against the soot and blood. My fingers twitch, and I curl my hands into fists. “Every blessing comes with strings,” I mutter, my voice low and bitter.
Declan doesn’t respond, his expression tight. I don’t need his pity. I pull the remnants of the wrappings tighter around my arms, turning away before he can say anything else. “Help the wounded,” I bark, turning to the surviving villagers and soldiers. “Put out the fires. I want everyone who’s not injured redirected to the town hall. It’s still standing. Declan, set up a temporary aid tent over there.” I point to a relatively untouched patch of land near the center of the village.
Declan nods and moves off, already shouting orders to a group of soldiers. I watch him for a moment before turningmy attention back to the villagers. They’re moving like ghosts, their faces pale and hollow as they sift through the rubble for loved ones.
My chest tightens, but I shove the feeling down.
“Sir!”
The voice cuts through the din, sharp and urgent. I turn to see a young messenger sprinting toward me, his face flushed and streaked with soot.
“What is it?” I ask, my tone curt.
The messenger stops a few paces away, panting heavily. “Sir, there’s a report from Iryndel Castle.”
I straighten, the tension in my body returning. “Go on.”
The messenger swallows hard, his gaze darting nervously to the ground before meeting mine. “Your Fae, Aeris, has been arrested and charged with espionage and aiding the rebel Fae. She is set to be publicly executed in three days… by public whipping.”
My world tilts on its axis. For a moment, I can’t breathe, can’t think. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“What?” The word escapes me in a whisper, barely audible.
Declan appears at my side, his brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”
The messenger repeats the report, his voice trembling slightly. Declan’s face goes sheet-white, his usual composure shattered.
My wings snap out from my back, a reflexive burst of emotion that sends the messenger stumbling backward. Without a second thought, I launch myself into the sky, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Kaida!” Declan’s voice follows me, and I glance back to see him shifting mid-air, his golden wings catching themoonlight as he races to catch up.
“What do you think happened?” he shouts over the wind.
“I don’t know,” I grit out, my teeth clenched. “But I’m going to murder anyone who even thinks about harming her.”
We fly like demons, barely stopping for breathers as we cut across the night sky. The stars blur above us, and the landscape below is a patchwork of shadows and light.
We reach Iryndel in a day and a half—half the usual time—but every grueling second stretches into eternity. The moment the castle comes into view, I dive toward it, my wings folding in tight as I plummet toward the throne room balcony.
I crash through the doors, ignoring the startled shouts of guards and advisors. Declan is hot on my heels, but I don’t slow down. My eyes lock onto my father and the king, standing near the center of the room, deep in conversation.
“What the fuck is going on with Aeris?” I demand, my voice booming across the chamber.
The king sighs heavily, his expression one of weary resignation. The commander glances at me with a flicker of annoyance.
“She has been charged with espionage and aiding the rebel Fae,” the king says, his tone flat. “We found proof.”
He gestures to a guard, who hands him a stack of papers. The king passes them to me, and Declan leans over my shoulder as I rifle through them.
Each document feels like a punch to the gut. Military outposts, strategic plans, all written in Aeris’s handwriting.
“These must be forged,” Declan says, his voice sharp with disbelief.
