Page 10 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I opened the door to my humble home and stepped inside. Just before I closed the door, I glanced back at Fintan one last time, and my heart swelled with appreciation. “Thank you… for everything,” I whispered.
“It was my pleasure. I will return in a few days with news of your father,” Fintan promised, his voice echoing softly.
Nodding, I closed the door gently, leaning against it as my heart raced. I slid down to the floor, the lingering buzz of our encounter still coursing through me, leaving me with a blend of hope and anticipation.
This was not how I planned my day to go, but perhaps this was meant to be.
The goddess’s words enchanted my mind again like a melody,“He’ll wear a guise, though not as he seems, together you’ll rise, fulfilling your dreams, for she is the Queen and the prophecy’s light, with him by her side, they’ll restore the light.”
I repeated what she said over and over again in my mind. I didn’t know what they meant, but I knew it had something to do with the prince.
Chapter Three
I told Mother everything.
“Perhaps he is your mate, Elara!” Mother exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as she poured the deep crimson cherry wine into two chipped glasses. The liquid caught the firelight, glowing like rubies. Its rich aroma wafted through the air, carrying hints of sweetness and the faint warmth of summer days. Mother said it was nothing like Fae wine, but it got the job done.
Her words hit me like an arrow to the chest.My mate… the prince? Could it have been that simple?
The thought alone sent a shiver racing through me— my pulse thrummed in my throat. The idea of being fated to him was dizzying—terrifying and intoxicating all at once. My body wanted to believe it, but my mind rebelled.
If he were truly my mate, I would have felt it. Wouldn’t I?
The bond was supposed to be an undeniable, searing pull, like static humming between us. Not a name whispered by the gods. Not certainty. Just… something I couldn’t explain.
And maybe that was why it haunted me so much—because being fated to the prince would almost be tooperfect. If it were true, then I could finally get Father out of the King’s prison because the prince would be on my side. I could bring Father home to Mother. Fate tying me to the prince could mean salvation for us all.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, my voice low, barely breaking the stillness between us. “His name was never whispered to me. The gods never marked him for me. How could he be my mate?” The words trembled out, but even asI said them, doubt gnawed at me. That electric sensation when he looked at me, the way the air crackled around us—was that nothing? Or was it everything?
I took a long drink, letting the cherry wine warm my insides.
Mother did the same and then let out a heavy sigh, her eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “Elara, there is something I must reveal to you… Something I should have never concealed.”
With trembling hands, she reached for my glass, filling it again with the sweet, ruby-hued wine that seemed to glimmer in the dim light. “You are not a Mage…” She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor, her expression filled with palpable pain.
I waited to see what else she was going to say.
She took a deep, shaky breath as she revealed, “And I am not your birth mother.”
What in the seven realms of Hel is she talking about? Did I hear her correctly?
Her words struck me like a tidal wave, each syllable crashing against the fragile barriers of my understanding. I had always known, deep down, that I wasn’t a Mage—an identity I had long been deemed unworthy of claiming. I was human, mundane, lacking any trace of the extraordinary. But the revelation that she was not my actual mother? That was a truth so unimaginable it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
As a moment stretched into eternity, I sat frozen, my heart pounding in my chest, staring at her with a blank glare. The world around us faded into a blur as my mind grappled with the weight of her confession, uncertain of what my new reality would hold.
“Breathe, Elara,” she said, and I realized I was holding my breath. “Let me explain.”
I didn’t say a single word.
“We lived in Windaria.”
“Air Court,” I cut her off, and she nodded.
“It wasn’t safe there anymore, especially for Mages and for Royal Fae, such as your parents.”
Mother used to tell me tales of the Fae lands, a place where the air shimmered with magic and the very fabric of reality seemed to pulse with life. In those ancient realms, the Royal Fae, once adorned in resplendent finery, began to stir with unrest beneath the weight of a rotting court. A rebellion ignited, fueled by a fierce longing for power and recognition, as both the Royal Fae and the Non-Royal Fae cast envious glances toward the gleaming crown that symbolized dominion. Amid the turmoil, a usurper rose—an ominous King whose authority was as insubstantial as the abyss from which he emerged. His reign was nothing but violence that cascaded through the kingdoms like a dark tide, uprooting the lives of all magical beings. No one was spared from his tyrannical grasp: the Mages, Warlocks, Vampyrs, Mer, and the halflings—all found themselves subjugated under the iron-fisted rule of a Royal Fae. In the aftermath, the Fae realm splintered, birthing the four distinct courts: Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. Each court crowned its own Royal Fae King, a turbulent power struggle that left scars upon the land.
“Your birth mother, Iridessa Aetheron, and your birth father, SylvianAetheron , begged me to take you with me. I was only eighteen at the time. I was so young and scared, but I knew I could protect you. You were my prophecy, Elara. Raising you has been my life’s greatest gift. When I came to Irongate,Selenewhispered your father’s name to me and led us both to him. She told me he would keep us safe, and he did.”
