Page 104 of A Cage of Crystal

Desmond looked like he wanted to argue but remained silent.

Movement fluttered beneath Emylia’s closed eyelids.

Desmond leaned closer, and Teryn found himself doing the same. Teryn didn’t know much about fae lore, but he’d certainly never heard anyone refer to the fae as having belonged to another realm. Faerytales suggested fae creatures—unicorns, pixies, dragons, sprites—had lived long ago, along with two races of High Fae: the Elvyn and Faeryn. They were said to have inhabited the land once known as Lela—the land that was now divided into Menah, Selay, and Khero. All stories told that every kind of fae went extinct over five hundred years ago.

Teryn hadn’t believed there was any truth to such tales. Not until he saw a unicorn with his own eyes. Learned magic was real. Confronted a blood mage who claimed to be an Elvyn prince.

The seer repeated her request. “Show me the realm of the fae.”

A weighted silence fell over the room. Teryn folded his arms to keep from fidgeting.

Finally, she spoke again.

“The fae realms are many. They are here but not here. Layered upon this world. Parallel, but on separate planes.”

Her eyes flew open, and she dropped her crystal to the surface of the table. “The fae are real,” she muttered. Then, shifting in her seat to face Desmond, she said it again. “The fae arereal.”

His lips curled with the slightest hint of amusement, but he quickly steeled it behind an icy mask. “Yes, but how do I get to their realm?”

Emylia rose from her chair and began pacing the room. “I saw…many realms. There isn’t just one. Fae of different races and species exist on parallel planes. I can’t ask to see how to get to your particular realm unless I know more about it.” She halted before Desmond. “What is the name of the realm you seek?”

He pursed his lips. “I can't say.”

She propped her hands on her hips and stared down at him. “I can’t be of any help if you keep vital information from me. Honestly, I’m surprised I saw as much as I did, considering my skepticism. But what I’m seeing is taking me in too many different directions. I need to know the name of the realm if I am to see any more answers.”

Desmond threw his head back with a frustrated growl. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t know?”

He stood and brushed past her toward the desk, planting his hands on its surface. His head hung low, sending his dark hair over his face. “My father sent me. He’s the one looking for the fae realm, not me. He’s its rightful heir, and I’m simply trying to return him to his throne.”

Teryn’s eyes widened. Desmond’s talk of fae heirs and blood rights reminded him too much of Morkai. Could Desmond’s father be…Morkai? While the sorcerer had looked only a handful of years older than Teryn, he was willing to entertain the possibility that he’d been old enough to sire this young man. If Morkai was truly Elvyn, he could have been ageless.

Emylia snorted a laugh. “Your father is the heir to a fae realm?”

His cheeks flushed. “I’m not joking, acolyte.”

“Right,” she said, trying to hide her amusement and failing miserably. “Open mind. I can do that.”

He glared at her for a few moments before speaking again. “He told me the fae realm has a name, but usurpers to the throne cursed him long ago, forcing him to forget. All I know is that it’s the realm of the Elvyn and Faeryn.”

Emylia nibbled a thumbnail, then gave a nod. She’d managed to rein in her mirth. “All right. I can work with that.”

“You can?”

“It might take me days or weeks, but I can continue to channel. I’ll seek the realm of the Elvyn and Faeryn and see if I can glean a name. Now that I know it’s real…” She met his gaze with a wide smile. “This is actually exciting!”

He blinked at her a few times. Then, ever so slowly, a warm smile melted over his face. “So you’ll come back? You’ll come back and we’ll try again?”

Her expression turned timid. “If you want me to.”

“Yes,” he said, voice soft, breathless. He reached a tentative hand and brushed his fingers against her wrist. “Thank you.”

Emylia bit her lip, eyes locked on his. “Of course.”

The image froze, and Teryn cast a glance at the real Emylia. Her expression was still brimming with mournful longing. “I don’t see what this has to do with Cora,” he said.

“You will,” she whispered. “And you will hate me for it.” She seemed so small, so defeated, as she turned to face him. “But don’t worry. I hate myself for it too.”

---