Chapter 48

I tried to call upon my Craft again, but already it was growing weak, my muscles slow and sluggish compared to how they had been before.

I pulled up a thin shield of air just before she reached me, and she bounced off it to the ground. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, leaving me bared to the faerie as she stumbled back to her feet, coming at me in jerking, uncoordinated movements.

The barrier of wind I constructed started to wither to a gentle, useless breeze and I caught figures shifting out of the corner of my eye, moving from Ronan toward me. I heard Hekate's piercing shriek as she engaged with Ronan.

I didn't have any time to care about what was happening there.

In front of me, the eyes of the faerie pursuing me flickered back up to me, still blank from Ankou's control, her lips lifting in a wide inhuman snarl.

Aiming low for my stomach, she charged. I hurled to the side, hitting the ground. I gasped and scrambled to push out of reach just as an arm wrapped around my neck, choking me. A second faerie had come up behind me while I was focused on the other. His skin was thick with iridescent scales that dug into my skin as his hold tightened.

I struggled, kicking out my legs, my skirts tangling between them. My eyes bulged as I fought to breathe. I watched as the female faerie again came toward me stiffly, no longer moving with the languid movements she had before, one cheek twitching. Her long dress which had once been silver was now torn and covered in splatters of blood.

The faerie approached, the thin spike of solidified shadow in her fist. In her other hand I saw her conduit, a thin obsidian-bladed dagger, clenched in her bloodied fist. She held them both above me, as if trying to decide where to embed them in my body.

She's not aiming to kill, I realized. I jerked away just in time. Her weapons skidded over the floor where my legs had just been.

I will not lay down and let Ankou have me. I couldn't come this far just to fall into his hands. I jabbed a hard elbow into the side of the faerie holding me, but only managed a small gasp of air before they regained their grasp on me, tighter than before.

Over the din, I could hear footsteps, unsteady and clunking. A few paces behind me they came to a stop. The faerie standing over me paused a moment to look up at whoever it was.

"Let go of her," said a deep commanding voice. It took me a moment to recognize it as Oisin's. He sounded hoarse, yet determined. The faerie's face twitched again, but no trace of recognition sparked on her face while looking at her prince.

"Let. Go. Of. The. Girl," Oisin said, this time louder, his voice carrying hauntingly through the room. Around my neck, I felt the grip of my captor loosen.

I tore away and crawled away from him. The faerie remained where he was, motionless, like an abandoned toy in the middle of all the carnage.

Still standing, the other faerie stared blankly at Oisin, whose gaze remained determined. In his hand was a small obsidian sickle, its handle gleaming with dark shining stones. He held it tightly and soon the faerie that had been pursuing me dropped her shadow spike, the shadows dissolving before it hit the floor. She collapsed to her knees, the same vacant look on her face. Like a puppet freed of its strings. Oisin let out a heavy sigh, looking like he might also fall apart.

I looked from the two incapacitated fae. "How did you do that?"

Oisin observed the the two fallen fae before his gaze flickered behind them. Across the room a horde fae slowly made their way to us, moving like drifting ghosts. Beyiond them I glimpsed Ronan and Hekate still fighting. Hekate shrieked, the shrillness filling the room, another burst of flames licking up the walls.

At this rate, the entire castle would burn down.

Oisin turned back to me. "I have a small amount of Dream blood from my mother who shared a father with my dear uncle. She did not get any of his gifts, and instead took after the long line of shadow Craft users that reigned strong in Vinmire. I, however, have a small piece of all my lineages." Oisin's lips thinned out into a grimace, and I couldn't help the small pang of sympathy I felt, his mother's decapitated body sitting still on the floor.

At the same time, I couldn't forget his betrayal as he neared me, pushing myself away along the floor, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. If only I had learned to use a conduit. Maybe I would be able to defend myself better.

Oisin tucked his sickle back into a concealed holster at his waist, and met my wary gaze. He looked as tired as I felt.

"If you have so much power, why don't you use it? Free yourself?" I asked.

Oisin flinched, the firelight dancing along his face, looking out of place against his shadowy skin.

"It is not that simple. My uncle has centuries of practice honing his abilities, and I have had no proper training. Not like I have had with my other powers. It is easier than I care to admit for him to take over." His face twisted with a memory of pain and I lowered my eyes, remembering how he had looked as he writhed in pain on the floor.

I schooled my expression, I couldn't let my empathy overpower my reason. I still wasn't sure if I could trust him. "Then why not use your other abilities?"

Oisin's lips quirked and he stopped moving, favoring one of his legs as he turned his head. I knew he was watching Ronan fight his mother, but I chose not to follow his gaze, keeping my eyes on Oisin. He lifted a palm and opened his fingers, a ball of flickering black flame bursting from his hands.

"This," he said with disgust. "Is not a thing to be used carelessly. Unlike my brother, I don't have the same stomach for needless death and destruction." He clenched his hand into a fist, snuffing the flame. Though his eyes flared with anger, there was a lingering sense of sorrow in his gaze.

I tilted my head. "You're not like other fae," I acknowledged.

He smiled, some warmth returning to his face. "Something most fae believe is a curse. I however cherish it. I would not be this way had it not been for my grandmother's love." A hint of the same softness I had once seen in Ronan's eyes filled his.

"She was human. My grandfather won her in the Hunt, but grew to cherish her over the years. I only knew her a short time in her old age, but those first few years of my life have stayed with me for a very long time."

I recalled how Oisin had spoken when we danced, and I felt the last few pieces of my mistrust slip away. No wonder he felt so unhappy in this world.

"You wish to be mortal."

Oisin's softened gaze shuttered and he slumped his shoulders. "More than anything else," he whispered, barely discernible over the frenzy of the room.

The fae continued to move towards us, but it was clear that even Ankou had his limits, a few of them stopping and crying out, looking around the room in horror.

Oisin held out his arms. "Most think I am a fool for wanting such things, but this—" he gestured widely, "—all of it. It's shallow, false. For a race of beings that can't speak a lie, we all live as if we are something we are not. We are old and bored, and we don't feel things the same way a mortal does. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to fall in love." His eyes glinted as he looked at me. "I want to feel the thrill of life, knowing that at any minute it could end. And to have even a moment of that, I would give up all of this."

In a way, I understood. That was how I had been living my life, searching for that thrill, that piece of me that didn't fit in anywhere else. The...

My thoughts trailed off as I looked at my hands thinking of the emptiness that had always lurked down inside of me, begging to be filled. I didn't feel it anymore. Instead, I felt the fleeting caress that ran along my fingers, a flicker of the Craft that though depleted, still lived inside of me.

My mouth went dry. Was this it, all along? Had I been searching for the faerie part of me all along? Everything fell away from me, and I suddenly felt numb.

Oisin leaned down to me, holding out his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I stared at his hand for a moment, unable to tell him what was going through my head.

I swallowed, a flicker of my mom and dad's faces running through my mind. I pressed my lips together, trying to push the flood of emotion down,

"I'm fine," I said. Turning back to the dais where the portal was. I squinted in the dark until I found it and started towards it. "I need to get out of here before it's too late."

Oisin came up beside me, limping as he went.

"Our exchange still stands," he reminded me, then gave a small hopeful smile. I returned it, though it felt tight on my lips.

"Of course."

Oisin let out a sigh of relief, likely concerned that I might deny him. Even if I had wanted to, I remembered the binding of the deal we made. I knelt down next to the portal, and Oisin joined me. My heart raced as I looked down at the little door carved into its side.

"I need you to place your hand under mine," Oisin said. I made to do as he said, placing my hand on the wooden surface. Before I pressed it down all the way, I hesitated.

When I went back home, my Craft would likely disappear too. For all the trouble it had given me, I could not forget the exhilaration I had felt when I had used it a few moments ago. I had finally accepted it, and now I was leaving it behind.

I bit my lip. I had never expected to feel this conflicted when the time came.

A cry echoed across the room, loud and masculine--undeniably Ronan's. The idea that he was in pain made panic course through me.

It's just the bond, I reminded myself. I pressed my hand firmly to the wood. Don't look. Not now. I'm so close...

"Okay then, now what?" I asked. Another roar filled the air behind us, urging me to turn back, but I gritted my teeth, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Think of your home."

I spun to Oisin, aghast. I could hear Hekate's screeching laughter, taunting as she called out to Ronan. Any minute now, one of them would win and then come for us.

"I mean it. What do I do?" I asked, my voice shaking. Ronan would be a terrible king.

But still, I didn't want him to die.

Oisin blinked at me. "That's it. I can't picture your world since I have never seen it. Just think of home, and focus on it in your mind's eye. The portal will lead us through the nearest gateway."

"That's all?"

Oisin was tight-lipped. "As far as I know, yes."

All along, all I needed was a portal and what was in my own mind. The simplicity was laughable.

Ronan growled, a fierce bone-chilling sound, and it took everything in me to not turn towards him.

"What is that girl doing with the Prince?" I heard Hekate say from across the room, her attention finally catching on the two of us. "Stop them!"

Oisin looked quickly behind us, then turned back. "There's still some of them coming for us, I'll try to hold them off. You keep trying to focus on opening the portal."

Before I could protest, he stole his hand away from mine, leaving me alone with the portal. He withdrew his sickle again, and I noticed how his eyes glinted an eerie blue shade as he faced our pursers. Across the room, I heard Hekate hiss but before she could come after us herself, I felt a flare of heat radiate from the other side of the room, closer than before.

I tried not to think of what Ronan would do if he defeated his mother.

Focus.

The ground rattled as something barreled into the wall beside me. I felt the trickle of energy under my fingers from the portal. The depleted wisps of my Craft tingled in my veins, like a cautious animal. I clenched my eyes tighter.

At first, I tried to picture home, but every time I tried, the picture of the house was wrong. Tainted. Not right. The shadows were too thick, the streets too long. The roof stretched up into the sky until it was as tall as The Ashthornes. I blinked and dug my fingers into the wood.

There was another hiss from Hekate, and I heard Ronan grunt. Then there was a flash of light behind my eyelids, coloring everything red. Fire surged at my back.

"It's not working," I called out to Oisin over the chaos. "I can't do it, I need your help."

"Keep trying," I heard him reply, though his voice was strained. "We don't have any more time. I have freed a few of them, but there's still too many."

Frantic I closed my eyes, ignoring how I heard Ronan let out a gasp. It was pained and furious, ripping right through my heart. My Craft recoiled from the portal, urging me to help Ronan. Lend him my Craft like I had before, and help him burn everything until both of us were safe.

Until both of us were all that was left.

I let out a breath. No. I needed to leave, more than ever. If turned myself over to Ronan, I was damning everyone, including myself. If Hekate beat him now, it was probably for the best,

Despite my resolve, tears filled my eyes. I could feel them falling down my face, a choked sob leaving my throat. I gritted my teeth, struggling to focus. The air glimmered before my eyes, and I could feel the hum of energy at my fingers. The portal was active, it was just waiting for me.

I needed somewhere happy, somewhere safe. A home. A place I loved.

My Gran's home filled my mind. I could remember the ring of wind-chimes outside her door and the smell of her beef stew cooking on the stove. I remembered the way the wind brushed my cheeks while out picking wildflowers when Gran wasn't looking. The smell of the hazel trees tickled my nose, and I imagined hiding between their long branches like I had as a child.

Everything stilled. The sounds of the fighting around me vanished. The heat of Ronan flames withered away, and I opened my eyes to a place from my past.

Gran sat in front of me, her hair white with age, her hands folded in front of herself as she rocked on the porch. The air gusted in, bringing with them clouds, but as the scent of rain filled the air. She lifted her face, a gesture I remembered all too dearly.

"The wind is good today, my sweet," she said softly. "When all else fails, always listen to the wind. It will guide you home."

If only I had known how right she had been.

Suddenly, Gran's face turned to mine. She frowned, her eyes focusing on me.

"Heather?"

But something wasn't right. Her hair was turning a bright golden yellow, like cornsilk. Her face was transforming, the years rewinding off her in a matter of seconds. Before my eyes, she faded from the aged Gran I had known all my life, to a beautiful young woman with cascading blond hair. She had skin that caught the light and refracted it into a vast array of colors. Her eyes, a deep violet, met mine.

"Heather!"

Oisin's voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back to the moment.

"Heather, you did it!"

I felt a steady thrum under my fingers and I opened my eyes. The door had lifted into a tall entryway, mismatched pieces of wood lining it on either side. There was a long corridor of shimmering energy on the other side. I could see the early rays of morning light shining through where the portal ended.

And right there, Gran's home, just as I had last seen it, glowing as it anticipated a new day.

I choked back a sob.

Oisin moved up beside me, his voice breathless. He was smiling wide as he took my hand. "I can't believe it... this is happening," he said, raising his eyes to mine. They glimmered with happiness. "I can finally leave.

I turned to look at him, a smile stretching over my face. But as I looked at him, my gaze caught on the figure looming behind him instead. My heart stopped.

Ronan.

His face was streaked with blood, his once crimson clothes splotched and torn. His teeth were bared in a monstrous snarl and Hekate leapt for him.

Before I could even make sense of it, Ronan struck, driving his blazing iron knife right through her heart. Hekate jerked, spitting up blood as she choked on her last breath. Then she slumped, her head rolling to the side. Ronan's gaze was unwavering, blood-lust radiating from him. He pulled his blade from her, letting her body fall to a heap on the floor. I saw him then for who he truly was.

A Night fae. A Monster.

Nausea rose in my stomach.

Oisin's hand tightened on mine, his voice urgent. "We need to go, now!" He pushed me forward towards the open portal. "Quickly, Heather."

But my eyes were on Ronan. He stood there a moment, his chest heaving in exertion. Slowly he raised his eyes, a table behind him blazing with fiery heat. There was a wild feverish smile on his face, his eyes glowing red and hungry. He tilted his head back and laughed, the chilling sound filling the room, my skin crawling from the inhumanity of it.

Every single part of me went numb. Any part that still struggled with letting him go vanished, burning up with his flames. Ronan shifted his gaze around the room, then froze once he found me. My heart leapt in warning.

His smile twisted, his expression turning furious. The remaining fae under Ankou's influence abandoned us for Ronan, hobbling over with forced, mechanical movements. Ronan cut them down easily, not stopping to pay them any attention. His expression turned fierce as he stormed over towards us, a trail of blood and ash littering the floor behind him.

"Heather," Oisin said urgently.

I turned back to the portal, not wasting any more time, part of my body slipping through the silky surface as I stepped forward. My grip on Oisin's hand held tight, preparing to pull him through.

But as I took another step, feeling the veil-like surface of the portal envelop me, Oisin's grip grew taunt. Already dreading what I would find, I turned.

Ronan already stood behind him, his iron blade held to Oisin's throat, a burning welt starting to form against his brother's onyx skin. Oisin's eyes were wide, desperate, his hand holding mine so tight I thought it might break.

"Where do you think you are going, my dear wife?" Ronan hissed, his face contorted into a snarl.