just know even though Elio isn't as bad at the end of the chapter, THIS IS NOT A REDEMPTION ARC. yes he makes a good decision BUT HE WILL STILL DIE A BRUTAL DEATH I PROMISE
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
age: 50
Elio had taken control of all the letters I received from my family. I found myself cut off, unable to read their letters, or write to them.
My desperation to escape had only grown, but he had crafted an impenetrable barrier, preventing any outside communication from reaching the confines of the Forest House.
My parents were the only ones aware of the abuse I faced. My father remained indifferent, and with the severance of ties to my mother, I was left in the dark about her endeavors to persuade her mate to grant my return.
Yet, upon awakening that morning, a familiar sensation stirred within me. I leapt from my bed, hastily throwing on a dress, and followed that thread in my chest.
I raced towards it, finding myself in the gardens, at the very spot it had guided me to two decades prior. This time, there were no lurking shadows to ensnare me. I knew precisely where he would be.
The instant Azriel came into view, I flung myself into his embrace. He responded with a gentle laugh, enveloping me in his arms, and pressed a tender kiss atop my head.
"You were away for far too long!" I gushed, pulling back to look at him.
Wynn's grasp gently enveloped my hand, while Esther tenderly caressed my cheek. Raven and Ciaran meticulously examined my skin, searching for any signs of harm. Even Nisha joined in, offering comforting nudges. Amidst them, Isra twirled playfully, her antics coaxing my laughter.
"You're in good spirits," he observed, taking me in.
"How is everyone?" I wondered, perking up. "I haven't been able to read your letters."
"We're all still mourning," he sighed. I cocked my head to the side, furrowing my eyebrows.
"Mourning?" I repeated. "Mourning who?"
His gaze locked onto mine, disbelief in his hazel eyes that brimmed with a profound sorrow. A knot of anxiety twisted in the pit of my stomach.
"Nobody told you?" he asked quietly. "It's been a month and nobody told you."
"Told me what?" I demanded, irritated.
He inhaled sharply, his eyes shimmering with the weight of regret.
"The High Lord of Spring and his sons . . ." he trailed off, stopping to sigh. "Eve, they slaughtered your mother and Angelina."
The words took a second to take root in me and process.
"What? No, that can't--somebody would've told me."
"Rhys and your father went to kill the High Lord, Lady, and his sons," he went on. "They killed them all, except for the youngest, who killed your father."
I shook my head, having to hold on to the garden wall beside me to ground myself.
"Somebody would've told me," I repeated, my words a whisper.
Tears stung my eyes. I should've heard about this. Deaths aside, I had to have known that there was a new High Lord of Spring and Night.
But Elio had me so isolated, I would've only been able to hear it from him or his family. And he had likely instructed them not to tell me.
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