A Court of Secrets and Moonlight

82: Consequences

Feyre

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Amren's voice sounded behind me as my hands gripped the Cauldron.

I could not move my hand, could not pry them from the cold black metal beneath my fingertips. Time ceased to have meaning as my soul was shredded by the force of pure creation. Until I was nothing and everything all at once, reaching blindly with my magic for anything to pull me back to reality. But I was both fire and ice, both life and death, both darkness and light all at once. No power in the world could spare me, not as I felt the Cauldron itself consume me.

Half of me was here, shaking as I tried to rip myself free from its grip.

And the other half was elsewhere- the other half was flying through the world, searching, bound, and traveling to something else. I saw everything around me all at once. Hybern soldiers being slowly slaughtered by the massive Solarean armies. Seraphim flying side by side with that winged calvary, a mass of white feathers among the dark sea of black Illyrian leather. Fires burning, magic blasting over and over again. Frost and fire and wind all at once, Tamlin roaring as he ran through the battlefield. Ships sank into the sea as waves moved at Tarquin's hands. And in the center of it all-

Two beasts of darkness and light fought side by side. I did not need to look twice to know that it was Rhysand and Helion, in those beast forms that were so rare for them. Night and Day in perfect opposition, all black scales and glowing beams of light. In front of them, Azriel and Leur fought in the same manner. They were a blur of gold and blue light, of violet and black shadows, of nothing and everything. Brutal and wild in their every movement- I realized I had seen someone fight the way Leur did. There was another soul in this world who was like her, who embodied that ruthlessness and beauty all at once.

And it was Azriel.

In the wake of that perfect quad the four of them had created- there was only blood and death. Bodies ripped to pieces, soldiers dying of fatal wounds, ashes and fires- pure, calculated destruction.

And then it was pulling me away, ripping those two halves of my soul even farther apart from one another. It was the darkness that drew me away, the hell that existed inside the Cauldron. It bound me in its grip, bound my mind, my tongue, my touch. Until I was watching through the Cauldron's eyes as Nesta stared down the King of Hybern. Cassian was standing next to her, red siphons flickering with rage. Yet, he did not move- did not dare to.

For that was my father, standing in the King's grip, a knife held to his throat.

An entire entourage of soldiers and the King himself, up against only my sister and Cassian.

"Please." Nesta's voice cracked, "Please."

"What will you give me, Nesta Archeron?"

I could have sworn something flickered behind my sister. The tiniest flash of movement, a shift in the air, a shadowy breeze. She paid it no mind, only stared at the King. My father was shaking his head, begging Nesta not to concede a thing to this monster, not even for his life.

"Will you give back what you took?" The King's head tilted, black eyes narrowed on her. His face was scarred and mauled, even worse to see up close.

"Yes."

A deathly smile, "Even if I have to carve it out of you?"

I watched my father snarl, "Don't you lay your filthy hands on my daughter-"

Time paused.

I wouldn't have felt it, wouldn't have noticed it- if it weren't for the Cauldron. I could see every single thing, could feel every single ounce of it. I saw the King's marred hands twist, and knew what was coming long before anything had even happened. I braced myself for it, braced myself for what would happen, for the fact that I would sit here and watch my father die.