A Court of Secrets and Moonlight

87: Dusk

Rhysand

My brother was dead.

Azriel was dead, and if Leur couldn't make the flight, she would be too.

More so, none of it would matter if we couldn't find a way to piece the Cauldron back together. That black void was spreading, swallowing more and more, and would swallow the entire world if I didn't do something.

"Feyre! Nesta!" Amren called out.

But there was another voice in the chaos, something old and vaguely familiar. It nearly sounded like my father in its cadence, but it was female. Almost like Leur, but different- older, more ancient...Take the sword.

Like a calling in my blood, pulling me towards Gwydion. A soft white glow, a faint singing melody.

Take the sword.

Take the sword.

Pick it up.

And for some reason, I obeyed.

Something inside of me sparked to life as I grabbed it, something that had been dormant without me knowing it, something that I didn't know I possessed.

Unless I always had.

How did my magic appear? Black flecked with stars. Just as Leur's always had, only a different color.

Starlight.

This has always been in your blood. The voice repeated, Always.

"Each of us will take a piece, and use our power, our Made essence, to will it back together." Amren explained to Feyre and Nesta.

It will not be enough.

It will not be enough.

Six hands gripped the Cauldron's broken shards, each of them holding a piece. Flashes of silver and flames beyond imagine, ice and wind and darkness all at once. Feyre's teeth were gritted, all three of the females deep in focus as the cracks in the Cauldron began to glow. It was a dim light, blocking that blackness from spreading any further.

Yet, it did not recede.

"It is not enough." I whispered under my breath, "It is not enough."

It needs to be Made to be brought back. That voice answered, As all things do.

"Made." I breathed, "It needs to be Made."

"Rhys?" Tamlin's voice sounded next to me, a glimpse of furrowed blonde brows amidst the chaos.

"How?" I hissed at the blade in my hand, "How do I do it?"

I did not care if I looked insane, did not care if they all thought I had gone mad. If there was any way that this sword could give me the answers, I'd talk to it all day. I didn't care.

In the same way that your mate was, High Lord. It answered, A drop of power from every court.

"This isn't fucking working!" Nesta swore, the ground underneath us rumbling.

The other High Lords were gathered now, armies of all different territories- all of them staring at me, staring at this blade in my hand.

"We need to bring it back." I said.

Nobody moved.

"We need to bring it back!" I screamed at them, "It needs to be Made!"

Furrowed brows and a scoff from Beron, but I did not care. I ran for the Cauldron, a drop of pure violet darkness appearing in my hand. Just as it had on the day Feyre had been reborn, it slipped from my palm down into the Cauldron itself.

A blink and then Tamlin was there too, offering up power without a second thought. An orb of gold and green mixed with my power, twisting and forming something within the metal.

Helion stepped up next, a drop of light and clouds falling from his hand.

Tarquin, with a ball of power that was blue like the depths of the sea, shining like a warm summer day.

Kallias, offering a drop of power that was white as ice and swirling with frost.

Thesan, with a ball of light purely orange and red like the sun rising in the sky.

"I don't think we can hold this much longer!" Amren called out, "Get it done, now!"

Beron was still standing on the cliffside, a scowl carved across his face as he stared at all of us. I didn't have a chance to move before Tamlin was there, a hand braced on the male's collar, dragging him towards us before Beron could even think about fighting back.

"Do your part, or I swear to the Mother- I'll snap your useless fucking neck right now and have your successor do it," Tamlin growled.

I don't think that any of us had ever truly considered just how formidable the High Lord of Spring was until this moment. Until Beron knew better than to challenge him, knew that Tamlin was not kidding- he would snap his neck right here. He'd work through the entire line of succession until he found an Autumn Court male willing to help.

A smart move on Beron's part, a drop of pure fire appeared in his palm as he let it fall into the Cauldron below.

"Excellent choice." Tamlin spat at him, throwing the male behind him as if he were no more than a piece of trash.

I had forgotten that there was once a time when I genuinely liked him.

Every court. The sword repeated, Even those lost to time.

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. Dawn, Day, Night, and...

Not seven courts, but eight.

Dusk.

That was what Leur had said, why she had told me all of this that day in her archives. In case I ever needed to use this blade, in case I ever needed to tap into this ancient power, to act in her stead as she had for me all those years ago.

It was deep within me, past everything that I was, past the churning well of shadows and into the abyss below- that a still well of iridescent light lay within me. Curled upon itself like some hibernating creature, a well of power that I had never known enough to access.

Everything faded away. The Cauldron, the High Lords, the pain echoing from Feyre down the bond, the tiredness of my bones. It all disappeared as I dived into myself, as I entered into my own mind, reaching for that power with a mental hand.

A star-flecked hand.

Never dormant, never lost to time. It was simply so ingrained within our blood that we had never felt it, burrowed so deep within us that we had not been aware of its presence. And how could we have been? How could we have known, when our father had never told us?

Until Leur had gone through that portal, until it was forced to the surface to bring her back to life.

Was it possible for me to do it myself?

My hand stirred the power awake, the light shining a bit brighter as I scooped up a drop of it. Shining like the stars on starfall, an array of iridescent colors, burning and glowing- I carried that light upwards. Up and up and up- through my shadow and darkness, through every last piece of me. It shimmered with anticipation, warm and lovely, as if it had been waiting for this all these years.

I opened my eyes to find that starlight lighting up the sword in my hand, shining through it, waking it. As if something was controlling my every movement, changing everything about who and what I was- remaking me.

Gwydion dipped into the center of the Cauldron, right at the spot where all of the High Lord's powers were waiting. Its black metal glowed with my starlight as it absorbed all of those other powers.

Darkness and starlight, fire and ice, sunlight and clouds, wind and water.

Shimmering fluid swirled inside of the Cauldron, white and silver and gold all at once, appearing out of thin air. A final push from Feyre, Amren, and Nesta- and the cracks healed and vanished. The three of them fell backward, panting as they watched that void close in on itself until there was nothing silence and all of us standing here staring at the Cauldron.

Intact and calm.