𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗**

     I waited for Saphira to get out of her counselling session that afternoon. It would be about another hour. She had been so nervous all morning. She had slept in my room the night before, complaining about her nightmares. She'd cried right before her session, and I had assured her that she didn't have to do this until she was ready. But she insisted that she needed to. 

     While I waited, I wandered the library, trying to find Gwyn. We had really become close; I would even call us friends.

     When I found Gwyn, she was beside Nesta in the sitting area, the two of them pale and wide eyed.

"What is it?" I asked, brows furrowed as I neared them.

"The darkness that dwells at the pit of the library," Gwyn explained, shuddering. "They say the being that dwelled down there is gone. But I believe some piece of it might have lingered. Or at the very least altered the darkness itself."

"It didn't feel like that. It felt . . . older," Nesta explained.

"Are you an adept in such things?" Gwyn asked.

     I sat myself beside them, crossing my legs on the couch and leaning against the cushion, then taking a pillow to press against my chest.

"I . . . " Nesta blinked. "Do you not know who I am?"

"I know you are the High Lady's sister. That you slew the King of Hybern," Gwyn recalled. "That you, like Lady Feyre, were once mortal. Human."

"I was Made by the Cauldron," Nesta confirmed. "At the King of Hybern's order."

"I didnt know such a thing was possible," Gwyn admitted.

"My other sister, Elain--we were forced into the Cauldron and turned High Fae," Nesta explained. "It  imparted some of itself to me."

"Like calls to like," I murmured, staring ahead as I listened to their conversation.

"Yes," Nesta nodded.

"Well, perhaps don't go down to Level Six again," Gwyn suggested.

"It's my job to shelve the books," Nesta pointed out.

"I can tell Clotho and she'll ensure those books are given to others," I offered with a shrug.

"It seems cowardly."

"I don't wish to learn what might come crawling out of that darkness if you, Cauldron-Made, fear it. Especially if it's . . . drawn to you," Gwyn said.

"I'm not a warrior," Nesta grumbled, sitting between Gwyn and me on the couch.

"You slew the King of Hybern," I reminded her, turning to glance at her. "With my brother's knife."

"Luck and rage," Nesta admitted. "And I had made a promise to kill him for what he did to me and my sister."

     Another Priestess--Riven--strolled by, beheld us lounging there, and scurried off. Her fear left a tang in the air. I let out a sigh, watching her leave. I'd tried to help her, but she just wasn't ready.

"That's Riven," Gwyn said. "She's still uncomfortable with any manner of contact with strangers."

"When did she arrive?" Nesta asked.

"Eighty years ago."

"We do not gossip about each other here," Gwyn said when she saw the shock in Nesta's eyes. "Our stories remain our own to tell or to keep. Only Riven, Clotho, and the High Lord know what happened to her. She will not speak of it."

"And there has been no help for her?" Nesta wondered.

"We tried counselling," I sighed. "But she just isn't ready. And I won't push her. It took me 500 years to  be ready for therapy."