The Awakening

Chapter Eighteen

"Oh Gods." Avelon's eyes widened in disbelief as she witnessed the chaos that unfolded before her. The Hall, which had been filled with casual conversation, now buzzed with an electric tension that had Avelon's senses heightening. Fae nobility surrounded her, their jewelled gowns and tailored suits contrasted sharply with the impending violence. In her years, she had only witnessed two awakenings- Fallon's and Dale's. The memories clawed at her mind. Fallon's fierce determination, and Dale's nervous smile- The perfect ying and yang.

Dale.

An unexplainable sadness rattled her bones at the thought of their friend. The word "friend" felt strange to her as they had always been more like family. Avelon allowed herself to close her eyes for a fleeting moment, envisioning the ghost of Dale. In her mind, his sad smile and kind grey eyes watched her intently. She missed him dearly- His contagious laughter and the mischievous glint that always shone in his eyes. Her chest constricted painfully- his ritual had not gone the way she had hoped. She had witnessed his death, and her heart had died alongside him. Dale and Fallon had always been the closest she had to siblings, and now he was gone—just as Fallon was taken from her.

Bitterness, laced with fury, rose within her. She opened her eyes, realizing only seconds had passed. Her gaze hardened as she turned to Brianne, refusing to offer a glimpse into her own mind.

"What do we do?" Anger rang clear in Avelon's voice amidst the madness unfurling around them. Guests were jumpy- hasty, as they all streamlined for the hall's exit. Brianne's steely gaze met hers, anger simmering on the edges of her eyes too.

Plastering a sneer of malice onto her face, Brianne uttered angrily, "We host."

Avelon shook her head in annoyance her lip curling despite her effort to remain neutral. She was painfully inclined to accept the fate they had to endure. They could do nothing about what was happening, interference only meant forfeiting their own lives. Those were the rules- interfere and die. Avelon did not bother voicing her anger, instead, she steered herself away from Brianne and followed the endless lines of guest pouring out of the hall.
The only thing that Avelon could be thankful for in that moment was the fact that Balor had somehow deemed it more appropriate to host the ritual outside rather than inside the palace halls. His common sense was remarkable. Avelon snorted.

The outcome of the ritual could prove difficult to clean if the opponents had liked to fight, alternatively the rituals were mostly over quickly and without much of a mess. Avelon had found herself hoping for the latter.

As she stepped outside the hall, Avelon was surprised that the lines of guests were all making their way to the field outside of the palace walls. Torches were lit, illuminating the way they were intended to go. Avelon had been so preoccupied she had forgotten that it was evening. Guest were noticeably running their hands along the hedges that lined the entrance to Balor's palace. The fact that the hedges remained healthy and alive after their touches had surprised Avelon as death radiated from the fae before and behind her. They found pleasure in what was about to happen, and the thought sickened her.

She could only hope that more fae shared her thoughts regarding the rituals. If no fae were willing to stand with her, what would it matter if she fought against it?

Her thoughts emptied out as she neared an entire area that had been cordoned off to host the two fae ready to meet their fates. Red lint had been strung along small wooden stakes stationed in the sand to form a neat square. Each of the stakes were adorned with a torch of their own to light up the entire section- Whoever had set up the area had made sure no fae would miss a single thing happening within that square.

Avelon had been entirely unaware of the entire preparation for the ritual- and she hoped the same went for Brianne. She knew that the both of them had their secrets, yet she held onto the glimmer of hope that Brianne had not withheld the information purposefully and was as unaware of the ritual as Avelon had been. Guards were stationed along the fighting lines resembled statues—unmoving, unwavering. Their only movement came from their chests as they breathed. Six of them stood with hands resting on the hilts of their swords, a reminder of Avelon's own training. It had been too long since she'd wielded her weapons; she feared she might forget how.