For the fae, magic is everything: status, power, wealth, honor. For Vera Reite, a fae born with no magic, it is a shameful reminder that she will never amount to anything.
Whispers of a fae-killing monster begin to circulate the Moon Court. It lurks...
The rough scrape of Wyn's once-musical voice startled Vera out of her reverie. She spun to face him, jolted by the reminder of his broken state. Up close, she could see he was kneeling, hunched over his prized shotgun, now broken into many pieces as though it had been crushed beneath one of the unseelie's massive paws. Blood plastered his loose hair to his head, and his rich blue cloak was torn, frayed, and dipped in scarlet. When he lifted his face, the movement was slow—pained and deliberate. She flinched, stifling her gasp behind her hand.
Scars traced crooked, claw-like lines across his face, tearing across one eye, over the bride of his nose, and split his lips. When he smiled, it was nothing more than the lift of the corner of the left side of his mouth. His right eye was dim, unfocused even as his left settled on her face. Despite the deep lines etched into his flesh and the blood smeared across his face, he didn't seem to be in pain. His wounds had already closed, but the damage was done.
"Wyn," she whispered. The ice dissipated, and she all but fell into his arms, choking back a sob as she buried her face into his shoulder. She squeezed him until her arms burned. He was warm—alive and breathing and somehow well despite his wounds and the sea of blood.
"I was wrong," he rasped, pulling away from her. Up close, his skin glittered with the touch of mana, freshly healed though poorly done. His lips quivered, and his eyes watered. "I can't kill the fae-killer. It resisted every spell, every attack, and I wasn't quick enough."
Vera squeezed a fistful of his cloak, blinking back her tears. She had cried enough, and it never solved anything. "Go back to the city. Please. I can't bear it if anything happens to you." Her throat tightened painfully, and she dipped her head as her traitorous eyes began to water again. "All of this is my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Wyn. Everything is messed up now because of me. If I was stronger, if I was a better sister—a better fae—none of this would have happened!"
"Ve." He pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. His thumb skimmed the pale markings around her eyes—delicate blue fae marks which matched those above his own, something she had always hated. "I don't care about what you could have been or what you think you should be. You are all that you need to be."
"But I—"
"Listen to me. Zeno can't win this fight alone." Wyn grabbed her arms and shook her lightly, enough that it pried her from his embrace. The teary look was gone, leaving behind one made of steel and harsh lines that made the scars look even more haunting in the dim light. "You see it, don't you? He's weaker than before, but there's something off about the way he's using his magic."
Vera stiffened, ears pricked to the howls of the unseelie behind her. "What do you mean?"
"He healed me, Vera. But not just me." Shuffling, he gestured to the other fae who were still clinging to life and Silas who was among them—all the soldiers Zeno had hidden from the unseelie. Wyn's scarred face twisted. "Why does a homunculus, finally faced with the reason for his being, waste mana to heal his captors?"
"We made a deal. He'll do anything for this." Gingerly, Vera touched the key hanging from her neck. Normally, the reminder of its presence gave her a sense of confidence or importance, but now it was deadweight that threatened to pull her down. Even as she spoke, the words tasted wrong.
Nothing could get past Wyn's keen eyes, even when he was half-blind and broken beyond recognition. His stormy gaze softened with a knowing look. "I can't help you win this fight, but you already know what to do."
"Nothing I do works!" she snapped. "Zeno is the only one that has made any progress, but..." But he'll die if he keeps fighting with what little power he has.
Stiffly, Wyn reached for a pocket hidden beneath his tattered cloak. Taking her hand, he folded a small object into her shaking fingers and gave her fists a quick squeeze. "Go to your friend, Vera."
Friend. Pleasant and warm, the word melted the ice in her bones. Somehow, it lightened the burden of the key, and she was able to stand again, slipping out of Wyn's weak grasp. She uncurled her fingers to find another tiny vial, the very same Wyn had carried to the Council meeting. It was still filled to the brim with silver and blue ichor, blood that had poured from the hole in Zeno's chest and crackled with power. The taste of chalk on her tongue still lingered. Power rested in the palm of her hand; if she drank it, would it last this time? Would she even need the flesh of the unseelie?
A crack echoed through the still air. Only a few feet away, the unseelie had pinned Zeno beneath one large, shadowy paw, its delicate fae-like form replaced by the one of the great beast that had chased Vera through the forest. A low growl ripped from its unseen mouth, and the shadows in its form darkened to consume every star that once decorated the void of its flesh. "Show me the fae, creature of Orion. Release your spell so that I may devour my prey."
Zeno curled his claws into the unseelie's arm. She couldn't see his face and his silence was potent without the earring, but it still crackled with defiance. For just a moment, she saw herself trapped against the iron gate, defiant but weak. The gates had swung open then and a white light had broken through the shadows.
The ichor hummed in her hands in a final invitation. She straightened, wrenched her sword from its sheath, and uncorked the vial. "I can transfer the power to a weapon, right?"
"Enough, yes," Wyn said, and his voice lifted as though he was smiling.
She didn't wait for him to change his mind and demand the ichor back. Instead, she upturned the vial and spilled the silvery substance over the blade of her sword. It gleamed like starlight as it sank into the metal. It didn't even wait for runes to guide its power as if it had a mind of its own and it knew what she needed.
When the blade was completely coated in starlight, she tossed the vial aside and wiped Zeno's blood from her eyes. Heat shifted across her skin as if she had passed through a barrier, and the sea of blood vanished along with the other fae. The unseelie tensed, swinging its head her way with startling speed. Its form changed again, limbs lengthening into that of the winged fae man again.
This time when it peeled away from its prey, white eyes ablaze as they fixated solely on her, Vera shifted her grip on the hilt of her sword and charged.
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Phew. I feel like it took forever to finish this chapter so I'm thankful for my backlog. I think I'm about two weeks ahead of when this will actually come out. Proud of Wyn and Vera for coming to at least some kind of understanding--it only took them 88k words.
