Light of the Dawn

14. History

It had been two years since the war. Two years since Isarella had seen Azriel, since she had felt his presence, his shadows, the connection that once anchored her to something good. And yet, despite the passage of time, she still found herself drowning in the aftermath of everything she had lost.
Her father had become a shell of the man he once was. Thesan, the ever-dutiful, strong High Lord of Dawn, had crumbled under the weight of the trauma, his mind fractured by fear. He kept her locked away, his paranoia growing with each passing day. He believed that every High Lord knew of her power now
—the power that only one other being before her had ever wielded. A power that could destroy kingdoms, that could shift the very fabric of the world. He feared they would come for her, exploit her, use her. Ano Thesan's grip on her only tightened.
The walls of the castle felt more like a prison than a home. Isarella could hear her father's frantic whispers from the other side of the door, talking to himself in his sleep, terrified of the power he could no longer control. He had become so obsessed with her safety that he had isolated her from the world, convinced that if she were out of sight, she would be out of reach. But no matter how far she went, Isarella could still feel the suffocating weight of the truth pressing down on her.
And the truth-the truth-was one she hadn't been ready to face.
Her mother-Emilia Day-was not the woman she had been led to believe. The lies her father had spun for years, the stories of abandonment, all of it, shattered in an instant. Emilia hadn't abandoned her. No.
Emilia had died giving birth to her. She had bled out in agony, but she had never stopped fighting, never stopped loving. She had been holding on to bring her daughter into the world, to cradle her in her arms one last time.
"I love you, my little sunflower."
Those words haunted Isarella, every night, every day. Her mother's love had been the last thing she had ever felt, and it was a love she would never know again. And the worst part? The most painful part? Isarella had blamed her mother for leaving her all this time. She had blamed Emilia for not wanting her, for not fighting harder, not realizing that her mother had fought with every ounce of strength she had left. Emilia's power-her life force-had been passed on to Isarella in her final moments. Isarella had become the vessel for the very power that had torn her mother's life away.
The guilt was suffocating. Isarella had spent her entire life feeling abandoned by the very woman who had loved her beyond all reason, and the realization twisted inside her, ripping her apart with each breath. Her father, too, had hidden the truth from her, the weight of his own grief too much to bear. He hadn't wanted her to know, to understand the complexity of the love that had been lost.
And now, it was too late. Too late to undo the damage. Too late to have her mother's love, to feel her warmth.
The guilt gnawed at her constantly. And now, her light-her light-was fading. It had once burned so bright, so brilliant, but now it felt like a distant memory, a flicker barely alive within her. She didn't know how to nurture it, how to grow it stronger. Her father had never taught her, not like Helion had once hoped to. It felt wrong. She was not of the Day Court. She was an outsider to the very power that ran through her veins, an outsider to everything that was supposed to make her whole.
And yet, despite everything, the pain only grew.
Her body had withered under the weight of her sorrow. Her skin was pale, sickly, and her bones protruded, sharp beneath the skin.
She barely ate, barely spoke. The world outside felt so distant, so cold. She felt abandoned by everyone. By her father, her attendants, even Azriel.
Azriel.
She had shut him out. She had closed off the bond between them, pushed him away despite the ache in her chest every time she felt him reach out to her. She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve anything. Every thought, every emotion she had was clouded by her own suffering. She could hear him, his silent calls through the bond, knocking-begging-to reach her. He hadn't stopped trying at first, but eventually, his presence faded. And then, she had stopped feeling him altogether.
The walls of her mind had become her prison, the pain and memories she had suppressed for so long now crashing through her like a tidal wave. The darkness of her past, everything that had happened to her Under the Mountain, those haunting memories began to consume her once more.
They played over and over, a never-ending cycle that left her gasping for air, desperate for peace.
The attendants noticed the change, the way she barely moved from her bed, how her eyes were empty, hollow. They pleaded with her, begged her to speak, to tell them what was wrong, but Isarella couldn't. If she said the words aloud, if she let herself speak about what had happened, she feared it would swallow her whole. The nightmares already clawed at her every night, sinking her deeper into madness.
But the silence... the silence was too much to bear.
And so, the day came, the breaking point.
Isarella found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, the sword-Lightbringer-clutched tightly in her hands. Her pale fingers traced the cool metal, a lifeline, a connection to a time when things had felt real. But now, it only reminded her of the pain. Of everything she had lost.
She could feel her mate, his presence, faint now, a shadow in the distance. He was still there, trying to reach her. The pressure in her mind grew, as though he were kicking against the walls of her consciousness, desperately trying to get through, to make her speak to him. But Isarella was too tired.
So tired.
Her body trembled as she brought the blade to her skin. She didn't hesitate. She didn't flinch. The sharp edge cut through her delicate skin with ease, and the blood poured out in steady streams. She didn't scream.
She didn't cry. She just let go. Her strength faded, her vision blurring at the edges, but there was something strangely peaceful in the release. Her mind drifted, the pain numbing slowly, until all she could feel was the darkness creeping in, pulling her deeper.
And still, her mate was there, pounding at the bond.
But Isarella, for the first time, was too tired to fight.
And in the quiet, her breath slowed, her world dimming around her, she whispered to herself, I hope it ends soon.