Everything ToG and ACOTAR

Amren's True Form - Fanfic

I'm sorry I didn't get to post on Friday; my family is in town and I didn't have much time. But here you go:

So, as most of you know, my last post was about my theory of Amren's true form (the Three-Faced Goddess from the witches in ToG). Now I'm going to write a fanfic about Rhysand discovering it. It also features the Suriel, because goddamn I need to see that guy again. It takes place somewhere in the middle of ACOWAR. (In Rhys's POV)

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This forest was haunted.

Not by ghosts or spirits or horrible, deathly creatures. It was haunted by the memory of Feyre. 

Feyre, with her beautiful wings as she confronted Lucien, with her disgusted yet famished expression when I'd showed her the two bowls of "rabbit stew" at the inn, with her determined look when she set out to find the Suriel.

I needed to find the Suriel today, and this was the only place I knew I could find it.

The trap was rigged, and I was crouched in a nearby tree, waiting. Amren was crouched beside me, her silver eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

Suddenly I heard it: Snap.

And then a hollow, horrid scream that made me wince. But I climbed out of the tree and headed for my prey.

I tiptoed toward the Suriel, which was not yet visible in the dimness.

But then I saw it. And my eyes widened.

The Suriel was more horrible than I'd ever imagined it would be, even with Feyre's vivid descriptions. I didn't even think a painting would capture the rotting horror rolling off of it.

Its pale skin was stretched over its scrawny frame so taut that I could see the outlines of bones poking from beneath. Its eyes looked too small for their hollow sockets, yellowed and bright with mad delight. It wore gray, ripped robes that seemed they would fall off of it any second, and its long, spindly fingers were tipped with yellow, cracked fingernails that clicked together as it studied me.

"Hello, Lord of Night," it said, and its voice was from a nightmare.

Hollow and cracked, it sounded as if it had spent generations talking until it barely had a voice anymore. Which was probably true.

Amren spoke before me, her tone emotionless but demanding. "You will answer our questions," she told it.

The Suriel laughed. "Yes. I believe I will." Its eyes locked with mine, and it hissed, "What do you wish to know?"

I tried to keep my voice as flat as Amren's, but it was hard. "Is... is there any way to heal Illyrian wings?"

The Suriel laughed again. "Oh, Illyrians, so fierce but yet so fragile."

"Answer the question."

"Impatient, too." It paused. "But yes. There is one way." It tapped its fingernails together. Click click click. "Spidersilk."

"What?" 

"Spidersilk. But it will be hard to obtain." It looked up, its gaze drifting north. "Those mountains are where the Spiders dwell. But they will not give you their silk willingly. You must give them something in return." Then it looked back to me, its eyes so wild, so... unnatural. "Is that all?"

Amren nodded and lifted her blade to cut the Suriel free. The snare snapped, and the Suriel dropped down, its body instantly enveloped by darkness. "We should get moving," she said curtly, looking north. At the mountains that held to key to healing Cassian's wings.

But the Suriel's cracked, hollow laugh echoed through the trees. "But I don't think you'll be heading there just yet."

"What do you mean?" I snapped, but the answer came to me soon enough as the half-dead bushes rustled.

And the King of Hybern stepped from the shadows.

I lifted my blades, letting my power course through me, but the flow was cut off as the king's power washed over me. I couldn't even cry out as I fell to my knees.

But, as soon as it enveloped me, it disappeared. I doubled over, gasping. But why had the king taken back his power?

A scream cut through the air.

I looked beside me, and saw Amren on her knees, her silver eyes wild. The King of Hybern was concentrating all of his power on her.

"So interesting," the king said. "So interesting what crawls beneath your skin." He glanced at me and grinned. "It's a shame darling Rhysand doesn't know."

I reached for Amren, but a thin tendril of magic crashed into me, and I flew backward. "Why don't we show him, dear?"

And with another earsplitting shriek, Amren began to shift.

Her eyes glowed before a flash of light blinded me. As it subsided, I glanced back at my friend.

She was huge, cloaked in white and black and grey. She wasn't good or bad. She was... something different.

Something powerful.

And then she turned around.

I gasped as I saw her. She had three heads from beneath her ripped cloak. One was young and beautiful. The second was kind and caring. And the third was old and wretched, pale and gaunt. And as I looked open her, three words flashed through my head.

Maiden, Mother, Crone.

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I know it's not the best, but it was fun to write! I hope you liked it, and I'll see you at the next update (;