Light and Shadow✔️

You're coming home.

Over the week Morrigan was a constant visitor at my sickbed. Apparently, I had broken a few small bones in my wings when I had passed out on the clearing. They would need to heal in peace in order to work like before again. I was given something for the pain, so I could sit perfectly and welcome visitors.

Nesta, though she seemed to be a constant, loud advocate of my freedom, never once showed her face in my room. But Mor told me a lot about her. I had heard of Nesta Acheron. The males, even my brother, admired her. All of them wanted to bed her, but they also idolized her as a warrior. In reality, she seemed to be a constantly pissed party pooper. Or at least that's how Mor described her.

After two days the High Lady joined us. She was a bit less peppy and talkative than her friend, but they evened out each other perfectly. It wasn't long until I found myself laughing at private jokes, or knew exactly when Feyre was talking with her Mate through that bond of her. It was as if I had known the two all my life.

On Saturday, one and a half weeks after I had met Morrigan, I was finally allowed by both my chaperones to go on a short walk. 

I breathed in the fresh air. I had started to be content with the strands of light floating around me. I had insisted on wearing a green winter dress, lined with fur on every rim. Feyre's Yellow Strands with the Night Blue freckles floating around me. She was wearing fighting leathers, a beautiful brown coat as well as winter boots. Her arm was linked with mine while Mor was jogging backwards in front of us.

"You'll trip and break your neck" Feyre was shaking her head.

I smiled at Mor, cocking my head, who stuck out her tongue at us: "I'm the best backward runner in the World, don't doubt me."

Her bright red coat was already splattered with the dirt she was swirling around. 

"There is no such thing!" I giggled.

Mor looked outraged: "Of course there is! When you come to Velaris you'll see, there's a race, an Award Ceremony, and everything."

"How come I've never heard of it?" Feyre had a brow cocked at our friend.

Mor was still dramatically stunned, when answering: "That's because you lock yourself in that little Atelier all day, every day."

The artist beside me rolled her eyes: "Still, I would've heard of it."

I laughed my gaze wandering and settling on three Illyrians in fighting leathers behind Mor. My back went rigid and I froze on the spot.

Feyre looked at me irritated, then at what I was looking at, her expression turning grim. Mor, confused, turned around, tripped over a stone and almost fell. But none of us had the nerve to gloat. The biggest Illyrian was now racing in our direction, Mor tried to block him, but he just breezed past her and flung his arms around me.

"You can't possibly fathom how good it is to see you" Tinus deep voice sounded through me.
He looked exactly the way I had seen him last. His brown, curly hair short, his brown eyes soft every time they looked at me, hard whenever they looked at something else. His fighting leathers were still too tight for his broad form. 

The moment he let me go he started inspecting every inch of me: "Did they hurt you? Are you alright? Father says it won't dishonor you, no matter what they did to you. By the cauldron, I want to kill them."

My eyes found Mors and there was one word in them, Lie. 

Like the ashamed female I should be I let my gaze drop to the ground and whispered: "How could I come back home after what I did to our Family."

His hands were soft at my chin: "Nothing of this brings any dishonor on you. If all Father and I have to be ashamed that we couldn't protect you from those Horrors."

He sighed, then closed his arms around me again, all the big brother.

"You don't understand, no one will look at me. All they will ever think is... is...." I looked at Morrigan, I couldn't do this. 

Lying to him felt like slicing myself up with a knife. But she was still there, her expression indifferent, her eyes affectionate, still telling me to lie.

But it wasn't Mor who saved me, it was the High Lady: "It's still difficult to talk about it for her. A new environment has proven to be good for her, we were thinking about taking her to Velaris for a while so she can heal properly."

The Moment his eyes left me they turned from Tinus, who had thought me how to fly, who had slipped me dessert if I was sad, to Ethinius the Son of an Illyrian Warlord. His eyes were cold and distant. I didn't know this male.

"She will heal best with her family. Know your place, High Lady" from his mouth it sounded like an insult.

Mor barred her teeth, Feyre cocked a brow, a dangerous smile tugging at her lips. But I couldn't let them tear into him, they wouldn't get anywhere.

"Tinus, I think they are right. If I go back with you now everything, I will ever be is the dishonored maiden, they will never see anything different if they look at me. How can I be a wife or mother if this other title is taking up all the place?" my voice was soft.

His gaze shot back to me, still the steely ice in them. Only now did I see his strands. They were blue, but a cold, deadly blue.

"You will do as you are told, Meira" the voice sounded different.

I blinked, then averted my gaze, stepping into Feyre, who laid a hand at my arm. Behind Tinus two of his training companions strutted in our direction.

Regret flashed through his eyes: "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Of course, your healing from this trauma is the only thing that's important right now, but you will do best with us. Father and I will protect you. You'll heal best with mother and me around."

He sounded like himself again, but I couldn't forget that sentence. You will do as you're told

.His cronies were now behind him.

Looking to the ground I answered: "I can't, Tinus."

Anger, as I had never seen in my brother, welled up in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, his gaze turning brightly red. He shot an arm out, touching the silver of skin between my white gloves and my gown. Father had never used his power while I was in the room and I never would've imagined that my brother would be the one to demonstrate me just how much it could hurt.
It was agony in its purest form, clear and cruel. In desperation, I reached for one of the strands around me and yanked. 

Light exploded around me. 

I didn't know what I had done, but between my brother and me now stood a towering oak. Ancient and definite. 

I stumbled back, the pain in my head was back. It felt as if my brain was being squashed. The people around me talked all at the same time, but I couldn't do anything except scream, I stumbled backward, not knowing what I was doing. A primal part of me felt the arrival of what I needed. There it was. A spot without the light, without the hurt. I broke into a run, barely noting the bewildered people I ran over. 

Nearer, nearer, I flung my arms out. Somewhere in a physical world my body collided with a hard, battle steeled one, pressing against that body. But where I was right now I had dived into a sea of shadow, the only light shining seemed to be me. The shadows sang to me, an ancient, sad song I could understand and still not decipher. 

Then everything went truly dark.

A/N: Hey guys, I'm writing a paper right now that counts for 60% of my grade, so editing this chapter was very much not in my capabilities today, I'm sorry. You see how I sound? Capabilities, who talks like that? Anyway, I hope you had fun reading, if not, please leave me a comment telling me what you didn't like and why.

Love Chihirophie