A Story of Fire and Darkness (A ToG and ACoTaR crossover)

The Strange Ones

A/N:

Hi guys!! Thank you so much for reading this fanfic, you have no idea how much this means to me!!

Ok, first things first. There is a scene in here that is inspired by a song written by Victoria Carbol/Inquillery. She is absolutely AMAZING and I totally recommend you go and listen to her stuff if you haven't. I attached the song that inspired the scene and I would personally recommend listening to it while you read the scene. I listened to it while writing, and it gave me chills!

Lastly, I would really appreciate if you guys could comment and give me some feedback! I'm only just starting to share my work with others, so if you could be polite about it, I would appreciate it!

Thanks again you beautiful people!! 😜😁
—KAM😝

Feyre POV:

   "Umm . . . you guys are seeing this, too?"

  I don't even have it in me to respond to Mor's question. I notice distantly that I am, in fact, very tense, but at the moment my attention is focused solely on the fair woman standing in front of the strange, churning mass of darkness.

  She stands with her back to me, and I can't see any of her features. My fatigued muscles scream in protest as I quietly shift into a fighting stance, my hand hovering over my sword hilt.

  When we'd gotten to the clearing that Azriel had found, it seemed as if there was nothing wrong with it. I'd stared at the clearing, my confusion probably showing in my expression. No one else seemed to know why we were here either. Well, except Az.

  He had staggered a step forward and wordlessly pointed.

  When we saw it, it seemed as if all sound had been cut off. I couldn't seem to move, my eyes were fixated at the swirling mass that stole all light around it. I was violently reminded of a dark cell, red hair and tittering laughter.

    Pain. All-consuming pain. Shuddering its way up my body; bones breaking, screams echoing. A face, as cruel as it was beautiful, sneering, mocking. The final crack of a neck snapping, vision going white, where is home, I want to go home--

The more I stared, the larger it seemed to grow until—

    "What. Is that."

   Cass's horrified voice brought me back. I had absolutely no motivation to answer Cassian's question. It seemed as if the others had the same idea.

   I silently watched the consuming black. It was . . . strange; I couldn't decide if it was more horrifying or interesting. It swirled and folded in on itself. I watched to see if it would grow, as it had seemed to before. The magic I felt coming from it made me think of the Cauldron. A shudder down the bond seemed to cement that theory. My memories threatened to drown me again, but a soft, but firm tug from Rhys kept me rooted to the moment.

It seemed as if the only thing keeping me tethered to this world was his presence whispering in the back of my mind. The screams and pain still echoed along my bones, shuddering it's way into the very heart of my being. I couldn't seem to focus.

The portal, it was— like the Cauldron, in ways that disturbed me. I couldn't help but feel drawn to it, the pull inexplicably strong, drowning all other awareness out.

   It didn't speak. This surprised me. Both the Book of Breathings and the Cauldron had been able to speak to me, in some form or another. This— it didn't speak.

   It sang.

   It sang with a haunting voice. Quiet, whispering. It filled every part of my being with it's unceasing, sorrowful melody. It held me gently in it's trance, singing stories in a strange tongue. It was like nothing I had ever heard.