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The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

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Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools. 

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely. 

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes. 

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

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The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 2: Whispers of a Broken Future

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Obscura: A state of being hidden, unknown, or mysterious. A shadow over reality, obscuring what is true or real.

"Do you ever wonder who you really are, Seraphis?"

Rigelus' voice was a low murmur, almost soft as he circled around her, hands clasped behind his back. They stood in one of the private chambers of the Asteri's citadel, far from the cold, calculating halls she had grown used to. This place felt different. Smaller, more personal, with darkened windows that let in the faintest light from the distant stars.

Seraphis didn't answer. Her jaw clenched as she stared at the ground, resisting the pull of his voice, that hypnotic charm that he always used to get inside her head.

"You were nothing when we found you," he continued, coming to stand in front of her, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "You didn't know your purpose. But we...we gave you one we made you into something extraordinary."

Her fists tightened at her sides. Every word felt like a knife, but it cut deeper because she believed him. Without the Asteri, she would have been lost--just another face forgotten in the endless void.

Rigelus stepped closer, so close she could feel his presence, warm and overwhelming, like the sun burning too bright. "You've always been special, Seraphis. More than any of the others. I see that in you. But you need to embrace what you are, fully."

"And what am I?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, sharp with the weight of all her buried fears.

He smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he owned you, that you were his to mold, to control. "You are ours. Always."

The words hit her like a blow, but even worse was the fact that part of her wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe she belonged somewhere, even if it was in the darkness of their control.

"You can fight and run from it all you want," Rigelus whispered, his lips inches from her ear. "But the truth is, I will always catch you, my butterfly. Because without me, you are nothing."

The flash of that memory left Seraphis shaking as she stood in front of the window, staring out into the chaotic streets of Lunathion. Her whole life's purpose, was to serve the Asteri and their interests. They trained her differently than the others.

Hell, they didn't even bother with the others.

She was the first and the only being to ever get insight into the six legendary Asteris. To learn from them, to be with them, to be under their protection, their presence. She was special because they always told her so.

Austrus had even once told her that maybe someday in the future, she could be sitting just a foot below, on the second dais, as their first in command.

Well, that was never going to happen because they are all dead now.

How couldn't the others see it? See that the Asteri were always sharing greatness insetad of terror? Stupid mortals, so self-centered, such cowardly beings, always running away, easily scared.

But Bryce was't like them. Oh, no.

That little brat thought she could put on some brave pants and fight the Asteri. What a fool, what an idiot.

She didn't even stop to think that maybe just killing the Asteri doesn't mean the end of the story. That maybe, they had a plan B, C, D, all the way to Z in their hands.

Her lips twitched up in a smirk. And Seraphis was in all of those plans.

The smirk remained on her lips as she turned away from the window, her mind churning with the possibilities. She had been created for this exact moment, for the aftermath. The Asteri had always known that one day their reign might falter, and they had placed all their bets on her.

Seraphis moved to the bed, her fingers lightly brushing over the rough fabric of the blanket. She had no time to waste on sentiment. The game had changed, but the rules were still hers to follow. The Asteri had imbued her with every secret, every contingency, every weapon. And now it was time for her to step out from their shadow and finish what they had started.

Seraphis stared at the window from her seat on the bed, the hum of the city below barely registering in her head as her thoughts spun. It was a delicate balance--one that would take careful planning and precision. She couldn't afford to rush in blindly, not when the stakes were this high.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her options. The easiest route would be to create small, targeted disruptions across the city—nothing large enough to draw attention from the wrong forces but enough to spark curiosity. Bryce and her crew would eventually notice, especially if the incidents had a familiar touch. She smirked at the thought. It wouldn’t take long before they came sniffing around, trying to understand what was happening. And by then, it would be too late.

She would start small. Plant seeds of unrest in the lower districts, where crime already simmered beneath the surface. A few well-placed provocations, and soon, the city’s order would begin to fray. Nothing too obvious—just enough to make the tension in Lunathion palpable. And then, when the cracks began to widen, she’d start to build the real trap. The kind that would lure Bryce and her friends into the open.

But that was only part of it. Seraphis needed to study them, learn their weaknesses, observe how they moved. It was crucial to find any cracks in their group, and she knew there had to be some. It was only a matter of time.

Her eyes moved away from the window, gazing right towards the wall. The beginnings of her plan were solid, but the details needed to be refined. The hunt for Bryce, her mate and her brother would take time, but she was patient. They would come to her when the city began to unravel.

A twisted smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she would tear their world apart piece by piece, just as Bryce had done to hers.

But first, she needed to light the match.

Seraphis moved toward the table, pulling out a map of the city she had acquired earlier. Spreading it across the table, she traced the streets with her fingers, marking down potential areas where she could plant her seeds of chaos. The slums. The docks. The underground markets.

She wouldn’t need to get her hands too dirty—there were always desperate souls willing to cause havoc for the right price. And she had more than enough resources to pay for what she needed.

Tonight, she would start small. She would test the waters, see how quickly the city reacted. And from there, she would expand her operations. The goal was to draw them out, after all. And when they came? Seraphis would be waiting.

Her lips twitched into a cold, calculating smile. It was time to remind Midgard that the Asteri’s legacy wasn’t dead. It lived on in her.

The pieces of her plan were slowly falling into place. And soon, so would Bryce.

Seraphis sat back in the stiff chair, her gaze sweeping over the map again, committing every detail to memory. She knew the city well enough from her previous reconnaissance-it's layout, it's strengths, it's weak points. The underground market was her first target.

And although it's name sounded similar to the underworld or the Meat market over which the Viper Queen ruled, they could not be more different. The underground is even darker than the Meat market, the lowest point one could ever reach. Whatever you wouldn't find in the underworld, you will most likely find in the underground.

It was a place where both criminals and so-called heroes found themselves entangled, and it would make the perfect starting point for the chaos that she intended to unleash.

With a few well-placed disruptions, the tension between the gangs and the enforcers would rise, and soon enough, word would reach Bryce’s ears. Seraphis didn’t care about the outcome of that petty conflict. The market’s collapse was merely a tool, a prelude to the greater plan.

But that was for later. First, she needed to move unnoticed, blend into the shadows of the city. Despite her plans to sow chaos, her own movements had to remain undetected. For now, anyway.

She rose from the chair and crossed to the small bag she’d brought with her, opening it to reveal a neatly folded, simple cloak—nothing like the regal attire she had once worn in the Asteri’s court. This was meant for blending in, not standing out. She pulled the fabric over her shoulders and tightened the clasp at her neck. Then, she grabbed a few essential tools from her pack—daggers, a gun, lockpicks, and some cash—just enough for tonight’s mission.

As she turned to leave, her gaze flicked to the reflection in the small, dingy mirror hanging above the dresser. The female staring back at her was not the same one she had once been. The cold detachment in her eyes, the calculating glint in her expression—it was all forged from the years under the Asteri’s influence. They had trained her, molded her into a weapon, and now, she would use that power to strike down those who had wronged her.

But something in the pit of her stomach tightened as she looked at her own face, and for a brief moment, she wondered what she would have been without them. Without the manipulation, the teachings, the control.

No. She couldn’t think like that. That path led to doubt, and doubt had no place in her mission.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. There was no room for weakness. Not now, not ever.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up and quietly exited the motel room, blending into the late-night crowds that still lingered on the streets. The city’s pulse was alive around her—bright lights, roaring voices, the distant sound of music and laughter from the nearby bars. But all of it felt muted to her, as though it belonged to a world she no longer had any part in.

The underground market was a good distance away, but Seraphis was in no rush. The night stretched long, and the quieter the streets became, the easier it would be to move through unnoticed.

As she made her way through the alleyways and narrow streets, she began to mentally run through the next phases of her plan. After the initial chaos at the market, she would need to set up a few more “incidents” in other key areas of the city. The slums, in particular, were a breeding ground for unrest. And she would use that unrest to her advantage, stirring the pot just enough to bring everything boiling to the surface.

But all of it—every step she took—would be meaningless if she didn’t ultimately bring Bryce and her allies into the fray. Bryce needed to see the consequences of her actions. She needed to understand that killing the Asteri hadn’t ended their reach, that Seraphis still carried their legacy. And Seraphis would make sure that Bryce knew exactly who had come for her in the end.

Seraphis’ steps slowed as she approached the market district. This was where the first domino would fall. It would be subtle at first—just enough to stir the waters—but it would be enough to start the chain reaction. She smirked beneath the hood of her cloak, her fingers itching to put the plan into motion.

The hunt had begun.

The deeper she went into the market district, the fewer lights illuminated the way. The shadows grew thicker, darker, more welcoming. She preferred it that way. She had always been more comfortable in the darkness--where she could disappear, where no one could track her.

The underground market came into view soon enough, it's entrance tucked between two crumbling buildings in one of the older parts of Lunathion. It wasn't marked, but she knew the signs- the faint hum of activity, the subtle symbols carved into the stone by those who frequented this place. Only those who were meant to be here would find it.

Seraphis pulled her hood lower, her face obscured, and made her way to the door. A lone guard stood by, eyeing her warily, but he made no move to stop her. He wasn't paid to care about who came or went--only to keep the peace inside. That worked to her advantage.

She slipped past him and into the market below.

The underground market was a labrynth of dimly lit corridors, filled with stalls and vendors selling everything from the rarest magical artifacts to specific body parts of powerful beings. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and incense, and the low murmur of voices echoed off the stone walls. It was a place of deals and danger, where money and power changed hands in secret.

And tonight, Seraphis would be the one pulling the strings.

She wandered through the stalls, her eyes scanning the wares, but she wasn't here to buy. No, her interest lay in the individuals--the ones who operated in the shadows, the ones who could help spread the chaos needed. It didn't take long to spot them. They were always the same type--the smugglers, the mercenaries, the power-hungry who would do anything for the right price.

Seraphis approached a small group huddled near the back of the market. Three males. One wolf, one fae, one human. Perfect.

They were rough looking, armed with blades and distrustful eyes. She could feel their wariness as she neared, but they made no move to stop her.

"You look like the kind of men who know how to find things," she said, her voice low, carrying just enough authority to get their attention.

The wolf, a tall male with a scar running down his cheek, gave her a once-over before nodding. "Depends on what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything." She pulled the black cloth from her bag, and slowly unwrapped one of the relics, revealing a small, intricate object glowing faintly with power. The men's eyes widened at the sight. "But I am offering something. This--and more--if you're willing to do a little work for me."

The men exchanged glances, greed already shining in their eyes. The scarred one stepped forward. "What kind of work?"

"Simple," Seraphis said, her voice cold and calculating. "Spread the word. Tell your buyers that something big is coming. A power shift. A chance to get in on something...greater."

She let the words hang in the air, giving them time to bite. The men leaned in closer, intrigued. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who know's whats coming," she replied. "And if you're smart, you'll play your part when the time comes."

The male's eyes flicked to the relic in her hand, then back to her. "And if we do?"

"You'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," she said smoothly, knowing full well that these idiots would sell their souls for even a taste of the power she offered. "But cross me, and you'll be the first to burn when this city falls."

The three seemed to mull it over for a moment, then the scarred one nodded slowly. "We'll spread the word. But we want more than just promises."

Seraphis smiled darkly and handed him the relic. "Consider this a down payment."

She turned on her heel and disappeared back into the maze of stalls, her work here done. The seed of chaos has been planted, and it wouldn't take long for it to spread.

Seraphis slipped out of the market and into the cool night air, her heart steady, her mind clear. It was only the beginning. Soon, the streets would burn, and Bryce would have no choice but to come out of hiding.

And when she did, Seraphis would be waiting.

She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face and melted back into the shadows. Tonight had gone according to plan, but there was still so much work to be done. This was only the first step, the first move in a much larger game.

A game that Seraphis intended to win.

She moved with cold precision, her mind racing through the intricacies of her plan. She didn't care who showed up first--whether it was Bryce, one of her friends, or even her allies. All that mattered was drawing them out, making them feel the chaos she was about to unleash.

The rebellion tearing through the city was the perfect distraction, but she had her own plans to accelerate the destruction. She thrived in the shadows, using the panic to slip unnoticed through the darkened streets toward the heart of the city’s market district.

The bustling square, still relatively untouched by the unrest, was a chaotic web of people moving in and out of crowded shops and vendor stalls. Seraphis stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She closed her eyes and summoned her power. Time slowed to a crawl around her as she focused on the flow of energy coursing through the city. She was no master of fire or chaos in the traditional sense, but time… time was her weapon.

Seraphis sent out tendrils of her power, threading them through the crowded square. She began to bend time, subtly at first, slowing the movements of some citizens while speeding up others. A cart that had been rolling steadily down the street suddenly sped up, crashing into a vendor’s stall, spilling supplies everywhere. The vendor, moving too slowly to react, was sent tumbling into a nearby food cart, which quickly tipped over, sparking a small fire as the flames caught onto the cloth covering.

More and more, she manipulated time, sending carts crashing, people stumbling, and machinery malfunctioning. The disruption quickly spread, triggering accidents that led to more destruction—an explosion from a nearby gas lamp, a toppled building as workers moved too fast, outpacing the scaffolding’s stability.

The market district, once vibrant and alive, descended into chaos. Flames licked the edges of buildings as accidents caused by Seraphis’s manipulation spiraled out of control.

Satisfied with the mayhem, she turned her attention to the old power grid hidden in the lower alleyways. Outdated and vulnerable, just like everything else in Lunathion. She reached it swiftly, manipulating time once again to accelerate the aging process of the already fragile system.

The generator cracked, groaned, and then burst into sparks as its components wore down in seconds, unable to withstand the rapid decay. With a final pulse of her power, Seraphis watched as the entire market district was plunged into darkness. The screams that followed filled the air, rising above the crackling fires and collapsing stalls.

People ran in every direction, unable to comprehend the sudden destruction around them. Panic spread, fueled by the darkness, by the confusion Seraphis had meticulously engineered.

She stood in the shadows, watching as chaos unfolded in the streets below. The flames danced in the distance, illuminating the night in a harsh, flickering glow. She felt the familiar pulse of time bend around her, the echoes of the city rippling as if the fabric of reality itself shuddered in response to her presence.

She had done it--set the stage. The tiniest adjustment, a mere shift in the sequence of events, was all it had taken. She smiled, satisfied.

But as she stood there, a thought came to her. This wasn't just about creating chaos. It was about leaving her mark, reminding them--Bryce, and anyone who dared to be as stupid as Bryce--that there were forces at play they couldn't understand.

Seraphis turned away from the window and glanced around the room of one of the closed shops she was watching this chaos unfurl from, her eyes landing on a broken clock in the corner, it's hands twitching erratically. A smirk played at her lips. That would be her mark. Every time she struck, time would ripple around her, warping and twisting the surroundings in subtle but unmistakable ways. Clocks would break, moments would repeat, and objects would age or freeze in time.

She pulled her hood up over her head, the shadow of her cloak swallowing her figure as she made her way out of the room. The streets were in disarray, and the fire had already drawn people out of their homes. She slipped past them with ease, unnoticed as she moved through the growing crowds.

In the chaos, she allowed her powers to work their magic, creating slight distortions in the area--small enough to be overlooked by most, but clear enough for those who were paying attention. It wouldn't be long before one of Bryce's minions noticed. Someone would realize the pattern and start to piece together what was happening.

As the chaos continued to swell around her, she vanished into the night, leaving behind the broken clocks.

********

Seraphis woke early, her mind still buzzing from the previous night's chaos. The dawn light filtering through the thin curtains of her room, casting long shadows on the walls. She dressed and got ready quickly, her thoughts already on the next steps in her plan.

She headed out to a small cafe nearby, it's warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the morning air. As she sat down with a simple breakfast of coffee and bread, the cafe buzzed with the latest gossip. The patrons, their faces tired but animated, spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

"....can you believe it? The whole street's still smoldering. They're saying it was some kind of coordinated attack."

"The 33rd Legion have been working non-stop. It's a mess out there."

"So many dead too, I heard Hunt Athalar on the news, saying how whoever was behind this, will pay dearly for what they have caused."

Seraphis barely managed to stop herself from laughing at that.

The damage was clearly intensive, just as she had planned. Her actions had created the right kind of chaos to draw out Bryce or anyone from her group out. Seems like today is her mate who decided to show himself first. How fantastic.

As she sipped her coffee, her eyes wandered out the window, scanning the busy street. The city was still reeling from the night’s events, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of fear and urgency. Her plan had succeeded, but she knew she had to remain cautious.

In the midst of the commotion, she spotted Ruhn Danaan and his auxiliary approaching. He was in conversation with his team, but his commanding presence was unmistakable. Seraphis’ heart quickened; she needed to be careful.

She subtly moved from her seat, preparing to leave. But as she slipped out the door, her eyes caught Ruhn’s gaze, just for a fleeting moment. Panic surged through her. This shouldn’t happen, she thought, trying to slip away unnoticed.

Ruhn’s eyes narrowed as he spotted her. He gestured sharply to his auxiliary, and they began to follow her. The café’s patrons were oblivious to the unfolding chase, focused on their own concerns.

Seraphis moved quickly through the streets, her pace quickening as she realized she couldn’t outrun them. Ruhn and his team closed in, their footsteps echoing behind her. She darted into an alley, hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of narrow passages.

But Ruhn was fast. He managed to catch a glimpse of her just as she turned a corner. He shouted for his team to keep up, and they surged forward. Seraphis could feel the pressure mounting; she had to act fast.

As she neared a side street, Ruhn reached out, grabbing her by the arm for a brief moment. The instant his hand touched her, Seraphis felt an electric jolt, an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation that made her pause. Her heart raced, and she felt a strange, almost instinctual pull towards him, but she quickly wrenched her arm free, her senses overloaded.

“Stop!” Ruhn called out, his voice a mixture of authority and urgency. His touch was firm, but she managed to twist away and disappear into the shadows before he could get a full grasp on her.

In her haste, she left behind a small, distinctive object—a silver pendant she always kept hidden. Ruhn noticed it lying on the ground and picked it up, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. The pendant bore intricate designs that seemed out of place in the city’s everyday life.

Seraphis vanished into the maze of streets, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. She glanced back only once, seeing Ruhn still searching for her, his gaze scanning the alleys. She knew he would not find her now.

As the sun climbed higher, the city continued its recovery, unaware of the brief encounter that had occurred. Seraphis took a deep breath and moved forward, her thoughts already turning to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to escape, but the pendant left behind might pose a problem. It was a small slip, but one that could have significant consequences.

And Seraphis had no idea how to get it back.

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Taglist: @annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 3: Unseen Threads

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Kynesis: The instinctual drive to pursue or chase something; a primal urge to follow.

The auxiliary headquarters had never felt heavier.

Ruhn sat in the large leather chair at his desk, staring at the holo-screen in front of him. Reports, data, and communications blinked in and out, but nothing held his attention for long. A strange sense of unease had been creeping in all day, something gnawing at the back of his mind.

He leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his thoughts wandered. Things had been too calm lately, too quiet. After everything that had happened with their circle, peace felt more like a temporary pause than a lasting reality.

The sharp buzz of his commlink interrupted his thoughts, and Ruhn glanced down at it. A message flashed on the screen from Flynn, short and urgent: “Get to the briefing room. Now.”

Ruhn’s gut twisted. Something was wrong. He stood up from his chair and quickly crossed the office, weaving through the busy corridors of the auxiliary headquarters. The sharp scent of cleaning supplies mixed with the distinct hum of tech filled the air as he moved with purpose. His steps quickened, the adrenaline already starting to kick in.

When he pushed open the doors to the briefing room, he found Flynn, Declan, and the rest of the auxiliary team already gathered. Flynn’s face was tight with worry, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a serious expression.

“What’s going on?” Ruhn asked, feeling the tension in the room as soon as he stepped in.

Flynn glanced up, his jaw set. “We’ve got a situation. Fires—multiple, across the city. They started around the same time, and they’re spreading fast. The 33rd is stretched thin dealing with them, and we’re being called in to assist.”

Ruhn’s heart skipped a beat. Fires? That wasn’t unusual in a city this size, but… multiple? “Do we know the source?”

Declan shook his head, fingers already flying across the holo-screen to pull up maps and reports. “Not yet, but something about this doesn’t sit right. It’s too coordinated, too… sudden.”

Ruhn frowned, a familiar heaviness settling in his chest. Coordinated chaos. His mind flashed to Bryce—she’d want to get involved, no question about it. But his thoughts quickly returned to the task at hand.

“Okay, let’s move,” Ruhn ordered, pulling himself into the role of leader. “Where’s the worst hit?”

Declan brought up a map of the city, areas marked in red where the fires had erupted. “East sector, near the industrial zone. The flames are spreading toward the residential areas, and people are starting to evacuate.”

“Shit,” Ruhn muttered under his breath. “Get the gear. We’re heading there first.”

Flynn clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

The drive to the site felt longer than it should have. Silence filled the vehicle, a tension building in the air. Flynn sat in the front seat, his eyes hard as he stared out the window, while Declan tapped away on his tech, scanning the updates coming in.

Ruhn’s mind raced. Fires didn’t just start on their own—not like this. His gut told him this wasn’t some accident, but deliberate. Calculated. And that thought chilled him to the bone.

When they arrived, the scene that unfolded before them was pure chaos.

Thick clouds of black smoke rose from the burning buildings, ash drifting through the air like snowflakes. People were scattered in the streets, some running, others shouting, trying to help. The acrid smell of burning wood and metal filled his lungs as they stepped out of the vehicle, the heat from the flames palpable even from a distance.

“This is bad,” Flynn muttered, his usual bravado gone.

“Yeah,” Ruhn replied, eyes scanning the horizon. The flames licked higher, threatening to devour everything in their path. There was no way this was an accident.

Grabbing his commlink, Ruhn relayed orders to the team. “Declan, check in with the 33rd. We need to know where the fire started. Flynn, help with crowd control, get these people out of here. I’ll head toward the fire and see what I can do.”

The team sprang into action. Declan immediately began communicating with the Legion while Flynn and a few others started directing civilians to safety.

As Ruhn moved toward the heart of the blaze, a knot formed in his stomach. He had no idea who or what was behind this, but he could sense that it was only the beginning.

He jogged through the thick smoke, his eyes scanning the surroundings as the heat intensified. The closer he got to the source of the fire, the clearer it became that this was no random accident.

He caught sight of the firefighters battling the flames. Their powerful hoses blasted streams of water at the burning structures, but the fire seemed almost alive, resisting every attempt to extinguish it. The heat was suffocating, and the acrid stench of burning debris clawed at his throat.

Ruhn’s commlink buzzed in his ear. “Ruhn,” Declan’s voice crackled through. “I’ve got something. The fires—they’re too spread out to be natural. This was deliberate. Coordinated. They started in different locations at the same time.”

Ruhn cursed under his breath. “Any idea who’s behind it?”

“Nothing solid yet. But I’ve got people running intel.”

As Declan spoke, Ruhn’s attention shifted to something strange. His sharp eyes caught sight of the blackened ground in a nearby alleyway. The pattern of the scorch marks—it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t random.

His gut churned. There was something about the way the flames moved, the unnatural shapes they left behind. Magic? He squinted closer at the scorch marks. They almost looked like symbols, curling and twisting in ways that set his instincts on edge.

Before he could inspect further, a loud crack erupted from a nearby building. The wooden beams supporting the structure had given way, sending burning debris crashing to the ground.

“Ruhn! Get back!” Flynn’s voice shouted from somewhere behind him, but it was too late. The flames surged forward, and the ground trembled as the building collapsed in on itself.

Ruhn’s shadows reacted on instinct, swirling up from deep inside him, wrapping him in a cocoon of protection as burning embers rained down. For a moment, all he could see was fire, the world around him consumed by chaos.

And then… silence.

The collapse was over, the building reduced to smoldering ruins.

Ruhn pushed his shadows back down, scanning the scene. The alleyway was now blocked off by a pile of debris, but something told him he had seen something important—something he needed to understand.

He tapped his commlink again. “Flynn, Declan. Pull back to my location. We need to regroup.”

“On it,” Flynn responded, his voice tight.

As Ruhn stepped away from the scene, his thoughts spiraled. The fire, the symbols, the coordinated attack—it was all connected, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. Not yet.

Back at the auxiliary headquarters, hours had passed, but the weight of the fires hung over the entire team. The blazes were under control, but the damage had already been done. As Ruhn and his team gathered around the central table, Declan projected a map of the city, highlighting the areas most affected.

“So far, no one’s claimed responsibility for the attacks,” Flynn said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “But with how perfectly this was executed, it’s no small-time player.”

Ruhn nodded, his mind replaying the strange symbols he’d seen earlier. Something nagged at him, something familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“What about Bryce?” Declan asked. “She’s going to want to know what’s going on.”

“She knows,” Ruhn said, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “But we’ve got this for now. I don’t want her involved unless it gets worse.”

Declan shot him a knowing look but said nothing. Bryce never stayed out of anything for long, especially if there was danger involved.

Flynn glanced at the map again, his brow furrowed. “You think this is just the beginning?”

Ruhn didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation—everyone in the room could feel it.

Finally, Ruhn spoke, his voice low. “Yeah. I think something bigger is coming.”

The meeting stretched late into the night as the auxiliary poured over every detail of the fires, trying to connect the dots. Maps covered the walls, and reports streamed in from all over the city. Each new piece of information only added to the growing unease in the room.

Ruhn’s mind was preoccupied, trying to make sense of the situation. The fires were too widespread, too organized to be random. The tension in the air was thick, but no one had any solid answers yet.

Flynn stood at the head of the room, pointing to a map pinned to the wall. “These aren’t random spots. Whoever did this, they knew the city. They hit places that would draw the most attention.”

“But why fires?” Declan asked, sitting across from Ruhn, flipping through the reports. “There are quicker ways to cause chaos.”

Ruhn tapped his fingers on the table, staring at the map. “It’s not just about the chaos. It feels like… a distraction. But from what?”

As if on cue, the door to the meeting room swung open, and one of their lieutenants rushed in, breathless and grim. “New intel just came in,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. “We’ve got witnesses from one of the fire sites.”

Ruhn’s attention sharpened. “Go on.”

The lieutenant stepped further into the room, his voice tense. “They said they saw someone. Couldn't identify who it is. Cloaked, moving through the crowd before the fires started.”

Ruhn exchanged a look with Flynn and Declan. A cloaked woman, in the middle of the chaos? His instincts flared with suspicion. “A cloaked figure?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “Did they get any details?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Not much. Whoever it is, they kept to the shadows, and no one got a clear look at his or her face. But they were seen near more than one of the fire sites.”

Flynn rubbed his jaw. “So, either they are setting them or this individual knows something.”

“Either way,” Declan added, “they are involved.”

Ruhn felt a ripple of unease at the thought. There was no telling who this figure was or what their role in all this could be. But their presence at multiple fire sites wasn’t a coincidence.

“Find more witnesses,” Ruhn said, standing up. “We need to know more about them. Anything. I want to know where he or she went after the fires started, too.”

The lieutenant nodded and rushed out, leaving the group in a heavy silence.

Flynn let out a slow breath. “A cloaked figure and random fires? This sounds like the start of a bad story.”

Ruhn didn’t respond. His mind was turning over the details, trying to piece it all together. Who was this person? And what was he or she trying to accomplish?

For now, the answers eluded him, but something told him this wasn’t the last they’d hear of him or her.

The clock on the wall was ticking past 2 a.m., but Ruhn and his team were still going strong. The auxiliary office was quieter now, most of the lower-level members having gone home or taken over watch shifts, but the core group remained.

Ruhn stood in front of a large tactical map on the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at the red markers indicating each fire site. His mind churned with frustration—the fires had been extinguished hours ago, but the mystery remained unsolved.

Flynn, sitting across the table from him, pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is getting us nowhere. We’ve got a handful of burnt buildings, a few witness statements that don’t tell us much, and the appearance of some figure who slipped away before anyone could ID them.”

Declan was at his usual spot, typing away furiously at his computer, running search after search. “I’m pulling what I can from street cams and security footage, but we still don’t have a clear image of them. There’s too much interference and not enough data to go on.”

Ruhn sighed heavily, his eyes still glued to the map. There was no denying the fires had been deliberate—too well-timed, too precise. And that mysterious figure from earlier still lingered in the back of his mind. But who was this person? And why did he or she set them? The feeling that something darker was in motion gnawed at him.

Flynn leaned back in his chair. “We’ve been at this for hours, man. We’re not gonna make sense of this tonight.”

Ruhn clenched his jaw, knowing Flynn was right. The tension in his body had reached a breaking point. “Alright,” he muttered, pushing away from the map. “We’ll regroup in the morning. But keep the patrols tight. If this is the beginning of something bigger, I want eyes everywhere.”

Flynn nodded, and Declan gave a tired wave as he continued working. But Ruhn couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

The city was unnaturally quiet as Ruhn stepped out of the auxiliary building. The early hours before dawn always had an eerie stillness to them, but tonight it felt more oppressive, like the calm before a storm. The fires had been dealt with, yet something about them gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

Ruhn zipped up his jacket against the cold breeze, his breath visible in the cool air as he began the short walk back to his apartment. The empty streets of the city felt like a stark contrast to the chaotic mess they had dealt with earlier, but there was no comfort in the silence.

He replayed the night’s events in his mind, searching for some clue he might’ve missed, something that would explain the sudden, calculated attacks. The mysterious figure Flynn mentioned was the biggest anomaly. No one had managed to get a good look at them, and they had slipped away so cleanly it was like they hadn’t been there at all.

Whoever they were, they weren't just a passerby.

As he neared his apartment, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing a message from Bryce.

Bryce: Heard about the fires. You good?

Ruhn frowned, glancing up at the quiet city around him. Bryce would no doubt dig into this just as he was, but for now, he didn’t want her getting mixed up in things before he had more information.

Ruhn: Yeah, handling it. Will update you in the morning.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and headed inside, mind still churning. Something about the unidentified individual, the fires, the precision of it all—it was all too well-planned. Too clean. He needed to figure out who was behind it, and fast.

But for now, he’d try to sleep, knowing the morning would bring more questions than answers.

The next day came far too quickly. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow on the apartment walls. Ruhn groaned as he sat up, still feeling the weight of the previous night’s work heavy on his shoulders.

He rolled out of bed, quickly getting dressed and heading out. They needed to reconvene and figure out their next move.

The city was already buzzing with activity by the time Ruhn and his team stepped outside the auxiliary headquarters in search of more signs. The fires had left a mark on the city’s landscape, and Ruhn felt the weight of the responsibility to ensure everything was under control.

He and his team—Flynn, Declan, Alex and Damon—were scouring the streets, questioning pedestrians and assessing the damage. The reports of destruction were dire, and Ruhn’s focus was to gather every bit of information that could help them piece together the events of the night before.

As they moved down a street, Ruhn noticed a small café on the corner. The place seemed to be a hub of conversation, and he figured it might be a good spot to gather more intel. He directed his team to keep an eye on the street while he approached the café, hoping to pick up any additional details from the patrons.

Just as he was about to enter the café, a woman burst through the door, moving with an urgency that caught his attention. Her hurried pace and the way she tried to avoid eye contact made something in Ruhn’s gut twist with unease.

He briefly locked eyes with her, but her face was partially obscured by the hood of her shirt. The moment was too fleeting for him to make out any distinct features before she turned sharply and hurried away.

Instinctively, Ruhn’s gaze followed her. He signaled to his team to follow. There was something about her behavior that didn’t sit right with him.

The woman moved quickly, weaving through the streets with purpose. Ruhn and his team kept a discreet distance, their steps synchronized with hers. As she darted into an alleyway, Ruhn urged his team to stay close.

In the narrow confines of the alley, Ruhn saw her stumbling and dropping something on the ground. He caught sight of a small, intricate pendant before she could recover it. Without thinking, he reached out and gripped her arm, intending to stop her.

As his fingers closed around her arm, a strange sensation coursed through him—a fleeting pulse of energy that sent a shiver up his spine. It was brief, almost like an electric current, but enough to make him pause. The woman’s startled reaction confirmed that the feeling wasn’t one-sided.

“Stop!” Ruhn commanded, his voice sharp with authority and urgency. The intensity of the moment heightened his awareness, making his heart pound.

But before he could fully grasp her, she wrenched free, slipping away into the shadows. Ruhn watched as she disappeared around a corner, his grip still tingling with the sensation of her touch.

He quickly picked up the pendant she had dropped, examining its elaborate design. It seemed out of place, adding another layer of mystery to the situation.

Ruhn turned to his team, determination etched on his face. “Keep searching. We need to find out who she is and why she was running.”

As his team resumed their search, Ruhn’s thoughts raced. The strange sensation from the woman’s touch lingered in his mind, along with the pendant’s peculiar design. He knew there was a deeper connection to the chaos that needed to be uncovered. The city might be recovering, but for Ruhn, the mystery was just beginning.

He looked back down at the pendant in his hands. Intricate patterns were etched into it's surface--familiar, yet completely alien. As his thumb traced the designs, something flickered in his memory, like the whisper of an old story he couldn't quite remember.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered to himself, turning the pendant over in his hand.

Flynn and Declan caught up to him then, their faces marked with confusion.

"Did you lose her?" Flynn asked, glancing down the alley where she had disappeared.

"She slipped away," Ruhn replied, his voice edged with frustration. "But not before she dropped this." He held up the pendant, watching as his friends' expressions shifted from curiosity to concern.

"That's not local," Declan said immediately, his sharp eyes studying the pendant. "I've seen a lot of old artifacts in the archives--this doesn't match anything we've come across."

Flynn frowned, his gaze flicking between the pendant and Ruhn "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need answers," Ruhn replied, pocketing the pendant. "Whatever that thing is...it's connected to her. And I don't think she's just some random personpassing through the city."

Bryce's voice crackled through their comms. "What's going on? You guys are off the grid."

Ruhn pressed the device to his ear, his mind still buzzing. "We might've stumbled onto something bigger than we thought."

"Bigger how?" Bryce sounded intrigued, though there was a hint of weariness in her tone--likely from dealing with the fallout of the night's attack.

"I'll explain later. We're heading back."

Three hours later, back at the apartment, the entire group gathered in the lounge--Bryce, Hunt, Ithan, Baxian and Ruhn. The atmosphere was tense, everyone still on edge from the attack the previous night.

Ruhn set the pendant down on the coffee table, the strange silver gleaming under the lights.

"This is what she dropped," Ruhn began, his voice steady but his mind still racing. "I don't know who she is, but I'm sure as hell that she's not from around here.And this pendant, it's tied to something. Something big."

Bryce leaned in, her fingers brushing over the intricate design. "This looks old. Like really old." Her brow furrowed "I've never seen anything like this, and I've come across a lot of ancient shit."

Hunt crossed his arms, his wings twitching slightly. "Do you think she's involved with the attack? Coordinating something behind the scenes?"

"I don't know," Ruhn admitted. "But whatever she's up to, she is not someone we should underestimate."

Baxian leaned against his chair. "I will let Isaiah know of this new discovery."

Bryce exchanged a glance with her mate before looking back at Ruhn. "We need to find out what this symbol means. I'll reach out to some people, see if they know anything."

Ruhn rubbed his temples as the group fell into a thoughtful silence, the pendant lying on the coffee table between them, gleaming in the low light of the apartment. Bryce paced back and forth, deep in thought, while Ithan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes occasionally flicking towards the mysterious object.

“None of this makes any sense,” Bryce finally muttered. “If this pendant is as old as it looks, why was it dropped during last night’s attack? And why now?”

“Maybe it was an accident,” Ithan suggested. “Whoever was running from you, Ruhn, wasn’t planning on being chased.”

Ruhn shook his head. “No. This wasn’t just some random person. There was something… familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He hadn’t shared everything he felt during that brief contact—how a strange pulse of energy surged through him when he grabbed her arm. It had been… unsettling.

As the room fell into another tense silence, there was a knock on the door. Everyone froze, their gazes darting towards it.

“Expecting someone?” Ithan asked, already pushing off the wall.

Bryce frowned. “No.”

Ruhn rose, his hand instinctively going to the knife at his side as he approached the door. He glanced back at the group, Bryce nodding once to signal her readiness, her fingers twitching with power just beneath the surface.

Ruhn opened the door, revealing Flynn standing there, looking slightly out of breath. He wasn’t alone. Beside him was Declan, their expressions serious.

“Sorry to barge in,” Flynn started, walking into the apartment without being invited. “But we’ve got news, and it’s not good.”

Bryce crossed her arms. “What is it?”

Flynn exchanged a look with Declan before he spoke again. “One of our sources just reached out. They’ve been tracking unusual magical activity, and… well, we think we’ve found another connection to the attacks. Something about a powerful ward being broken last night.”

“A ward?” Ruhn asked, brow furrowing.

Flynn nodded. “Yeah, and it gets worse. They couldn’t pinpoint the exact location, but they’re sure it’s tied to that pendant.”

Ruhn’s gaze flicked back to the pendant on the table. The room seemed to grow colder, the air heavier with the weight of this new revelation.

“We need to get moving,” Flynn added. “Our source said this ward was ancient—something that hasn’t been touched in centuries.”

“Then whoever dropped this pendant wasn’t just fleeing the scene,” Declan said, his eyes scanning the group. “They were trying to hide something, maybe even protect themselves from being found.”

Bryce’s expression hardened. “Do we have any leads on where this ward was located?”

Flynn hesitated. “Not yet, but our source is working on it. We figured we’d regroup here and go from there.”

Ruhn’s mind was racing. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the woman he had chased was tied to all of this. And now this pendant wasn’t just some lost trinket; it was a piece of something much larger.

He looked over at Bryce. “We need to move quickly. If this ward was protecting something dangerous, we can’t let it get out of control.”

“Agreed,” Bryce said, glancing at the others. “We split up. Flynn, you and Declan go follow up with your source. Ithan, stay here and keep an eye on things. Hunt and Baxian, you go to the 33rd. See if they have any updates. Ruhn and I will check out the location where you found that woman.”

Ruhn nodded, but a chill crept up his spine. The feeling that something bigger was at play, something none of them were ready for, wouldn’t leave him. And as he grabbed his jacket and prepared to head back out into the streets, his mind wandered to the pendant once more.

What had been unleashed?

The streets outside were eerily quiet as they moved toward the alley, where the pendant had been found. Bryce’s eyes swept the surroundings, alert to any sign of danger. But Ruhn’s mind was elsewhere—on the woman who had dropped the pendant. She wasn’t just another enemy; she was something far more dangerous.

The air seemed to grow heavier as they approached the alley, the energy around them shifting. It was subtle at first—a slight flicker of movement, a ripple in the world around them, as if reality itself was bending under unseen pressure.

“This is where she was,” Ruhn murmured, his voice low as he stopped in front of the darkened alley. His grip tightened on the pendant in his pocket, a deep sense of unease settling over him.

Bryce looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Whatever we’re dealing with, it’s not just some random magic. This is something bigger.”

Ruhn nodded, but before he could respond, the very air around them seemed to still. The night grew unnaturally quiet, the world itself frozen in place. Bryce stopped mid-step, her expression frozen in time—her body unmoving, her breathing halted.

Everything stopped.

Ruhn felt a strange pressure weigh down on him, an invisible force binding him in place. His muscles refused to respond, his body stuck in a frozen position. It was as if time itself had ceased to exist, the world around him locked in a moment.

And then he saw her.

Out of the shimmering stillness, That woman stepped into view. Her cloak was gone, revealing her completely. She moved with an unhurried grace, her movements smooth and fluid, as if she alone controlled the flow of time.

Ruhn’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers—an unnatural shade of violet, like molten amethyst glowing in the dim light of the alley. Her face was a vision of ethereal beauty, but not the kind that drew you in with warmth. No, her beauty was dangerous, sharp, like a blade designed to cut, to wound. Her high cheekbones, flawless skin, and the intense, almost otherworldly look in her eyes sent a shiver through him. And her ears...so she was a female, not a woman.

He’d seen plenty of powerful beings, creatures with ancient magic that thrummed in their veins, but there was something about her—something that went beyond mere beauty. She was unnatural, ethereal, and that only added to the power she exuded.

His heart thundered in his chest as he found himself unable to look away. Every detail seemed to sharpen, every second stretched as his mind struggled to process what was happening. He was stuck, time frozen, and yet in this moment, all that mattered was her.

And then she moved closer.

The female walked through the frozen world as if she owned it, her steps soft but deliberate. She didn’t rush, didn’t panic. She moved with the confidence of someone who knew she was untouchable. Ruhn’s gaze followed her, his mind a whirlwind of questions. Who is she? Why does she feel… different?

With each step, her beauty grew more haunting, her presence more overwhelming. And he noticed the smallest details—her long, dark hair framing her face, the way her eyes seemed to catch every bit of light, glinting with some hidden knowledge, some secret she carried that the world didn’t know.

When she finally reached him, her fingers lightly brushed his hand. The pendant, the one she had dropped, was still in his grasp. Her touch was cold, sending a sharp jolt up his arm, and his entire body felt like it had been set ablaze by that brief connection. It was as if her touch pulled something out of him, something primal, something deep.

She leaned in slightly, her gaze briefly flicking down to the pendant before locking back onto his. In the frozen stillness, their eyes locked again, and for a moment—just a moment—Ruhn swore he saw a flicker of something in her gaze. Recognition? Curiosity? He couldn’t tell.

But then she spoke, her voice a whisper, low and melodic, yet edged with danger. “This belongs to me.”

His breath hitched. There was something intimate in that moment, something that crawled under his skin and stayed there, gnawing at him. She took the pendant from his hand slowly, her fingers lingering just a fraction too long against his.

And then, with a single blink, she was gone.

Time resumed its flow, the world around him suddenly jolting back to life. Bryce gasped beside him, blinking rapidly as if shaking off a dream.

“Ruhn?” Bryce’s voice sounded distant, her eyes wide as she scanned the street.

But Ruhn couldn’t respond. His heart pounded in his chest, and his gaze was still locked on the spot where she had disappeared, the strange sensation of her touch still lingering on his skin.

“Who the hell was that?” Bryce muttered, scanning the area in confusion, her brow furrowed.

Ruhn didn’t answer immediately. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what had just happened. His pulse was still racing from the intensity of that moment, from the look in her eyes that had been so piercing, so knowing.

“Whoever she is… she’s not done with us,” Ruhn finally said, his voice low.

Bryce shot him a confused look, clearly not understanding the full weight of what had just occurred. But Ruhn felt it—deep in his bones. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The pendant had been a symbol, a connection. But it wasn’t just about the object anymore. It was about her. Whoever she was, whatever power she wielded… it was only the beginning.

And something told Ruhn that the next time they met, it wouldn’t be so brief—or so one-sided. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited @anuttellaa

More of the helion series please 🥺🥺

Dying to read that :(

It’s coming! It’s just currently on hold because there are many things happening rn and I kinda need to organize the way I want the plot for that one to go so it will take a little more time but it’s definitely coming!

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 4: The Ties that Bind

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Arcane: understood by few; mysterious or secret

Seraphis remained concealed in the shadows of the alley, her breath forming small clouds in the cool night air. The pendant, now firmly grasped in her hand, was a chilling reminder of the Asteri’s influence. It had been retrieved in a tense, fleeting moment, but she remained resolute. The brief encounter with Ruhn, while unsettling, did not deter her from her mission.

The city was unnervingly silent, the usual hum of activity stifled as if the night itself were holding its breath. Seraphis could feel the weight of the pendant, a symbol of her loyalty to the Asteri and the past they had shaped for her. This pendant was not merely an object; it was a piece of the narrative the Asteri had crafted—a narrative she had embraced without question. Which is why, when she found out that it was missing, Seraphis had to risk everything to bring it back.

Her training had made her adept at navigating such situations. The brief moment when time had seemed to freeze had been surprising, but she remained unshaken. The touch of Ruhn’s hand had been unexpected, sending a sharp jolt through her, but it was merely an interruption, not a threat to her mission. She was a soldier of the Asteri, molded by their teachings, and no single encounter would sway her.

Seraphis tightened her grip on the pendant. The Asteri had always assured her that this relic was crucial—an essential link to her past, a tangible connection to her origins. She had been taught that her family had rejected her, leaving her with nothing but this pendant to remember them by. She had been trained to see them as the source of her pain and to view the Asteri as her true family. This pendant would serve as a motivator, a driving force for Seraphis to work harder and belong somewhere. Within the Asteri. Beside Rigelus.

Despite the unsettling nature of the encounter, she could not afford to waver. For a fleeting moment, a whisper of doubt flickered in her mind—had she misjudged the situation? Was there more to this than she had been led to believe? But Seraphis quickly pushed the thought aside. Such doubts had no place in her mind. She was a loyal soldier, bound by her commitment to the Asteri and the mission they had set before her.

As she stepped away from the alley, her focus remained unwavering. The world was full of shadows and secrets, and she was determined to navigate them with precision. The pendant was a symbol of her duty, a constant reminder of the Asteri’s guidance and the purpose she had been given.

Seraphis moved with deliberate confidence, her senses sharp as she navigated the dimly lit streets. The city around her was a maze of hidden dangers, and she was prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead. Her loyalty to the Asteri was absolute, and she would not let any distractions or uncertainties interfere with her mission.

The night was dense with potential threats, but Seraphis was undeterred. She had faced countless trials before, and this encounter, while strange, was just another obstacle to overcome. Her resolve was steadfast, her mission clear. The Asteri’s truth was her reality, and she would face whatever came next with the strength and discipline that defined her.

She arrived at the motel and swiftly entered her room, closing the door behind her. The silence of the room offered a stark contrast to the chaos of the night. Her mind was still processing the intense encounter with Ruhn.

She placed the pendant on the table, its surface gleaming faintly under the dim light. The pendant was more than a relic to her; it was a symbol of her past and her loyalty to the Asteri.

Taking out her leather-bound journal, Seraphis began to jot down her observations. The encounter had been disconcerting, particularly the way she had used her time manipulation to freeze the world around her. It had been a necessary precaution, but the intensity of the moment lingered. This is why she would rarely freeze time. It always took away so much of her energy and the eerie stillness of everything--everyone--made her feel...shaken.

For a brief moment, she had questioned her unshakable loyalty. The way Ruhn had looked at her, the way her hand lingered on his for just a moment longer, and the haunting stillness of time, had unsettled her. But she quickly shoved the doubt aside. She was a soldier of the Asteri, and her mission was paramount. Her body was acting irrationally and it was time her brain completely took over.

There is no longer any place for mistakes or hesitations.

But being this close to Bryce and not killing her…that was something. Of course this whole pendant catastrophe wasn’t in her plans to begin with but Seraphis did consider that there would have been some miscalculations. Hopefully, the next time they will see her, it will be when she ends them.

With her resolve reestablished, Seraphis planned her next moves. She would need to investigate further, understand the significance of the figure she encountered, and continue her mission with unwavering dedication. She gathered her essential items: a map of the city, tools for intelligence gathering, and concealed weapons.

Before leaving, Seraphis cast one final look at the pendant. It remained a symbol of her duty and the Asteri’s promises. As she stepped out into the night, her purpose was clear. She would unravel the mysteries of the city, driven by her loyalty and the belief in the Asteri’s truth.

Seraphis stepped out into the bustling city, the neon lights casting an otherworldly glow on the pavement. The streets were alive with people, their movements and chatter creating a cacophony that Seraphis expertly navigated. Her senses were heightened, every sound and movement carefully cataloged as she made her way through the crowded thoroughfares.

She moved with purpose, her gaze scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Her first stop was a dimly lit tavern on the edge of town, a place known for its rough clientele and even rougher rumors. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the scent of cheap alcohol. Seraphis slipped into a shadowed corner, her eyes never resting for long on any one person. She listened intently to the conversations around her, her sharp ears catching snippets of gossip that could be valuable.

From the tavern, she made her way to a small bookstore, its sign faded and barely noticeable. The store was cluttered with old tomes and ancient texts, the kind that might hold hidden knowledge. Seraphis moved stealthily through the narrow aisles, her fingers brushing over the spines of books as she searched for anything that might offer insight into the city’s hidden layers. She selected a few volumes that seemed promising, slipping them into her bag with practiced ease.

Next, she visited a café known for its patrons’ tendency to speak freely. The café’s warm interior was a stark contrast to the cold night outside. She engaged in casual conversation with the staff, her charm and subtle probing eliciting useful information about recent unusual events and a secretive gathering of influential figures. The details were vague but hinted at something significant.

Her final stop was an alleyway rumored to be frequented by those with insider knowledge. Here, she encountered a streetwise informant, a wolf with a reputation for trading in secrets. Their exchange was terse but productive. He spoke of a clandestine meeting that was scheduled to take place soon, a gathering that could potentially be linked to the information she was seeking.

With her intel gathered, Seraphis retreated to a secluded rooftop, the city spread out before her. The cool breeze ruffled her hair as she reviewed her findings under the dim light of the streetlamps below. The pieces of the puzzle began to fit together, and she identified a lead on a location where the powerful figures were rumored to meet. The urgency of her mission became clear; she needed to infiltrate this meeting to gather more concrete information.

Her mind was sharp, focused, and unyielding. She meticulously organized her notes and ensured her gear was prepared for the next phase of her operation. As she finished her preparations, the weight of her responsibility settled on her shoulders, but she remained resolute. The city’s mysteries beckoned, and Seraphis was ready to confront whatever lay ahead.

She moved silently through the labyrinth of city streets, her senses finely attuned to every subtle shift in the atmosphere. The warehouse loomed ahead, its structure a dark monolith against the night sky. Her mission was clear: observe the meeting and determine the potential threat it posed.

She slipped through a side entrance, her movements as quiet as a whisper. Inside, the warehouse was a study in contrasts, a space where luxury met secrecy. The low hum of voices and occasional clink of glasses guided her to the meeting area.

Peering through the gaps in the partitions, Seraphis took in the scene: Bryce, Ruhn, and Declan among those gathered. Declan held up a photograph—the image of the pendant. Her pendant. Seeing it caused a flare of irritation within her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. The pendant was crucial, but it was her responsibility to handle it, not theirs.

Bryce’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Declan, show us the image again. This pendant… there’s something off about it. We need to understand why it was so crucial to that female.”

Declan nodded, holding the photograph aloft. Seraphis’s gaze locked onto the image, the details of the pendant glaringly familiar. It was an artifact she had been led to believe was essential for her survival. The very idea that others were now examining it, questioning its significance, was infuriating.

Seraphis’s thoughts were a storm of frustration. These people were stumbling around in ignorance, undermining her plan. They were fools, believing they could discern the pendant’s importance without knowing the truth. Her anger was palpable, her hand clenching into a fist as she watched.

Seraphis remained hidden, her sharp eyes focused on the meeting taking place in the warehouse. The dim light flickered over the gathered figures. The tension in the air was palpable, and she could sense the gravity of their discussion.

Declan was examining the photograph of the pendant, his voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. “We need to understand what this pendant truly represents. It’s been tied to a series of unusual events, and the woman we saw earlier was desperate to retrieve it.”

Bryce nodded, her expression serious. “We’ve come across mentions of similar artifacts in old texts, but nothing that directly connects them to this pendant. We need answers, and we need them quickly.”

Ruhn crossed his arms, his gaze intent on the photograph. “If this pendant is as important as it seems, we have to find out why. There’s a possibility it’s part of something larger, a threat we haven’t fully grasped yet.”

Seraphis’s frustration mounted. The conversation was drifting into territory she didn’t want them to explore. The pendant was vital, but their ignorance about its true nature only added to her irritation. These people were stumbling in the dark, and their misguided attempts to uncover its significance only made her more determined to maintain control over the situation.

As she listened, a sense of urgency grew. Her mission was to ensure that the pendant remained under her influence, and the longer she stayed, the greater the risk of exposure. She needed to act quickly.

The conversation continued, with Bryce’s connections discussing various theories and possible implications of the pendant. Their speculations were frustratingly off-mark, and Seraphis could feel her patience wearing thin.

Declan mentioned something about a potential lead they had on another piece of information related to the pendant. “We’re supposed to follow up on a few more details,” he said, “but there’s something about this pendant that feels like it’s part of a bigger puzzle.”

The room was abuzz with nods and murmurs of agreement, but Seraphis knew she couldn’t afford to stay any longer. She had overheard enough to know that their knowledge was fragmented and their conclusions misguided. Staying longer would only risk her cover.

A loud noise from outside—the sound of heavy footsteps and a scuffle—caught her attention. Seizing the opportunity, Seraphis moved quickly. Her heart pounded as she slipped out of the warehouse, her steps muffled against the cold concrete.

She navigated her way back to the motel, her mind racing. The snippets of conversation she had heard were enough to confirm that the group was on a misguided path. The pendant’s significance was still obscured to them, and that worked in her favor.

Entering her room, she locked the door behind her and took a deep breath. The meeting had been a mix of frustration and validation. She now had a clearer understanding of the obstacles she faced and the depth of the misinformation surrounding the pendant.

Seraphis paced the small room, her thoughts swirling. The Asteri’s orders were paramount, and she would not let these unworthy adversaries stand in her way. Her next steps would be calculated and decisive. She would continue to observe from the shadows, ensuring that her mission remained on track and that the Asteri’s plans were executed flawlessly.

As she prepared for the night ahead, Seraphis’s resolve hardened. The confrontation with Bryce and her allies was inevitable, but for now, she would remain hidden, allowing their ignorance to serve her purpose. The game was far from over, and she would be ready for whatever came next.

*****

Ruhn stood near the makeshift table, arms crossed, watching as Bryce’s connections continued their discussion. Declan was going through data on his device, the image of the pendant still projected in front of them.

“That’s it,” Declan said, shaking his head in frustration. “I’ve combed through every source I could find—nothing modern matches this symbol. No database, no house, no records. It’s like this thing doesn’t exist.”

One of the fae males, a scarred figure with silver tattoos curling up his neck, leaned in closer to the image. “It doesn’t match because it’s ancient. I’ve seen symbols like this before, in archives most wouldn’t even know to look at.”

Ruhn straightened at that. “How old are we talking?”

The male’s expression darkened as he glanced at his companions. “Older than any current court. Before the houses united, before the current system was in place. The symbol belongs to an old bloodline, one that no longer exists—at least not officially.”

Bryce’s eyes flashed with intrigue. “The Old Courts?”

Ruhn’s gut clenched. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t just some random thief. She was connected to something much bigger—something they had no idea about. And if she was using that pendant for her own means, they were already behind.

Declan chimed in, his eyes on his device. “There’s still nothing in the modern archives, no mention of any family still active that could be tied to this symbol. But if it’s as old as we think, then it might not even be registered anymore.”

Ruhn rubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to piece it together. “So we’re dealing with someone who knows about the Old Courts, who has access to something none of us understand. But why show up now? What’s the motive?”

Another one of Bryce’s people, a female faun with pale blue hair nodded. “Whoever has this, they’re not just looking for power—they’re looking to shift the balance of it. And if they’re connected to the Old Courts, they could be planning something bigger than any of us are ready for.”

Ruhn swallowed down a wave of unease. The female he’d encountered might not be an enemy they could easily understand. If she was tied to an old bloodline—an old family from a forgotten era—then this fight was about more than just the pendant. It was about history, legacy, and powers they’d long thought lost to time.

Bryce, who had been quietly studying the image, suddenly stilled. Her mind was clearly lost in somewhere Ruhn had no idea. He saw how his sisters eyes widened just a fraction as a flicker of recognition passed through her.

She whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "Could it be...?"

"What? Could it be what?" Ruhn's voice sounded urgent as he looked at his sister who was still clearly lost in a train of thoughts.

"So- um, we are talking ancient," She said, as if suddenly coming back to reality. "How old exactly?"

Ruhn's brows furrowed. Is she okay? "Bryce-"

She lifted up a hand to silence him as one of the faes replied. Ruhn got her hidden message, to shut the hel up until later.

"Old enough that the symbol no longer holds any modern power, but it's magic lingers. This pendant is tied to a family from that era, back when power wasn't centralized. If someone has this pendant now, they're not just tied to an ancient bloodline--they're tapping into old magic."

He cast a sideways look at his sister who kept silent, her thoughts spinning, her eyes narrowed in on one place.

Unbeknownst to them, Seraphis had already slipped into the shadows, her mission in motion, and the true weight of her heritage still hidden from them all, including herself.

As the meeting wrapped up, Bryce lingered behind the group, her eyes still distant, lost in thought. As they finally said their goodbyes, stepped out of the warehouse and into the cool night air, he finally decided to press her.

"Alright, Bryce. Spill," he said, keeping his voice low but firm. "What the Hel was that back there? You went pale for a second."

Bryce glanced at Declan, who was still scrolling through data on his phone. She seemed to be wishing her words carefully, deciding how much to share.

"I don't know for sure yet," she started, her voice tense, but steady. "But...that pendant. I've seen those kinds of carvings before and Marcus just saying that this belongs to an old court just- ugh," she sighed.

Declan stopped walking, his gaze shifted between Bryce and Ruhn. "Seen it where? The archives are empty on this. How could you-"

"I didn't say I saw it here," Bryce interrupted, shooting him a sharp look. She hesitated, taking a deep breath, her usual confidence slipping just a bit. "It wasn't here. It was....somewehere else."

Ruhn frowned, his stomach twisting. He'd never seen Bryce this unsettled. "Somewhere else? You mean--"

Bryce nodded, her eyes darkening with some unspoken memory. "When I was in that other world. When I was- when I was in the caves, in- Prythian."

Declan swore under his breath. "You think this pendant has a connection to that place?"

"I don't know," Bryce admitted, her voice tight. "But it's too close to ignore. When I was in those caves with Azriel and Nesta-"

"Who the Hel are Azriel and Nesta?!" Declan interrupted, earning himself a jab from Ruhn.

Bryce rolled her eyes. "The faes- or high faes, as they call themselves, of that place. It was when I was going through the caves with them that I saw similar patterns on the walls to the ones that the pendant contains."

Ruhn's jaw clenched. He hadn't been there when Bryce had fell into another world, but he knew enough about her experiences to understand the gravity of her words. If this pendant had ties to that world, they were dealing with something far more dangerous than just an ancient relic.

"Do you think that anyone from them know about this?" he asked.

"I don't know," his sister said, her tone flat. "But we need to find out. I'm going to try and find a way to reach out to Nesta--discreetly. We can't let this slip past us."

They walked in silence for a few moments, the weight of her words settling over them. Bryce wasn’t one to panic, but the edge in her voice was unmistakable.

“I’ll keep digging,” Declan finally said. “If there’s any other mention of that symbol, I’ll find it.”

Bryce nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Good. Because whatever this thing is… it’s not just some lost piece of history. It’s connected to something bigger.”

Ruhn’s mind was racing. The mysterious female they were hunting had that pendant. And now it might be tied to another world entirely. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something enormous, something that could change everything.

And whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

******

The quiet hum of the motel room couldn't drown out the noise in her head. Seraphis sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes drifting to the small window overlooking the city.

Lunathion was chaotic, loud, and bustling-but in here, it was too quiet.

Too still.

It felt wrong.

She had been fighting off the growing sense of unease for hours now, but the weight on her chest hadn't lifted.

Instead, it grew heavier, more insistent, as though something was building beneath the surface, waiting to break free.

Then it did.

Her vision blurred, and a cold gust of air slammed into her. The ground shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly, she no longer in the motel room. The scent of the city streets vanished, replaced by the sharp tang of blood, smoke, and death.

Seraphis blinked.

She was standing in the middle of a battlefield.

The air was thick with ash, and the sky above was a sickly shade of gray.

All around her, bodies lay strewn across the ground-warriors, soldiers, fae, and mortals alike, their lifeless forms broken and bloody. The city she had just been staring at from the window was in ruins, buildings collapsed into heaps of rubble, streets torn apart.

Lunathion had fallen.

Seraphis walked forward, her boots crunching against the debris and shattered remains of what had once been a thriving

The further she walked, the more the devastation unfolded before her eyes. Blood stained the ground, thick and dark, and bodies piled up, a grotesque reminder of what war could do.

And yet, this was a war she had helped orchestrate. If everything went as planned, this was the future she would create.

But as she walked among the fallen, something stirred within her. She stepped over bodies without a second thought, the carnage unfurling at her feet-until her gaze caught on a figure ahead.

A male. His body was sprawled across the ground, his familiar dark hair matted with blood, his face pale and unmoving.

Ruhn Danaan.

Seraphis stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she couldn't move, her chest tightening painfully as she stared at him. She had seen countless deaths, walked through the blood of her enemies without flinching. But this... something about this was different. Wrong.

She knelt down, her trembling fingers hovering just above his cheek, though she couldn't bring herself to touch him. His lifeless eyes were open, staring up at the sky, unseeing. And for reasons she couldn't explain, seeing him like this sent a shudder through her, as though something inside her was breaking apart.

She didn't understand why. She shouldn't care.

Yet her chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his face, the image of him lying there seared into her mind.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught movement.

She turned, her attention snapping to the source-a male groaning in pain a few feet away. He was still alive, barely, his body bloodied and battered. Her breath hitched as she took him in-tall, broad-shouldered, his features too familiar. His face was so similar to hers, it sent a chill down her spine.

The male looked a lot like her—a mirror image, his features sharp, dark, like a distorted reflection of herself, not to mention the same violet eyes. He groaned again, his body trembling as he tried to move.

Beside him was a female, her golden-brown hair wild and tangled, her eyes wide with desperation as she pressed her hands against his side, trying to stop the bleeding. Seraphis didn't know who she was, but the fierce look in her eyes was unmistakable.

The female would stop at nothing to keep the male alive.

Seraphis took it all in, her chest tightening as the weight of the scene pressed down on her. She stood frozen, torn between the cold, calculating part of her that told her this was a future of her own making and the strange, unfamiliar emotions clawing at the edges of her mind.

And then, just as suddenly, the world shifted again.

The battlefield, the bodies, Ruhn, the stranger whom she had never seen before, it all faded away in a flash of light, and she was back in the motel room. The harsh glow of the single bulb above her head felt like a slap to the face, the distant sounds of the city buzzing faintly outside the window.

But the weight on her chest remained. Seraphis stood there for a long moment, her breath shallow, her pulse racing as she tried to push the memory of the battlefield back into the recesses of her mind. She couldn't afford to dwell on it, couldn't afford to feel. Not now.

Not ever.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, forcing the emotions down until they were buried deep where they couldn't reach her.

The hunt wasn't over yet. But that brief glimpse into the future was enough to remind her-there was more at stake than she had ever imagined.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:@annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited @anuttellaa

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series masterlist

Warnings: angst, abuse, violence, eventual smut (that is all for now)

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 5: Fate’s Silent Whisper

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Catalyst: a person or thing that precipates an event or change

"You know where to find me"

"You know where to find me"

"You know where to find me"

The stranger's words from Seraphis' first day in Lunathion were ringing inside her head. She had dismissed them before, but now, she saw the opportunity in their offer. If they could provide her with the means to accelerate her plans, then perhaps it was time to make use of them.

Seraphis clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The vision wasn’t a warning; it was a promise. Her promise to the Asteri, to herself. Lunathion would fall, Bryce Quinlan would pay, and everyone who had dared defy the Asteri would be swept away like dust in a storm.

But she needed to be smart about this. Calculated. Charging in blindly would only lead to failure, and failure wasn’t an option. She needed information, leverage, anything that would give her an edge.

With a cold, resolute breath, she grabbed her cloak and left the motel, the cool night air biting against her skin. The streets were nearly empty, save for a few lingering souls who paid her no mind. Her steps were quick, purposeful, as she retraced her path back to the alley where she had encountered the stranger.

This time, there was no hesitation as she stepped into the shadows. “Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, like before, the figure emerged from the darkness, their movements smooth and unhurried. “Seraphis,” they greeted, their tone calm and composed. “I had a feeling you’d be back.”

“I don’t have time for pleasantries,” Seraphis snapped, her gaze cold. “You said you could help me. Prove it.”

The figure tilted their head, as if amused by her bluntness. “Still so determined, I see. Very well.” They took a step closer, their voice lowering conspiratorially. “I know what you want, Seraphis. You want to see Lunathion burn. You want Bryce Quinlan and all her allies destroyed. But it won’t be easy. They have defenses, secrets—things that even you don’t know.”

Seraphis’s jaw tightened. “Then tell me. Give me something I can use.”

The figure’s eyes gleamed beneath their hood. “The wolf, Danika Fendyr. She died hiding something. A secret that could tear Lunathion apart from the inside out.”

Seraphis’s interest piqued despite herself. She knew of Danika’s death, of course, but she hadn’t cared to delve into the details. The wolf was nothing to her—just another casualty. But if there was more to it, if it could serve her purposes…

“What secret?” she demanded, her voice a low growl.

The figure stepped closer still, their gaze piercing. “Danika was investigating something. Something big. Something that could have changed everything. But she died before she could reveal it. And Bryce… Bryce knows what it is.”

Seraphis’s heart beat faster, not with fear but with the thrill of opportunity. “And you know what it is?”

The figure’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I know enough to get you started. I can show you where to look, what to dig into. With the right pressure, the right leverage, you could unravel everything Bryce is trying to protect. You could turn her own city against her.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in their eye. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see Lunathion fall. We may have different motives, but our goals align. I have information, and you have power. Together, we can bring this city to its knees.”

Seraphis studied them, her mind racing. She didn’t trust this stranger, but they knew things. Things she needed. If she could use them, manipulate them, then perhaps she could turn this to her advantage.

“All right,” she said finally, her voice firm. “Show me.”

The figure nodded, satisfaction gleaming in their eyes. “Follow me, then. There’s much to discuss, and not much time. If you want to destroy Lunathion, Seraphis, you’ll need to be ready for what comes next.”

She followed them, her heart steady, her resolve unshaken. She didn’t care about the consequences, about the cost. She had one goal, and nothing would stand in her way. Lunathion would fall, and she would be the one to bring it down.

Seraphis followed the cloaked figure through the labyrinth of darkened alleys, her steps silent as death itself. The air crackled with tension, each step taking them deeper into the shadowy depths of Lunathion. She was done playing games. Whoever this person was, they were about to find out just how lethal she could be.

The figure finally stopped at the entrance of a decrepit building, a place forgotten by the city above. They turned, slowly, and pushed back their hood, revealing a striking woman with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through her. There was a knowing, almost mocking smile on her lips.

Seraphis’s grip tightened on her blade, her instincts screaming at her to strike first. But she held back, if only barely. “Enough of this nonsense. Who are you?”

The woman’s smile widened, her voice low and smooth. “Names are such trivial things, don’t you think? But if you must call me something, let it be Miraya”

Seraphis narrowed her eyes. Miraya. It meant nothing to her, but the way this woman moved, the confidence in her stance—it set Seraphis on edge. She didn’t like not knowing who or what she was dealing with.

“You’re wasting my time,” Seraphis growled, her patience fraying. “I’m not here for games.”

“Neither am I.” Miraya’s voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. She reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a small, shimmering crystal. It caught the faint light, casting eerie patterns across the walls. “I’m here because I can give you what you want.”

Seraphis took a step closer, her gaze locked on the crystal. There was something… off about it. A sense of immense power coiled within, dark and potent. “And what, exactly, is that?”

“An edge,” Miraya said, her eyes gleaming. “Something that will make your mission not just possible, but inevitable.”

Seraphis’s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. “And what’s in it for you?”

Miraya tilted her head, studying her with an intensity that made Seraphis’s skin prickle. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see Lunathion in flames. Bryce Quinlan and her little band of heroes… they’ve upset the balance. It’s time for things to be set right.”

Seraphis clenched her jaw. It was tempting, so very tempting, but she didn’t trust easily. And she certainly didn’t trust strangers who appeared out of nowhere with promises of power. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

Miraya’s smile was pure ice. “You don’t have to believe me. But I know you, Seraphis. I know what you’ve been through, what you’ve lost. You think you can do this on your own, but you can’t. They’re too strong, too entrenched in this world. You need something more.”

She took another step forward, holding the crystal out. “This is a key. There’s a place beneath Lunathion, a vault hidden so deep even the Fae don’t know it exists. It holds something the Asteri left behind—a weapon capable of breaking even the strongest defenses. Find it, and you’ll have the power to bring this city to its knees.”

Seraphis stared at the crystal, her mind racing. A weapon left by the Asteri? It sounded too good to be true, and yet… There was a glimmer of truth in Miraya’s words. If such a thing existed, it could tip the scales in her favor.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the crystal. A surge of energy jolted through her, dark and potent, whispering of untapped potential.

“Why would you give this to me?” Seraphis asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Miraya’s smile turned cold, almost predatory. “Because I want to see you succeed. I want to see them fall. And because I know you’re the only one who can do it.”

Seraphis hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she closed her hand around the crystal, its cold surface sending another shiver through her.

“You’ll find the entrance in the ruins beneath the old temple district,” Miraya said, stepping back. “Once you’re inside, you’ll know what to do.”

Seraphis didn’t respond. She turned on her heel, the crystal clutched tightly in her hand. She had a mission, and this—this could be the weapon she needed to see it through.

As she walked away, Miraya’s voice echoed softly behind her. “Remember, Seraphis… trust no one. Not even yourself.”

Seraphis didn’t look back. She had no intention of trusting anyone. All that mattered was the mission, the revenge that burned like fire in her veins.

And she would see it through to the bitter end.

Seraphis moved silently through the darkened alley, the sounds of the city muted around her. Every step was calculated, every glance over her shoulder deliberate. After her encounter with the cloaked woman, she’d doubled her precautions, her senses on high alert for any sign of pursuit.

But she had felt it—eyes on her. More than once.

She tightened her grip on the object she’d been given, its weight a solid reminder of the task she was here to complete. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the Asteri were depending on her. Not when revenge burned so fiercely in her veins.

She needed to get to the underground passage. It would take her to the place the woman had spoken of, to whatever weapon lay hidden beneath the city. She was almost there, just a few more turns through the labyrinth of alleys, and she—

Danika Fendyr.

The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. The woman had said Danika had been searching for the same information, that Bryce knew about it. But why? Why would Danika—a supposed hero, a loyal friend—have been looking for something like this? A weapon capable of untold destruction? Seraphis’s brow furrowed as she rounded another corner, her thoughts tangled.

Was Danika not as good as she’d appeared to be? Or had she been deceiving everyone, playing the role of the perfect friend while secretly hunting for power? The notion almost made her laugh. What did that little wolf think she could have done with a weapon like this?

And why hadn’t the Asteri told her about Danika’s involvement? She was their weapon, their prized creation. She was meant to know everything, to be one step ahead of everyone else. But this… this was a secret that had been kept from her, a piece of the puzzle she hadn’t even known was missing.

She gritted her teeth, her pace quickening. It burned, this not knowing. Danika’s shadow loomed over this mission, and it gnawed at her that a long-dead wolf—someone so inconsequential—had been privy to something that even she had been denied.

Had Rigelus kept this from her on purpose? But why? She had proven herself time and time again. Hadn’t she? Or had the Asteri doubted her all along?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the unsettling thoughts. It didn’t matter now. Danika was dead. Whatever she had known was irrelevant. Seraphis was here now, and she would succeed where that wolf had failed.

Another turn, deeper into the labyrinth of alleys. She could feel the undercurrent of magic beneath the city, the pulse of something powerful, something waiting. She was close now.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. She froze, every muscle coiled. But it was just a cat, slinking through the shadows. She exhaled slowly, forcing her heart to steady. This paranoia, this unease—it was unlike her. She was trained to be better than this, to remain calm no matter the situation.

A low murmur in her earpiece. Seraphis tensed, her hand flying to the device embedded in her cloak. She hadn’t activated it. How—

“Ithan, she’s moving towards the old market,” a voice crackled through, a woman’s voice. Bryce.

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed. They were tracking her. But how? She’d taken every precaution. Then she caught it—a faint shimmer on the hem of her cloak, almost imperceptible. Some kind of tracking spell. Clever.

Without hesitation, she ripped off the cloak and flung it aside, her lips curling into a sneer. Let them track that. She slipped into the deeper shadows, moving faster now. If they were here, it meant they knew who she was, or at least suspected. The cloak could buy her a few seconds, but she needed to—

A sharp sting in her side. She stumbled, her hand going to the small, feathered dart lodged in her ribs. Pain flared, followed by a wave of dizziness. Damn it. Her vision blurred as she yanked the dart free, but it was too late. Whatever they’d used was already coursing through her veins, muddying her thoughts, slowing her movements.

She had seconds, maybe less. A growl rumbled behind her, low and menacing. She turned just as a massive wolf lunged out of the darkness, knocking her to the ground. Her head slammed against the concrete, stars exploding in her vision.

“Got you,” a rough voice snarled above her. The wolf shifted, fur giving way to skin, claws retracting into hands as Ithan loomed over her, his eyes glowing golden in the dim light.

Seraphis thrashed, trying to summon her power, to freeze time and reverse the last few moments. But the sedative—whatever it was—scrambled her abilities. She could feel time slipping, slipping through her fingers like sand.

“Stay down,” Ithan growled, his hands pinning her wrists to the ground. His strength was immense, crushing. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She hissed, struggling beneath him, her vision fading in and out. “Get off me,” she spat, fury sparking even through the haze. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “but we’re about to find out.”

Footsteps echoed in the alley, and then Bryce was there, her face hard as she looked down at Seraphis. “Nice catch, Ithan,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “So, you’re the one causing all this trouble.”

Seraphis tried to speak, but her tongue felt thick, her body heavy. She could barely keep her eyes open as the sedative pulled her deeper under.

“We’ll take her to the facility,” Bryce said, her voice distant now, like she was speaking from underwater. “Get her somewhere secure before she wakes up.”

Ithan nodded, his grip unrelenting as he hauled Seraphis to her feet. She swayed, her legs buckling, but he held her steady, half-carrying, half-dragging her towards the end of the alley.

“Big mistake,” she mumbled, barely coherent. “All of you.”

Ithan glanced down at her, his jaw tight. “We’ll see.”

As darkness claimed her, Seraphis’s last thought was of the Asteri. Of the promise she’d made. She wouldn’t fail them. Not now. Not ever.

And Lunathion would burn before she was through.

Seraphis blinked awake, the light overhead harsh and unrelenting. Her head pounded with every throb of her heart, and her wrists and ankles felt like they were on fire from the tight restraints. The room was stark and uninviting, concrete walls and a single blinding light the only features. As her vision cleared, she saw Bryce, Hunt, and Ithan standing before her, their expressions a mix of expectation and authority.

“Well, isn’t this a charming little setup,” Seraphis muttered, her voice hoarse but laced with sarcasm. “Did you redecorate just for me?”

Bryce’s gaze was steely as she stepped forward. “We’re glad you’re awake. We need to have a little chat about your plans and your connections.”

Seraphis’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, do you? How flattering. But I’m not really in the mood for a friendly conversation.”

Hunt, standing slightly behind Bryce, watched her with a detached interest. His presence was imposing, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Ithan, closer to Seraphis, frowned slightly. “We’ve been patient. It would be in your best interest to cooperate.”

Seraphis looked Ithan up and down, her expression one of condescension. “Patient? How sweet. You know, for someone with your… formidable stature, you don’t really exude a lot of menace.”

Bryce stepped in, clearly trying to maintain control. “We don’t have time for games. You’re here because we want to understand your intentions. The sooner you talk, the sooner this can all be over.”

Seraphis chuckled softly, the sound cold and devoid of warmth. “You’re adorable, really. Do you think a bit of intimidation is going to make me spill my secrets?”

Hunt finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying an edge. “This isn’t a game. You’re going to find out just how serious we are if you don’t start talking.”

Seraphis’s eyes glittered with defiance. “And what exactly are you planning to do? You think you can break me with a bit of pressure? I’ve faced far worse than this.”

Bryce’s jaw tightened, her patience wearing thin. “You’re making this difficult for yourself. We’re asking you to help us understand what you’re after. It’s a simple request.”

Seraphis raised an eyebrow. “Simple? If it were simple, you wouldn’t need to resort to this. I’m sure you have better things to do than question me.”

Ithan’s frustration was evident. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you’re going to give us something.”

Seraphis leaned back, her posture relaxed despite the restraints. “You know, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who’s easily intimidated. I’m not your average prisoner.”

Hunt’s gaze remained steady. “Then prove it. Give us something to work with.”

Bryce’s voice was sharp, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. “We’re running out of time. Either you start cooperating, or things are going to get a lot more uncomfortable for you.”

Seraphis met Bryce’s gaze with an icy stare. “And if I don’t?”

Bryce didn’t flinch. “We’ll make sure you regret it.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tension. Seraphis remained impassive, her defiance unwavering despite the mounting pressure. The team exchanged looks of frustration but didn’t relent, waiting for her to crack.

As the minutes ticked by, Seraphis remained resolute, her mind already working on ways to use the situation to her advantage. Despite her predicament, she was far from beaten, and she was determined to make sure they knew it.

The silence was deafening. No one had left the room after Bryce’s declaration, the tension thick in the air. Seraphis sat in the center, her eyes cold and unyielding as she took in her surroundings. The room was fortified with magical wards, visible only as faint glows against the walls, meant to suppress any attempts at escape. The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden floor beneath them.

Bryce’s gaze was steady, her expression inscrutable. Ithan stood nearby, his arms crossed, a silent sentinel. Hunt, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with a mix of impatience and curiosity. Seraphis’s mind, though clouded by the effects of the drug, was still sharp. She assessed her situation with the analytical precision of a seasoned operative.

The quiet stretched on until Bryce finally broke it, her voice laced with frustration and a touch of impatience. “You know, this isn’t a game. We have ways of getting the information we need. I suggest you cooperate before we resort to more… persuasive methods.”

Seraphis’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And here I thought you were just going to ask nicely. I’m afraid I don’t respond well to threats. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Hunt pushed off from the wall, stepping forward with a menacing aura. “Bryce is right. You might think you’re untouchable, but we have ways to make you talk. This isn’t a place where you can hide from us.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed, but she remained calm. “You might be confident now, but this place is heavily protected. You can’t just walk out. You’ll find that our methods are quite effective.”

Ithan shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the prolonged standoff. He stepped forward, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “We don’t have all day. Tell us what we need to know, or things are going to get very uncomfortable for you.”

Seraphis’s gaze flickered between Bryce, Hunt, and Ithan, her resolve unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

Bryce leaned in slightly, her tone low but menacing. “Then we’ll make sure you regret it. We have the means to make you talk, whether you like it or not. You’re here, and we control the conditions. You might be able to resist for a while, but eventually, you’ll crack.”

Hunt stepped closer, his expression hardening. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we have to. We’re here to get answers, and we’re not leaving until we do.”

The room fell silent again as Seraphis considered her options. The drug’s effects were dulling her senses, making it harder to think clearly, but her spirit remained unbroken.

As the minutes dragged on, Seraphis’s mind raced despite the drug-induced haze. She knew the facility’s magical barriers were formidable, but she had faced worse challenges before. The real threat was not the wards themselves but how they might use her vulnerabilities against her.

Bryce, Hunt, and Ethan exchanged a look, clearly contemplating their next move. The room’s oppressive silence seemed to grow heavier, but Seraphis refused to show any sign of weakness. She met their gazes with a steely determination, her resolve as sharp as ever.

Bryce finally spoke, her voice cutting through the silence. “We’ll leave you to think it over. When you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here. Until then, enjoy your stay.”

With that, Bryce, Hunt, and Ithan turned and walked out, the door closing behind them with a finality that echoed through the room. Seraphis was left alone, the silence now tinged with the faint hum of the magical wards.

As she sat in the dimly lit room, her mind continued to work despite the effects of the drug. She would find a way out, she vowed to herself. No matter how intricate the wards or how intense the interrogation, she would not let them break her spirit. She was determined to escape and continue her quest for revenge, no matter what it took.

******

Ruhn leaned against the wall of the darkened room, his gaze fixed on the blinking lights of the city outside. Flynn and Declan sat at the table, their expressions tense and thoughtful. The weight of recent events hung heavily between them, unspoken questions swirling in the air.

“She’s dangerous,” Flynn muttered, breaking the silence. “More than we realized.”

Ruhn’s jaw tightened. He knew it. They all did. But it was more than just danger that bothered him. He couldn’t shake the strange, inexplicable pull he felt when he thought about Seraphis. Something about her nagged at him, as if he should know who she was—what she was.

“I can’t get her out of my head,” Declan said quietly, his gaze distant. “It’s like she’s… I don’t know, like there’s something more we’re not seeing.”

“There is,” Ruhn replied, his voice tense. “And I don’t think she’s going to give it up easily.”

Flynn nodded slowly. “Bryce and Hunt are taking a big risk keeping her here.”

“I know,” Ruhn said, his voice clipped. He turned away, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling in his gut. Something about this whole situation felt wrong, off-balance, like they were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Bryce’s name flash across the screen. He answered immediately.

“Bryce? What’s going on?”

“Ruhn, you need to get here now,” Bryce’s voice was strained, tight with urgency. “Something’s happening.”

His stomach dropped. “What do you mean? Is she—”

“Just get here, Ruhn.I don’t think we have much time.”

The line went dead, and Ruhn stared at the phone for a heartbeat, his mind racing. Then he turned to Flynn and Declan, his expression grim.

“Something’s up. Bryce needs us. Now.”

They didn’t waste time asking questions. Flynn and Declan were on their feet in an instant, following Ruhn as he strode out of the room, his thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and determination.

What the hell are we dealing with?

They reached the building in record time, the air around them charged with tension. Bryce met them at the entrance, her expression a mix of relief and anxiety.

“She’s…changed,” Bryce said, her voice low. “I don’t know how to explain it, but something’s different.”

Ruhn frowned. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” Bryce said, frustration evident in her tone. “But we need to be careful. She’s not just some prisoner. She’s…something else.”

They moved quickly, following Bryce down the hallway. The walls seemed to close in around them as if the building itself sensed the storm brewing within. Ruhn’s heart was pounding, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. The sense of impending danger was almost suffocating.

When they reached the door of the interrogation room, Ruhn hesitated for a split second, his hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then pushed it open.

And there she was.

The harsh lights above cast a stark glow over her, illuminating the delicate, angular lines of her face. Even under the circumstances, with chains binding her and an air of danger coiling around her like a living thing, this female was…breathtaking.

Ruhn’s heart stuttered, his gaze drinking her in despite himself. She was more striking than he remembered—no, not just striking. She was beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal, like a creature crafted from shadows and starlight. The soft illumination seemed to highlight every sharp, perfect angle of her face, the cold gleam in her eyes, the curve of her lips that spoke of secrets and danger.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent a jolt through him. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, caught in the pull of that gaze. There was something there—something more than just the hostility, more than the cold indifference she’d shown before. It was as if she saw right through him, as if she could peel back the layers of his mind and lay them bare.

His breath hitched, and he had to force himself to look away, to break the spell she seemed to weave so effortlessly. But the image of her stayed with him, burned into his mind. He had faced beautiful women before, had faced beings of power and danger, but there was something about her that felt different, something that stirred a primal, almost visceral reaction deep within him.

It wasn’t attraction—alright, maybe it was but he would never admit it. But it was also something darker, more complicated. A fascination he couldn’t shake, a curiosity that bordered on obsession. Who was she, really? What had shaped her into this cold, lethal creature who now sat before them, her beauty a mask that barely concealed the deadly edge beneath?

His heart pounded in his ears as he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched him with that same unflinching stare, her lips curving into a slow, mocking smile that made something twist painfully in his chest.

“Back for more?” she drawled, her voice dripping with disdain. “Or are you finally ready to admit you’re out of your depth?”

The spell was broken, the cold, biting sarcasm snapping him out of whatever strange hold she had over him. He forced himself to meet her gaze head-on, to remember why they were here, what was at stake.

“We’re not playing games. Tell us what you’re after.”

Her smile widened, a flash of teeth that was more feral than amused. “You really think you can make me talk?”

Bryce stepped forward, her expression hard. “You’re not getting out of here. This place is sealed with wards and magic. It’s in the middle of nowhere. There’s no escape.”

Her eyes gleamed, something dangerously close to amusement dancing in their depths. “You think a few wards and some isolation are going to hold me?”

The silence that followed was thick, charged with tension. Ruhn’s heart was still racing, his mind a tangled mess of emotions and questions he couldn’t begin to unravel. He knew he should hate her, should see her as the threat she was—but instead, all he could think about was the way her eyes had looked, the way her voice had sounded, the way she seemed to twist everything inside him into knots.

He forced himself to speak, to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within. “We’ll see about that.”

Seraphis’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more knowing. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”

The words hung between them, a challenge and a promise all at once. And Ruhn knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, nothing would ever be the same.

The silence in the room thickened, stretching like a taut wire between the captors and their prisoner. Bryce exhaled sharply, her frustration palpable. “This is getting us nowhere,” she muttered, glancing at Hunt. He nodded, his wings twitching slightly in agitation.

Ruhn’s gaze lingered on the woman, still seated and chained, her expression cool and inscrutable. There was something about her—something that dug beneath his skin and refused to let go. He forced himself to turn away, following Bryce and Hunt as they moved toward the door.

“We’ll be back,” Bryce said over her shoulder to the others, her voice tight. “Make sure she doesn’t get too comfortable.”

Bryce’s grip tightened on Ruhn’s arm, a silent signal for him and Hunt to follow as she led them further down the corridor. Her footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls, each step measured, purposeful. She didn’t speak until they were out of earshot of the guards, out of sight of any prying eyes.

Finally, she stopped in front of a heavy door marked with sigils that glowed faintly in the dim light. Bryce glanced over her shoulder, her gaze flicking between Ruhn and Hunt. “Inside. Both of you.”

Ruhn and Hunt exchanged a look but followed her into the room without argument. It was smaller than the interrogation room, furnished only with a table and a few chairs. An array of magical devices cluttered the tabletop, shimmering faintly in the glow of the overhead lights. The door clicked shut behind them, and Bryce exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

“What’s this about, Bryce?” Hunt asked, his voice steady but wary.

Bryce took a deep breath, her expression serious as she turned to face them. “I need to try and reach Nesta. Now.”

Ruhn’s brows furrowed. “Here? But we’re supposed to—”

“I know what we’re supposed to do, Ruhn,” Bryce interrupted, her voice tight. “But if there’s even a chance that Nesta knows something—anything—that can help us understand what’s going on with our prisoner, then we can’t wait. We need answers, and we need them fast.”

Hunt crossed his arms, his wings rustling as he shifted. “And how exactly are you planning to reach her?”

Bryce moved to the table, picking up a small, intricately carved crystal and holding it up to the light. “This,” she said, her tone laced with determination. “I asked Hypaxia two days ago to create something that will be able to get me to open a portal. Apparently this is the best she could create in such a short notice. Astonishing really, how a medwitch can create something like this. But she was my only hope and this is the only way we have so I really don’t wanna fail this.”

Ruhn eyed the crystal warily. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No,” Bryce admitted, a faint smile curving her lips. “But when has that ever stopped us?”

Hunt’s jaw tightened. “We should have someone stand guard outside. In case anything goes wrong.”

Bryce nodded. “Good idea. I don’t know how long this will take, but if I can connect with her—if she’s seen anything related to those symbols or this female, then we’ll have a better chance of figuring out what we’re dealing with.”

Ruhn stepped closer, his expression softening. “Bryce, are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t know what kind of effects this could have—on you, or on Nesta.”

“I have to try, Ruhn,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “We can’t just sit here and wait. Not when there’s so much at stake.”

Hunt nodded, his face set in a determined mask. “I’ll keep watch outside. If anyone tries to come in, I’ll handle it.”

Bryce’s eyes flickered with gratitude. “Thanks, Hunt.”

He gave her a quick, reassuring smile and a kiss before slipping out the door, leaving Ruhn and Bryce alone in the small room. Silence stretched between them, heavy and tense. Bryce set the crystal down on the table and began arranging a few other objects around it—candles, symbols drawn on parchment, small vials filled with what looked like sand or dust.

Ruhn watched her, his heart pounding in his chest. “Are you sure about this?”

Bryce paused, her hands hovering over the setup. “No,” she said softly. “But we need to know, Ruhn.”

Ruhn exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Bryce glanced up at him, a small, determined smile on her lips. “Just be here. In case things get… weird.”

He nodded, stepping closer to the table, his gaze fixed on the crystal. “I can do that.”

Taking a deep breath, Bryce lit the candles one by one, the flames flickering to life in the dim room. She closed her eyes, her hands hovering over the crystal as she began to murmur softly, her voice a low, melodic chant. The air around them seemed to thicken, a strange, tingling energy filling the space.

Ruhn held his breath, his heart pounding as he watched his sister work, the crystal beginning to glow faintly in response to her words. The light grew brighter, pulsing in time with her voice, until it filled the room with a warm, steady glow.

And then, with a sudden, almost imperceptible shift, the light changed—softening, dimming, until it seemed to fold in on itself, forming a small, shimmering portal in the air above the table.

Bryce’s eyes snapped open, her breath catching as she stared at the portal. “Nesta,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, nothing happened. The portal shimmered and flickered, its edges wavering as if it might vanish at any second. And then, slowly, a figure began to take shape within it—a woman, her hair light and braided, her eyes fierce and unyielding.

Ruhn’s breath caught in his throat as Nesta Archeron’s face came into view, her expression tense and guarded. “Bryce?” she said, her voice echoing faintly through the portal.

Bryce’s grip on the table tightened, her knuckles white. “Nesta. I need your help.”

Nesta’s form solidified through the portal, her gaze cool and piercing as she took in the sight of Bryce and Ruhn. She crossed her arms, the faintest hint of irritation in her expression.

“This better be good,” she said sharply, her eyes flicking between the two of them. “Why did you call me?”

Bryce exhaled, gripping the pendant in her hand. “It’s about these symbols,” she said, holding up the engraved piece of jewelry for Nesta to see. “They’re the same ones we saw in those caves in your world, remember?”

Nesta’s gaze narrowed, her posture shifting slightly as she took a step closer. “I remember,” she said, her voice low. “The carvings on the walls. What does this have to do with you?”

“There’s a female we found,” Bryce explained. “She was wearing this. And she’s… dangerous, Nesta. I don’t know who or what she is, but I have a bad feeling about her. We need to figure out what these symbols mean and if there’s something in your world that could help us understand what’s going on.”

Nesta frowned, studying the pendant intently. “You think she’s connected to those carvings?”

Bryce nodded. “I don’t know how, but it’s too much of a coincidence. We can’t ignore it.”

Nesta’s expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something—concern, curiosity, maybe even a hint of fear. “And you think she’s a threat? To you, to Midgard?”

“Yes,” Bryce said softly. “I can feel it, Nesta. There’s something about her, something… wrong. Or maybe I am delusional but whatever the case is, she is not to be trusted and will cause unnecessary problems. Something we don’t need.”

Nesta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And you think I can help?”

Bryce glanced at Ruhn, then back at Nesta. “You’ve dealt with a lot, Nesta. You’ve seen things most people can’t even imagine. If anyone can help us understand what’s going on, it’s you.”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, and for a moment, she seemed to be weighing something, some invisible scale tipping back and forth in her mind. Then she nodded slowly. “I’ll look into it,” she said, her voice steady. “But don’t get your hopes up. If these symbols are what I think they are… we might not like what we find.”

Bryce’s stomach tightened, but she nodded. “I just need to know what we’re up against. Anything you can find, anything at all, would be a start. Maybe even ask that uptight king of yours.”

“High lord. And I’ll do what I can,” Nesta said, a grim look in her eyes. She hesitated, glancing at Ruhn. “And you? Are you ready for whatever this might bring?”

Ruhn’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

Nesta’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned back to Bryce. “Just… be careful. If this female is as dangerous as you say, you’ll need to be prepared.”

Bryce nodded, a tight smile on her lips. “We will be.”

Nesta gave a curt nod, then turned back to the portal. She paused, looking over her shoulder one last time. “And Bryce… whatever you do, don’t go poking around too much. Some things are better left buried.”

With that, she stepped through the portal, disappearing into the swirling light.

Ruhn watched the portal close, the shimmering light fading until it was just him and Bryce left in the dim room. The female who’d stepped through was a stranger to him, her face fierce and determined, but it was clear from Bryce’s reaction that she wasn’t just anyone.

He turned to his sister, still trying to process what had just happened. “So… that was Nesta?”

Bryce nodded, her expression tight. “Yeah. One of the only ones I trust to help us figure this out. I mean, these carvings were in their caves, right? Her high lord has to know something.”

“She seems… intense,” he said, trying to piece together his impression of her. It was hard to gauge someone just from a brief encounter, but there had been something in her eyes—like she wasn’t easily rattled, no matter what she was facing.

“She is,” Bryce replied, her voice quiet. “But she’s also the best person to help us. If anyone can make sense of that pendant or those carvings, it’s her.”

Ruhn nodded slowly, still a little uncertain. He didn’t know Nesta, didn’t understand her, but if Bryce believed she could help, he’d go along with it. For now, at least. There were too many unknowns, too many dangers lurking in the shadows. And whoever that female was, the one they had locked up in the other room, she was at the center of it all.

“Do you think she’ll be able to get the answers we need?” he asked, glancing at Bryce.

“I hope so,” Bryce murmured, her gaze fixed on the door. “Because if not, I don’t know who else can.”

Ruhn swallowed, a chill settling over him. He didn’t like the uncertainty, the feeling of being out of his depth. But he’d follow Bryce’s lead, trust her judgment. Because right now, that was all they had.

******

1,2,3…….1,2,3….4,5,6,7,…8,9….

Seraphis sighed and leaned her head back against the cold wall. It has been two hours since the minions left. Captors, Seraphis chuckled. “Captors my ass.”

If they think that they are making any process with her, they are up for a big fucking surprise.

Her eyes roamed the small, barren room. She’d memorized every detail of it, every inch of the walls, the faint hum of magic lacing the air, the way the wards vibrated with power—everything they thought would keep her trapped. To anyone else, it might have seemed hopeless, but to her, it was just another puzzle to solve.

1, 2, 3… She counted again, the rhythm of it calming her thoughts as she traced the weak points in the wards. They weren’t glaring gaps, but subtle imperfections, places where the magic didn’t weave together perfectly. 4, 5, 6, 7… Almost there. She felt a grin tug at her lips.

A wisp of her magic slipped through the cracks, a tendril so fine it was almost undetectable. She fed it into the wards, feeling for their structure, testing the strength of their confinement. It wasn’t enough to break free—not yet—but it was enough to understand how they were constructed. It would only be a matter of time before she found the weak link.

8, 9… Seraphis’s eyes glinted as she completed the circuit. Her magic recoiled back to her, and she let out a slow breath. She could dismantle it—maybe not tonight, but soon.

She shifted, glancing at the door, imagining those self-satisfied faces of her so-called captors. Bryce Quinlan, with her fiery determination and endless questions. The way she’d tried to appear confident, in control. It was almost amusing.

“Sweetheart,” Seraphis murmured to the empty room, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

And Ruhn—his presence had surprised her. He was different from the others. He’d looked at her like he was trying to piece together some impossible puzzle. She almost felt sorry for him, almost. But whatever flicker of something she’d sensed between them, whatever unknown feelings she felt for him when she saw his dead body in the future, it didn’t matter. He was just another obstacle in her path.

The Asteri had taught her well. There was no room for sentimentality, no space for hesitation. Everything and everyone was a tool to be used, and once they’d served their purpose… well, she’d leave them behind like she always did.

She closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to her purpose, her mission. The Asteri, their commands, their goals. She was their weapon, honed and sharpened for centuries, and now, even in this pathetic excuse of a prison, she would not falter. The Asteri had made her strong. Made her untouchable.

This realm—Midgard, the Fae, the little humans playing at war and power—it was all so insignificant. She was here for a reason, and she would not be distracted by these petty games. They thought they were holding her, thought they were keeping her from what she needed to do. Fools.

“Tick tock,” she whispered, a vicious smile playing on her lips. “Time’s running out, darlings.”

She imagined the chaos she would unleash once she broke free, the terror that would spread through their ranks. She could almost taste their fear, the delicious scent of it filling her senses.

“Let’s see how long your precious wards hold.”

The door creaked open again. Seraphis didn’t bother to lift her head from where she leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest. The scent of shadows and starlight clung to the air like smoke, a dead giveaway of who had entered.

Ruhn Danaan.

He shut the door behind him with a soft click, then stood there, the silence stretching as he observed her, probably trying to decide how to begin. She smirked inwardly. Amateurs.

“Back for more, Prince?” she drawled, still not opening her eyes. “Or did you forget something?”

“No,” Ruhn said evenly, his voice steady. “But I thought I’d give it another shot. See if you’re willing to talk.”

She cracked an eye open, lazily meeting his gaze. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe.” He took a few steps closer, cautiously, like he was approaching a cornered animal. “But I’ve got time to waste.”

She huffed a laugh, low and derisive. “Charming. Let me guess, you’re here to ‘break me down’? To ‘win me over’ with that hero complex you all seem to have?”

Ruhn shrugged, his expression calm, almost thoughtful. “I’m here because I want to know who you are.”

“Good luck with that.” She straightened, fixing him with a cold stare. “I’m not interested in playing your little games.”

“I’m not playing games,” he countered. “I just want to know the truth.”

“Which is?” she taunted, arching an eyebrow. “That I’m some big, bad villain you all have to take down? That I’m the monster hiding under your beds?”

“I don’t know what you are,” Ruhn admitted, his gaze intense, unwavering. “But I know you’re not just some nameless, faceless enemy. There’s more to you than that.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “How profound. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

“Actually, yeah,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Figured it out while staring at these walls for hours.”

“Impressive.” She made a show of slow-clapping, her smile mocking. “But you’re still barking up the wrong tree.”

“Maybe.” He leaned against the table, still keeping a careful distance between them. “Or maybe you just don’t want anyone to see what’s really there.”

“What’s really there?” she echoed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “A broken girl? A tragic backstory? Save it, Prince. I’m not some damsel in distress for you to fix.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I’m just trying to understand.”

She scoffed, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her chest tighten, just a little. “Understand what, exactly?”

“Who you are,” Ruhn said, his gaze piercing. “What you’re doing here.”

“Maybe I’m just here to enjoy the scenery.” She gestured around the dull, bare room. “Isn’t it lovely?”

His lips twitched, a flicker of amusement that he quickly smothered. “So, what do I call you then? Or should I just keep referring to you as ‘the girl with the pendant’?”

“Call me whatever you like,” she said coolly. “It won’t change a thing.”

“Names have power,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “I guess you’d know that better than anyone.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that someone like you…” He trailed off, his gaze steady on hers. “I bet you know the weight a name can carry.”

“Nice try,” she said, her voice hard, unyielding. “But you’re not getting anything out of me.”

Ruhn tilted his head slightly, watching her with a careful, assessing look. “Not even your name?”

“No,” she snapped, the word cutting through the air like a knife. “Not even that.”

He didn’t back down, didn’t look away. “Why not?”

“Because it’s none of your damn business.” She could feel her pulse quickening, that tightness in her chest coiling tighter.

“You know, I get it,” Ruhn said, his voice almost gentle. “You don’t want to give anyone anything. Not a piece of yourself, not a name, nothing.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Her voice was icy, her walls firmly back in place.

“But here’s the thing,” Ruhn continued, his eyes locked on hers. “You’re not just anyone. And you’re not just here for nothing. I don’t need to know your whole story, but I think we can start with something small. Something that doesn’t mean anything.”

Seraphis clenched her jaw, every instinct screaming at her to shut him down, to throw him off. But there was something about the way he was looking at her, something that made her blood boil and her heart race. “You want a name?” she sneered, the words a razor-edged taunt. “Fine. You can call me Seraphis.”

Ruhn’s eyes widened, just a fraction, and then his expression smoothed into something more careful, more guarded. “Seraphis,” he repeated softly, like he was tasting the word, testing it. “It suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, feigning nonchalance even as her heart pounded in her chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “But thanks.”

The silence stretched between them, taut and crackling with something unspoken, something dangerous. Then Ruhn straightened, pushing off the table.

“Guess I’ll leave you to your… solitude.” He turned, heading for the door. “For now.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Prince,” she called after him, her voice sharp, cutting. “You’ll just be wasting your time.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at her with a small, almost knowing smile. “I don’t think I am.”

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Seraphis let out a long, slow breath, her hands still clenched into fists. Stupid. So stupid. Letting that slip. Letting him get to her, even for a moment.

But it didn’t matter. It was just a name. A meaningless, stupid name.

She pushed off the wall, pacing the small room, her thoughts racing. This wasn’t going to work. She needed to get out of here, and fast. Before they found out anything more.

Before this place—and these people—started getting under her skin.

Seraphis leaned back against the cold wall, the silence settling around her like a heavy fog. Alone again, she let out a slow breath, her frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Idiots,” she muttered, glancing at the pendant resting on the small table. Its etchings glinted under the dim light, a reminder of the power it held—and the threat it posed.

She reached out, fingers brushing over its cool surface. As soon as she made contact, the pendant warmed in her grip, its glow intensifying. Seraphis frowned, lifting it closer to her eyes. “What now?” she whispered, sensing an unusual energy radiating from it.

The light pulsed rhythmically, almost alive, and she could feel it beckoning her. Panic flickered in her chest. The Asteri had warned her: if it glowed, someone was trying to track or summon her.

“Damn it,” she hissed, gripping the pendant tighter. She had a mission, a purpose, but this was an unwelcome complication.

“Focus,” she commanded herself, willing the pendant to stabilize. If this was an attempt to manipulate her, she wouldn’t allow it. She was in control. But who was it?

With a surge of determination, she concentrated on the pendant, trying to push back against the pull. The glow flickered, responding to her will, but the intensity remained.

“No,” she said, frustration bubbling over. “You’re not summoning me.”

With a final push, she commanded the pendant’s light to dim. The glow faded, leaving her in silence once more. She took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant now a grounding presence against her chest.

As calm settled in, she steeled herself. This pendant was connected to something important, but she wouldn’t let it dictate her actions. She had her own plans.

Seraphis’s resolve hardened. She would uncover the truth behind this glow and use it to her advantage. No one was going to pull her into their games.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Bound in Silence- Rhysand x fem!Reader part 1

Part 2 here

Y/n, Rhysand’s true mate, discovers their bond while under Amarantha’s rule. As they grow closer in captivity, Rhys remains unaware of their connection. When Feyre enters his life, y/n watches in silence as Rhysand falls for her, never revealing the truth of their bond, leading to a heartbreaking end.

Warnings: mentions of SA, abuse, character death, little fluff and too much angst

The first week under Amarantha’s rule was a descent into madness. What had once been kingdoms of power and grace now lay in shambles, High Lords stripped of their freedom, their courts brought to ruin.

Y/n, a lesser member of the Dawn Court, had survived the initial massacre, slipping through the cracks of chaos. She had always lived on the fringes, unnoticed among the more powerful, her quiet presence often overlooked. The beauty of the Dawn Court, with its pale skies and soft mornings, felt like a distant dream now. The dungeons were cold, oppressive—any trace of light long extinguished.

Word of the High Lords’ fates had spread quickly through the prisoners. Rhysand, the infamous High Lord of the Night Court, was said to be one of Amarantha’s most prized captives. His reputation as a cruel, cunning male echoed even in the darkest corners of their cell blocks. Y/n hadn’t expected to meet him, let alone stand face-to-face with the infamous High Lord during her silent wandering through the dim corridors.

Their first encounter was brief, in the murky gloom of a narrow passage. He was alone, his posture rigid, and his normally sharp features were bruised and weary, yet he still held that air of cold authority.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to stop as their paths crossed. But Rhysand’s steps faltered, his gaze locking onto hers. His violet eyes, piercing despite the fatigue, lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“Dawn Court,” he said, his voice low and smooth, though roughened by days of captivity. It wasn’t a question—just an observation.

Y/n hesitated, her heartbeat loud in her chest. “Yes,” she replied softly, meeting his gaze, though her own voice was steadier than she felt.

For a long moment, Rhysand simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. There was no reason for him to notice her, no reason for him to care. She was just another prisoner, a face among many. And yet, something flickered in his eyes—something that made her breath catch, though she couldn’t name it.

They said nothing more, both of them knowing there was no safety in words here. But in that shared silence, a connection was forged—one neither of them could explain, and one that would only grow stronger in the long days ahead.

The second time they met was when y/n was in an injured state. Silently crying while trying to stop the gash on her shoulder blade from bleeding as she quickly made her way through the halls. Past the ugly laughters of Amarantha’s creatures, her loyal servants.

She didn’t know where she was looking or where she was heading as she entered a small washroom. But it was when she lifted her head and saw him, sitting down in the corner, all buttons of his tunic opened to display a toned chest with claw marks all over him, face devoid of any emotion, eyes staring but not truly seeing her.

They just stared like that at one another for long enough before the searing pain in y/n’s shoulder made her hiss and remove her bloody hand from the wound.

She was too busy with disinfecting her wound that y/n didn’t even feel Rhysand get up and come towards her, hint of worry slowly blossoming in his chest as he leaned down next to her sitting form.

“Naga?”

Slightly startled, y/n paused what she was doing and turned to look at his still haunted-looking face.

She shook her head. “Attor.”

He gave her a small nod before raising his hand towards the wet cloth she was gripping.

“May I? I do not believe that you will be able to reach and clean that wound properly.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, clearly wondering if this was the cruel Rhysand everyone seemed to talk about.

He saw her hesitation and gave her the tiniest of smiles before going back to his indifferent expression once more.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bite you.”

Despite the pain, y/n smiled slightly as she handed him the rag. To say she was surprised with how gentle he was, would be an understatement. They said no words, despite the fact that y/n had questions of her own.

Why was he in such a state? Why did he have all these marks on him? Was he with Amarantha? It seems like he doesn’t get enough sleep either. There are dark bags under his eyes.

But she decided against speaking any of them out, still hesitant with her actions. Not to mention the eerie comfort their little moment provided for her. Y/n was sure that this would never happen again.

She was wrong; this happened again.

This time however, under the worst possible circumstances. In Amaranthas bed.

In the past weeks that they were all here, y/n knew that Amarantha would toy with attractive females and males. But she never thought she would one day be a victim to that cruel woman’s sinister desires.

Her greatest nightmare came true.

She did not even do anything out of the ordinary, always keeping to the corners, preferring to stay away from anyone’s gaze. But alas, it appears that y/n was not as invisible as she thought for it was during her moment locked away in the calm quietness of a small dusty bedroom, that she got dragged away by Amaranthas guards towards her bedchamber.

And you could only imagine the shock on her face when she saw Rhysand, half naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist, staring horrified at her while Amarantha, clad in her sheer robe, dismissed the guards and slowly came towards y/n.

Lifting her chin up with two fingers, the queen snickered as she said, “My my, you are even prettier up close, little mouse.”

Y/n could only gulp as she let the queen inspect her as if she was some sort of an animal. Y/n could feel Rhysands unwavering gaze on her as she stared at the ceiling, willing her tears to stay back.

Suddenly, she felt Amarantha's grip tighten as she was forced to look at the woman before her. The queen's gaze thinned as she inched closer to y/n.

"I suppose you are well aware why you are in here then, no need to waste time on explanations. Am I right, Rhys?"

That is when y/n's gaze slightly drifted towards the male standing next to the bed, his face a mask indifference, a relaxed smirk overtaking his features but his hollow eyes needed no explanation.

"Of course, it is a privilege for her to join us."

Amarantha smirked before dragging her towards the bed, marking the start of y/n's nightmares.

That night, she endured too much, did things she never wished to do, all to keep her head on her shoulders. And for some reason, y/n felt as if she was not the only one who suppressed her disgust and cries deep within herself. Rhysand may be a good actor but his stiffness did not fool her.

The fourth and most important time that they met was in a small, forgotten chamber tucked deep within the mountain--dusty, barely used. Y/n found herself there, seeking refuge from the chaos that constantly swirled under Amarantha’s rule. She didn’t expect anyone else to find the room, and yet, there he was again.

Rhysand stood near the entrance, as though he had only just stepped inside. They froze upon seeing one another. For a moment, neither moved, neither spoke. The silence felt almost too heavy to break.

She turned her back to him, focusing on her trembling hands. She didn’t want to meet his gaze, not after what they’d been forced to endure together under Amarantha’s cruelty. The air between them was thick with the unspoken horrors, yet there was an odd pull, a silent understanding that neither acknowledged.

“I thought I’d be alone,” she muttered, not quite sure why she felt the need to say anything.

“So did I,” came his quiet reply. His voice lacked the arrogant lilt she often heard when he spoke to others. There was something raw about him now, stripped of pretense.

A beat passed before she stood, avoiding his gaze as she brushed off the dust from her skirt. She intended to leave, to disappear before this fragile quiet shattered. But as she took a step, her body faltered, pain from her old injury flaring up again. She hissed through her teeth, clutching her shoulder.

Rhysand moved then, quicker than she expected, stepping closer without hesitation. “You’re hurt again.” It wasn’t a question, more an observation, but there was no pity in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, stepping back. Her pride wouldn’t let her show weakness in front of him.

He watched her for a long moment, eyes narrowing, not with judgment, but with something closer to understanding. He reached out slowly, carefully, as if giving her the chance to move away. When she didn’t, he gestured to the bench behind her. “Sit. I’ll help.”

She hesitated but gave in. She couldn’t bandage the wound herself—not again. Sitting down, she stiffened as he moved to her side, his presence too close, too intimate for comfort. His hands were steady as he inspected the gash. She tried to hide her discomfort as he worked, gently cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. The touch was too careful for someone rumored to be Amarantha’s most favored, the cold High Lord with a cruel reputation.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence was comfortable, though, more than it had ever been before. When Rhysand finally did speak, his voice was barely above a murmur. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” He didn’t ask for her name—simply left the sentence hanging, an invitation she could take or leave.

She glanced at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Y/n,” she said quietly, watching him closely.

“Y/n,” he repeated, as though testing the sound of it. He gave her the faintest hint of a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the closest she had seen to something genuine.

For the first time, she allowed herself to look at him, really look at him, beyond the mask he wore so well. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carried. The cruelty he endured, just like her.

“You don’t act like them,” she found herself whispering before she could stop herself. “Like the others.”

He paused, his hands still on her bandage. “Neither do you.”

It wasn’t a comfort, not exactly. But it was something, a crack in the armor they both wore.

Y/n remained still as Rhysand finished tending to her wound, his touch light and careful, the silence stretching between them. She couldn’t help but glance at him again—his face too calm, too composed for someone who had just been through hell. The weight of what had happened in Amarantha’s chamber hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken yet impossible to ignore.

As he tied off the bandage, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, her voice barely above a whisper, “Do you… endure that every day?”

Her words lingered, and she saw it—the brief flicker of something in his eyes. Pain, perhaps. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by the same detached mask he always wore. Rhysand straightened, his expression carefully neutral as he moved away, putting space between them.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Amarantha has her ways of amusing herself.”

Y/n stared at him, not buying his attempt to brush it off. She had seen the claw marks, the bruises, the hollowness in his eyes. She had been there—seen the humiliation, the cruelty, the powerlessness they both shared. How could he call it ‘nothing’?

“It’s not nothing,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay composed. “What she does… what we endure… it’s—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice a little sharper than before. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know.”

She blinked at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to reach him through the walls he had built around himself. There was so much she wanted to ask, so much she wanted to say, but the weight of it all seemed too much, too heavy to put into words.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over his face, searching for something beneath the mask of indifference he wore so easily. His sharp retort had silenced her, but only for a moment. The silence felt too heavy, too suffocating, after what they had both gone through.

She took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain from her wound. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for—maybe for prying, maybe for the awful reality they were trapped in, or maybe for the fact that she didn’t know how to help him, how to help either of them.

Rhysand’s gaze shifted, finally landing back on her. His expression softened ever so slightly, the hard edges dulling for just a moment. “Don’t be,” he said quietly, almost as if he regretted snapping at her earlier.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, both of them staring into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. Y/n thought of the nightmarish hours she’d spent under Amarantha’s cruel hands, of the helplessness that had consumed her. She glanced at him, wondering how he endured it—if he truly had to endure it every day.

“Does she—” she hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. “Does she make you go through that every day?”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched slightly, his eyes hardening once more. “What does it matter?” he said, his voice a touch colder than before. “We all suffer under her. It’s just… the way things are.”

Y/n frowned, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. “It matters,” she insisted, her voice firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have to—none of us should.”

Rhysand didn’t respond for a moment. Instead, he looked away, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the stone wall behind him. His silence told her more than his words could. He was used to it, accustomed to the horrors that Amarantha inflicted.

She swallowed, her heart heavy. “I—I don’t know how you do it,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible. “I don’t think I can survive this… not like this.”

Rhysand’s gaze returned to her, softer this time, almost contemplative. “You will,” he said quietly, his tone lacking its earlier sharpness. “You’ll survive because you have to.”

There was something about the way he said it—a quiet strength, a stubborn determination that made her believe him, even when everything around them felt hopeless.

Y/n didn’t respond. She simply nodded, grateful for the small comfort his words offered, even if they both knew there were no real solutions to their nightmare.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—two people trapped in hell, offering each other a sliver of solace in the aftermath of horrors too cruel to fully comprehend. Neither of them said anything more, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t affection. It was survival.

And, for now, that was enough.

After that moment, something significant shifted between them. Slowly, their random encounters turned into frequent secret meetups each planned with a sense of urgency and longing. They began to seek each other out, carving out spaces in the darkness where they could share their thoughts, fears, and dreams, knowing that, in this hellish place, they were the only ones who truly understood each other.

Y/n discovered that she felt safe with him in a way she hadn’t expected. In the quiet corners of the mountain, they would talk for hours, sharing fragments of their lives, their laughter echoing softly against the stone walls. Rhysand learned about her past life, about her love for creating things, about her resilience, how she had survived Amarantha’s cruelty by retreating into herself, clinging to the memories of a life before the darkness. In turn, she learned about his burdens—the weight of his responsibilities as the High Lord, the pain of leaving his people and his family behind, possibly to never see them again. They were both trapped, but in each other, they found a flicker of hope.

They often sat close, their shoulders brushing, sharing the warmth that lingered between them. There were moments when words felt insufficient, and they would simply sit in comfortable silence, allowing their thoughts to intertwine without the need for spoken language. Each small interaction deepened their bond, and soon they were exchanging not just stories, but pieces of themselves.

One evening, while hiding in their usual alcove, Y/n noticed the weariness in Rhysand’s eyes. She hesitated before speaking, her heart racing. “Do you ever wish you could escape?” she asked quietly, not expecting an answer.

Rhysand turned to her, his expression contemplative. “Every day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I know it’s not that simple.”

Y/n nodded, understanding the truth behind his words. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Pretending to be fine when inside, you feel like you’re breaking.”

He looked at her, surprise flashing across his features. “You feel it too?”

“More than I care to admit,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. “Sometimes I wonder if it will ever end. If I’ll ever be free of this.”

Rhysand sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I think about that a lot. But then I remember the people who are counting on me. If I give up, what happens to them?”

She could see the heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down. “You’re strong, Rhysand,” she said softly. “Stronger than any of us realize.”

He chuckled, but it was devoid of true mirth. “Strength doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain.”

“Then we can feel it together,” she offered, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d rather share the burden than carry it alone.”

He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think I’d like that.”

From that day on, they became each other’s refuge. They shared not only their burdens but also their dreams, hopes, and fears. Rhysand learned about the small things that made Y/n smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of the stars, the gentle way she held herself, as if trying to protect the light within her from being extinguished.

Y/n discovered Rhysand’s love for stories, how he could lose himself in the tales of distant lands and daring adventures. They created their own world within the confines of the mountain, where laughter could exist amid the pain, where dreams could be whispered even in the darkest of nights.

With each passing day, they grew closer, their friendship blossoming into something beautiful amidst the horror surrounding them. There was an unspoken promise that they would be there for each other, no matter what. And in that, they found the strength to keep going, to endure the trials that awaited them, together.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months turned into years as they kept enduring the horrors under Amarantha’s reign, no one strong enough to defeat her. The passage of time blurred in the darkness, a relentless cycle of survival. Each day brought new cruelties, new horrors that left Y/n and Rhysand feeling more and more hollow inside. Yet, through it all, they clung to the solace they found in each other.

Their secret meetings had become a lifeline. Whenever they could steal a moment away from the prying eyes of Amarantha’s spies, they would retreat into the shadowed corners of the mountain, seeking each other’s presence. Their conversations had grown more comfortable over time, the once hesitant exchanges now flowing with ease. Y/n learned more about Rhysand’s burdens, about the sacrifices he made each day to keep his people alive, even at the cost of his own soul.

In return, Rhysand slowly unraveled the mystery of Y/n. She was no longer the quiet, invisible courtier he had first met in the halls. Her resilience and strength had revealed themselves with each passing day, though she remained ever-watchful, always cautious. The horrors she had endured were scars, both physical and emotional, yet she never let them break her. And Rhysand admired her for it, though he kept his thoughts carefully hidden behind his usual smirks and playful retorts.

They didn’t talk much about what happened in Amarantha’s bed that night. It was an unspoken thing, something that lingered between them, always there, but never addressed directly. It didn’t need to be. They both knew the depths of the hell they were living in, and acknowledging that shared nightmare in words would only make it worse.

Still, there were times when Y/n would look at Rhysand, her gaze searching, wondering how he bore the weight of Amarantha’s twisted games day after day. She saw the toll it took on him, even if he never spoke of it.There were days when he would return from Amarantha’s bedchamber with new scars, fresh wounds both seen and unseen, and Y/n could do nothing but offer her quiet companionship, hoping that in some small way, her presence was enough.

On one such occasion, after another brutal encounter with the queen, Y/n found Rhysand sitting alone in the dark, his usual mask of indifference slipping for just a moment. She hesitated before sitting beside him, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

“Why does she do this to you?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

Rhysand didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on some distant point. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” she said, her heart aching for him in a way she hadn’t expected.

For a long time, he didn’t respond, and Y/n wondered if she had overstepped. But then, in the quietest of voices, he said, “Because I am her greatest weapon that needs to be kept under control.”

The weight of his admission hung in the air, and Y/n felt a pang of sorrow deep in her chest. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she knew her words could do nothing to ease his pain.

Rhysand shook his head, brushing off her concern with a forced smile. “Don’t be. It’s the price we pay to survive.”

But Y/n could see through the facade. She knew him well enough by now to recognize the cracks in his armor, the moments when the strain of it all became too much. In those moments, she stayed close, offering her quiet support without pushing him to speak. She had come to understand that Rhysand didn’t need words—he needed the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone.

As time passed, their bond deepened, a quiet understanding settling between them. They no longer had to speak to know what the other was feeling. A glance, a touch, the smallest of gestures—these were enough to convey the unspoken trust that had grown between them. Together, they weathered the endless torment of Amarantha’s rule, finding strength in their shared moments, no matter how brief.

But as the years dragged on, a sense of hopelessness began to creep in. Amarantha’s power seemed insurmountable, her cruelty unmatched. The courts remained shattered, the High Lords too broken to mount any sort of rebellion. The mountain felt like a prison, and escape seemed impossible.

Then, whispers of a new arrival began to spread through the court. A mortal girl, brought under the mountain to fulfill some kind of bargain with Amarantha. It seemed like just another piece of cruel entertainment for the queen, another pawn in her twisted game. But something was different this time. Rhysand’s gaze would grow distant whenever her name was mentioned, as if he knew something no one else did. Y/n noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his usual indifference was replaced with a flicker of… hope?

As Feyre’s presence in the court grew, so did the undercurrent of tension that seemed to ripple through Amarantha’s throne room. Something was happening, something none of them could quite understand. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this mortal girl—this Feyre—was important. That maybe, just maybe, the end of their nightmare was closer than any of them realized.

What y/n also realized, was that Rhysand was her mate.

It happened suddenly, during one of Amarantha’s night feasts, a regular, twisted event that Y/n had come to despise. This particular one, however, was the night before Feyre’s first trial.

Y/n stood in the corner, as usual, staying away from the crowd. She preferred to inspect rather than socialize, to keep her distance from the cruel games and manipulations happening all around her. Rhysand was on the opposite side of the grand hall, his mask of indifference and cruelty firmly in place as he entertained conversation with a few other high-fae, Amarantha’s loyal followers. He played his role perfectly, as he always did.

But then, in a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Y/n felt it immediately—the rush of warmth, the pull so strong it almost knocked the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t just the connection they had built over the years or the understanding they shared. No, this was deeper. A primal force that surged within her, a tether she had never felt before, snapping into place.

Rhysand was her mate.

The realization hit her like a blow, sharp and undeniable. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body froze as the bond thrummed between them. She had heard of the mating bond before, of course, but to feel it, to know that it was him…

Her heart both soared and sank. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t push it away, but looking at him—his cold mask in place, his focus elsewhere—made her chest tighten with an ache she didn’t know how to suppress.

Rhysand didn’t seem to feel it, didn’t react in any way that might indicate he knew. His gaze lingered on her for a brief second before turning back to the high-fae beside him, the moment passing without acknowledgment.

Y/n stood frozen, the world around her muted as the bond settled within her, painfully unreciprocated.

As Feyre passed her first trial, everything began to shift.

At first, Y/n tried to dismiss it as coincidence—Rhysand had his own burdens, after all, his own games to play. But soon, the cracks in their fragile friendship became too large to ignore. Where before, he would seek her out, find quiet moments in the hidden corners of the mountain to sit with her, to speak about everything and nothing—those moments became fewer and farther between.

The subtle change came in waves. Rhysand started missing their meetups. First, it was only one night, then two, then an entire week would pass without a word. Y/n waited in their usual spots, always hoping he would walk through the door, but instead, she was met with silence. The longer the absence stretched, the deeper the ache in her chest grew.

But the worst came during Amarantha’s nightly feasts. Poor Feyre, clearly not jn a right state of mind, was paraded around the hall, her limbs loose and her eyes unfocused, as Rhysand dragged her onto the floor to dance. Y/n could barely stomach it.

Night after night, she watched as his focus shifted to Feyre—the human girl who was just trying to survive, just like them all. Yet it was in those dances, in the way his eyes lingered on Feyre’s face, even behind the mask of cruelty he wore, that Y/n felt her heart begin to shatter.

She tried to tell herself it was all part of the act, a necessary facade to keep Amarantha’s eyes off him, to protect the bigger plan. But each night, as she watched them dance, watched Feyre’s body against his, her hope withered.

The bond that had once filled her with warmth and joy now twisted inside her, a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t possibly know. Of what she could never tell him. Rhysand had no idea that she was his mate. How could he, when his attention had shifted so completely to Feyre?

And Y/n—heartbroken, invisible—could do nothing but endure it, watching as the only person who had ever understood her slipped further and further away.

The nights dragged on, the darkness under the mountain becoming suffocating as Feyre moved through her trials. Each one more harrowing than the last, each step pushing her closer to death. And with each passing trial, Rhysand's attention shifted further away from Y/n.

Y/n had never felt more alone. Every night, she stood in the shadows, watching as Rhysand danced with Feyre, his hand on her waist, his voice soft in her ear. It had started as part of the game, part of his endless manipulation of Amarantha’s court, but Y/n could see it—he was changing. His mask, once a weapon, now felt more like a shield protecting him from the truth. And the truth was devastating: Rhysand no longer came to her. He no longer sought her out in the quiet corners of the mountain.

The bond between them, once so unmistakable, now felt like a heavy chain around her neck, pulling her deeper into despair with every passing day.

When Feyre passed her final trial and was killed by Amarantha, Y/n’s world collapsed. She had watched it all unfold—the moment the human girl fell, her chest stilling, her life snuffed out in an instant. And Rhysand—he was the first one to cry out her name. His voice, filled with anguish and desperation, echoed through the hall, and Y/n’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He rushed to Feyre's side, his face twisted in agony, and without hesitation, he was the first to give a sliver of his power to bring her back. His hands trembled as he leaned over her, tears brimming in his eyes. His voice cracked when he whispered her name again, as though she was the only one who mattered, the only one who had ever mattered.

Y/n stood there, frozen, her own pain drowned out by the overwhelming scene before her. Rhysand hadn't even glanced her way, hadn't acknowledged her presence. It was as if she no longer existed.

And when Amarantha finally fell, when Feyre was brought back to life as an immortal by the combined powers of the High Lords, Y/n felt as though the final thread of her connection to Rhysand had been severed.

Afterward, in the aftermath of Amarantha's death and Feyre's new immortality, Y/n tried—she truly tried to speak with him, to make him see her again, to understand what had been between them before all of this. She sought him out in the quiet halls, waited for him in the places they used to meet, hoping, praying that he would remember.

Finally, on the last night, before they all left this 50 years of hell behind, she found him standing alone on a balcony overlooking the endless expanse of darkness. She approached him, her heart in her throat.

“Rhys,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, but there was no warmth in his gaze. His eyes, once full of shared understanding and adoration, were distant, hollow.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” she began, her words faltering as she took in the emptiness on his face.

Rhysand looked away, his jaw clenched. “I’ve been… distracted.”

“With Feyre,” she finished, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to remain composed.

There was a long, heavy silence before he spoke again, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “I think… I think Feyre is my mate.”

Y/n felt the world tilt beneath her feet, the words hitting her like a dagger to the chest. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him the truth, to scream that she was his mate—but the words wouldn’t come.

Rhysand didn’t notice her silence, didn’t notice the way her hands trembled. He kept talking, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “I’m falling for her, Y/n. I didn’t expect it, but... I can’t stop it.”

Y/n’s heart shattered all over again, the bond between them twisting into something unbearable. She had lost him.

The dawn was cold, a pale light creeping over the horizon, casting the mountain in a dim, unforgiving glow. Y/n stood alone in the shadows, her heart heavy with the weight of the last fifty years, the torture they had endured, the nightmares that would never fully leave them. But now, with Amarantha dead, it was all over. The chains were gone. The horrors were fading into the past, and everyone was finally going home.

Everyone except her.

She had known it was coming—the end of it all. She had prepared herself for the fact that Rhysand might leave, that Feyre might take him from her entirely. But no amount of preparation had lessened the crushing weight in her chest as she watched from the shadows. She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t even wanted to. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of pain, confusion, and heartbreak.

And now, standing in the pale light of dawn, she saw them.

Rhysand and Feyre.

They were on the balcony above, just as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the both of them. Feyre, still recovering, stood close to him, her face soft with something Y/n couldn’t bear to name. Rhysand was beside her, his posture relaxed, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the horizon. His arm brushed against Feyre’s, the contact so light, so natural, as if it had always been that way.

Y/n’s throat tightened, her heart splintering with every passing second. He hadn’t come to say goodbye. Not a word. Not a glance.

Just silence.

She had spent fifty years enduring alongside him, had suffered the same horrors, shared quiet moments of solace when everything else was falling apart. She had been there when no one else had, and yet, as the dawn broke over the mountains, Rhysand was leaving—without a single word to her. Without a goodbye.

Her fingers gripped the stone railing as she forced herself to breathe, to stay steady, even as she felt herself crumbling from the inside out.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was his mate, that they were bound by something deeper, something that should have been unbreakable. And he never would. Because in his heart, in his mind, there was only Feyre now.

As she watched him smile at the mortal-turned-immortal girl, Y/n felt the devastating finality of it all settle in her bones. She wasn’t just losing him—she had lost him. Completely. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

The bond between them, the one she had hoped he would feel someday, was nothing but a silent scream in her chest now. Unheard, unnoticed, unacknowledged.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, not wanting to let herself break. Not here. Not now. Not when it was already too late.

She took one last look at them—at the male who had once been her solace, her anchor in the storm, and at the woman who had unknowingly taken him from her.

With a shaky breath, Y/n turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. Each step she took felt heavier, like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her. The corridors were eerily quiet now that Amarantha’s reign had ended, and the mountain had become a place of ghostly memories.

Rhysand would leave. He would go back to Velaris, to his Court of Dreams, to the freedom they had all been denied for so long. And he would do it without a second thought for her. Feyre had captured his attention, his heart, and Y/n was nothing but a shadow now, left behind in the wake of a love she would never know.

She found herself walking to the same small, hidden room they had once met in—the one where they had shared their darkest fears and moments of fragile comfort. But those days were gone. Everything was different now.

Sitting on the bed, Y/n let the silence engulf her. The ache in her chest was unbearable, but she welcomed it. It was better than the numbness she feared would consume her next. She had thought, somehow, that once Amarantha was gone, things might get better. That they could both move forward, together, maybe find peace in each other’s presence. But that had been foolish.

The truth was undeniable now—she was alone.

The mating bond, the one she had felt so fiercely, was not enough. Rhysand had made his choice, whether he knew it or not. Feyre was his future, his heart, his everything.

And Y/n? She would be forgotten.

The bitter taste of rejection burned in her throat as she closed her eyes, trying to will away the memories, the stolen glances, the nights spent in shared pain. Everything she had held onto was slipping away, dissolving like smoke.

For the first time in years, she let herself cry. She cried for the love she never had, for the bond that would never be fulfilled, for the pieces of her heart that would never be whole again. She cried for the girl she had been before all this, before Amarantha, before Rhysand, before the endless cycle of hope and despair had shattered her into something unrecognizable.

By the time the sun had fully risen, her tears had dried, leaving only a hollow ache in their place.

Rhysand would leave, Feyre at his side, and Y/n would remain behind, her presence a forgotten whisper in the chaos of everything else.

She rose from the bed, her movements slow, mechanical. There was nothing left for her here. The mountain, the memories, the unspoken bond—it was all gone. She had to leave, too. But not with him. Never with him.

As she walked out of the room, out of the mountain, her heart broke all over again. This was her ending—quiet, unseen, devastating.

Rhysand had left without a goodbye, but perhaps that was the greatest goodbye of all. A final, unspoken severing of whatever connection they had once shared.

Y/n wandered through the wilderness, aimlessly walking with no direction or purpose. The vast world around her felt empty—silent. She had no family to return to, no place where she belonged. Every step she took was heavy, each one pulling her deeper into the pit of despair she could no longer escape.

For years, she’d clung to the hope that she mattered to someone—that perhaps in Rhysand, she had found solace, a connection that could keep her afloat through the darkness. But now, after everything, it was clear. She had never mattered—not to him, not to anyone.

The night before, she’d watched him with Feyre, saw the way his eyes had softened, how he had stayed by her side, even after the final battle had ended. He had fought for Feyre, bled for her, mourned for her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. And Y/n… she had been invisible, a forgotten shadow in the corner, her existence as meaningless as it had always been.

She had seen him and Feyre on the balcony that dawn, the soft glow of morning casting a light around them as Rhysand whispered something only Feyre could hear. Y/n had watched as Rhysand came closer to Feyre, giving her a devastatingly charming smile that shattered her heart beyond repair.

Y/n continued walking, the cold wind biting at her skin, but she felt none of it. The ache inside her, the hollow feeling in her chest, drowned out everything else. She had no reason to go on, no reason to fight anymore. She had fought for years, survived the unthinkable, only to come out of it more broken than before.

There was nothing left for her. No purpose. No place. No one.

Her steps slowed as she reached a cliffside, the jagged rocks below barely visible in the early morning light. The sea roared beneath her, its angry waves crashing against the stones. She stood at the edge, staring into the abyss, the overwhelming emptiness pulling her in.

The bond she had thought was hers belonged to someone else now. Rhysand had chosen Feyre, had found his mate in her. Y/n was nothing more than a fleeting moment—a forgotten soul in a sea of others.

And now, she was ready to let go.

With one last breath, Y/n closed her eyes, stepping forward into the void, letting the wind carry her into the nothingness where she had always belonged.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi, how are you? OMG GIRL YOUR WRITING IS AWESOME

I read Bound in Silence and I know you may not have thought of a part 2 but could you think about doing a part 2? Something maybe where Rhysand felt her pain through the bond, when she was going to the cliff and he realized that Feyre isn't his mate, then maybe he can get to the cliff in time seeing the reader with her eyes closed and about to fall, then when she falls he flies after her... please!!! I need them to be together at the end of the story🥺

Hiii thank you so much!!🤍 I did initially plan to just leave it as a oneshot but I got so many asks and requests about part 2 that I may just see what I can do😏

Stay tuned for a second part, coming soon😌

Bound in Silence- Rhysand x fem!Reader part 2

A/n: 8.7k words! Phew! This was definitely a rollercoaster of emotions but, I hope you guys enjoy it!💕

Part 1 here

After surviving her fall, Y/n embarks on a path of healing while Rhysand begins to realize the truth about their bond. As Rhys grapples with guilt and confusion, Y/n must learn to rebuild her life. But when their paths cross again, Rhys will need to fight for her forgiveness, hoping to mend what was once broken.

She shouldn’t have survived.

The wind had howled in her ears as she plummeted from the cliff’s edge, the ground rushing up to meet her, a cold, hard end she had welcomed. The pain, the heartbreak—it had been too much, too consuming. But as the world around her blurred, she felt a sudden, violent impact, not against solid ground, but against something softer—brush and sand.

When she opened her eyes, it was not death that greeted her but the harsh light of dawn streaming through the trees above, the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. She lay in a thicket, a tangled mess of branches and brambles that had broken her fall, offering her an unexpected refuge.

Her body ached with bruises from the impact, sharp pain flaring in her ribs and a throbbing headache pulsing at her temples. She felt the grit of sand embedded in her skin and the taste of salt on her lips. But she was alive.

Y/n struggled to sit up, her hands trembling as she pressed against the ground for support. Panic surged through her. The memories of the cliff, of the choice she had made, washed over her like a tide pulling her under. Had she really leapt to escape the torment of her heart? The betrayal she felt was still fresh, the sting of Rhysand’s indifference cutting deeper than any physical wound.

As she surveyed her surroundings, a dense forest framed her, the trees standing tall like silent sentinels. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the distant sound of waves served as a haunting reminder of the world she had tried to leave behind. But where was she? She had no idea how far she had fallen or where this path might lead.

Y/n took a moment to catch her breath, the air crisp and sharp in her lungs. She was alone, utterly alone, with no family to return to, no familiar faces to seek comfort from. The weight of that truth settled deep in her chest. She had thought—foolishly—that Rhysand had been her salvation, her anchor in that hellish place. But in the end, she had meant nothing to him.

Pushing herself to her feet, she wobbled unsteadily, pain radiating through her ribs. The instinct to survive propelled her forward, one shaky step at a time. She didn’t know where she was going. The road ahead seemed just as empty as the one behind her.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Each step felt heavier, and with every movement, she fought against the urge to collapse back to the ground. The memories of Rhysand—their stolen moments, their laughter, and the warmth of his presence—crashed over her like the waves she could hear in the distance. He had made her feel seen in a way she had never experienced before, and now that light was extinguished.

As she wandered deeper into the forest, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows among the trees. Y/n found a small clearing where she sank to the ground, her body protesting at the sudden relief. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of nature surround her, searching for solace in the rustling leaves and chirping birds.

What she realized, in that moment of stillness, was that surviving wasn’t enough. She needed to reclaim herself, to remember who she had been before the darkness took hold. The journey ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but the thought of facing them alone no longer filled her with dread. Instead, it ignited a flicker of determination.

“Whatever lies ahead,” she whispered to the trees, “I will find my way.”

With that resolve, Y/n pushed herself back up, brushing the leaves from her clothes and glancing around. The forest was alive with the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves, and she couldn’t help but feel that life, despite its challenges, was still worth fighting for.

She pressed on, each step feeling heavier than the last. The forest wrapped around her like a shroud, the branches swaying gently as if whispering secrets she couldn’t quite grasp. She staggered through the underbrush, branches snagging her clothes and tearing at her skin, but she hardly noticed. The pain in her ribs was a constant reminder of her fall, pulsing with each movement, and fatigue settled in her bones like a thick fog.

She tried to focus on the path ahead, but her vision began to blur, the edges of her surroundings fading in and out. She needed to find shelter, a place to rest and gather her strength. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that seemed to dance mockingly around her, urging her to give in to the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

With every step, Y/n felt herself growing weaker. Her legs trembled, and the world spun slightly around her. She stumbled, hitting the ground hard, the breath leaving her lungs in a gasp. Panic surged through her as she fought to regain her breath, but the pain from her injuries was overwhelming. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy of leaves above, feeling utterly defeated.

Then, as she struggled to push herself back up, she heard voices in the distance, their laughter ringing through the trees. At first, she thought it might be a cruel trick of her mind, a hallucination born from the exhaustion and pain. But as the laughter grew closer, a flicker of hope ignited within her.

“Did you hear that?” one voice said, clear and bright. “I think someone’s out there!”

Y/n’s heart raced, a mix of fear and hope flooding her veins. She wanted to call out, to let them know she was here, but the words caught in her throat. She could only lie there, trying to steady her breathing as the voices approached.

Moments later, a group of travelers emerged from the trees, their expressions shifting from joviality to concern as they spotted her on the ground. They were a motley crew—rough and worn but with a kindness that seemed to radiate from them. The tallest among them, a woman with long, dark hair and bright blue eyes, rushed forward.

“Oh, gods! What happened?” she exclaimed, kneeling beside Y/n. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Y/n tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she looked up at the woman, her vision swimming as darkness crept at the edges of her sight.

“We need to get her out of here,” another voice said, a man with a thick beard who stepped forward. “She looks injured. We can’t leave her like this.”

The group quickly moved around her, their chatter fading into a distant hum as Y/n felt herself drifting. Hands gently lifted her, and though every movement sent jolts of pain through her body, the warmth of their concern began to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.

“Stay with us, okay?” the woman said, her voice soothing. “We’re going to help you.”

Y/n wanted to cling to those words, to believe that perhaps this was her chance to find solace. But the world began to fade, the faces of her rescuers becoming blurry as she lost her grip on consciousness. Just before the darkness took her, she felt a warm hand clasp her own, a connection that anchored her for one fleeting moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Velaris was a sanctuary, hidden from the world and its chaos, but even its beauty couldn’t soothe the turmoil within him. Rhysand leaned against the balcony railing of the townhouse, staring out at the starry sky, yet his thoughts were far from peaceful. Feyre was with Tamlin in the Spring Court, and every moment spent thinking about their time together made his chest tighten with frustration.

He had felt so powerless during her trials, watching from afar as she struggled, battling her fears and doubts. His heart had raced as he witnessed her strength, yet it ignited a fury within him that simmered just below the surface. Tamlin didn’t deserve her. He was blinded by his love for Feyre, unable to see the darkness creeping into their lives, a darkness that Rhysand feared would swallow her whole.

“Damn it, Feyre,” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. “You don’t belong there.”

The weight of the Night Court’s responsibilities pressed heavily on him, and he found himself retreating deeper into his thoughts. The war with Amarantha had left scars that would take time to heal. But all he could think about was Feyre’s laughter, the way her eyes lit up in defiance, and the warmth that enveloped him when she was near.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of icy cold hit his chest, a feeling of.....nothing overtaking him. Rhysands body shuddered. He could now feel a string of sorts a....a bond. A bond with her, with y/n. But why was it so empty?

A shiver ran down his spine, and he closed his eyes, reaching out instinctively through the bond he shared with Y/n. Instead of comforting warmth, there was nothing but an oppressive silence. It was as if she had vanished, leaving a void that echoed with despair.

Since when did I have a bond with her? The thought sliced through his mind like a blade. He had dismissed their connection, buried it under layers of his feelings for Feyre. But now, the absence of Y/n felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of what he had ignored for too long.

Panic surged through him as he searched for any hint of her presence, any sign that she was safe. But all he felt was the chilling silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had once flowed between them.

“Y/n,” he breathed, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. “Where are you?”

He pushed himself away from the balcony railing, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to know what was happening, to understand why the bond felt so strained, so distant. A part of him clung to the hope that she was simply out of reach, that she was safe and sound somewhere beyond his grasp.

But the gnawing sense of dread would not let him rest. He was tied to her in a way he had never fully understood, and now that connection was fraying at the edges, unraveling into something that filled him with an ache he couldn’t quite place.

It hit him then, like a thunderclap in the stillness of his thoughts: Y/n was his mate. The realization sent shockwaves through him, unraveling the tension in his chest and filling him with a potent mixture of dread and yearning.

She mattered. She had always mattered, perhaps more than he had ever let himself admit.

As he stood there, the weight of his decisions began to settle upon him. He had taken her for granted, focused solely on his feelings for Feyre while ignoring the depth of his connection with Y/n.

He had to find her. He had to understand what was happening.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n awoke in a small, dimly lit room, the soft murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps moving outside the door barely reaching her ears. Her body ached, every movement sending sharp reminders of her injuries. She tried to sit up, but a firm hand gently pressed her back down.

“Easy,” a woman’s voice murmured. Y/n blinked, her vision clearing enough to see the woman from before—the one with long, dark hair and kind, blue eyes—sitting beside her. “You’re still hurt. Your ribs were bruised, and you were half-frozen when we found you. You need rest.”

Y/n grimaced, ignoring the throbbing pain as she forced herself into a sitting position. She wasn’t used to lying still. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but her body betrayed her words, her legs too weak to support her even if she tried to stand.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Lira, smiled gently. “Stubborn, aren’t you? It’s alright to let someone help you.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked to the door. The laughter of children and the hum of distant conversations filtered in from outside. She frowned. “Where am I?”

“A village,” Lira said, watching her carefully. “Small, but we’re a close-knit community. Everyone knows everyone here. We help each other, share what we have.”

Jealousy flared in Y/n’s chest, sharp and uninvited. A place where people lived in peace, helping one another without a second thought. It was so different from the life she knew—so far from the chaos and heartbreak that had led her here.

Y/n’s voice was rough as she asked, “How long was I out?”

“A few days. We did what we could to help you recover. But you’ve still got some healing to do.”

Silence fell between them. Y/n’s gaze remained on the door, but her thoughts were far from the village. Her mind returned to the cliff, to the crushing despair that had driven her to jump. She had wanted the pain to end—had thought it would, but here she was, still breathing, still hurting.

Lira’s voice broke through her thoughts. “How did you end up in that forest? You were in pretty bad shape when we found you.”

Y/n hesitated. She didn’t owe this woman her story—didn’t owe anyone anything anymore—but the weight of it pressed down on her, and maybe, just maybe, telling a small part of it would help ease the burden.

“I had a mate,” Y/n said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Lira’s brow furrowed in sympathy, waiting for more. “He chose someone else.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but they were the truth. Rhysand had never even known. Never knew that she had felt the bond snap into place, that the invisible thread between them had formed. It didn’t matter now—he had chosen Feyre, and that choice had shattered her.

Lira’s eyes were filled with gentle curiosity. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Y/n shook her head, her throat tight. “It’s… complicated. He never knew, and by the time I realized, it was already too late. He… he was in love with her.”

Lira was quiet for a moment, processing Y/n’s words. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That sounds… painful.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her gaze distant, as if she could still see the edges of Amarantha's court from where she sat. The love she’d seen in Rhysand’s eyes when he looked at Feyre had been undeniable. He had never looked at her that way, not even close.

“Maybe we can contact your family?” Lira suggested, trying to be helpful.

Y/n’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering to Lira’s kind face. “I don’t have anyone.”

“No one at all?”

Y/n shook her head, a cold emptiness settling in her chest. She had no family left—no home, no place to return to. “It’s just me.”

Lira sighed softly, her brow creasing in thought. “Then stay here with us,” she offered, her voice warm. “At least until you’re healed, and after that… you can decide where you want to go.”

Y/n’s instinct was to refuse immediately. She had seen too much, been through too much, to believe in the kindness of strangers anymore. She didn’t trust it—not after what she had lost. And yet… this woman, this village… they didn’t know her, didn’t know what she carried, and still, they had taken her in.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/n said, her voice barely audible.

“Why not?” Lira asked gently. “You’ve been through something terrible, that much is clear. But there’s no need to face it alone.”

Y/n glanced at her, doubt gnawing at her insides. Could she trust these people? Could she allow herself even a moment of peace in this quiet village after everything?

Lira smiled again, softer this time. “Just think about it. We’re not going anywhere.”

Y/n gave a small nod, her mind already spinning with the enormity of her situation. She had nowhere to go, no plan for what came next. Maybe, for now, she could stay here—just until she figured out what to do.

~~~~~~~~

Rhysand’s mind raced, the weight of realization crashing over him like a tidal wave. Y/n was his mate. It wasn’t something he could dismiss anymore, not after the sudden void he felt through the bond. For so long, he had tried to push aside the connection, telling himself that Feyre was his priority. And yet, here he stood, drowning in guilt and confusion as the truth settled in.

She had always been there, a steady presence in his life—loyal, fierce, and strong. He had admired her, even cared for her, but it wasn’t until now that he understood the depth of that connection. And now, she was gone. Or worse—hurt.

“Mother above,” Rhys muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. He had been so blinded by Feyre, so consumed by his need to protect her, that he had failed to notice what had always been right in front of him.

The bond had been subtle at first, an almost imperceptible tether that he had never fully explored. But now? Now it was like a raw wound, aching in a way that made his chest tighten. He couldn’t feel her—couldn’t sense her. She was gone from his awareness, and that terrified him more than anything else.

Rhysand clenched his jaw, his thoughts spiraling into a panic. What if something had happened to her? The Night Court had always been a place of sanctuary, but the world beyond Velaris was filled with dangers—dangers that Y/n, in her current state, might not be able to fend off.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, the words bitter on his tongue.

Turning away from the balcony, Rhys stormed back inside the palace, his steps quick and determined. He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. He needed to find her, to reach her through the bond, to bring her back if she was in danger.

But how? He had never explored this connection before, had never let himself dwell on what it meant. And now, with Y/n’s presence completely cut off, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

His heart pounded, and the gnawing fear clawed at his insides. He didn’t know if she was safe. Didn’t know where she was. But he would find her, no matter what it took.

Rhysand closed his eyes and reached deep into himself, seeking out the bond, trying to find any flicker of her. He focused on that missing warmth, on the piece of him that felt like it had been torn away. And in the quiet of his mind, a whisper—barely there—flickered. A spark of something. Pain. Despair.

He gasped, the sensation hitting him hard, and for the briefest of moments, he felt her—felt the depth of her agony, the exhaustion, the loss.

“Y/n…” he breathed, his voice low, anguished. Wherever she was, she was suffering.

Rhysand knew he had to act quickly. There was no time to waste. He had to find her before it was too late.

With a sharp breath, he called for his wings, already preparing to leave. He will explain everything to his family later. Y/n—his mate—needed him now more than ever.

Rhysand landed softly in the clearing where he had last seen Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest. The forest loomed around him, dark and quiet, the air heavy with the scent of earth and damp leaves. Shadows stretched long in the fading light of the moon, casting an eerie stillness over the scene. His wings rustled as they folded behind him, but his mind was already racing, already searching.

This was where he had last seen her—right here, among the trees and the underbrush. She had watched him and Feyre have their conversation after Amaranthas death. Y/n thought she was hidden within the trees but he felt her, he always felt her presence, one would always feel the presence of one's mate. But he was too much of a fool to realize it sooner.

He moved through the clearing, his eyes scanning the ground, searching for any sign of her. A broken branch, a trace of her scent—anything. But the air was thick with silence, and the bond between them was weak, almost nonexistent now.

"Y/n!" Rhysand’s voice echoed through the trees, but no answer came. His shadows spread out, feeling through the dark, desperate to find any trace of her. But there was nothing.

He pressed forward, moving deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around him. The memories of their time together—of her strength, her resilience—pushed him on, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. What if she was gone? What if she was hurt, or worse?

He couldn’t think like that. Not yet. He had to find her.

"Y/n!" he called again, his voice strained, raw with desperation. He stumbled through the undergrowth, his boots sinking into the damp earth, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his failure bearing down on him.

But the forest remained silent.

Rhysand reached the edge of a small stream, the water trickling softly over the rocks. He crouched down, running his fingers through the mud, searching for any sign that she had been here. Nothing. His chest tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs as the realization began to settle in.

She wasn’t here.

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he rose to his feet. The bond was slipping away, unraveling like a thread being pulled loose. He had never let it guide him before, never truly acknowledged its presence, but now, as it faded, the loss felt like a wound he couldn’t heal.

He had to keep searching.

Rhysand pushed further into the forest, his movements frantic now, his wings twitching with the urge to take flight again, to cover more ground. The trees blurred around him, the shadows twisting and bending as his magic flared, but there was no trace of her.

No warmth. No bond. Nothing.

Hours passed in a haze of desperation and despair. The moon climbed higher in the sky, casting pale light through the canopy, but it did little to ease the gnawing fear growing inside him. By the time he reached the edge of the forest, Rhysand felt hollow, the weight of his failure pressing down on him with every step.

He was running out of time. Out of hope.

When he finally made the decision to return to Velaris, his wings were heavy, his body exhausted, but his mind couldn’t rest. The flight back felt longer than it should have, his thoughts spiraling into darker and darker places. What if she was gone for good? What if he had missed his chance—missed her?

The moment he landed on the balcony of the House of Wind, the emptiness hit him like a tidal wave. He dropped to his knees, his fingers curling against the cold stone as he tried to catch his breath, tried to steady himself.

But the bond was still faint. Almost gone.

He stood slowly, his mind racing. He had searched where he last saw her. He had searched the forest. But there was one more place she could be—her home. The Dawn Court. She was from there, had roots there. Maybe she had returned, seeking refuge among her people.

It was a slim hope, but it was all he had.

Rhysand straightened, determination burning in his veins. He would contact Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court. He had to know if Y/n was there, if she was safe. But for now, all he could do was wait—and that waiting felt like a slow, torturous pull on his very soul.

She was his mate. And she was gone.

The thought settled into his chest like a cold, hard stone, and Rhysand knew that until he found her—until he brought her back—there would be no peace. He would flip this world upside down to find her.

~~~~~~~

Y/n lay back down, her body sinking into the soft mattress as she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. Lira’s offer lingered in her mind, but doubt gnawed at her. It wasn’t just the village’s kindness that unsettled her—it was the thought of staying, of settling, when her entire world had crumbled around her.

Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the memories of Rhysand and everything she had lost. How could she heal in a place like this, where people lived in peace and harmony? She wasn’t like them—she carried too much darkness, too much pain.

Still, there was something about this village, something about Lira’s gentle demeanor that made Y/n want to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe she could find some peace here. Just for a while.

The thought was almost laughable. She had no right to peace.

Lira stood up from her chair, sensing Y/n's internal battle. “I’ll let you rest,” she said, her voice soft. “But if you need anything, just call for me.”

Y/n nodded but didn’t respond as Lira slipped quietly out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The sounds of the village continued to drift through the window—the laughter, the conversations, the gentle hum of a life Y/n had never known.

Her hand unconsciously drifted to her chest, to where the bond with Rhysand had once tugged at her heart. Now, there was only a hollow ache, a reminder of what had been and what could never be. She had loved him—fiercely, silently, and without hope.

And he had never known.

The thought made her chest tighten again, that familiar grief washing over her. She had been nothing to him, just another face from Dawn, another puppet to use and discard. And now… she was nothing at all.

The hours passed slowly. Y/n found herself drifting in and out of sleep, her body still weak from the injuries. In her dreams, she saw flashes of her past—Her life in Dawn, her little trinkets that she would create to make some living, Rhysand. And then, always, Feyre. Her face haunted Y/n, the reminder of who Rhysand had truly chosen.

When she awoke again, it was darker outside, the village sounds quieter now. Lira hadn’t returned, and Y/n was grateful for the space. She needed time to think, to decide what her next move would be.

But even as she lay there, trying to come up with a plan, her mind kept returning to Lira’s offer. A part of her wanted to accept it, to stay here and heal. But another part, the part that had seen too much betrayal, too much loss, didn’t trust it.

Would they still welcome her if they knew who she really was? What she had done?

Y/n sighed, turning onto her side as the fire crackled softly beside her. She wasn’t sure what her next step would be, but for now, all she could do was rest.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The pain was still there—deep and unyielding—but for the first time in a long while, Y/n allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find some kind of solace here.

Even if it was only temporary.

In the days that followed, Y/n grew stronger. Lira visited her often, bringing food and checking on her injuries, but never pressing too much. The village’s quiet kindness was unsettling at first, but slowly, Y/n began to let herself relax, just a little.

She spent most of her time in bed, staring out the window at the bustling village below. Children ran through the streets, and neighbors helped one another with chores and daily tasks. It was a world so far removed from the one she had known that it almost felt like a dream.

And yet, despite everything, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here.

Each time she looked out that window, she was reminded of what she had lost, of the bond she had ignored for too long. The thought of Rhysand, out there somewhere, filled her with both longing and anger. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again, but the silence between them weighed heavily on her.

Still, for now, all she could do was wait. Healing, Lira had said. Y/n wasn’t sure if that was possible, but maybe, just maybe, she could try.

Weeks turned into months.

What Y/n had initially believed would be a short stay to recover gradually became something more. She healed, both in body and in spirit, under the quiet care of Lira and the village’s close-knit community. Slowly, the bruises on her ribs faded, the aches in her muscles eased, and her strength returned.

At first, Y/n had kept to herself, only interacting with Lira when necessary. But as time passed, she began to open up, if only slightly. Lira’s patience had been remarkable, never pushing, always offering a hand when Y/n needed it. The woman’s kindness was a balm to wounds Y/n hadn’t realized still bled.

As she regained her strength, she was introduced to more of the villagers. There was Tamir, a kind-hearted farmer who often brought her fresh produce, and Ayla, a weaver who sat with Y/n by the fire on particularly cold evenings, sharing stories about her family and life in the village. They accepted Y/n without question, never asking too much, never prying into her past.

For the first time in years, Y/n found herself in a place that felt almost like home.

It wasn’t easy, of course. The memories of Rhysand still haunted her in quiet moments—his smile, his laughter, the bond she had felt snap into place and left unacknowledged. But in time, those memories dulled, becoming less sharp, less painful.

She had spent so long thinking about him, about what could have been. But now, as the months slipped by, she began to accept the truth. Rhysand had made his choice, and it hadn’t been her. Feyre was his love. And Y/n… she was learning to be alright with that.

It wasn’t that the pain disappeared—it would always be there, in the corners of her heart—but it no longer consumed her. She found herself laughing with the villagers, working alongside them, and even joining in the village’s small celebrations. She was happy, or at least as close to happiness as she’d felt in a long time.

There were nights when the weight of her past pressed down on her, but those moments grew fewer and farther between. The village, with its simple, peaceful life, had given her space to breathe, to heal.

Lira, especially, had become a close friend. They spent many evenings talking, sometimes about nothing at all, and other times about everything. Y/n found herself confiding in Lira, telling her small pieces of her past—the loss, the heartbreak, the weight of being forgotten. Lira never judged, only listened, offering comfort in the form of quiet understanding.

Y/n no longer felt the crushing loneliness that had driven her to that cliffside. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but for now, she was content to stay in this village, to continue healing, and to figure out who she was without the shadow of Rhysand hanging over her.

She still didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t running from the uncertainty.

~~~~~~~~

Velaris — One year, three months, fifteen days, six hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-five seconds since Y/n disappeared.

Rhysand had counted every second. Every agonizing, suffocating second since he had realized she was gone. He stood on the balcony of the River House, staring out over the Sidra, his eyes dark with the weight of his obsession. A full year, and he was no closer to finding her.

He had sent his forces, his shadows, his spies, to every corner of Prythian and beyond. The High Lords had been contacted—every last one of them, including Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court, where Y/n had once called home. His meetings with Thesan had been civil, yet tense.

“She hasn’t returned,” Thesan had said in one of their many conversations, his voice steady but laced with concern. “If she were here, I would have told you, Rhys.”

But that hadn’t stopped Rhysand from ordering Azriel to watch the borders of the Dawn Court, to scour its lands for any sign of her. He had sent out scouts across Prythian—Illyrian patrols sweeping the mountains, Velaris soldiers keeping their eyes open in the cities, and spies dispatched to the human lands. Nothing.

Nothing for over a year. And it was driving him mad.

Rhysand hadn’t rested in months, not truly. His nights were spent pouring over maps, tracing routes, re-reading reports. He had memorized every possible lead, every whispered rumor of a lone female seen wandering the wilderness. But none of them had led to her.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Cassian had said one night, his voice gentle but firm, as he sat with Rhysand in the war room.

Rhysand had glared at him, his jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “That’s not an option. She’s my—” He had stopped himself before finishing that sentence. She wasn’t his mate, not officially. The bond possibly had never snapped for her, but for Rhys, it might as well have. His heart knew it, even if the Cauldron had not sealed the bond. She was his.

Cassian had only sighed, shaking his head. “Rhys, I’m worried about you. We all are.”

And they were. Amren had pulled him aside more than once, telling him to stop his frantic searching, to focus on the things he could control. But she didn’t understand. None of them did. Y/n had been his anchor in ways he hadn’t even realized until she was gone.

Azriel had been his silent shadow through all of it. The spymaster had spent countless nights by his side, searching with him, strategizing, offering the quiet kind of support that only Azriel could. They didn’t need words. Rhys knew Azriel understood what it felt like to long for someone you couldn’t have.

But there were moments—moments when the weight of his failure pressed down on him so heavily that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had taken to disappearing from the River House, vanishing into the forests outside Velaris, retracing the steps to where he had last seen her.

And then, there was the cliff. Rhys still remembers how when he smelled the faintest remnants of her scent, right there, right at the edge of the cliff, his chest flared with panic as he frantically searched for her but found no trace. Given how faint the scent was, Rhys knew that she wasn’t here recently. But did she kill herself? Did she end up throwing herself off this cliff? Even the mere thought of that made his gut twist, his hands shake. No. She couldn’t have died. No body, no proof. But…..

He stood there, letting the cold wind of the mountains blow past him. The silence that had followed her disappearance.

“Rhys, you need to stop this,” Mor had told him after he’d returned from one such trip, disheveled and exhausted. “You’re tearing yourself apart.”

He had only shaken his head. “I can’t, Mor. I have to find her. I need to.”

Mor had looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want to be found?”

It was the same question Cassian had asked, and Rhys had no answer for it. What if Y/n didn’t want to be found? What if she had left because she wanted to stay hidden from him?

But he refused to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. There had to be another reason—something he hadn’t uncovered yet.

And so, Rhysand kept searching. He kept sending his forces out, kept interrogating every lead, every sighting, every whisper of a female matching her description. He visited the forests, the places they had once been together, hoping for some sign, some shred of her presence.

But there was nothing.

Every day that passed without her only deepened his despair. He had lost weight, his face drawn with exhaustion, his eyes dull with sleepless nights.

But how could he let go of Y/n? How could he forget her, when every part of him screamed that she was out there, somewhere, waiting for him?

His conversations with the inner circle had grown colder, more strained. They were concerned, but they didn’t understand. Not really. How could they, when none of them had lost someone the way he had lost Y/n?

Rhysand stared out over Velaris, the city lights reflecting off the river below. One year, three months, fifteen days, six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirty-one seconds.

And still, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat on a wooden bench outside the small cottage, her eyes watching the children play in the distance. The crisp evening air brushed against her skin, a reminder of how peaceful life had become in the village. Her heart, though, still felt heavy with memories of another life—one she had tried to leave behind.

The soft shuffle of feet approached, and Y/n turned to see Elder Miriam, one of the village’s wisest, sitting down beside her. The old woman’s face was lined with age, her eyes sharp but kind. She had been the one to welcome Y/n when she first arrived, offering a place to stay and a quiet understanding.

“You’ve been here for some time now,” Miriam began, her voice gentle but firm. “Longer than most who come seeking refuge.”

Y/n nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I didn’t expect to stay this long.”

“And yet, here you are,” Miriam continued, her hands resting on her lap. “There’s peace in this village, but I see it hasn’t reached your heart yet.”

Y/n swallowed, feeling the truth of the words settle inside her. “I’m… trying.”

Miriam studied her, the silence between them filled with the soft sounds of the village. “You’ve been through much. That much is clear. But what are you still holding onto, child?”

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to voice the conflict inside her. “There are people I left behind,” she finally said. “A life I thought I could escape from. But it follows me, no matter how far I run.”

Miriam nodded, her expression thoughtful. “The past has a way of lingering. It’s not something you can outrun. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting, Y/n. It means learning to live with what’s happened, not burying it.”

Y/n bit her lip, fighting back the emotions that threatened to surface. “I thought if I stayed here long enough, I could… rebuild myself. Become someone new.”

“And have you?” Miriam asked, her tone still gentle.

“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered. “Some days, it feels like I’m better. I’m learning to be happy again. But then, there are days where… I feel like I’m right back where I started.”

Miriam placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, her touch warm and comforting. “You’ve come far, more than you realize. But you must ask yourself—what is it you’re truly afraid of? Is it the life you left behind, or is it facing the feelings you’ve kept locked away?”

Y/n looked away, the truth painful to admit. “I’m afraid of going back,” she said quietly. “Afraid of what it would mean to confront everything I left behind.”

Miriam nodded again, her eyes full of understanding. “The village has been a place of healing for you, and it’s given you time. But time, Y/n, doesn’t erase the things we carry. It only gives us space to understand them. You cannot live in fear of what’s behind you. It will find its way to the surface, one way or another.”

Y/n felt the weight of the words settle in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she realized how much she had been avoiding—not just Rhysand, but the truth of her own feelings.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Miriam said softly. “You’ve survived, you’ve healed. But true peace will only come when you allow yourself to face what’s still left unresolved.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the knot in her chest loosening just a little. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“No one ever is,” Miriam replied with a small smile. “But readiness isn’t the same as willingness. And you, child, have always been willing to face whatever comes. I’ve seen it in you since the day you arrived.”

Y/n glanced at Miriam, the warmth in the elder’s words easing some of the fear that had gripped her for so long. Maybe she wasn’t ready to confront everything waiting for her outside the village, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe all she needed was the courage to try.

“Thank you,” Y/n said quietly, her voice steadier now.

Miriam smiled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Take your time, but don’t wait too long. The world won’t wait forever, and neither will you.”

With that, the elder rose from the bench, leaving Y/n alone with her thoughts, the peaceful hum of the village life surrounding her. For the first time in months, Y/n felt the pull of something beyond this quiet haven—something she had tried to ignore, but that was always there, waiting.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

A week had passed since Y/n had left the village. The cool morning air nipped at her skin as she stood at the edge of the forest, the place that had been her refuge for over a year. The memory of her time there was fresh—both a blessing and a burden—but she had made her peace with it. She had healed, not just physically, but in the deeper places that had been broken for so long.

Her heart was lighter now, no longer weighed down by the constant ache of loss. She was ready to move on, to return to the Dawn Court and begin her new life. A part of her would always belong to the village, to the people she had come to love during her stay, but it was time to face the world again.

The day she left had been filled with quiet goodbyes, but the most difficult one had been with Lira. They had shared a bond—a deep understanding that went beyond words.

“You’ll come visit us, right?” Lira’s voice had been soft, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. She stood in front of Y/n, her hands gripping hers tightly.

Y/n smiled, a bittersweet warmth in her chest. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll come back when I can. This place will always be special to me.”

Lira’s lips curved into a smile, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Don’t forget us. And don’t forget yourself, either. You’ve grown so much, Y/n. Don’t let that go.”

Y/n shook her head, her voice thick. “I won’t.”

Another villager, an elder Y/n had come to cherish, patted her on the back. “You’ll always have a home here,” he said warmly. “No matter where you go.”

She nodded, grateful beyond words. “Thank you. All of you.”

They stood in a quiet circle, the weight of the farewell settling in the cool air around them. The children she had watched over waved from behind the elder, their faces glowing with sadness and hope.

“Take care of yourself,” Lira said softly, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. “You deserve to be happy.”

Y/n held her close, taking in the familiar scent of the village—the woods, the earth, and the faint traces of fire. “I’ll try.”

With one last lingering glance, Y/n turned toward the path that led out of the village, the weight of their love and friendship carrying her forward. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not this time.

Now, she stood at the gates of the Dawn Court, her heart thudding in her chest. The sprawling palace beyond the gates shimmered under the morning light, and the familiar sight tugged at her—both comforting and foreign after so much time away.

She was different now, she knew that. The woman who had once been so broken, so consumed by heartache, no longer existed. In her place stood someone stronger—someone who had faced the darkest parts of herself and come out on the other side.

Y/n stepped forward, her boots crunching softly against the gravel path. A new life awaited her here. She had accepted that Rhysand was not hers, and with that acceptance came freedom—freedom to create something new, something that was hers alone.

As she approached the entrance, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. This was home, after all. And no matter how far she had run, she was always meant to return.

The guards at the gate gave her surprised looks, but they bowed respectfully, recognizing her. They knew her face, even if they couldn’t comprehend the transformation she had undergone in her time away.

Home. It sounded strange, but as she stepped through the gates and into the Dawn Court’s embrace, she realized how true it was.

She had come full circle.

With each step, the memories of her old life resurfaced, but they didn’t crush her as they once had. Instead, they reminded her of the strength she had gained, the scars she had earned, and the peace she had finally found.

This was a new beginning, and Y/n was ready for whatever came next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another miserable day.

He had counted every single second of her absence, the guilt festering in his chest like a poison he couldn’t escape. No matter how much time passed, the ache didn’t ease. The weight of what he had done—or rather, what he hadn’t done—crushed him.

He had searched everywhere, sent emissaries to the furthest reaches of Prythian and beyond. He’d begged, bribed, and even threatened other courts for information. Thesan had been his most trusted ally in the search, offering resources and keeping an eye out. Rhysand had sent his Inner Circle across borders to find her, but it had all led to nothing. Y/n was gone, and the only thing he had left was his regret.

He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him most. Not during Amarantha’s reign. Not when she had withered under his very nose, and certainly not when she left. His thoughts always returned to those last months. The months he had spent prioritizing Feyre’s safety and neglecting Y/n’s slow unraveling. He had failed her.

He was sitting at his desk, head in his hands, feeling the familiar hollow ache settle deep in his bones, when the door to his study opened.

Azriel stepped in, his shadows swirling around him like an ever-present cloak of darkness. The spymaster’s face was unreadable, but Rhysand knew him well enough to see the urgency in his posture.

“Rhys,” Azriel said, his voice calm, but there was something behind it. Something that made Rhysand sit up straight, a flicker of hope—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself in months—stirring in his chest.

“What is it?” Rhysand asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Hope had become a dangerous thing for him, always leading to disappointment.

Azriel paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in. “Thesan contacted me. His guards… they’ve seen her.”

Rhysand’s heart stopped. For a long, agonizing second, he couldn’t breathe. “Seen… her?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel nodded. “Y/n. She’s back at the Dawn Court. She returned a week ago. Thesan’s guards have been keeping an eye on her from a distance, but she’s home. Alive.”

Rhysand felt the floor tilt beneath him. She was back. After all this time, after every failed attempt to find her, every sleepless night spent tormented by guilt, Y/n had returned. The relief that flooded him was overwhelming, but it was swiftly followed by a wave of doubt so strong it made him dizzy.

“I should… I should go to her,” Rhysand said, standing abruptly. His mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to see her, had to know if she was okay. But then he paused, his hand falling away from the desk. His thoughts crashed into one another, the doubt settling in.

Would she want to see him?

“Wait,” Rhysand murmured, his voice barely audible. “Should I even go?” He turned to Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I… I wasn’t there for her, Az. Not when she needed me most. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s better off without me?”

Azriel’s dark eyes flickered with something like exasperation, but it was laced with sympathy. “Rhys, are you serious right now?”

Rhysand dragged a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his guilt crushing him again. “I ignored her. After Amarantha, after Feyre… I neglected her. The last months she was with us, I wasn’t there for her. What if she’s moved on? What if she’s better now without me?”

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows swirling around his shoulders. “You’ve been searching for her for over a year. You’ve nearly destroyed yourself trying to find her. And now that she’s back, you’re doubting whether to go to her?”

Rhysand clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “I hurt her, Az. I let her slip away. What if she hates me for it?”

Azriel let out a breath, his eyes softening. “Then you go to her and you tell her that. You tell her how much she means to you, and you beg for her forgiveness if that’s what it takes.” His voice lowered, more gentle than Rhysand had ever heard it. “You’ve been waiting for this moment, Rhys. Don’t let your guilt stop you from fixing what was broken.”

Rhysand stared at his brother, the weight of his words sinking in. He had been waiting—praying—for this moment, for the chance to make things right. But now that it was here, all he could feel was fear. Fear that Y/n wouldn’t forgive him, that the damage he had caused was too great to repair.

“I will kneel if I have to,” Rhysand said quietly, the words heavy with desperation. “I’ll beg her to forgive me, to let me back into her life.”

Azriel’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. “Then go. Don’t waste any more time.”

Rhysand nodded, though the fear still gnawed at him. But beneath that fear, a flicker of hope remained. He would see Y/n again. He would kneel, beg, do whatever it took to fix the mistakes of the past.

And maybe—just maybe—he could find a way back to her.

Rhysand stood in silence for a moment, letting the realization sink in. He wasn’t sure what he would find when he saw Y/n, or if she would even want to speak to him. But there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, he turned to Azriel. “I’m going to Dawn,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart trembled. “I have to see her.”

Azriel nodded once. “Good luck, Rhys.”

Rhysand didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He simply disappeared, winnowing into the wind, his heart pounding as he made his way to the one person who mattered most.

~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat at the small table in her home, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. The room was modest but comfortable, much different than it had been a year ago. Before she left, she had been barely getting by, working tirelessly just to make ends meet. She had spent her days repairing small items, doing odd jobs, always tired, always worn down. Back then, the work had been a necessity—a way to survive, not something she took pride in.

Now, it was different.

Y/n’s fingers moved over the smooth wood of the small jewelry box she had just crafted. She had taken up woodworking after returning from the village, and while it wasn’t glamorous, she found peace in the craft. People in the Dawn Court had taken notice of her work, and word had spread. Slowly but surely, she started receiving more commissions, her skills improving with every piece she made.

She wasn’t rich—not by a long shot—but she was comfortable. She didn’t have to worry as much about her next meal or paying for firewood. Her house, which had once felt so empty and cold, now felt like a home again. The work wasn’t just about money anymore. It was about creating something with her own hands—something that others appreciated.

Y/n leaned back, wiping the sawdust from her hands, and looked around her small space. It felt like she had finally found a balance. She was content. It wasn’t the life she had imagined for herself all those years ago, but it was a good life. She was healing, slowly but surely, and for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful about the future.

There were moments when her mind drifted to the past—when memories of Rhysand surfaced, and the pain of what could have been tugged at her. But it didn’t consume her anymore. She had made peace with it, in her own way, and she knew she had to keep moving forward. This was her life now, and she was determined to make it her own.

Y/n wiped her brow, the scent of fresh wood filling the air as she placed the finished box onto the shelf beside a few others she had completed earlier that week. A soft smile tugged at her lips. It was a simple life—one she hadn’t expected to love—but there was a calmness in it that soothed her in ways she hadn’t realized she needed.

Her hands were no longer idle, no longer weighed down by the burden of survival. Now, when she worked, it was with purpose, and each completed piece felt like a small victory—a testament to her growth, her healing. The dark days when she could barely muster the energy to get out of bed felt distant now, like a different life entirely.

She stepped back from her workbench, glancing around her small home. It was far from luxurious, but it was hers. She had made it feel like home again after being away for so long. She had become part of the local community again, and though life wasn’t easy, it was manageable—and even enjoyable at times.

Y/n sighed, letting the moment settle over her. She was content. She hadn’t thought it possible after everything she had been through, but somehow, she had found peace.

She walked to the window, looking out at the familiar streets. The weight of the past year didn’t feel as heavy as it used to. Dawn had changed for her. Before, it was a place where she had simply existed—barely making it through each day. Now, it felt like a fresh start, a place where she could rebuild herself without the shadows of her past constantly looming over her.

Her thoughts drifted to the village she had left behind just a week ago. It had been hard to say goodbye, but she knew it was time. They had become like a family to her, and the promise to visit would be kept. But she needed to come home—to her own space, her own life.

The memory of her farewell lingered, the promises exchanged that they would stay in touch, that they wouldn’t forget each other. She smiled at the thought. She wouldn’t forget them either. They had been the ones who had helped her when she didn’t know how to help herself, and that was something she would always carry with her.

But here, now, she was finally ready to move forward. Ready to build something new for herself.

Y/n was walking through the busy streets of the Dawn, enjoying the calm, steady pace of life here. She had just visited the market, her basket filled with items for her latest craft project. The sun was warm on her face, and for the first time in a long while, she felt truly at peace.

As she turned the corner, two figures in armor approached her. They wore the unmistakable insignia of the Dawn Court—palace soldiers. Their faces were unreadable, and as they came closer, she felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach.

“Y/n,” one of them said, his voice firm yet not unkind. “You are required at the palace.”

Her heart skipped a beat, confusion surging through her. “The palace? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

The second soldier didn’t meet her gaze, only repeating the first soldier’s words. “We need to escort you to the High Lord. Please come with us.”

Fear and confusion knotted in her chest, but the soldiers gave her no further explanation. They began to walk, clearly expecting her to follow. Y/n’s mind raced with questions. Why would High Lord Thesan summon her? What had she done? She couldn’t think of any reason she’d be needed at the palace.

As they passed through the grand gates and into the opulent halls, her nerves only grew. The palace was more beautiful than she remembered, but she was too anxious to appreciate the elegance of her surroundings. The guards led her through winding corridors until they reached a large, ornate door.

One of the soldiers knocked, and the door was opened from within. They motioned for her to step inside.

She hesitated for only a moment before walking in.

The room was grand, with tall windows casting golden light over the finely furnished space. But it wasn’t the luxury of the room that caught her off guard.

It was the two men standing inside.

One was High Lord Thesan, smiling warmly, his demeanor calm and welcoming. The other was Rhysand.

Her breath caught in her throat. Rhysand? Her legs nearly gave out beneath her at the sight of him standing there, looking tense, his usual smug expression replaced with something far more serious. His violet eyes found hers the moment she entered the room, and she felt every nerve in her body light up with an old, painful familiarity.

Thesan stepped forward first, his kind smile not wavering. “Y/n,” he greeted, his voice smooth. “I apologize for the sudden summons. I imagine this is not what you were expecting today.”

She blinked, still too shocked to speak, her gaze flickering from Thesan to Rhysand and back again.

The High Lord chuckled softly, clearly sensing her confusion. “You are not in trouble, I assure you,” Thesan said gently. “I wanted to make sure you had a chance to… speak with Rhysand. I believe there are things that need to be said.” He glanced between them before adding, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Y/n’s throat tightened as Thesan gave her one last smile and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

And then it was just her and Rhysand.

The silence was suffocating. Rhysand stood a few feet away, his gaze locked on her, an uncharacteristic tension lining his features. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond at first, still trying to piece together how this moment had come to pass. “Sorry for what?” she finally asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

“For everything,” Rhysand said, stepping closer, though he still maintained a respectful distance. “For how I treated you before… for abandoning you. I spent the past year searching for you, desperate to make things right. I—” He paused, swallowing hard. “I should have told you sooner. You are my mate.”

Her chest tightened, a sharp laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it. “I know.”

Rhys’s eyes widened in surprise. “You knew? Since when?”

“Since long before you disappeared into Feyre’s shadow,” she replied bitterly. The anger, the hurt, it all came rushing back in full force. “Why didn’t I tell you? Why should I have? Would it have made a difference when you were so focused on her that I may as well have been invisible?”

Rhys flinched at her words, guilt etched deeply into his face. “It would have mattered,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You mattered.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” Y/n’s voice trembled with emotion, her hands clenching at her sides. “Why was I nothing more than a tool to you when Feyre came along? I watched you—watched as you ignored me, as you barely looked at me. And now, after a year of running and hiding, now you come to apologize? You expect me to just forgive you because you finally decided I was worth something?”

Rhysand’s eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, his normally proud and arrogant demeanor shattered. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I came to beg for it, if that’s what it takes. I was wrong, Y/n, in so many ways. But you have to know, you are my mate, and I will do anything to make this right. I will kneel, I will grovel, I will—”

But she shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s too late, Rhysand. You’ve already made your choice.”

Rhys took another step toward her, desperation in his eyes. “Please, Y/n. I never stopped caring. I was a fool. But we can start again, we—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice firm, though it cracked with emotion. “You don’t get to come back into my life now and demand forgiveness. I’ve rebuilt myself. I’ve moved on. You should have done the same.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Rhysand standing alone, the weight of his mistakes heavy in the air.

But Rhysand didn’t stop. Determined to win her back, he threw himself into a relentless pursuit of her forgiveness. Every day, he tried to reach her in some way, even if she wouldn’t let him in.

He sent her gifts—delicate, handcrafted items from the finest artisans in the Dawn Court, things that would have brought a smile to her face just months ago. Each time, he watched from a distance as she took them from her doorstep, only to leave them discarded by the door, untouched and unacknowledged.

Rhysand poured his heart into letters, filled with apologies and promises, penned with the kind of vulnerability he had rarely shown anyone before. He would slip them under her door, hoping that maybe one would catch her attention. But each time he checked, the letters remained sealed, never to be opened, reminders of his failure piling up like stones in his chest.

He would linger in the shadows, just outside her home, drawn by the pull of her presence. He watched her move about her day—working on her crafts, laughing with neighbors, sharing stories. His heart ached at how vibrant she seemed, yet he felt like a ghost haunting the edges of her life. Each smile she shared with others was a dagger, a reminder of what he had lost.

In moments of bravery, he approached the marketplace, hoping for a chance encounter. He would linger near the stalls, pretending to browse as she passed by, but she never looked his way. It was as if he were invisible, a figment of her past she refused to acknowledge.

He even tried to connect with the villagers, asking about her and expressing his desire to help her, but they were loyal to her. They would only nod politely, never divulging her whereabouts or responding to his inquiries. They could sense the pain behind his facade, and their protectiveness toward Y/n was fierce.

Days turned into weeks, and Rhysand’s resolve only strengthened. He would find small ways to make his presence known. Sometimes, he would send the occasional flower with a note saying, “I miss you.” Other times, he enlisted Azrael to check in on her, to gauge how she was doing. Each report from his friend was a bittersweet reminder of how far he had fallen from her good graces.

Yet despite all his efforts, Y/n remained steadfastly indifferent. She had rebuilt her life without him, and the fortress she had built around her heart was impenetrable. No amount of gifts or letters could pierce it.

As the seasons changed, Rhysand continued his quiet vigil, each day filled with longing and regret, praying that one day, she would see him not as a shadow of her past but as a man who desperately wanted to be part of her future.

Y/n was kneeling in her garden, the vibrant flowers blooming around her, but her heart felt anything but bright. She was lost in thought, trying to focus on her plants when she suddenly sensed a presence behind her. Her instincts kicked in, and she turned quickly, catching sight of a tall figure with dark wings.

“Who are you?” she demanded, standing defensively, her heart racing.

“Y/n,” he replied, his voice calm yet intense. “My name is Azriel, I’m a friend of Rhysand’s. I’ve been… watching over you.”

“Watching over me?” she echoed, confusion and anger flaring up inside her. “Why? What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Azriel said, stepping forward slightly but keeping his distance, as if respecting her space. “About Rhysand. He’s been… suffering since you left.”

Y/n crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “I don’t want to talk about him. He made his choice.”

“He didn’t know what he was doing, Y/n,” Azriel pressed, his tone earnest. “He’s been lost without you. The gifts he sent, the letters—those were all from a place of regret. He didn’t realize how much you meant to him until it was too late.”

“Regret?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s easy to feel regret when you’ve moved on with someone else, isn’t it? I was nothing more than a passing thought to him while he chased after Feyre.”

Azriel frowned, sensing the pain in her words. “I can’t deny that Rhysand made mistakes, but he has changed. He’s been searching for you for a year. He’s been—”

“Searching?” she interrupted, her voice rising. “How much of a fool do you think I am to believe that? I don’t want to be another one of his burdens or a way to soothe his guilt.”

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I understand your anger, but you deserve to know the truth. You deserve to hear him out.”

Y/n’s heart raced with conflicting emotions. She was furious with Rhysand, yet there was a flicker of curiosity buried deep inside her. “And what makes you think I want to hear anything from him? What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

Azriel stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because you deserve closure. You deserve to understand why he acted the way he did. If you don’t give him a chance, you might carry this pain forever. You may think you’ve moved on, but deep down, you’re still holding onto that hurt.”

Y/n’s expression softened slightly, but she quickly masked it with defiance. “It’s easier to keep it all buried, Azriel. I don’t need him in my life. I’ve built something here, a life I’m proud of.”

“I see that,” he said, nodding. “But are you truly happy? Or is there still a part of you that wonders what could have been?”

She hesitated, the truth clawing at her heart. “Maybe I could talk to him again,” she admitted reluctantly, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. “But it doesn’t mean I want to forgive him. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to open that door again.”

“Just consider it,” Azriel urged gently. “You don’t have to decide everything right now. But Rhysand is here, waiting for you. He won’t stop until he gets the chance to explain himself. And when you’re ready, you can choose how to respond.”

Y/n turned back to her flowers, avoiding Azriel’s gaze, trying to gather her thoughts. “And what if I don’t want to respond? What if I just want to forget?”

“Then you’ll have that choice too,” Azriel said, his tone calm and understanding. “But know that you can’t run from your feelings forever. If you want to heal, you have to face them.”

After a long silence, Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Azriel nodded, she could feel the weight of his presence, a reminder that her past was still very much alive, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. She knew that eventually, she would have to confront the truth about Rhysand—and about herself.

The sky was painted in soft shades of dusk, the sun casting its final golden rays over the pristine lake. The place Rhysand had chosen was breathtaking—a secluded spot nestled between the hills, where the water sparkled like diamonds under the fading light. Wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors contrasting with the deep green of the surrounding trees. It was peaceful, a place that felt almost sacred in its stillness.

Y/n approached the shore, her footsteps slow and hesitant. She had agreed to meet him, but every step felt heavier than the last, like she was walking toward something she wasn’t ready to face. Her heart thudded in her chest, her mind filled with doubts, fears, and anger she hadn’t yet let go of.

And then she saw him.

Rhysand stood by the edge of the lake, his back to her, his wings tucked tightly against him. The sight of him stirred something deep within her—a pang of old pain, old longing, and something new, something she couldn’t yet name. He seemed so out of place here, in this tranquil setting, with the weight of his own emotions heavy on his shoulders.

He turned as she neared, his violet eyes locking onto hers, a myriad of emotions swirling in their depths—regret, hope, desperation. He took a step toward her, but stopped himself, as if afraid that one wrong move might send her running.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for coming.”

She didn’t respond immediately, crossing her arms over her chest, her posture guarded. “You wanted to talk. So, talk.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he looked back at her. “I don’t even know where to begin. I… I made so many mistakes.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered, her voice colder than she had intended.

He nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t realize… how much I hurt you. I didn’t realize how blind I had been to everything you were going through.”

“I was right there, Rhys,” she said, her voice rising with frustration. “Right in front of you, and you didn’t see me. Not once. Not until it was too late.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know, and I hate myself for it. I was so consumed by everything happening with Amarantha, with Feyre… I thought I was doing what was best, that I was protecting you by keeping you at a distance.”

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. “Protecting me? By ignoring me? By treating me like I didn’t exist?”

Rhysand flinched at her words, guilt flooding his features. “I thought… I thought that if I distanced myself, if I kept you away, you wouldn’t be hurt. That you’d be safer if you weren’t involved in everything that was happening. But I see now that I was wrong. So, so wrong.”

She bit her lip, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—a crack in her armor, however small. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. “I was a coward. I didn’t know how to face you, how to admit that I had failed you. And by the time I realized… it felt like I had already lost you.”

“You had,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You did.”

Rhysand stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “But I don’t want to lose you forever, Y/n. I can’t. I came here to beg for your forgiveness, to do whatever it takes to make things right. I know I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve done nothing but hurt you, but I’m asking—no, I’m begging you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her heart torn between the lingering hurt and the raw sincerity in his voice. “And what if I can’t forgive you? What if it’s too late for that?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression solemn. “Then I’ll accept that. I’ll accept whatever decision you make. But please, just give me the chance to try. Let me show you that I’m not the same man who pushed you away. Let me prove that I can be the person you deserve.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her emotions threatening to spill over. “You hurt me, Rhys. You made me feel like I was nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I will regret that for the rest of my life. But you are not nothing. You never were. You are everything.”

She turned away, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself together. “This… this is all too much. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Rhysand closed the distance between them, his voice soft but urgent. “I won’t rush you. I won’t push you. But if there’s even a part of you that thinks we could find a way forward, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

She wiped at her eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what about the mate bond? You didn’t even acknowledge it, didn’t tell me—”

“I didn’t know,” he said quickly, his eyes wide with desperation. “I didn’t know until you were gone, until it was too late. I felt it after you left, like a piece of my soul was ripped away.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart pounding. “I knew,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widened, shock and confusion written on his face. “You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” she said, her voice wavering. “Because you were so focused on Feyre, on everything else. I didn’t want to be another burden for you to carry.”

Rhysand shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You were never a burden, Y/n. Never. I was just too blind to see what was right in front of me. And I hate myself for that.”

Y/n turned back to him, her gaze softening ever so slightly. “I’m not ready to accept the bond yet, Rhys. I’m not ready to just… let everything go.”

He nodded, his expression pained but understanding. “I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, and I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.”

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “Maybe… maybe if we spent more time together, if you showed me that you’ve really changed… maybe then I could consider it.”

Rhysand’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, and he nodded eagerly. “Anything. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Y/n sighed, the heaviness in her chest lifting just slightly. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, Rhys. I’m not there yet. But… I’m willing to see if you can prove yourself.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and filled with determination. “I will. I swear I will.”

She nodded slowly, a small, tentative step toward the possibility of healing. “We’ll see.”

As Y/n spoke those final words, a calm silence settled between them. The tension that had been weighing the air down began to ease, and the light from the setting sun cast a warm glow over the lake, reflecting in soft ripples on the water. Rhysand, still standing close but not too close, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders finally relaxing.

He gave her a tentative smile, one that was full of relief and gratitude. “Thank you… for giving me this chance,” he murmured softly. “It means more than you know.”

Y/n glanced at him, her expression unreadable for a moment before a small smile ghosted her lips. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a lot of proving to do, Rhys.”

His eyes sparkled with a mixture of affection and determination, and for the first time in a long time, a bit of the old, charming Rhys peeked through. “I plan to, darling. You’ll see.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it, just a faint glimmer of amusement. “Don’t get cocky. This isn’t a victory.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, a teasing lilt in his voice. “But it’s a start.”

They both stood there for a while longer, just watching the lake, the breeze gentle against their skin. Y/n didn’t pull away when Rhysand took a small step closer, their arms nearly brushing. The proximity felt different now—less suffocating, more… reassuring. As if, for the first time in ages, she wasn’t standing completely alone.

Rhysand didn’t make any bold moves; he didn’t reach out to touch her, respecting the distance she still held. But there was a warmth in the silence, an unspoken understanding that they were no longer quite as far apart as before.

Finally, after a few moments of peaceful quiet, Y/n turned to leave, the conversation having drained her emotionally. She needed time—time to process everything he’d said, everything she’d felt.

As she walked past him, Rhysand called after her gently, “Can I at least walk you back?”

Y/n paused, glancing over her shoulder. For a heartbeat, she considered saying no, but then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. “Alright. But just this once.”

Rhysand smiled—genuinely, this time—and caught up to her, falling into step beside her as they began to walk down the path back toward the city. They didn’t speak much, the silence between them comfortable now, and Y/n found herself not minding his presence the way she once had.

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Taglist: @willowpains @theravenphoenix26 @mother-above @bookwormysblog @strawberriesandstories @12idk1234

I'm over this world I need to be in the night court stargazing rn

Rhys and Nyx - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @svanhaart / @svanha

Gwyneth Berdara

Priestess • Valkyrie • Carynthian

things that feel like acosf but aren’t

cassian at the beginning of acosf

Nesta: I need you to convince me not to kill anyone right now

Cassian: There are no books in prison

Nesta: *sighs* Thank you

the courts of prythian

few graphics I worked on for a project !! :) loving the acotar books lately! i'm on acowar rn pls no spoilers i'm scared

Masterlist

My Hero Academia

Deku misses date night (Deku)

Love Sick Deku (Deku)

Strangely Alone (Deku)

Hold Tight angst kinda (Bakugo)

King Bakugo x Mer Reader (Bakugo)

Dating Hawks at the workplace (Hawks)

ACOTAR

Mating Bond (Azriel)

Day full of Love (Azriel)

Kuroko’s Basketball

Unexpected guest (Aomine)

Pregncay headcanons (Aomine, Kagami, Kise)

Azriel x Reader l Mating Bond

Azriel doesn’t know ho to react when he first notices the bond

He didn’t know what to do when the bond first formed. He was readjusting your stance during one of your training sessions when it clicked. He stumbled away from you, dumbfounded, as his shadows swarmed you. “Is my form really that bad?” You asked, noticing his strange behavior.

He shook his head immediately, his shadows now playing in you hair. “Rhys just told me some really important news. Cassian will help you with the rest of your training,” he called, taking flight. He didn’t know where he was going. You didn’t seem to notice the bond snapping into place, so he thought it best to keep it from you.

He did his best to control himself around you. The bond making you utterly irresistible. Especially when you started dating mostly thanks to Mor. You even went far enough to invite your date to Starfall, which Azriel definitely did not appreciate.

You went about the night showing your date around and introducing him to the other members of the inner circle. Azriel expected the handshake immediately, but you could tell something was bothering him. Everything seemed off about him recently and you couldn’t tell why.

The opportunity to confront him presented himself when he asked you to dance. “I don’t think I told you how amazing you look tonight,” he whispered, swiftly moving across the floor. Your dress sparkling as you twirled around the floor.

“You didn’t, but thank you. You look nice too.” Shadows scattered across the floor as Azriel spun you around. “What’s been on your mind lately, Az?” you question, breaking the silence.

He averted his gaze, looking over to where your date stood, “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Azriel sighed, grabbing your hand and winnowing away.

When the shadows unveiled your eyes you were staining atop one of the balconies.

“I don’t like seeing you with other people,” came a soft whisper. You took you attention away from the people dancing underneath you, most of them awaiting starfall. You tilted your head, waiting for Azriel to elaborate. “I don’t know how to explain it. I—“

“We’re mates, Az,” you whispered, unsure if he knew. When he pulled away, your heart broke.

“How long have you known?” His shadows began to swarm him, hiding his face from you.

“I knew the day you left training early. You left so abruptly that I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to tell you, but I have my answer now.” You moved further away, tears swelling in your eyes.

You knew he wouldn’t accept your bond so you started dating to ease the pain. It all seemed to be a lost cause at that moment. Azriel’s presence still lurked behind you, his shadows roaming over your back.

He didn’t know what to do or how to console you. He wanted you in every way possible, but would you be willing to love someone as broken as him? “It’s not that I don’t want the bond, hell I’ve waited forever for you. And now that your in front of me, the bond present, I can’t help but wonder if you truly feel the same about me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I want you Az. There’s nothing that you could do to change that.”

Azriel swept you up into his arms, his shadows cocooning you both. “Does that mean we’re mates?” The only answer he received were your lips against his. That was enough for him to finally understand.

“So what are we going to do about your partner down there then?” he whispered between kisses.

You hesitantly pulled away, looking down your we’re your date stood talking to someone else. “I don’t think there’s much to worry about.” It seemed like you were completely forgotten to him.

Azriel X Reader

Day Full of Love

Two hours. That’s how much time was left before you and Azriel were finally united forever. You couldn’t hide your feelings from your loving mate everytime you thought of it, unconsciously sending waves of love down the bond.

He was everything that you could’ve asked for. He might not see it himself, but you do. You knew he deserved happiness, even if he didn’t accept it. That’s what you intended to prove to him today.

Not only were you getting married to your mate, but you also had a small gift for him. You didn’t tell anyone about your surprise. Not even Mor, who was currently trying to peek into the small gift bag. “You know I can see you, right?”

She backed away hastily, hands up in surrender, “I was just making sure you didn’t leave any of your jewelry. Can’t have you missing anything.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. Mor couldn’t mind her business for the life of her. It was her ongoing curiosity that made you and Azriel reveal the truth about being mates. You both tried to hide it from your family, attempting to get used to the bond yourselves first, but thanks to her things didn’t go to plan.

“Sure…,” you murmured watching her out of the corner of your eye. You brushed out your uncooperative hair, growing frustrated with time. Feyre came to assist you, pulling your hair into an up do style, while you proceeded to put in earrings while looking out the window.

The wedding took place during sunset and at the moment the sun was barely over the horizon. Everything outside was set up, as far as you could tell from the window at least. The white banisters were hung high and the tables were covered with a cobalt blue table cloth. The chairs had small accents of silver and blue and the aisle…

The isle that you were going to walk down within the next few minutes was shimmering in the last rays of sunset. You couldn’t wait to see the way that Azriel would look at you as you walked down the aisle. The way he would take in the dress as it flowed around you. the way his eyes would connect with yours, sending his love and adoration down the bond you shared.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Feyre calling to you. her hands on your shoulders was what brought you back to reality. “Are you alright?” She asked softly. You nodded telling her that you were just thinking as she went to pick up your dress. You could see the understanding in her eyes at your words. “I was nervous before Rhys and I did the ceremony—“

“You mean the ceremony that I wan’t invited to,” Mor shouted from across the room. You couldn’t but laugh at the slightly guilty look of Feyre’s face. You were still upset about not being invited to her ceremony as well, but you didn’t let it show like Mor did.

She helped you step into your dress, responding with, “The situation was different back then, Mor, but I’ll make sure we include you next time we have a big event.”

“Me too,” you added, turning so she could zip up your gown. Thankfully you and Azriel didn’t have to worry about the threat of a war during this big moment. You couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Feyre and Rhys at that time.

You quickly grabbed the gift bag and left Feyre put on your veil. “I’ll make sure to invite you too.”

Mor, nudged Feyre’s shoulder, “You better.” She handed you the bouquet, “Now then let’s get this wedding started.”

********************

Azriel loved his brothers, no doubt about that, but at this current moment he wanted to erase them from the Night Court. Cassian spent the past twenty minutes crying over Azriel finally getting married, while Rhys recounted the time after his mating ceremony.

“He’s finally getting hitched, Rhys, can you believe it,” Cassian cried, slapping Azriel on the back causing his wings to flare. He sighed in irritation, all hopes of finally buttoning up his shirt lost.

There were only five minutes left. Five minutes and he still wasn’t fully dressed. Not that you would mind seeing him walk down the isle without a shirt.

Rhys could tell that Azriel was frustrated from the way his shadows frantically whipped around that room. Each dark wisp coming back to tell him where everything he needed was: the rings on the dresser and his shoes near the bed.

“Sit,” Rhys said, signaling at a chair. Azriel rushed over not caring about what his brother was trying to do. His attention was on his shirt that he still hasn’t finished fixing the buttons on. He was so focused on the item of clothing that he didn’t notice Cassian holding his shoes out to him or Rhys’s hands in his hair.

Azriel took his shoes, bending down to lace them. He pushed Rhy’s away every time he reached for his shoulder. “Do you ant me to finish your hair or not Az.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, “What?”

“Your hair.” Rhys handed him a mirror to look at the nest of hair on his head. Azriel cursed and promptly sat back. He couldn’t remember the last time Rhys had touched his hair. He used to do it five hundred years ago when they were kids, but eventually stopped after a while. The only person that touched the black hair on Azriel’s head now was you.

“There. What are we thinking?” Azriel inspected his hair throughly. You wouldn’t care what his hair looked like regardless, but he still wanted to make sure it looked perfect for you.

“I think we should add glitter,” Cassian suggested. “The girls at the camp told me that glitter makes everything look better.”

“Absolutely not,” Azriel deadpanned. Thinking about the small girls that he trained at the camp. As much as he adored them, he would not be adding any type of shimmer into his locks.

Rhys placed his hands on his brothers shoulders. “It’s time for you to get married.”

******************

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave you as you made your way down the aisle. You had to stop yourself from running up to him when you first saw him. He was absolutely glowing in the last rays of the sunset. You could see the reddish brown membrane of his wings as you continued to step towards him, nearly crumpling under his gaze.

He looked at you in all the ways you imagined and more. His eyes completely devoured you and you could see the desire in his eyes more as you stood on the platform with him. “Hello beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around your waist. You wanted to kiss him badly at that moment, but you would have to save that for the end of the ceremony.

Rings were exchanged and white fabric was wrapped around your wrists to symbolize the band before you heard the words you had been waiting for. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Azriel swept you off your feet, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. It was unlike any kind of kiss he had given you before. His lips pressed against yours, telling you everything that he felt in that moment. You felt his love, his desperation, and his need all in one. The cheers in the background made you push Azriel’s chest. No matter how tempting it was at the moment, you didn’t want to give your entire family a show.

You were beaming as you listen to the cheers from Feyre, Cassian, Rhys, and, to your surprise, some claps from Amren.

The night continues with drinks, food, and plenty of congratulations. It was hard to get a private moment with your husband. You only managed to pull him away when everyone was dancing together, celebrating the new union in the family.

“I got you gift,” you said, handing him the small bag. You were nervous, very nervous. What would he say when he saw what was in the bag? How would he react? You couldn’t stop these thoughts from rushing though your head as you mate looked at you curiously.

“You didn’t have to get me anything love.”

“I know, but this is very special to me and I wanted to share it with you.”

“Just know I’m going to get you something in return.” You rolled your eyes at your husbands antics. He would never let you surprise him without repaying the favor.

You watched as he pulled a small cloth out of the bag. He squinted his eyes in suspicion, unfolding the item. “Is this what I think it is?” His eyes scanned the onesie in his hands. You nodded softly, tears brimming your eyes. Azriel enveloped you in his arms whispering into your hair, “When did you find out, beautiful?”

“Two months ago,” you said, burying your head into his neck.

He kissed you temple, “So this is why you wanted to move the wedding up.”

You nodded, at a lost for words. You remembered talking to Azriel about your plans to move the wedding up. When he asked you why you claimed it was because you couldn’t wait to get married to him. You could see the suspicion on his face, but that was the quickest thing you could come up with. Keeping secrets from the shadowsinger was a hard thing to do.

You sat there in Azriels arms for a while, the commotion around you disappearing. “Should we tell them too?” You asked, knowing how happy your family would be to hear the news.

“Not yet. I want to keep this a secret for a little while longer. Plus,” he turned to look at the rest of your family clinging their glasses together, “I think there’s been enough excitement for one day.”