Page 40 of Of Realms and Chaos

Silence enveloped me, as heavy as the world that rested upon our shoulders—mine and Asher’s. No answer would come.

“She tried to kill herself. You died, and we broke, and she thought us all better off without her. You died, and we were not ready to say goodbye. You died, Nona. I need you, but you are gone. You died.”

Winona died, and more would fall if we did not do something.

My resolve was building, or perhaps it was crumbling. They felt so similar these days. Before I could marinate in the sadness, I felt the tug that told me someone had touched an item I had laced with my essence. I stilled, waiting for the feeling to go away, the pull ceasing and telling me whoever it was had let go. There were so few things that I had allowed my trace to remain on, which meant that this was likely Asher.

She had not responded after I sent her a note last night. Her communication was stilted, often full of hidden pain and rage. Henry was quick to fill me in on how she was doing, but we both knew she was skilled at masking how she felt. If she looked sad, then that meant she was slowly dying inside—the pain eating her alive.

I sensed her let go and immediately called onto my shadows to fetch the pencil and paper, the feeling of relief at expelling more of that poisonous magic lasting mere seconds. I opened my hand just in time for those shadows to turn solid, the pencil dropping into my palm.

Hastily, eagerly, I opened up the note. Chuckling at her words despite myself, I quickly scribbled back a response and sent it her way. Pocketing Winona’s bracelet, I stood once more, the tears still slowly crawling down my cheeks.

“I will take care of him—of all of us—just like you did. I will seek retribution for what they did to you, and I will find a way to make the world bright once more. Rest knowing our family will have joy again someday.”

With a final pat to her vanity, I left Ranbir and Winona’s chambers in Haven, portaling to the space another fallen friend had once held.

Pino’s chambers were a disaster, cloth and paper and needles spread over every surface. The mess reminded me of the visions he had once shown me, a cyclone of so much happening at once. My chest tightened at the sight of the journal on his desk, still open to a drawing of a female shaped much like Ash, her curves decorated in what could only be described as liquid obsidian—the black accented with flecks of silver and gold. The gown was low-cut and form-fitting, dragging at least three feet behind. It was sleeveless, a cape-like piece of fabric attached to the back to trail behind the wearer in the same way the train did.

A smile lifted my cheeks. She would have looked beautiful in it—the same female who currently wrote to me, the feel of her holding the pencil sending a tingling sensation from the tips of my fingers to my toes.

Gently, I picked up the journal, skipping back to the last marked page. It was a large chunk of writing, looking as if it had been scribbled in a rush.

Your magic is a force, a strength previously unheard of and ever-reaching. As you find the light and dark, you shall see that they will guide you if you dare heed their call. When you do, a prince you will lose, a prince you will gain, and a king you will hold. And when the moon paints the sky red, retribution will light fire to the realms. As promised by the true queen who defied her false destiny, when two worlds collide and history repeats, from it will come the salvation. From it, love will defeat vengeance. But, if you fear what you do not know or do not understand, you might find yourself dead before you have even lived. And so the world will fall not far behind. No matter the choice you make, your reign will be the end.

I read it once, twice, three times before I truly understood it.

His prophecy, the one that had made Asher realize she had not been in the Fire Lands so long ago. This was not just for designing and doodling, this was also the place he recorded his prophecies and visions.

Just then, Asher let go, finished writing her response. I called onto it, snatching it from the shadows. I read her note then the prophecy then her note once more before tucking it into the journal.

Adbeel was wrong.

I deserved the chance to make this world better for Asher.

Chapter Fourteen

Asher

Comfort was an interesting concept. Where one might be content in a flowing red gown, another might be appalled by the idea of formal wear.

Henry was the latter.

He and Wrath both had mixed feelings about approaching Queen Shah tonight. Neither was as confident as I was that we could secure an alliance with her, though we all knew that—as Bellamy once said—desperation could get you anywhere.

We were more than desperate. Henry had let slip that Eoforhild was sustaining attacks, Bellamy leading his forces into flooded cities and razed villages. Males, females, and younglings were all dying left and right, the Golden Guard decimating everything in their wake.

Finding alliances was more important than ever. The fae had far more soldiers than the demons did. Our—their—ranking system automatically enlisted fae within certain rankings. The sweet spot were those who did not have deep enough wells of power to be in diplomatic positions, but had more power than should go to “waste” doing jobs that did not require their abilities at all.

Though it was cumbersome, invasive, and borderline dictatorial, it did make for a rather pristine realm. The demons were different in that sense. They did not force enlistment—nor did they choose what one would spend their life doing. In that, there was peace but also danger.

By now, I knew that there was a better way to rule, but that nagging voice in my head said that those simple things could damn an entire realm.

While Henry continued to fuss with his lapels, I walked over to Wrath, my dress dragging on the floor behind me.

Pino had made drastic changes to it since that moment all those months ago that I had tried it on in his clothing stall. Gone were the short, sheer sleeves. They were replaced instead with tight-fitting, wrist-length sleeves. The front still plunged, but now there was a thin piece of sheer fabric the exact color of my skin connecting the split material, tiny jewels that looked suspiciously close to diamonds dotting it.

Wrath watched me approach, his mind still a hollow space despite the obvious gleam in his eye that suggested he was plotting. Just as we all were.

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