Page 9 of Crowned By the Shadow
The desk was uncharacteristically disorganized, covered with open books, diagrams, and hastily scrawled notes, so unlike Fenvalur’s usual methodical precision. Underneath them were sketches of me at different stages of my life.
“He’s been researching me, watching me,” I whispered, fingers hovering over the papers. My stomach turned as I scanned the notes. One phrase jumped out at me: “bloodline connection.”
Thorn picked up a journal bound in midnight-blue leather. “Not just you.”
He turned the book toward me. Inside were detailed observations of experiments conducted using the Starforged Mirror. The entries described how Fenvalur had been using the artifact to peer into his own past, searching for something he called “the divergence point.”
“Listen to this,” Thorn said, his voice tight. “‘Subject Seven’s connection to the temporal streams proves stronger than anticipated. When Subject Five was placed before the Mirror while I channel through the moonstone focus, we achieved unprecedented clarity in the ancestral visions. The Mirror responds in ways I’d never imagined.’”
My blood ran cold. “Subject Seven. That’s me. But who is Subject Five?”
I rifled through more papers, finding a detailed log of mirror sessions. Fenvalur had been systematically exploring not just his own past but mine as well, or trying to. According to his frustrated notes, something was blocking his attempts to see beyond a certain point in my past.
“There’s more,” I said, picking up another sheet. I traced my finger along the cramped writing. “It says Subject Five’s memories showed unexpected ‘resonance patterns’ with... with mine.”
Thorn looked up sharply. “Another prisoner?”
I nodded slowly, a chill spreading through me. “Someone connected to me. Someone whose past intersects with mine in ways even Fenvalur doesn’t understand.”
Fear filled me at the idea of someone else being experimented on just because they were connected to me somehow. I turned and marched toward the tapestry that hid the entrance to his private study and pulled it aside. It was locked, but the simple enchantment binding it yielded easily to my touch, as if it recognized me, which was concerning.
“That’s...strange,” I whispered, drawing my hand back as the door swung open.
“What is it?” Thorn asked, moving closer.
“The ward. It didn’t resist me.” A chill ran down my spine. “It’s almost like it was designed to let me in.”
We exchanged wary glances before stepping through the doorway into a circular chamber that took my breath away. This wasn’t just a private study—it was a sanctum. The walls curved upward to form a perfect dome, every inch covered in intricate runes that pulsed with soft blue light. At the center stood Fenvalur, his back to us, hands raised as he manipulated shimmering projections that filled the air around him.
Images of a baby, what I somehow knew was me as an infant, floated in the space between us. My tiny face, scrunched and red with crying. My newborn body, the Moon Mark already visible as a faint outline across my back. My first steps, my first words.
But how?
My attention shifted to the floor near Fenvalur’s feet, where a figure knelt in chains. A male fae wearing a silver mask that covered his entire face, the same mask I’d glimpsed in my visions. The chains binding him to the floor glowed with suppression magic, dampening whatever power he possessed.
We must have made some sound, because Fenvalur turned suddenly, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.
“Impossible,” he breathed, gaze darting between me and the magical projections still hovering in the air. “How did you?—”
Before he could finish, the masked fae’s head snapped up. Though I couldn’t see his face, I felt the weight of his stare through the narrow eye slits of his mask. For a long moment, he was perfectly still, studying me.
Then he began to laugh.
It started as a low chuckle, building steadily into wild, uncontrolled laughter that echoed off the domed ceiling. The sound sent ice through my veins, not because it was menacing, but because underneath the madness, there was a note of genuine delight.
“She’s here,” the masked fae gasped between fits of laughter. “She’s finally here!”
Chapter
Four
Senara
Fenvalur whirled around, his face contorting with anger as he glared at the laughing prisoner.
“Silence!” he commanded, flicking his wrist. The chains around the masked fae tightened, glowing brighter with suppression magic. The laughter cut off abruptly as the prisoner gasped for breath.
I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. The Starforged Mirror sat on a pedestal behind Fenvalur. The ornate artifact with a surface that rippled like liquid silver looked exactly as I remembered it from when I claimed it, which was something at least. Images of my childhood still flickered in the surrounding air, moments I had no memory of, moments that shouldn’t exist.
