Page 50 of Vines of the Underworld

The mechanical mount climbs up a rocky hill with a magnificent view over the city. It reminds me of a typical spot where teenagers go to make out. Seems like men and Fae are not that different after all.

He helps me hop off Cerberus’ back and leads me to a stone bench, his firm hand lingering on my waist.

I expect him to leap onto me with that ferocity I experienced in the sewers, yet he produces a water skin out of his pocket, takes a generous gulp, and hands it to me.

The scent of strong liquor hits my nose, and I can’t conceal the grin tugging on my lips.

“What is it made of?” The fiery taste of the booze makes me choke.

“Deep worms and mushrooms,” he shrugs, and I spit.

“Why am I actually here, Cyrell?” I finally ask the question hanging between us.

He takes the water skin and turns to me. I wince at the longing and anxiety in his glimmering eyes.

“The plan will not work, Celeste. The Sentinel and the vine forest were destroyed long ago. Even if you revive them, I don’t know if the magic will be enough to defeat all the Siphons that will swarm you.”

I frown and take another sip against my better judgment. The care in the elf’s voice gets to me.

“I trust you and the others; I believe in Dairell’s judgment,” I mumble, trying to digest the information, but haze shrouds my mind. The booze is more potent than I thought.

“Maybe you shouldn’t. Never trust a Fae, Celeste.” Cyrell looks at me, tucking a loose white strand behind his pointy ear. “There is no magic in this world strong enough to revive the vines, Celeste. It’s what Dairell keeps from you. Your theory is nothing but a theory and puts everything at stake.” His calloused fingers close around mine and squeeze with unexpected warmth. “Siphons will overwhelm you as soon as you perform the… ritual at the Sentinel tree. They will devour you, rip you apart.” Pain distorts his fine features. “He throws away our last hope, gambles with your life, and the council is playing along…”

“I want to do anything possible to get rid of that cursed magic within me. It’s the only way to get my old life back,” I whisper, feeling a chill stiffen my limbs.

“There is another way, Celeste,” he leans in closer, and I can see the dark outline of his lips, contrasting to his pale skin, so warm and tempting and close, “I am a respected leader. Many, tired of the Elders´ tyranny, will follow me anywhere. With your power, we can secure the Lower Lands and lead my people to an era of peace and safety!” His breathing is erratic, and I feel his palm sweating.

“I thought you didn’t believe in my powers, Cyrell,” I state coldly.

“But I do, Celeste! I just know that it’s not enough to save the whole of Faëheim! Yet we can scavenge what is left, save as many as possible!”

“You are offering me to betray the other Hunters, to participate in a coup against your Council, and remain here with you if it works?!” I ask in disbelief, yanking my hand from his fingers.

“I’m offering you a choice, Celeste. Something the others didn’t bother to do. I have claimed you, and the Lower Lands could be your home. However, I won’t stop you if you wish to return to your old life. All I’m asking for is a chance. Together, we can save my home. We can overthrow the corrupt Council and lead my people. I will show you the wonders of the golden tunnels and convince you to stay here, with me, as my queen. If you could just trust me—"

He speaks fast, delirious; his eyes are burning, his broad chest heaving. What have I done? Nobody knows I’m here with him. How could I be so stupid and trust him again?

“You are the one who told me never to trust a Fae, Cyrell.”

I rise to my feet and walk toward the mechanical dog. Its glowing red pupils scan me, and it cocks its massive metal head.

“Don’t walk away, Celeste! Don’t throw your life away!” I ignore Cyrell’s pleas, but the desperation in his tone stings. I climb Cerberus, wondering if he will let me walk away just like that.

“Remember, I was the only one who gave you a choice!”

“Take me back to the palace,” I whisper in the creature’s ear. It turns its massive bronze head to its master as if expecting a confirmation.

The dark elf nods, and the mechanical beast carries me away. I look back only once, and my heart sinks when I see his shrinking silhouette, alone on the barren hill, his shoulders hanging. Pain is written across his beautiful face, yet something disturbing gleams in his predatory eyes.

Celeste – The Anchor

C yrell is nowhere to be seen in the following days.

Dairell, Diaphonus, Tarcyll, and the Council hold multiple meetings, aligning strategy and battle plans for the counterattack. I lack the knowledge and the patience for all these things. Magical warfare is not something you learn at school.

I spend the time in my room, contemplating the movement of the artificial sun and moon in the vaults of the cavern, pondering Cyrell's words.

I have claimed you; the Lower Lands could be your home.

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