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January 30 - February 1, 2024
Lidia let her mask drop. Let Ruhn see her true face. The one that had kissed his soul and shared her own with him, their very beings melding. Ruhn, she pleaded into his mind. Ruhn. But the Fae Prince did not answer. The hate in his eyes did not lessen. So Lidia donned her Hind’s mask once again.
UGH
“Explain or you die.”
GAHHH
Wherever Sigrid went, the sprites went with her.
Aww
“You try to touch that tattoo and you’ll find out why the Asteri want me dead so badly.”
Hehehehe
But inside him, beyond that sea of pain and despair, Bryce was the entirety of his world. His mate. His wife. His princess.
There was Bryce, and nothing else.
the ties that now bound him to others—not only Bryce, but to the two males in this dungeon with him—had become unbearable. Their pain was his pain. Perhaps worse than what he endured before.
Ruhn, please.
Stop being an ass
the dreamers locked down here?
???
The Sprite Queen
The creatures settled, as if her emotions were theirs.
They lay before her like obedient dogs.
How???
Ruhn had called her a queen before she left. And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.
“What you were born to do—to accomplish the task for which your father brought you into existence,”
Who the fuck is his father??
“The black crown once again circling your brow is not a new torment from the Asteri. It has existed for millennia.”
????
Showing a masked queen, a crown upon her head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd.
Oh shit!!
Even in Avallen, there am I.
“Like calls to like,” Nesta mused. “Plenty of magical things react to one another.”
An archway had been etched, stars glimmering around it. And in that archway stood a male figure, the image created with impressive depth. His hand was upraised in greeting.
Oh shit a gate?! And an Asteri?
“Cassian’s waiting for you, Nesta,” Azriel said—tone gentling. “Take off the Mask.” Nesta stayed silent, Ataraxia ready in her hand. One swipe, and Azriel would be dead. “He’s waiting for you at the House of Wind,” Azriel went on. “At home.” Another blink from Nesta. The silver fire banked a little. Like whoever Cassian was, and whatever the House of Wind was … they might be the only things capable of fighting the siren song of the Mask. “Gwyn and Emerie are waiting,” Azriel pushed. “And Feyre and Elain.” The silver flame flared at that. Then Azriel said, “Nyx is waiting, too.” The silver
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“You’re dead to me,” Ruhn hissed, and vanished.
Stop being an ass, Ruhn!!
“Trying to figure out what it does has been driving us all crazy.”
Lmfaooooo
“We call it the Prison.”
OH SHIT!!!! The screaming people locked behind the walls of the prison!!!
“We’re a pack,” Ithan said to Tharion, Flynn, and Dec. “It’s what we do for each other.” None of them contradicted it. His heart strained.
Awww
“These are Midgard’s constellations.” Bryce pointed to a cluster. “That’s the Great Ladle. And that … that’s Orion. The hunter.” Hunt. Her Hunt.
“Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make this floor. Someone who’d been to my world and then came back here.”
“Was there ever,” Bryce ventured, a sudden hunch taking form in her mind, “a Made object called the Horn?”
“She looks like Rhysand’s sister.”
WHAT!!!
My mother served at that monster’s side for a century, a slave to her every sick whim. Bryce knew who it was before Silene spoke again. Knew whose truth she’d been led here, across the stars, to learn at last. Theia.
SNNDJFJDJAMANDJ!!!!
The Dread Trove, we called it in secret. The Mask, the Harp, the Crown, and the Horn.
Dusk, twilight—that’s what the island was in its long-buried heart, what her power bloomed into, the lands rising with it. It was, as she said, as if the island had a soul that now blossomed under her care, nurtured by the court she built here.
Dusk Court!!!
And then she took the Trove for herself. Theia sat, enthroned, the Harp and Horn beside her, the Mask in her lap, and the Crown atop her head.
Fuckkkk
With a few words from the Daglan, my mother’s doubts melted away, and our exodus into Midgard began.
Midgard was a land of plenty. Of green and light and beauty. Much like our own lands—with one enormous exception. The memory spanned to a view from a cliff of a distant plain full of creatures. Some winged, some not. We were not the only beings to come to this world hoping to claim it. We would learn too late that the other peoples had been lured by the Daglan under similarly friendly guises. And that they, too, had come armed and ready to fight for these lands. But before conflict could erupt between us all, we found that Midgard was already occupied.
They were Fae like us, but not. The ears, the grace, the strength were identical, but they were shape-shifters, all of them. Each capable of turning into an animal. And each, even in their humanoid body, equipped with elongated canine teeth.
Throne of Glass fae!!!
they answered directly to Rigelus. It seemed, in fact, like they’d known Rigelus a long while.
Valg???
“It’s still going on today,” Bryce said hoarsely. “Humans tossed in dumpsters after the Vanir have tormented and killed them. It goes on every single day in Midgard, and it started with that fucker.” She pointed a shaking finger at the memory. “With him, and Theia, and all those monsters.”
we bore the shadows as well as starlight.
Like Rhys and Ruhn!!!
The Asteri created a coming-of-age ritual for all magical creatures who had entered Midgard, and their descendants. A blast of magic would be released and then contained—and then fed to the Asteri. It was a greater, more concentrated dose than the seeds of power they’d sucked off us for years in the Tithe. They spun it into a near-religious experience, explained it away as a method to harness energy for fuel, and had been feeding off it ever since. “The Drop,” Bryce whispered, dismay rocking through her. She knew Nesta and Azriel were staring at her, but she couldn’t look away from the memory.
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FUCKKKKK
The Fae masses sprinted for them, bearing small children in their arms, bundled against the cold.
The ones stuck in the caves 😭😭😭
Not as screaming echoed through the walls. Through the stone. Silene’s people had reached the pass, and now banged on the rock, begging to be let through. Silene covered her ears, sinking again to the floor. She clutched the Harp to her chest. Mother above, open up! a male roared. We have children here! Take the children!
One after another, I hunted monsters—the remaining pets of the Daglan—until many of the lowest rooms were filled with them. Until my once-beautiful home became a prison. Until even the land was so disgusted by the evil I’d gathered here that the islands shriveled and the earth became barren. The winged horses who hadn’t gone with my mother to Midgard, who had once flown in the skies, playing in the surf … they were nearly gone. Not a single living soul remained, except for the monstrosities in the mountain.
He wanted me to be High Lady, as the other lords’ mates were, but I refused. I had seen what power had done to my mother, and I wanted none of it.
Omg
child of my child, heir of my heir. To you—I leave my story, your story. To you, in this very stone, I leave the inheritance and the burden that my own mother passed to me.
Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it … it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth—
The female in the sarcophagus was an Asteri.
World-walkers.”
VALG
“There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”
“Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer … She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.”
Her body began to hum. Like having one blade in each hand—the Starsword and Truth-Teller—electrified her.
