Tucked away in one of the many dark and unused guest rooms of the manor, I crouched in the shadow behind the door and frowned. Flicking open the pocket watch I had brought along for the third time, I stole a glance at it before peering through the small crack I'd left open. It was around a quarter past eleven, seventeen past to be exact. Yet the guards have not swapped their posts.
There had been nothing interesting happening in the dim hallway so far, and I hadn't learnt anything particularly useful other than the duration it takes for their shift. There were nights where I had observed and counted—counted each second as they swapped posts before the hallway was filled with prying eyes once again. Ten minutes. I had ten minutes to complete the mission and leave.
I'd used the same trick I employed on Oberon earlier on to gain another piece of information: I'd merely asked the servants in the kitchen why Phoebus had been leaving for bed earlier nowadays. And when they answered, it was without hesitation. Faeries can't lie. But they can spin truths. I was blessed to be able to dig subtly for things I needed answers for and who knew it would've worked so easily? A little pressing and I learnt Phoebus's late schedule and had even bought myself an opportunity to use the faevenom.
They hadn't dared to oppose me as I was their lord's friend and perhaps that was something which fed my exhaustion—my emptiness.
I adjusted the position of my legs and rolled my neck. The sun had long since set, and the temperature dropped with each passing minute.
Unless I could find some way to distract the guards for a moment, I didn't know how long more I would have to wait for that right moment. Though there weren't many, it would still be troublesome if I was to be caught by one. They were faeries after all and I was just...human. And given the likelihood that Phoebus may be a light sleeper due to his poisoning, waking him isn't an option. Better to just pick a moment, a quick decision, rather than waiting here until my chance passed.
It had been so long since I'd done something like this—since I'd waited and hidden in nooks and crannies and learned what I could about my prey. It was different than when I was being chased by creatures that should've only existed in legends and fables. Here, now, in a shadowed corner of this estate, it felt like...
It felt like I'd never left home. As if I might look down and see the powdered snow carpeting the forest floor, and not the coldness of the smooth marble tiles seeping past my clothes.
A hot exhale rose into the air as I watched, tucking my hands under my arms to keep them warm and agile.
It had been over half a year since the night I'd last seen my family and Aslan, over half a year since I'd last interacted with my kind. And somewhere, in this prosperous land ruled by faeries, were the answers for why I was truly brought here. I wasn't stupid to the point where I'd believed their half-truths about just crossing the border. There was another reason to why they needed me but it was too late for answers now. If I dared look, I knew I would find them. The vision the Dreamweavers had shared had been my first lead. But maybe I was too afraid, too hesitant to dare fall deeper into the faeries' ways and traditions as it would tarnish my roots. So I hadn't done anything. And I knew this would come to haunt me one day.
Weapons clanked and clothes rustled as the guards shifted before striding down the hall. I barely caught a glimpse of their retreating backs before they were whisked out of my sight.
Finally, the coast was clear.
Groaning, I straightened from my crouch and hurried out of the room. A few light footsteps before slipping through the door across the hall would bring me directly to Phoebus.
I sprinted across the hall, eyes darting left and right for incoming guards. While I might be in a hurry to complete the task set by the Elders and leave before I could doubt, and while I struggled to empty my body and mind from emotions or uncertainty, part of me wondered why I was doing this and if it wouldn't just destroy him, but me too.
And not just destroy me—but also everything I'd grown to care about.
.____________________.
Moonlight that filtered through enormous glass panelled windows illuminated the shapes of monochrome with hues of blue. The room was spacious enough that I hadn't bumped into anything as I stepped deeper into the room, my footsteps like whispers against the floor.
Numbness seeped and spread like a wildfire along my limbs, my blood and I waited for that boil, that searing burn that would engulf me as I saw the sleeping figure of Phoebus on the bed. But there was none and instead, there was a cold that ate me alive, tore inside me, slamming against my chest as it tried to break free.
I didn't need to feel to know that there was nothing but a mask of calm plastered on my face as I walked smoothly to the side of Phoebus's bed, hands restraining the shivering and shivering—
Like water, I thought. There was no resistance for each step I took—cold and empty and smooth like water. I was hollow. Nothing but a hollow shell—perhaps with water sloshing inside.
And when I glanced down at those soft angles of his face—relaxed, innocent—he looked almost human. But then my eyes brought me to those pointed ears and that unnatural beauty, and rage roared like an uncontrollable beast broken free.
It took me to a place where I only knew two things: that I was a weapon sent to murder the creature laying in front of me, and that I had come so far to lose everything in this moment.
The dagger was no more than a heavy weight in my hand as I drew it from my belt and lifted it harshly, poised over each rise and fall of Phoebus's chest, poised over that beating heart that laid under cotton and skin.
My knees quaked, my lips trembled, but I pressed my nails into my skin until blood coated my hands and knew—knew that it would soon have another staining them.
But I couldn't give in to weakness. All my life weaknesses were banned, unallowed in everything I do because when you were weak, misfortune would follow. Weaknesses were nothing more than monsters than hunted the poor, temptations you could never give into. These are the laws that bound the poor and homeless and I'd learned them ever since mother had died. Because in this cruel world, only the weak are hunted by the strong.
My heart thrummed with anticipation. Was it anticipation? I didn't know. Maybe it was something else.
My people. That was what I have chosen. The common thing I shared with Oberon. I've made a silent prayer back then to wake up from all of this if it was a nightmare, but nothing happened.
I didn't want to do this. I really didn't but we don't have time.
A storm of blades pierced my heart.
Vision blurry, head throbbing and chest on the verge of bursting, I stole one last glance at Phoebus, memorised every shadow and highlight of his face as I let memories flit by like a passing dream. But I couldn't hold it anymore, couldn't stop myself as my hand with the dagger rose a little higher.
Gleaming like a star in the darkness, the blade swung down.
.____________________.
I wasn't dead.
I knew I wasn't because she had stabbed herself and I could only watch through my detached consciousness as crimson gushed from her side. Blood. So much blood.
And even though I knew I shouldn't have reacted so strongly to the sight of gore and blood, there was just something about Eleena that made it different. Made it sting and ache and burn. The feeling was unusual and foreign but it was the sort of pain worse than any physical wound you gain on the battlefield.
It hurts.
Kallistê and Oberon were right. She was the spy. She was the assassin sent to kill me. I hadn't listened.
But I would never regret meeting her.
Warmth had accompanied me ever since I was a child as I was born with the power of light. Yet, as I drifted between time and space, unable to do anything as I witnessed her hold in a scream, features contorting in agony as she pulled out the dagger did I fully understand what darkness was. It wasn't just shadows and death, but rather icy shackles that held you down as you watched those you've given your care to suffer.
And there was nothing you could do about it.
Eleena struggled to her feet and hobbled towards the door, blood trailing behind her like some endless veil. I wanted to reach out, to comfort and heal her but I was restrained, stuck like some unmovable thing.
It was only when there was a click and a thud did I return to my physical body, heavy and tired. Light projection had become as easy as breathing after centuries of practice but it was almost as if some invisible force weighed down on me tonight, tampering and dampening my powers. Perhaps it was the faevenom she'd been feeding us, the one I'd willingly taken, but it felt like something more.
She'd stabbed herself.
Not me.
Why would she do that?
The lingering pain in my chest still burned but was cooled a little, as if Eleena had been the fuel adding to the flame against my chest.
She disregarded herself too much, that I knew. She thinks she is unworthy of her name and her family but she doesn't know how much they depended on her. Maybe if she knew would the inferno in my belly tame down a little. Maybe if she knew she would learn to stay away from me and go home. But she didn't and it was too late now.
She would never face me with the same openness again.
The stench of iron was overpowering as I rose to sit on the edge of the bed. The moon was blessed with fullness tonight, shining a portal to a life free of sins I could never reach.
My eyes flicked down to the blood-coated dagger she'd left behind, the one she'd used to stab herself. The red contrasted sharply against the silver of the blade and I stared, wishing it would evaporate, disappear. Hoping that whatever had just happened was merely just a dream.
So I continued staring as the dagger vibrated and rose from the ground. Continued staring as it shivered once more before exploding into dust and drifting out the window.