My nightmares began to blend together until they were reduced to pools of blood on marble floors, the cracking sound of bones splintering underfoot, and Amarantha’s last testament as I lay dying. Those words still echoed in my ears, haunting me even when my view of blood and bones were replaced by that of my reality.

“Admit you don’t really love him, and I’ll spare you. Admit what a cowardly, lying, inconstant bit of human garbage you are.”

“You think you’re worthy of him? A High Lord? You think you deserve anything at all, human?”

I hated to agree with that monster, but… I was not worthy. Not worthy of the screams that echoed my name, threatening to banish her ruby stain away. Not worthy of this new life I had been given when the two innocents I had murdered met the Mother’s embrace in my stead. Not worthy of those who have vowed to protect and love me.

Not worthy.

Not worthy.

Not worthy.

They say that sometimes you have to fake it until you make it, and I wondered just how long it would take for me to truly believe that I was not damned for Hel. That all of the pain and loss and death was worth it.

I am nobody.

I am no one.

I am not worthy.

I felt my power stir beneath my skin, but instead of coaxing it from its hiding spot and letting it comfort my aching soul, I pushed it down, down, down until it was firmly locked away. For once, I was too tired to care. All caring did was cause more pain. I just crawled back into bed where I slept, and slept, and slept.

Days bled into weeks, and soon I forgot how long it had been since my new existence began. As a fae, it didn’t seem to matter now anyways. The need I once had to acclimate to my new life was stifled by the sheer unchanging nature of this court. I made my home within the walls of my room and the library, only leaving the haven of the manor to stroll amongst the rose gardens. I hadn’t dared enter the wing of the home where my painting room lay dormant, awaiting a soul to wake it from its slumber.

Tamlin was away from the Manor more often than not. Part of me hated myself for feeling a little more at ease when he was gone. It was just one less person to lie to, to fake smiles with, to pretend that I was the same girl who had drank faerie wine and danced the night away during the Summer Solstice. I didn’t want to disappoint him, and I didn't want to tell him that there was no fixing a soul that was broken beyond repair. Fortunately, he hadn’t tried to kiss me again, save for a kiss on the hand or cheek here and there. It felt as if all of the time we had put into our relationship leading up to now had been swept away in the wind.

There was no lack of effort on Tamlin’s part to return to simpler times, to our life before we went Under the Mountain. When he was home we would sit at meals together, walk through the grounds, and make small talk. I could see how much he craved a sense of normalcy, and I tried my best to fall back into our old routines.For his sake, I could at least try. He tried to hide his stress from me when we were together, but every time I tried to get him to open up about what was bothering him he just shut me out.

In the days that Tamlin was around and in the mood for company, Ianthe rarely left his side. They would have lengthy conversations over meals, and I could hear them bickering over tea and pastries long after I would excuse myself from their presence. Sometimes I wondered if one of my new budding powers was invisibility because I was rarely acknowledged, if I was noticed at all. Just as well, I suppose, because there was something unsettling about Ianthe. Without Lucien, it was just the three of us and part of me was grateful to fade away into the background. It made it easier not to care- not to bother with court posturing that I felt completely out of my depth with. The conversation I overheard a fortnight ago became a distant memory, and no one seemed to suspect that I had been lurking in the shadows.

Ianthe spent her days doting around the manor, acting more as a Lady of the house than I did. I was greatful that she took those menial tasks away from me, I wanted nothing to do with picking what teas would be served at meals and seating arrangements for parties. Apparently, she was planning a gathering next month for the people of the land and deemed my input invaluable. I truly didn’t care for any of it, but there was no point in denying her.

My aloof relationship with Ianthe made me appreciate the time I had spent with Mor even more. I was slowly realizing that Mor was the closest thing I had to a true friendship with another female. I was always surrounding myself with the boys of the village- at first because they were happy to run out in the mud with me across our estate and later because they knew the tips and tricks to surviving in the woods even in the harshest winters.

Mor’s friendship was one of the few things keeping me sane. When I was sure that no one was paying attention, I would pull out my notebook and talk with her. No matter the time of day, she was always quick to respond. There were some days where she was the only other being I would speak with. We would talk to each other about our days, tell each other stories from our childhoods, and it was nice to know she would always be there. She never once passed judgment- never once shied away from the hard conversations. In some ways she was becoming more of a sister to me than my own were.

Thinking of my sisters always cleared the way for a pang of loss and grief to strike my chest. There were some days I wished that Elain were here. She would love the party planning, talks of the latest fashion, and spending hours on end in the extensive gardens. I even missed Nesta, and in her own way I think that she would fit in more with the fae than even I did. She was born to be a general, commanding anyone and everyone in her wake with an iron fist. I tried not to think of them that often, as it only ushered in memories of a life that I no longer was welcome in. I quickly buried thoughts of them away into that part of my human heart that had withered away.

My headaches seemed to come in waves. Some days I felt fine, the connection to my magic almost feeling normal. When I had access to it, my whole body hummed with a contentment that made me feel whole. Other days I was so sick that I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. I had brought it up to Ianthe once during an afternoon tea in the rose garden. She had just told me that when a fae comes into their power it wanes and flows until it settles. That what I was experiencing was normal . That maybe I might not even have significant magic once its volatile nature settles. There was no point to have it during the time of great peace our lands are now seeing, she had said. I didn’t bother to remind her that nothing about me was normal. In reality, no one really knew what was wrong with me as I was the first and only of my kind. My existence only raised questions with no answers.

No one seemed to notice me these days, especially with Lucien gone. He was off on emissary missions to the neighboring courts, and his missing presence weighed on my heart. He was the only one who I could talk to here, who knew my secrets. The only one I trusted in this court to confide in. Most would use that knowledge against me, but not him. Never him.

The loneliness was made worse by the fact I was never really alone. There were always at least two guards stationed near me- outside my bedroom, below my balcony, outside the study. No matter where I roamed, there were sentries. I could tell they were trying to be discreet and keep a respectful distance away, but that didn’t stop the hairs on the back of my neck from constantly standing on edge. None of the fae around the manor bothered to speak with me, aside from Alis, but they did gawk. Gawk at their savior- cursebreaker- they called me. I know they tried not to stare, and I couldn’t really blame them for it. It didn’t make it any less comfortable, though.

Some were wary of my presence, like I was a lion prowling amongst gazelles. Others looked at me like I was holy. Those were the ones I hated the most. I was never treated like this when I was a human, when I was so fragile and weak compared to the immortal beings surrounding me. Now that I was one of them, they treated me more like a porcelain doll than ever before.

I hated the title almost as much as the staring. I didn’t dare leave the grounds and visit my glen again. There were too many eyes on me these days. No real chance to slip away. I would have to explain where I was going to the guards stationed around my room, and they would be obligated to tell Tamlin. Despite his consistent absence from the manor, the temporary reprieve wasn’t worth the ire and inconvenience it would cause him.

I floated through the estate like a ghost, stuck to relive my human life on repeat for eternity. I began rising later and later in the day, and some days I stayed in bed well past the time Alis would bring lunch to my rooms. I rarely ever ate what she brought me, and some deep rooted part of me screamed at how spoiled I had become. Long gone were the days when I would have dreamt of having a plate of hot food to fill my aching belly. My mind often drifted south, below the wall, to the life that felt so distant now that it felt like it belonged to someone else. It was only a year ago that we had been so desperate after an unusually slow summer that we went almost a week sustained on nothing but broth and some half-edible vegetables. Elain had recieved them as payment for helping a more affluent townsperson with their garden. These days, I seemed to eat less than I had then. The food in this court was too rich, too harsh. It felt like a waste to consume it, only to inevitably end my nights kneeled in front of my toilet heaving my stomach contents out of my system.

When I was up for a change of scenery from my bedroom, I would hole myself up in the study. I would spend hours sitting at a small desk in the back of the library underneath the tapestry of the creation of Prythian. I gave up on my search for finding books on those strange symbols and focused instead on learning as much as I could about the world I now lived in.

Most days I would rarely ever see or speak to anyone. My reading and writing had been accelerating at an incredible rate, and by the second week back I was consuming any tome I could get my hands on. The only marker for the passage of time became the increasing stack of books I had read in their entirety. I finished the Unabridged History of Prythian within a week, and began learning about the customs of the different courts. It was fascinating how each court developed right next to each other, but they could not be more different. There were similarities across all courts, of course, but each court was so unique in their clothing, histories, and customs.

I would read a page from a book and then copy a paragraph onto a piece of parchment. Soon, the feel of a pen was as natural to me as a paintbrush once had. My brain consumed all of the information around me like a sponge. I didn’t realize just how little I knew about our world, and how ill equipped I was to navigate it. I could not believe that just a few months ago I almost died from not knowing the skill that felt like second nature now. I hadn’t lied when I had told Rhys that I never wanted to feel weak again. I realize now that if I had eternity to live, I needed to know these skills.

Once the sun set, the library would grow dark and eerie. Despite the large windows to my back, the walls would always seem to close in, and all of the darkness lingering in my thoughts would begin to swarm. It kept pushing on my subconscious until the once expansive room felt as cramped as the Middengard Wyrm’s lair. I would be forced to seek shelter from the storm of emotions and memories that threatened to be released from their cage. More often than not, I would find myself staring up at the stars until I would fall asleep on my balcony, with only a candle and a book to keep me company. During the day, I would read more practical books, ones that taught me about the world. In the evenings, I tried to read something light if only to keep the darkness from my nightmares at bay. The nights were warm- balmy despite the crisp autumn chill that must have begun to settle into the Mortal Lands. Even the weather here was content with leisure and had long forgotten what change was like.

When I wasn’t reading or practicing my writing, I would work on building up my mental shields. Soon it became a striking adamant wall, glistening, thick and impenetrable. I would hold it in place until the feeling became as inherent as breathing. Despite all my hard work, it was impossible to tell how well they actually held up under pressure without another daemati to help me train. On the days where I could feel my magic, I would train it until I was spent and tired. I would only have enough energy left to drink some tea before going to sleep. Many times after my clandestine training sessions, I would wake up and my magic would lay dormant again.

I tried to not let my spiraling thoughts overtake my life, but I was haunted by the abyss my power left in its wake when they would disappear. It was just another hole in my chest that I had lost my desire to fill. But, my magic felt… empty. Almost as if it had been missing. Although I could still practice my mental shielding no matter my ability to access my magic, my capacity to feel the world around me had been dulled- censored. Every few nights, in between the nightmares and trips to the toilet, I would feel the rush of my powers, and it would overtake me once more. They still felt distant, somehow, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on? What was wrong with me? I was too tired to delve further, though.

Too tired to care.

I hadn’t heard a word from Rhys, not a single tap on my mental shields. We never shared our dreams with each other again, either. Honestly, I barely felt him on the other side of the bond most days- if at all. He was busy, and his court must have been in as much shambles as this one. He didn’t have the time to check in down the bond, despite the ache in my chest that would sometimes surface at the thought of it. At the idea that he didn’t think of me as often as he seemed to pop into my head. At random times during the day, I would think of him, what he was doing, if he was alive.

Stupid mating bond- I didn’t know if it was me who cared about such things, or the instincts involved with having a mate outside of my grasp. I had no idea how any of it worked. I pushed the thoughts of Rhys out of my head as fast as they had popped in. I am sure he is getting a lot more work done now that he doesn’t have to go back and forth between the moonstone palace and wherever he spent his days.

Despite it all, I didn’t care about most things anymore. With books being my only source of consistent company, there was no one, including myself, who cared enough to notice that I had delved further and further into myself. No one bothered to see the raging empty pit inside me that was growing by the day, threatening to devour me whole with every passing breath.

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