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EVYN’S MIND CONTINUED to reel as they ushered her out of the boat and onto the dock outside of Oreleo’s home. They’d left the duke behind at the palace, despite him being an ally, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because they wanted to keep Evyn’s powers a secret.
Her jaw wobbled slightly as she followed Arnes and Ylid through the front garden, her nose stinging with the promise of oncoming tears as they entered through the giant front doors.
You are not Aenil’s.
She’d had a feeling, because her powers didn’t strictly work with the earth, but she’d never questioned it deeply enough to worry. What had those many eyes seen that she had been unable to her whole life? How many other secrets were buried so deep inside of her that she needed someone else to excavate them?
Faintly, she noticed Ylid take her arm and with a small smile, led her to a library off to the side of the entrance hall. A roaring fire crackled and blazed in a hearth that resembled the maw of a drakor. The warmth bled in through her skin like ink falling on parchment, and she felt herself melt into the plush armchair Ylid guided her into.
It took mere moments for the day’s exhaustion to push her eyelids closed, but it felt as if no time had passed when a gentle hand settled on her hair.
“Evyn, time to wake,” he whispered.
It had been so long since she’d awoken to the sound of his voice, though the last time had been far less sweet. That day felt like a lifetime ago, when he’d found her on the stairs of her porch, exhausted from grief. She cracked one eye open to see him crouched before her. After falling asleep, she’d apparently laid her head against the armrest, curled over it like a cat. She closed the eye she’d opened.
“Can’t be.”
“It can,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, but it seemed to fade as he said, “They’re here. The Seraphim.”
Evyn inhaled sharply and jolted upright. She’d forgotten all about their meeting, too exhausted to do anything but collapse into sleep.
“It’s okay. They’re in the other room. Take a moment,” he said, reaching out his hands like he would to calm a wild steed.
She took a quiet, deep breath, before looking at Enloris, whose face crumpled into a pitying smile. Her throat tightened and her stomach clenched a little.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said softly, looking down at her lap. She still wore the sheer gown from earlier, she realized, and felt exposed both within and without. “You’ll make me cry.”
There was a pause, and then, still crouched before her, he braced his hands gently on the arms of the chair, encircling her as he tried to catch her gaze. She had trouble holding it, but she tried.
“I heard about what happened... at the palace with your father.”
She wanted to lean forward, tuck her head on his shoulder and weep, but instead she sighed again. “Yes. He was there.”
“Was your mother?”
She stiffened, but shook her head, secretly relieved. Her father she could barely handle, but her mother...
“I’m sorry you had to see him,” he said softly. “If you want to talk about it with me later, my door is open to you—always.”
A corner of her mouth lifted a little in what she hoped looked like a smile, though she didn’t feel it. “I may take you up on that, but first—first, I must face myself.”
Enloris leaned back a little then stood, holding his hands in offer to help her up. She took them and he brought her to her feet as though she were weightless. The quick movement had her nearly falling against him, but he caught her just before. She stood there with a breath between them, her wrists lifted in the grip of his warm hands, bracing her upright.
Their eyes met and a jolt ran through her from head to toe, her pulse pounding. His gaze drifted over her, following the path of the jolt as if he’d seen it, traveling from the crown of her hair to the sandals on her feet, and then slowly back up. It felt like he touched each place his sight settled on. Evyn swallowed, and then he let go.
Disappointment glared in her heart for a small moment, but then he ran his fingers through the left side of her hair. She nearly melted.
“It was sticking out a little from where you slept,” he explained, before clearing his throat. “I’ll take you to Celestine now.”
She nodded almost out of habit, dazed, before everything came flooding back to her. Celestine. The Seraphim. Her soul. Enloris held out his arm to her and she grasped it tightly.
He led her out of the warm library and across the hall into another room. Evyn barely noticed their surroundings as her gaze locked on the silvery Seraphim taking up most of it, wings spread but lazily so. She glanced around after the shock wore off, nervously cataloging where they were. A ballroom?
The ceilings were taller here, and the checkered marble beneath her shone even beneath the dim lights of a few candles. Floor to ceiling windows ran the wall behind the Seraphim, but the curtains were shut.
“Where are the others?” Evyn asked without thinking.
The Seraphim smiled, their layers of sharp teeth on display. “I’ve asked to have the room to ourselves. This information is for you alone.”
She looked up at Enloris, who in turn put his hand on hers, where she’d clenched into his sleeve. “I’ll be just outside. I’m sure the others will be too. If I so much as sense you might be in danger, I’ll rudely interrupt.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, because despite her nerves, she knew the Seraphim would never hurt her. “I know I’m safe with them.”
He nodded, removing the hand she had clasped to his arm, and left, closing the doors behind him.
As soon as they were alone, the Seraphim stepped closer to Evynria, peering at her with their glowing gold eyes. They nodded their head as though they were confirming something.
“Your soul is one of ours, originally, before even the layer that belonged to the Fair Folk,” Celestine stated.
Evyn sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. How did they know she’d once been of the Fair Folk, let alone the origin beforehand?
“My soul is a Seraphim?”
“A Celestial. A child of Uzohr.”
Her mind reeled. Uzohr was the primordial divinity that ruled the deep skies. She’d never heard of a witch chosen by them. Her mind flashed to the divinity that spoke with her in the woods—that wasn’t how Uzohr was described... Could it be possible a different divinity guided her that day?
“Your magic is, as well,” Celestine continued. “We Seraphim are but one race of many kinds of Celestials. Not all of our kind have names, but we all have a kinship with the stars. Something this lifetime stirred your soul and brought forth the most ancient part of you. Do you know what it was?”
Evyn shook her head immediately, brows furrowed. Too many thoughts reared their head as a possible catalyst, but the thoughts tripped and snarled their thorns against each other, unable to be spoken aloud.
“I... fought against a creature of darkness,” she finally suggested. “That was when I noticed my powers change, at least that I know of.”
Celestine tilted their head to the side, turquoise hair gliding forward over their silver shoulders. It was unnerving being observed by a Seraphim’s many eyes, almost as though she were being watched by many people instead of one, but inside she felt calm. When she’d first approached at the palace, Evyn had felt slightly drawn to her, like a ghost had been pushing her forward one step at a time.
Finally, they shook their head. “There was something else... that event caused your powers to escalate and release more fully, but something else caused your soul to awaken before that.”
She let out a shaky breath, her heart becoming a weight within her chest. The snarl of thoughts detangled and a single poisonous bloom stretched out to be seen. “My brother.”
“Yes, you healed him,” Celestine filled in. Evyn’s heart tripped, having never been around someone so Clear Sighted. “Healed not a bleeding wound, but his mind and heart.”
Evynria’s eyes widened. “How did you...”
“When we first heal the wounds that lay within the mind and heart and soul of another, that is a monumental day in any Seraphim’s life. But for you, the choice to heal someone who had harmed you was what called your true self forward. A call to your soul so strong that it had to awaken—you see, it had finally had enough.”
“Enough?”
“It is gracious and merciful to heal another’s soul, but you were in no place to be giving that grace and healing to anyone other than yourself. Your soul had to step in to save you from further damage. Your powers as they were would have fallen apart otherwise.”
Her throat tightened and she felt tears fall down her cheeks. It took her a moment before she wiped them away. She hadn’t been gracious, she’d been selfish, and she wanted to say so, but the words died in her throat.
And perhaps she hadn’t been healthy enough to be performing such magic, but she’d chosen to, to survive. Her thoughts spiked—she had been a villain all along, healing someone before she was ready to, and poisoning him in the process, failing them both.
She felt a light touch on her forehead. Celestine now stood even closer, her finger lightly pressed to the crown of Evyn’s head.
The air in her body became bright sunlight, and the blood in her veins turned to warm, dripping honey. The sunlight burst, filling her with the cold sparkling of starlight and gemstones, every bit of her tingling and alive. Her honey blood rushed like rivers after a storm. She gasped from the overwhelm.
“What else are you hiding? Something else caused this,” the Seraphim said from somewhere beyond her mind’s comprehension.
Evynria could not see her, could not focus on anything tangible, but she felt Celestine’s presence like the Seraphim was both within her and all around her. A veil of mist lifted in her mind and memories sparked like lit matches.
Evyn’s blood pooling before her as she lay on the floor.
Ayden lording over her body, her blood on his hands.
Red vision as her eyes swelled shut. She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t breathe.
She remembered now—she’d almost died that day. The scar on her belly, the one her mind resisted thinking about, that had been what started it all. He’d gone too far and she’d barely made it back that time. It had taken her a full week just to heal the wound, and another week to recover from her healing.
How had she forgotten?
The panic, even now, sent her heartbeat soaring, as if he was right there, as if she was still dying on her bedroom floor.
The doors crashed open and she felt warm arms around her.
“What’s happened to her?” she heard them shout as tears rushed down her face.
Evyn was only vaguely aware that her breath was too fast, too shallow. It hurt to breathe. It hurt not to. Gasping like there wasn’t enough air in the world to keep the fear at bay. Her stomach turned like she might be sick.
“She’s remembering.”
At the words, her vision began to focus on the room around her, grounding her in the present again. Her breathing slowed.
The world looked brighter, as though the sun had flooded the room with light, reflecting on the tile floor, and shining against the long curtains, stretching with ease to the tall ceiling. Her mind slowly awakened to the feeling of legs beneath her, having been pulled onto his lap, cradled gently but surely in his arms.
He curled her in closer towards him and she met his robin’s egg irises and furrowed brows. The light shone on him the brightest, and when she looked closer at his eyes, she saw herself reflected in them—
She was the light. The sun. Glowing like a star on earth. Her body lit from within, shining out against the world.
“There,” Celestine said. “That should do it. Welcome back, fellow child of the stars.”
Enloris helped Evyn to stand, but still held her to him like she would fall again at any moment. The assessment felt valid, as her whole body quaked like a newborn fawn.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said habitually, though in truth she didn’t know how she felt. She was still dazed, distracted by the light that poured from her. “I’m fine.”
“Close your eyes and visualize the light of your aura being contained just beneath your skin,” Celestine said, unprompted, but clearly sensing Evyn’s unease.
She nodded and closed her eyes, imagining the light dimming like the turning of a key on an oil lamp. When she opened her eyes, she had returned to normal, though a slight glow burned beneath her skin.
“What did you see?”
Evyn pressed her lips together, eyes closing as she leaned into Enloris. His arms tightened around her.
“I almost died,” she said on a breath. She felt him go still as the words left her. “He almost killed me. I barely... I barely healed myself in time.”
He remained frozen for another moment, before he began rubbing his hand gently up and down her back. Tears pricked her eyes at the gentle gesture, but she looked up at the Seraphim, wanting answers.
“You see now,” Celestine said. “Your soul protected you from him, called in all that you would need moving forward, who you would need. Rather than only heal the earth of a person, you can heal their light, which is to say in human terms—their heart and soul and mind. Their energy.”
Evyn’s brows lifted. The woman who taught her how to heal, Magdanna Lyle, had arrived shortly after those weeks she’d spent healing from that wound. Had she been called in by her soul? She wondered if her teacher knew that, or if she felt the subtle pull of Xedara’s threads and followed it.
“That power was for you. That magic was to save your light. Your brother was not ready, nor willing to be healed, nor was it your responsibility to do so. And when you chose him instead—”
“He died,” she cut off the Seraphim, her voice breaking. “It was my fault. I knew it was my fault.”
“Let me be clear, child,” the Seraphim said, flaring their wings, gaze pinning her own. “All choices are our sole responsibility. No one is exempt. You can only ever control yourself. It is a truth humans don’t like, but it is a truth nonetheless.”
The tears fell in earnest now, hot rivulets flowing down her cheeks and dripping from her chin to her neck.
“Are you trying to blame her for her brother’s death?” Enloris said, a subtle violence in his voice.
“No. Her choice to heal him without his permission was her responsibility, but his choice of what he did with her healing was his own.”
Evyn wiped her eyes, stunned at the words. It didn’t quite make sense. None of it did. She pulled away from Enloris’ hold and turned to Celestine, bowing.
“Thank you for your time and knowledge,” Evyn said softly from behind the Emilian bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I need time to think about all I’ve learned.”
Celestine bowed back. “Many blessings to you on your journey, fellow Celestial. May you find the clarity you seek when you are best meant to.”