𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊

"Look," Amren breathed.

The stones and bones formed a perfect, tight circle around a spot on the map.

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Rhys called in Tarquin and Helion to show them what we'd discovered. Too few. We had too few soldiers, even with three armies here, to take on that host.

"Kallias will arrive soon," Helion said, dragging his hands through his onyx hair.

"He'd have to bring forty thousand soldiers," Cassian said. "I doubt he has half that."

Rhys was staring and staring at that cluster of stones and bones on the map.

"We'll rest on it," Tarquin said, blowing out a breath. "Meet at dawn tomorrow. Making a decision after a long day never helped anyone."

Helion agreed, and saw himself out.

"We'll find a way to face this," Tarquin insisted.

Rhys nodded, while Cassian's mouth quirked to the side. He'd slid back into his chair for the discussion, and now nursed a cup of some healing brew Evelina had fetched for him.

Tarquin turned from the table, just as the tent flaps parted for a pair of broad shoulders--Varian. He didn't so much as look at his High Lord, his focus going right to where Amren sat at the head of the table.

Amren's eyes flicked up from the Book as Varian halted. A coy smile curved her red lips. There was still blood and dirt splattered on Varian's brown skin, coating his silver armor and close-cropped white hair. He didn't seem to notice or care as he strode for Amren.

And none of us dared to speak as Varian dropped to his knees before Amren's chair, took her shocked face in his broad hands, and kissed her soundly.

Amren wrapped her legs around his waist, and he stood, lifting her in one swift movement. They continued kissing as they left the tent. Rhys let out a low laugh.

"I suppose that's how Varian decided hed tell Amren he was feeling rather grateful she ordered us to go to Adriata," Rhys joked.

"We'll alternate who has to deal with them on holidays," Tarquin cringed.

I glanced over at Nesta as the rest of them laughed. She was pale, staring ahead. I wondered what she had seen. It must've been bad, because Feyre was still shaken up.

"Do you want something to eat, or are you too tired?" I asked Nesta.

"Tired," she replied.

I nodded, getting to my feet. I helped the girl up and let her lean on me as we made our way back to our tent.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as we got into our shared bed.

"No," she replied in a hushed voice.

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I awoke to Nesta jolting awake, her breaths heavy and panicked.

"What's wrong?" I grumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

She didn't answer me. She just got out of the bed, wrapping a shawl over her shoulders before leaving. I cursed, following her.

I rushed after her, seeing Feyre and Rhys coming out of their tent. Nesta hurried towards Feyre, who seemed just as panicked.

"You hear it, too," Nesta panted to her sister.

Amren's small figure darted around a tent, wearing what looked to be Varian's shirt, who followed after her.

"It came here--its power. I can feel it slithering around. Looking," Amren observed.

"The Cauldron," Varian said, brows narrowing. "But—it's aware?"

"We pried too deep," Amren said. "Battle aside, it knows where we are as much as we now know its location."

"Listen," Nesta whispered, holding up a hand.

"I can't hear anything," Rhys said. I nodded my agreement.

"You were not Made," Amren snapped.

"What does it want?" Feyre asked.

I glanced over at the rustling of a tent as Azriel and Evelina emerged. Azriel approached, keeping Eve behind him protectively.

"What is that," Azriel demanded.

"You hear it?" Feyre asked him. He shook his head.

"No, but the shadows, the wind . . . They recoil," he explained.

"I think its leaving," Feyre whispered.

Cassian stumbled and staggered for us a moment later, a hand braced on his chest, Mor on his heels. There was tension between her and Feyre as Rhys told them.

"Hybern knows where we are by now. The Cauldron likely wanted to have a look for itself. After we taunted it," Amren explained.

"Let's pray that's the last we see of it," Feyre mumbled, rubbing her face.

"So you three, because you were Made, you can hear it? Sense it?" Varian asked, angling his head.

"It would appear so," Amren said.

"What about Elain?" Azriel wondered, his eyebrows furrowing.

My eyes widened. Nesta was just staring at Azriel. Staring and staring--Then she broke into a run.

"Elain--" Nesta shoved open the tent.

She stopped short so fast, Feyre slammed into her. Nesta flung herself inside.

"Elain!" I heard her scream.

Feyre whirled back into the camp, scanning the tents nearby. Rhys winnowed away.

I followed Azriel as he stalked to Feyre's side, right into the tent where Nesta had now come to her feet. He tucked his wings in tightly as he squeezed through the narrow space, ignoring Nesta's snarl of warning, and knelt at the cot.

He ran a scarred hand over the rumpled blankets.

"Theyre still warm," he observed.

"The Cauldron," Feyre breathed. "The Cauldron was fading away—going somewhere—"

Rhys appeared out of the night, his blade now sheathed across his back. There was something in his hands. No emotion on his carefully neutral face.

Nesta let out a sound that might have been a sob as she realized what he'd found at the edge of the forest. What the Cauldron had left behind in its haste to return to Hybern's war-camp. Or as a mocking gift.

Elain's dark blue cloak, still warm from her body

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