Collection of Older Works

Faethfully Yours: Chapter Thirty One {Part One}

Recap of what an illumino is from Chapter Twenty Seven- 

“Here in the spirit world, lies are not allowed." Kala'el said readily. "Everything I have shown you in the illumino may or may not come to be...dependant on your choice, of course. You may be able to save Her Grace and the Temple. The choice and risk is yours." Kala'el let out a satisfied sigh. “So tell me Halfling, what is your choice?”

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Chapter Thirty One {Part One}

“Ivan, stop the illumino—you have to stop it now,” I begged, not able to bear the thought of him watching his mother die. The memory would scar him, imprison him in the dark depths of his mind, a place he retreated further into with each second. How would I ever forgive myself for binding him to that darkness? Gripping his chest manically, I pleaded, “Please, we can stop this. If we leave now, the Elders will restore us and we can save them. There’s still time.”

Ivan looked to his struggling mother for an added moment. Shifting his gaze down to me, pale gray eyes met my stare, hurt and anger whirling in the steel pools. His voice came out a whisper, dark and faint through deathly white lips. “It isn’t my illumino to stop.”

The words crashed into my ears like millions of acid filled syringes puncturing my veins. Spinning, I yelled erratically into the cloud for the Essences to stop the illumino. It was pointless. My screams faded into the crackling fire consuming the temple, blending with the cries of the dying Fae all around us.  We were going to be forced to watch an execution. One only I knew about. One only I had been given the chance to stop...but didn't.

A shimmering Xanthus neared the altar in determined, confident steps. His unblemished white robe swished through the flames as he stepped over the annihilated servants. Some of the injured reached to him for help but without even a glance, Xanthus treaded over them. In passing, his fingers stroked the hands of the pleading servants reaching to him. Upon contact they froze into crystal statues, a slow fire snaking up their robed bodies, turning them to stone.

Reaching the altar, Xanthus turned to the assembly of dead Fae and brutalized statues. Letting out a slow breath, a gust of wind howled through the Temple, tunneling through like a freight train. On its wings of destruction, the cutting wind pulverized the stone Fae, carrying their crystal ashes out to the red sands.

Ascending the stairs, Xanthus towered over Her Grace, his superiority bleeding through the artificial smirk painted on his lips. Seeing him next to her accentuated his threatening frame, a large frame. I wasn’t able to look at the Black Essence because of his kaleidoscopic assault on my existence. I couldn’t look at my father for the magnamous and lethal attack on my pride. Not only did his majestic air make everything seem minute and worthless in comparison. It was more. He was magic, evil and death wrapped into a gloriously beautiful box. In some strange delusion, he was what I always thought a father should be. I wouldn’t ever feel unsafe a day in my life had he been a regular father, the overbearing type that spent weekends mowing the lawn and barbecuing, like Casey's dad. But Xanthus wasn’t a regular father, and I wasn’t safe…especially from him. Still, he made me feel insignificant, small, weak but strangely enough, what hurt most is that he made me feel ashamed to be human.

A voice—his voice said, “I will make this simple, Aria. Where is the child’s vessel?” The melody of his voice sparkled, the song of a thousand harps dancing in the heavy air. He didn’t even refer to me as his daughter; much less by name…did he even want to know my name? I was the child. I could be anyone’s child for that matter. Truth was, I was no one’s child and that should have bothered me. Instead, I stood there suddenly forgetting I was supposed to hate him. His words were supposed to have amped up my bitterness and daddy issues and thrust me into the upper stratosphere of detest and abhorrence. But it didn’t. By looking at him, my world fell apart and reshaped itself in some form I didn't understand. I couldn’t even remember what he’d done to warrant my hate in the first place.