Queens & Liars-Sequel to Three Broken Kingdoms (Completed)

Chapter Fifty-Six: Two Elfin Queens

When dawn's orange light pierced through the clouds, Layla took a deep breath and waited for death to come. So, so long she had waited. Since Talia was killed. No, further back than that. From the moment that the news came that her parents had died, perhaps. Yes, she'd been waiting since then. Six years. Six years she had waited for the end to come.

Now it was here, and she was to greet it.

The moment the grey light of dawn split through the air, Medea's ships raced for them. Layla's heart caught in her throat as they rushed faster, faster, skipping along the water. The armada was never far behind. Not when this ship, like every other remaining one, was bruised and battered and leaking in places. They might evade it for a few hours, but not much longer. She would be the second and final Elfin Queen. Kestra and Myra would be the last valkyrie queens. And they would be the last spark of resistance. Lysandra wouldn't be able to take down an empire on her own.

Cannon fire pierced the deck at last. Layla was flung across the ship and landed hard on wood, holding back a scream. Gemma, just recovered from the sliver, helped her to her feet. Dead rebels littered the ground, blood leaking into the sea. But even more frightening was the water beginning to leak into the ship itself.

Another cannonball fired forth, barely missing the ship before it plunged into the sea, prompting a great wave that lashed at the vessel. Layla was again thrown to the side of the deck, legs barking out in pain. Arrow fire hit the deck and barely missed her. Her vision started to blur, but she managed to catch a glimpse of the other ships around her. Battered and weary like this, fending off attacks on all sides. One had already gone down.

Her vision spotted. Her mother and father, Talia...she would see them soon. Kestra, Myra and Jasper would come with her. Maybe in the

next life there would be some semblance of peace. Happiness. A world away from all of this blood and death and pain.

One of the arrows sliced into her other leg. She cried out in pain. It wasn't a deep wound, but it still seemed to set fire to her nerves. Her vision began to blur and spot again. Another cannonball hit the ocean and the resulting wave had her flung to the edge of the deck again. She should have stayed in her room. The only thing she could do here was get in the way. Just as she started to crawl forward to do what she didn't know, she caught sight of a figure emerging in the mist.

"Layla," it smiled at her. "Layla, take my hand." Was this death? Layla wondered. Had it come for her at last? The figure was starting to become clearer, more distinct. It was still ghostly pale, but she now saw that its hair was white like hers, and her eyes were a dark purple that matched her own. Was she Maia? Had her sister died already?

No. It was too old to be Maia. It bore none of her twin's wild, fierce lightning The figure was tall and regal, wearing a sort of queenly dignity her sister had never really possessed. Even with those amethyst eyes. The thought sent a jolt through her. Moonstone—white hair that had Aella Elenith had passed down to the Charlizes. Amethyst irises that her descendants, the Swallows, had possessed. This was Aella Elenith. The first Elfin Queen.

"We don't have much time, my child." Aella said softly. "I cannot stay her for long. Take my hand." Layla reached out her trembling fingers to the queen. To her surprise, the hand was solid. Aella was really here.

"Give it to me." She commanded. "Channel it." Layla didn't need to ask to know what she meant. Her magic. Her uncontrollable Song. The one thing that might be powerful enough to defeat Medea's armada and the wall of shadow-fire.

Layla reached deep down inside her, to an endless pit of raw power. Song. Endless. Infinite. A sort of power that was never, never meant to be. Grasping Aella's hand tighter she pushed it through, somehow knowing what she had to do. More and more and more of it, until it drowned her, until she was lost in the endless abyss of her magic. Until she drained it. Every last drop.

And she was free. A weight that had always been on her shoulders loosened. Now that the burden of that endless pit of magic was gone, she realised how heavy it had been on her, how much energy it had taken to hold it on. There was nothing left-nothing except for the tiniest seed of life within her.

An ordinary power, at long last.

Then Aella began to Sing, still not breaking her grip on Layla's hand. Whilst she might not have been able to control it alone, they now took the burden together, harnessing the wild, uncontrollable burden as one. It was endless and eternal, young and ancient, light and dark. It was life and death and creation and destruction and love and hate and everything all at once. It erupted out of her in a glorious crescendo as she unleashed the Song upon the world.

Medea's armada crumbled to dust as a wave of destruction consumed every ship that pursued the rebels. The wall of black flame sputtered to nothing and sank beneath the waves. Silvera's walls collapsed into the ocean, consumed by the churning waves.

Then the world shook. And the island began to rise.

Silvera slowly floated into the air, shakily at first but then smoothly and swiftly, ascending up, up, up. All around them, distant islands floated at first with trepidation but then faster and faster, smoothly rising into the air. Walls and defenders around them crumbled. The strain of the magic made Layla tremble with effort, but she kept going, kept Singing.

Then a thirteenth isle rose from the sea. It was weary and tired from centuries in the ocean, but Layla recognised it immediately. The Queen's Isle. It had fallen from the sky when Aella died but now it rose again, called by the Elfin Queen's Heir. People all around watched, awestruck, as the legendary Thirteenth Isle began to float once more. A marble palace, slightly barnacle-encrusted, stood proudly atop it. The last note shattered from Layla and the Song finished, all of its power forever drained except for that one, small drop of magic left behind.

Layla turned to look for Aella, but the Elfin Queen was already gone, faded into the mist.

——————

Their islands were rising, higher and higher in the air. There was only one of such power. Only one who could raise the twelve islands again. Only one who could bring back the mythical thirteenth. The one who had brought them all but one down before.

The Elfin Queen was alive. Layla Elenith lived.

And all across the archipelago, one by one, the elves rose up to fight for her.