𝐂 𝐎 𝐒 𝐌 𝐈 𝐂 𝐋 𝐎 𝐕 𝐄 !
𝙲 𝙷 𝙰 𝙿 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝚃 𝚆 𝙴 𝙽 𝚃 𝚈 𝚃 𝚆 𝙾 !
( 𝔲𝔭𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 ! )
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘. The door was hanging open, swaying softly in the cool wind that often snuck into the mountain. He checked for any signs of struggle, wondering if the guards had snatched her for some reason, but he found nothing.
Ana darling, he spoke, where are you? Your cell is empty. Are you okay?
He waited a moment. Then another. And another. No response.
Ana? he tried again. Ana? No response. Anastasia?
Worry turned to panic. Rhys spun on his heel and marched out of the dungeons, intent on searching all of the mountain until he found her. It was unlike Ana to ignore him, even when she was stressed or exhausted. She always responded with something. But getting complete silence from her end was something that never happened, and it had Rhys's heart beating out of his chest in panic.
He made it through the entire dungeon before a guard stopped him. "Her Majesty requests your attendance of the last task."
Rhys had to bite down a retort. Instead, he steeled his expression, replacing the panic with his usual High Lord of the Night Court facade. "Of course."
He followed the guard to the throne room, which was full of anxious High Fae and curious faeries. Amarantha was seated in her self-proclaimed throne, dressed in bloodred. Her preferred color. The wicked queen gave him a serpentine smile. It made a chill run down his back. She knew something.
"And where is our halfling?" she crooned, eyes glimmering in the torchlight.
Rhys gave a casual shrug. "No clue. Her cell was empty. Either she escaped or was killed. I say good riddance."
Amarantha cackled. "Oh, yes. Either option is possible. Well then, shame she won't be here to see the fall of her friend."
"Yes, shame." Rhys took his usual spot within the crowd, his mind reeling. What had Amarantha done with his mate?
He had no time to wonder as the doors were flung open, the room falling into a heavy silence. Feyre was escorted into the room by guards, dressed in her old tunic and pants. Her eyes scanned the faces of the faeries, bracing for their jeers but receiving nothing. Rhys knew why. The world was resting on this mortal's shoulders, and everyone was unsure how to feel about that. Rhys himself was unsure how to feel. While Ana had been confident, Rhys didn't know Feyre as well. For all he knew, she could give up now when faced with something truly horrid.
Ana, darling, wherever you are . . . it's time for the final task. By tonight, we'll either be free or cursed forever. I wish you were here with me. You always know the right thing to say.
Feyre was led up the path carved by the faeries, taking her right to Amarantha and the failure of a High Lord that was Tamlin. Seeing the blond so stone-faced during the entirety of his time Under the Mountain annoyed Rhys. His supposed 'love' was risking her life for him and his freedom, and all he had to give her in return was an emotionless stare? Pathetic.
The only emotion he'd seen on Tamlin's face was pure fury upon spotting Ana kissing Feyre passionately in the supply closet. To say Rhys had been surprised (and maybe a little turned on) would be an understatement. Ana had never once hid her taste for men and women, but seeing her kiss Feyre had been . . . well, he couldn't really explain it. But by the Cauldron, had he wished it was him she was kissing.
"Two trials lie behind you," Amarantha said, picking at a fleck of dust on her gown. "And only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now⎯when you are so close." She gave Feyre a pout.
Only a few laughs⎯from the supporters of the bitch, he assumed⎯hissed from the crowd. Everyone else remained silent.
Amarantha glared at the crowd, but when she looked to Feyre, her smile broadened in a sickly sweet way. "Any words to say before you die?"
Feyre looked ready to curse Amarantha out, but she turned to Tamlin, her eyes soft. "I love you," she said. "No matter what she says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I'll love you."
Several tears dripped down her cheeks, and Rhys felt his heart tug. Those words . . . he felt them like a slap to his soul as she spoke them. Filled with such love, such emotion, it made him wonder if anyone would ever express their feelings toward him in such a way.
Amarantha said sweetly, "You'll be lucky, my darling, if we even have enough left of you to burn."
Feyre met her gaze, fisted her hands, and squared her shoulders.
Amarantha propped her chin on a hand. "You never figured out my riddle, did you?" Feyre didn't respond, and Amarantha smiled. "Pity. The answer is so lovely."
"Get it over with," Feyre growled.
Rhys had to applaud her on her courage.
Amarantha looked at Tamlin. "No final words to her?" she said, quirking an eyebrow. When he didn't respond, she grinned at Feyre. "Very well, then." She clapped her hands twice.
Rhys watched as a door swung open, and three figures⎯two male and one female⎯with brown sacks tied over their heads were dragged in by the guards. Their concealed faces turned this way and that as they tried to discern the whispers that rippled across the throne room. Feyre looked ready to faint.
With sharp jabs and blunt shoves, the red-skinned guards forced the three faeries to their knees at the foot of the dais, but facing Feyre. Their bodies and clothes revealed nothing of who they were.
Amarantha clapped her hands again, and three servants clad in black appeared at the side of each of the kneeling faeries. In their long, pale hands, they each carried a dark velvet pillow. And on each pillow lay a single polished wooden dagger. Not metal for a blade, but ash. Ash, because⎯
"Your final task, Feyre," Amarantha drawled, gesturing to the kneeling faeries. "Stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart."
Feyre gaped at her. Rhys himself was unsure of how to feel. But he was suddenly happy Ana was not in the room. She'd already been through so much, he didn't need her witnessing anymore death.
"They're innocent⎯not that it should matter to you," Amarantha went on, "since it wasn't a concern that day you killed Tamlin's poor sentinel. And it wasn't a concern for dear Jurian when he butchered my sister. But if it's a problem . . . well, you can always refuse. Of course, I'll take your life in exchange, but a bargain's a bargain, is it not? If you ask me, though, given your history with murdering our kind, I do believe I'm offering you a gift."
Rhys knew Amarantha was cruel. He knew she was the type of monster that monsters were afraid of. But to force Feyre to kill three innocent faeries? He didn't know if the mortal would be able to do that.
Feyre remained silent. Her eyes were clouded with thoughts⎯questions, theories, curses. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, hands fisted at her sides and legs shaking.
"Well?" Amarantha asked. She lifted her hand, letting Jurian's eye get a good look at Feyre, at the ash daggers, and purred to it, "I wouldn't want you to miss this, old friend."
Rhys shivered. The ring was creepy, even for faerie standards. And the fact she wore it to bed . . . ugh.
Feyre hesitated for a moment longer before stepping up to the first kneeling figure⎯the longest and most brutal step she'd ever taken. Three lives in exchange for Prythian's liberation. Rhys wished to look away, but he could not.
Fingers trembling, Feyre reached for the first dagger and held it. There were three daggers, because Amarantha wanted Feyre to feel the agony of reaching for that knife again and again. Wanted her to mean it.
"Not so fast." Amarantha chuckled, and the guards who held the first kneeling figure snatched the hood off its face.
It was a handsome High Fae youth. Rhys didn't know him, he'd never seen him in the throne room before, but his eyes were pleading. "That's better," Amarantha said, waving her hand again. "Proceed, Feyre, dear. Enjoy it."
Feyre stared at the faerie too long. Just close your eyes and kill him, Rhys wanted to scream. Memorizing his face would only make her hesitant and guilt-ridden. Rhys sometimes remembered the faces of those he slayed in the War. He knew what it was to be haunted by faces of those one killed, and he didn't want that for Feyre. Not for Ana's friend.
"Please," the faerie whispered. "Please."
Feyre's hands shook.
"Don't," the faerie youth begged when she lifted the dagger. "Don't!"
Feyre took a gasping breath, her lips shaking.
"Please!" he said, and his eyes lined with silver.
Someone in the crowd began weeping.
She was stalling. Rhys looked around, noting that everyone's attention was on the mortal and the faerie. Then, he allowed his daemati powers to reach into Feyre's mind. Don't panic. He watched her stiffen, but it was played off as fear. Do it. For Prythian. For your love. For Ana.
That seemed to spur her on.
Don't," the young faerie moaned. "Please!"
Feyre lunged with a ragged sob and plunged the dagger into his heart.
He screamed, thrashing in the guards' grip as the blade cleaved through flesh and bone. Blood flowed over her skin and stained the faerie's clothes. His eyes remained on Feyre as he sagged, the person in the crowd letting out a keening wail.
Feyre dropped the dagger and stumbled back several steps.
"Very good," Amarantha said. Feyre looked ready to throw up. "Now the next one. Oh, don't look so miserable, Feyre. Aren't you having fun? I'm sure you will with the next one."
Feyre faced the second figure, still hooded. The female. The faerie in black extended the pillow with the clean dagger, and the guards holding her tore off her hood.
Rhys forgot how to breathe.
His heart stopped in his chest.
Kneeling there, held tightly by the guards and looking peaceful despite the situation, was Anastasia Petrova Fallon. His mate.
Rhys was frozen in his spot, unable to move. Unable to think.
Amarantha had taken Ana from the cell and was using her as a part of Feyre's task. He wanted to rage and ask her why, but he knew why. This was part of the bargain they'd made. Amarantha was testing Ana's fae abilities somehow, and by doing so, she was also ridding herself of a problem.
The bitch had the audacity to smirk at Rhys, her eyes gleaming wickedly. She knew. She knew about the connection between him and Ana, and he was now paying for it.
Feyre's breathing came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Ana, kneeling with her face bruised no doubt from fighting off the guards. But her expression was peaceful, like she'd come to terms with her death.
Rhys wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill Amarantha on the spot. But he couldn't. His feet were glued to the floor, body unwilling to move.
"Ana . . ." The name was a mere whisper in the room. Someone pushed to the front, right beside Rhys, and let out a sob. It was Aurelia, the fire nymph Ana had befriended in the Spring Court. She had a hand to her mouth, eyes shining gold with tears. "No, no, no."
Amarantha chuckled softly. "Is there a problem, Feyre?"
Feyre met Ana's eyes. They were as calm as the sea in Valeris. As soft as the summer skies. Her smile was gentle, breathtakingly beautiful.
"It's okay," Ana whispered, not looking away from Feyre. And yet, Rhys had a feeling she was speaking to more than one person. "It's okay. It'll be okay."
Feyre was shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No. I ca⎯no. Don't make me."
"Feyre." Ana's voice was smooth and comforting. "Feyre, look at me." She did. "It'll be okay."
Why are you not trying to break free? Rhys asked. He could cry. Why aren't you fighting?
Ana didn't look his way, but she responded with the same soft tone. It needs to happen, Rhys. I know what I'm doing. I promise, my love.
He hoped to the Mother she was right. Rhys didn't know if he could live with himself if he let her die.
"Feyre, you can do this. Do it for Prythian. Do it so you and Tamlin can live your happily ever after or whatever." She was giving Feyre such a loving look. Like the kind a sister would give to her younger one. "Show this bitch what you've got. You are more than just some mortal with a mortal heart, Feyre. Prove that. And live your life to the fullest." A single tear slipped from her eye. "I'm so happy to have met you, Feyre Archeron."
More crying filled the room. Those of the faeries who had met Ana in her time Under the Mountain and grown to love her.
Feyre let out another sob as she picked up the dagger. "I'm so sorry."
Ana shook her head. "Don't be. I lived a good life, even if it was short. Do what you have to to survive, Feyre. To protect those you love."
Rhys clenched his eyes shut as Feyre lunged. Ana didn't make a sound as the dagger pierced her heart, nor did she thump onto the ground. The guards gently lowered her body to the floor, and a heavy silence fell over the room. Another halfling had died at the hands of a greedy faerie.
"So it seems she's not immune to ash," Amarantha said. "Pity."
Rhys clenched his hands into fists. She knew what she was doing. She knew what she was doing. She knew what she was doing.
⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯
Ana woke up in her room at the Institute. Everything looked the same as it had when she'd left⎯well, when she'd been forcibly removed, she should say. The sheets were comfortable beneath her fingers and the pillows were soft against her skin. Everything felt so familiar, and yet . . . it didn't feel like home anymore. Not after finding out the truth. About herself and her worlds.
The door opened up before her, and Ana had to do a double-take. For the person standing before her was someone she hadn't seen since before Viktor.
"Мамочка," she whispered through a choked sob.
Despite knowing that the woman standing before her was not her real mom, Ana couldn't let go of the memories she had of the woman. For only a few years, the woman had fed her and cared for her and loved her. She taught her Russian and sang her sweet songs to help her fight off her nightmares. And when Viktor had taken her . . . she thought she'd never see her again.
"My beautiful baby," her mother said, approaching the bed. She looked like she had the day Ana was taken⎯golden hair in soft curls, warm brown eyes, and skin as pale as snow. Her arms wrapped around Ana, pulling her into a warm embrace that had Ana sobbing once more. "My beautiful, strong, amazing daughter."
Ana buried her face in her mother's shoulder, holding onto her tightly. "Mama. Mama, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. I miss you so much. I never . . . I never meant . . . it happened so fast, I⎯"
"Shh." Her mother pulled away from the hug and placed her hands on Ana's cheeks, wiping away the tears. She met her teary eyes and smiled gently. Lovingly. "It was never your fault, what happened to me. What happened to you. You were just a child, innocent and pure. So full of love and curiosity. None of what occurred was ever your fault, and don't you ever believe that." She pressed a kiss to Ana's forehead. "But that's not why I'm here."
Ana frowned. "Why?"
"I'm here to help you break out into your true form," her mother said, sitting on the bed beside her. "It's time for you to let go of the past. You need to realize that everything that happened⎯the pain, the suffering, the deaths⎯it was never your fault. You did everything you could to stop them, and you need to understand that. You need to believe that. Part of the reason you can't unleash yourself is because your guilt is holding you back. It's keeping you from your true self."
Ana looked down at her hands. "How do I let go of it after so many years of holding onto it?"
"It'll be hard, and it'll take time, but you can do it. You've done so much, proved so many people wrong. You can do this. I believe in you, my daughter. I always have." She kissed Ana's forehead again. "Let it go, and become who you're truly meant to be."
The girl nodded, hugging her mother again. "I love you."
"I love you, too, my beautiful baby." When Ana pulled away, her mother was gone, replaced by another ghost of her past.
"Hey, Anie," he whispered. He looked like how he had right before running into that building⎯innocent and handsome and on his way to a bright future. "I've missed you."
Ana's tears fell faster and harder as she hugged her brother. "Dmi. I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am for your death."
Dmitri held her tight. "Anie, it was not your fault. I chose to run back into that building⎯to risk my life so no other kids would have to go through what we did. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I knew the dangers, and I still did it." They pulled away, Dmitri letting out a watery chuckle. "I was always the more reckless one."
Ana laughed and wiped her tears. "You were." She let a sad smile tug at her lips. "You had such beautiful dreams for the future. I'm sorry you never got to live them out."
Dmitri waved his hand. "They were childish dreams. But I'm at peace where I am. We both are."
The door opened again, and Nadia walked in, giving Ana a dazzling smile. She was the same as before, soft-featured yet fiery. "Hi, Anie. I've missed you."
They hugged tight, Dmitri joining in. And for once, Ana felt like that kid again, celebrating her escape from hell with her friends. Her family. It was a warm feeling in her stomach, the kind she got when talking to Rhys or using her magic. She missed it.
"You're both at peace?" she asked as they pulled away. They nodded. "How did you manage that? I can't find peace even after years."
Nadia laughed. "It's because you're so stubborn." Ana rolled her eyes. "You need to let go of that guilt. You tried so hard to pull me from the avalanche, but it wasn't your fault I died. And it wasn't your fault this idiot died, either. We've come to terms with that fact, and now it's time that you do the same."
Ana ran her fingers through her hair. "It's easier said than done, you know."
"We know," Dmitri said, laying a hand on Ana's arm. "We know it's hard. But in order for you to become your true self, you have to."
"People are counting on you, Anie," Nadia said, nudging her. "Your friends and family. Innocents. After all, protecting people is something you excel at. You've fought two wars and survived, Anie. Time for you to fight your guilt and survive."
Ana bit the inside of her cheek. They were right. She'd won two wars that had nearly gotten her killed. She'd survived in a world completely different from her own. She'd fought demons greater than her own. And now . . . now it was time to fight her guilt. Time for her to finally win after years of letting it beat her down.
"Okay . . ." Ana sucked in a breath. "Okay."
Nadia patted her shoulder. "We're always with you, you know that? We've never left."
"That promise we made? Neither one of us has broken it." Dmitri smiled. "We never left your side. And let me tell you, watching you grow up has been the comedy show we needed."
Nadia nodded. "I mean, some of the situations you've got yourself into? Golden."
Ana rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Glad to know death hasn't changed either of you."
"Death changes nothing but the place we reside," Dmitri said. "We're still the same as we were in life."
"Now, revive your ass and kill that bitch. For us, okay?" Nadia asked.
Ana nodded in determination. "Okay."
The warmth in her gut grew, spreading throughout her entire body. She looked down to see her golden power filling every inch of her. It shone through her skin, turning it orange with its glow, giving her the appearance of a human glow stick. Her fingertips buzzed with life, her body growing light and tingly.
She shared one final smile with her first family before closing her eyes.
When she opened them, she was back in the throne room, shining as bright as the sun.
⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯
"The answer to the riddle . . . is . . . love."
Ana's body shot from the ground, glowing as bright as a star, burning hot and powerful. Everything went silent around her as her light filled the cavern, chasing away the darkness. A weight rested along her back, but Ana didn't look to see what it was. Her golden eyes were locked on the terrified face of Amarantha, filled to the brim with murderous rage.
Feyre lay broken and bloody at her feet, pale with death.
"You . . . you're . . . you're alive," Amarantha stuttered. She sounded utterly horrified, her voice shaking with fear. "How?"
Ana rolled her neck, voice lethally calm. "I finally let go of some past baggage. Good for me, terrible for you."
Tendrils of golden power writhed around Ana's body, lashing toward the wicked queen hungrily. Ana held them tightly, not letting her rage go just yet. After putting the faeries through so much pain and torture, Ana wanted to let her suffer. Let her feel the same pain and fear that she put everyone else through.
Ana stepped forward, and Amarantha stumbled back.
"Please," she whispered. She begged. "Spare me."
Ana tilted her head, blinked, then smirked. "No."
She let go of her hold on her power. A rush ran through her body as golden tendrils lashed out, grabbing tight to the general and twisting around her body like thorny vines. As her fingers clenched into fists, the tendrils tightened their grip on Amarantha, choking her of life. She could have easily turned her heart to ash, but the death would have been too kind. Too quick.
Ana plucked one of the guard's sword from the ground and spun it in her hands, testing the weight and grip. She approached the terrified female, the blade glinting lethally in the light.
Amarantha was gasping for air, her eyes bulging from her face and her cheeks paling by the second. Ana didn't stop until the queen was backed against the wall.
"Not so fun, is it?" Ana taunted. "Having your life in the hands of someone who despises you. I could easily put you through the same shit you put me through, but I'm nicer than that . . . sometimes."
Ana slashed the blade across Amarantha's arm. "That's for imprisoning me and my friends." She then sliced her stomach. "That's for killing Feyre and making her go through shit." She cleaned the blade and locked eyes with the wicked queen. "And this?"
Ana twirled the sword and jammed it into Amarantha's heart. The force of her stab was enough to drive the ash blade into the stone behind her, pinning her to the mountain. She leaned close to Amarantha's ear and whispered, "this is for Rhys."
Her power surged back into her body, and Ana felt the usual exhaustion of controlling her magic hit her. She slumped, prepared to hit the ground. But a pair of arms caught her, steadying her. Ana lazily turned her head, spotting a relieved Rhys standing behind her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lips lingering.
"You're alive," he whispered.
Ana nodded. "I'm alive." Her eyes then fell on the body on the floor. "But she is not."
She slipped from Rhys's arms and fell to the ground by Feyre's body, blood soaking into her pants. Tears slipped from her eyes, drenching her cheeks.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Ana whispered. "I'm so sorry."
A sudden shadow fell over Feyre's body, causing both Tamlin⎯who Ana had forgotten about in the chaos⎯and Ana to look up. Standing above them was one of the High Lords, a grim expression on his face.
His hand was extended, fingers curled inwards. When he opened his fingers and tipped his hand, a glittering spark fell upon Feyre's body. It flared and vanished as it touched her chest. Ana blinked, quickly realizing what was happening.
They were saving her.
Two more figures approached⎯both handsome and young. The High Lord of Summer, and the High Lord of Winter. Both, too, dropped those glittering kernels upon Feyre, and Tamlin bowed his head in gratitude.
High Lord after High Lord approached Feyre and dropped kernels of power onto her body. Rhys stepped forward, standing behind Ana. "For what she gave," he said, extending a hand, "we'll bestow what our predecessors have granted to few before." He paused. "This makes us even," he added to Tamlin, then dropped his power.
Tamlin tenderly brushed aside Feyre's matted hair. His hand glowed bright as the rising sun, and in the center of his palm, that strange, shining bud formed.
"I love you," he whispered, and kissed Feyre as he laid his hand on her heart.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 !
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
IT HAPPENED!
ANA KILLED AMARANTHA!
SHE UNLEASHED HERSELF!
SHE GOT THE CLOSURE SHE WAS WAITING FOR!
THAT SHE NEEDED!
also, who was surprised by the change in the task victims? I thought it would be a cool way to unleash Ana's abilities by having her die in the third task.
And I also wanted Ana to be the one to kill Amarantha. Tamlin doing it after sitting on his ass the entire time did not sit well with me. I mean, you let your boo go through hell and do nothing, but the moment you're free with your powers and the end is near, you kill Amarantha and get all the glory? Fuck you and fuck that.
The final chapter is next!
Please comment and vote!
Love you all!
~ a.h.