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Somniphobia is the intense fear of sleep. Velaris Archeron, however, was afraid of waking up.
Somehow, she preferred her nightmares over reality. At least the pain in those dreams is not real.
Reality sucked. Especially this reality. The one where she was fae. The one where she was used by men. Again.
The one where Velaris Archeron was dying—seizing on the ground at the guards' feet, power bursting out of her.
Azriel tried to crawl to her with the little strength he had left, his bloody fingers just barely touching her shaking ones.
He couldn't lose her—not when he didn't even have her.
Vel's heartbeats were fading—her body unable to process the rush of power entering it.
And what power it is.
While her looks changed when the glamour caging her true self broke—her power seemed to magnify after entering the Cauldron.
She still looked the same except the beautiful purple markings that appeared on her body, her black Illyrian wings were even bigger than Azriel's—and Rhys's heart clenched at the sight of them.
He could've taught her, he realized.
He could've taught her how to fly as a young babe.
He could've taught her how to control the power that seemed to make every male in the room want to kneel at her feet.
Her power was...strange.
Powerful and ancient and ruthless, but also—feminine. Like she could merely breathe and force a man to his knees.
The daughter of the most powerful High Lord in history was even more powerful than him. The thought made Rhys strangely proud.
"VELARIS," Nesta yelled as she recovered from her shock, springing to her feet and running towards Vel's body.
Velaris was still seizing, her eyes fluttering as her back arched.
"Who are you?" Velaris asked the female that appeared in front of her.
"My name is Catalina," the beautiful woman that looked so much like Nesta said, "Catalina Armstrong. We need to talk, Velaris Archeron."
"Vel," Nesta sobbed as Velaris stopped seizing as did her heart stopped beating.
Azriel let out a yell of rage and pain as he felt his mate dying.
"How do I know I can trust you?" Velaris asked Catalina, mistrust clear in her eyes.
Catalina smiled at her, "because I am your sister. Well, your sister from another world."
Vel frowned in confusion. Is this bitch for real?
Valeris's mouth opened as she exhaled, still unconscious. Nesta sobbed harder than she ever had as she hugged her sister tightly as life returned to her body.
Nesta hugged the unconscious Velaris tightly, uncaring of the situation at hand before she felt someone grab her.
And Velaris Archeron was winnowed to the city she was named after—Velaris, City of Starlight.
Rhys slammed into the floor of the town house, and Amren was
instantly there, hands on Cassian's wings, swearing at the damage. Then at the hole in Azriel's chest.
Mor winnowed Elain and Nesta to the House of Wind but took Velaris with her to the Town House. The girl was still seizing.
Amren gasped at the sight of the girl in Mor's arms.
"What..." Amren stuttered in shock as she felt a familiar power pulsing in Vel's body.
Rhys's power.
Rhys kneeled on the floor, staring at Velaris. Staring at his daughter.
"She's..." Mor muttered as she stared at Rhys, "she's Rhys and Amarantha's daughter."
Amren stared at the girl in shock.
Azriel, who was still half conscious, strained his hand to hold hers.
Vel's body stopped seizing at the touch as Azriel's shadows wisped around her form.
"Where is she?" Amren demanded.
Rhys answered her monotonously, his mind clouded.
He left the room, going to the bathroom in his and Feyre's chamber.
The things he heard so far of Velaris—his daughter, resonated through his mind.
His daughter.
Oh Cauldron.
"I didn't work for a seamstress."
"Whore."
Velaris's screams echoed through his mind.
Blood smeared on her thighs.
Bruises all over her body.
Vacant wide doe eyes staring at him.
Rhys collapsed against the bathroom floor, throwing up as it all echoed through his mind again and again and again.
He. Had. A. Daughter.
Who had Amarantha's hair.
Amarantha's
Red
Hair.
But she had his eyes—his violet eyes.
And her power. Her power.
If she was anything like Amarantha...what she could do with this power...
.
Velaris groaned, rubbing her temple at the strong headache she was having. Her body felt weak, her muscles tense and pained.
"Hello?" She croaked as she slowly sat up, noticing she was in an unfamiliar place. A white hospital room with several beds and medical gear.
She twisted in place and gasped at the sight of the two Illyrians lying unconscious on the beds next to her own. Cassian was laying on his stomach, his wings covered in bandages and Azriel lay on his back, his chest bandaged and covered in blood.
"Hello?" she repeated, her breath quickening as what happened came back to her.
Her sister and her were taken by Hybern.
The queen's guards....they....oh god.
Velaris covered her mouth with her hands, trying to muffle the sobs that tore through her body.
"Velaris?" A warm feminine voice asked as a female entered the room.
Mor.
Feyre's friend.
"M-Mor?" She asked.
"Yes," the female sent her a warm smile as she sat on Vel's bed, taking her hands in her warm ones, "you and your sisters are safe here. Don't worry."
For some strange reason, Vel felt like she could trust Mor. Sending the blonde a hesitant relieved smile she asked, "where are they?"
"Your sisters are in the House of Wind. We're in the Town House right now."
"W-when can I see them?"
Mor sent her another sympathetic smile, "soon. When you'll recover. Now, how are you feeling?"
"Everything hurts," was all Vel said before laying back down, drinking the glass of water on the low table next to her bed.
Mor frowned in worry, "don't worry, your body is adjusting to your powers. It'll pass."
"So...I'm fae now?" Velaris whispered the word as if it was a curse.
"Yes. You and your sisters are High Fae now."
Vel didn't know what to say to that, so she simply nodded before laying back down.
Mor helped her arrange the pillows and blanket to get to a more comfortable position before walking away—letting Vel fall back to deep sleep.
.
"WHERE IS SHE?" Nesta screamed as she tore through the House of Wind, not finding her sister.
Mor grimaced at that as she arrived, "Nesta, your sister is recovering. I'm afraid you won't be able to see her until she's well."
"How dare you take Vel away from me?" She sneered.
Mor raised an unamused brow at the woman, "Vel will come here when her body is ready. I don't know when that'll be but we'll keep you updated."
"Then take me to her."
"I can't do that. Her magic is still spiraling and it's dangerous for you to be near her. We're doing the best we can."
Mor winnowed away back to the Town House, shivering at the sound of Nesta's enraged scream.
.
"Rhys, are you here?" Mor asked as she entered Rhys's bedroom in the Town House.
"In here," Rhys said, still sitting on the bathroom floor, the room shrouded in darkness.
"Rhys...you need to talk to her, she—"
"No!" Rhys answered sharply, "I can't do this. She's—she's Amarantha's daughter. What if she—"
"She's your daughter too," Mor exclaimed, "and ever since meeting her, you said nothing but good things about her. You can't fault her just because of her biological mother—the one who didn't even raise her."
Rhys stayed quiet for a few minutes, his darkness slowly retracting back to him.
"I have a daughter, Mor."
"Yes, you do." Mor placed a hand on Rhys's knee, comforting him as he cried silently in her arms.