ACOTAR
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Sootsayer
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And as they danced in the ocean of mist, the mountain under them still, she looked in the eyes of her love and whispered tenderly.
"The void, it's calling me."
And so she felt the black stone disappear from beneath her feet as she succumbed to the appeal of the depths.
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She remembered fire. She remembered her mom and dad in the middle of it – she remembered crying out their names over the roaring flames that took them from her.
The storm had come out of nowhere.
At first it was the strong winds and the waves, crashing onto the deck and almost putting the ship on its side, that had worried her.
But it was lightning that got them in the end.
The first one hit the solid oak mast, completely splintering it all the way through from top to bottom, and the second hit the top deck and went straight through the hull, starting the massive fire.
The ship sank, and now she was floating around, somewhere in the ocean, on the only piece of evidence there was of ever actually being a boat.
Her breath was still panicked, hitched in her throat and troubled. She felt light headed from all of the smoke and she was tired from having to hold herself afloat for so long. Her head was also hurting from all of the crying and she cursed at herself for being so weak.
Her parents had never been religious.
Deities, priestesses, High Faes and such seemed so far from their reality, they'd rather believe in and worship nature and the earth they farmed.
She understood when she grew older, after they explained to her the relationship and history between mortals and Faes.
But still she found herself praying to one of the few higher powers they'd ever told her of.
"Help me Cauldron.."
Just as she uttered the words, she opened her eyes as she felt the bottom of her feet touching the sea floor.
Land, was what met her sight.
A hoarse sob of relief fell from her lips.
Her body ached badly as she walked onto shore. A wave rolling up from behind, caused her to fall on all fours in the low water.
She crawled the rest of the way till she crashed, her legs still touching the ocean whenever it reached for her and tried to drag her back out.
Her mouth was dryer than salted meat and she pathetically tried to wet her lips with her rasp tongue.
Sand scraped against her face and clung to her hair and wet clothes.
She didn't know for how long she had laid there when the sun finally broke out from behind the skies, and quickly warmed up the parts of her body where black leather and fabric adorned them. The rest of her body however, was left un-kissed by the rays.
She rolled onto her back and let the sun dance on- and colour the inside of her heavy eyelids, as darkness slowly overtook her.
Sounds of three heavy thuds shaking the ground beneath her was what reached her next - somewhere in her semi unconscious state - like thunder rolling over the skies.
Then,
Voices.
Her eyes flew open as conciseness finally set its claws in her and she realised she couldn't breathe.
Exhaustedly she lifted her upper body with shaking arms as she began heaving. Vaguely aware that she had an audience as three pairs of shoes appeared in her peripheral.
Then came the water.
She coughed and spat as her lungs and stomach emptied themselves of all of the saltwater she'd swallowed while floating around in the violent weather for two days. When her body seemed finished she immediately collapsed again.
"She's alive."
"You sure?" She rasped trying to get up, but failing miserably. She was completely spent. "Attitude. A sign of good health." She felt like throwing up again as two strong hands gripped her and dragged her to sit up. Her back against one of the dark stone boulders - structures that seemed to be common to this area - she noted as she looked around a bit disoriented.
A sob escaped her lips as she looked out over the misty ocean, violent waves still crashing onto the beach. Her hands desperately grasped onto the ground beneath her to feel the land.
She closed her eyes as tears kept falling. She was safe, she'd survived, but with nothing left to live for. Her parents were dead and her home along with everything of value they'd ever owned was somewhere at the bottom of the sea.
She felt like screaming. So she did.
She screamed at the deities, cursed the High Lords and damned the priestesses. "GO ROT WITH AMARANTHA UNDER THE MOUNTAIN! TRAITOR GODS!" Flames encased her body as she finished with a curse to the whole bunch. But she was weak, and the fire quickly turned to peaceful embers around her before it completely burned out.
The sound of someone clearing their throat reminded her then of her audience, and she let her head exhaustedly fall back against the stone to look up at them.
Breath caught in her throat as realisation dawned on her.
These were neither friend nor foe, but fae. And she had just cursed all of the High Lords, their deities and priestesses. Automatically she reached a hand to cover her mouth in regret of her screaming fit.
"I-"
"Let me introduce myself. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." Right as she though it couldn't get any worse.. She swallowed thickly.
Though her and her parents lived isolated, they had tried their best to teach her about the world in which they lived. They'd told her of human, fae and High fae. They'd taught her about magic as well as the history of the lands they travelled. They taught her about evil and good, and they told her about war. Her parents did their best. But as she sat there in front of the High Lord of the Night Court she couldn't help but notice that he didn't at all look like a monster.
Sure his wings were different, dark and leathery, resembling mostly those of a bat, but he had no fangs or claws and his skin was a healthy bronze, not pale like the dead.
"–From what I could gather, besides the fact that you have an extremely foul mouth, you seem to think that I've failed you somehow? Tell me, Little Spitfire, what can I do to make it up to you?" The High Lord crouched down in front of her, shamelessly looking her up and down. "I-I didn't mean it like that I swear. I just-" Slowly as she spoke he reached up and lifted her chin towards him.
"Please, I'm just a Mortal."
"A mortal?" The High Lord dropped his hand from her face with a confused look. She let out a breath then that she didn't even know she'd been holding. "Yes."
The High Lord grinned, seemingly amused by her words, "And you are sure of this?" He asked her. Now it was her turn to look confused. "Yes?"
"Alright, Little Spitfire. Let me explain to you, why I seem surprised by that." The High Lord then stood back up to his full height, towering over her. "-Mortals don't have magic, and they certainly do not have wings. These are the wings of a Peregryn, from the Dawn Court. And fire magic is a trait of only a few lucky High Fae of the Autumn Court." He explained as if trying to catch her in a lie. "My parents were Mortal, like me. And I do not believe they have ever been to any of those places." She told him honestly.
"If your parents were both human, then your parents were thieves.." The High Lord stated as he flicked a piece of seaweed from the top of her wing. "–What is your name?"
"Daughter."
"Rhys.." At the sound of his name, the High Lord turned to his two men with an unreadable expression on his face. As they whispered amongst themselves, Daughter watched them closely.
They looked alike, all undeniably beautiful, all golden brown skin and dark hair varying from a blackish brown to that of the High Lord's almost bluish in colour, like a ravens plumage. The High Lord's two men both had hazel eyes like that of stained wood or amber, and the High Lord himself had eyes of a deep violet with flecks of silver, reminding Daughter of a starry night sky.
On their back, dark leathery wings like those of a dragon or bat were folded, held proudly, forming almost halos over their heads with small talons on the ends, not hanging and dragging after them sloppily like hers.
The slightly bulkier of the two unnamed males had longer hair and looked perplexed, but kind. He didn't scare her as much.
The other one however, seemed to almost disappear and reappear from the shadows that seemed to lurk around him. His presence was ominous to say the least.
And the High Lord was graceful, yet he seemed as savage and dangerous as he was beautiful. And that terrified her, cause she'd never seen beauty quite so magnificent as his.
"It's impolite to stare." The High Lord smirked and turned his head to her. She didn't know how he'd seen her looking. He'd had his back turned the whole time. Daughter quickly averted her gaze to the ground in front of her. "I'm sorry, High Lord." Though her parents and her had lived isolated lives, and she had never been allowed to engage with other people, Daughter knew of the customs and most traditions. In fact the only thing her parents hadn't taught her to the best of their abilities - as far as she knew - was magic and flying.
They forbade her from ever even trying it, as soon as her powers came to and her wings grew big enough.
Apparently magic - or chaos, as they called it - was dangerous and unruly. They claimed that was also the reason they never used theirs and had cut off their wings entirely.
And Daughter believed them. Cause for her first taste of the true chaos she wielded, she nearly killed her mother with her flames.
Daughter never let her fire out after that. At least never on purpose.
It would happen on rare occasions when she got extremely angry, scared or sad. But her parents always forgave her and said that it was normal when one was in emotional distress.
She wished now that they had taught her to use her assets though.
Cause maybe then they'd still be alive.
Daughter had tried everything to control the fire on their ship. She had screamed till her vocal cords bled at the angry flames to try and calm them. But nothing had worked as they ate away at her entire life.
When she'd realised that trying to control the chaos was futile, she tried to get her parents out. But her wings just hang there, mounted on her back like a mantle piece refusing her every order. Beautiful but useless for anything other than that.
What Daughter read as an expression of pity, was on the High Lords face as he returned to her with an out stretched hand, "Are you clipped?" He asked her, his gaze drifting over her limp wings, as she accepted his hand and let him help her up.
She let go and took a step back - opting to grab the dark boulder for support instead - as soon as she was up though, not trusting him one bit. "What is clipped?" Daughter asked him to explain. For she could not answer him truthfully if she did not know what it was.
The long haired of the two men took a step towards her and reached out touching a feather and she instantly pulled away from the touch, as it shot through her entire body, wings flaring in natural response, almost hitting the third guy in his face as she defensively turned towards the long haired one. "Hey, don't touch that, you oversized bat!" Her wings went limp as quick as they had flared up though, showing the three men that she had no control of them, but was, to their relief, not clipped.
"I already like her." The long haired one stated with a grin. "Well I'm not particularly fond of you." Daughter confessed annoyed by his audacity and lack of understanding of personal space.
"Play nice with my General, Spitfire." She turned startled at the voice right behind her and bumped straight into its' source.
"I-" She was about to apologise to the High Lord for her mistake as he grabbed her by the head before she could really say anything, and quickly everything went black.
Then, a mess of images of fire, war and wings erupted into her mind. Things she didn't recognise. Then, things she recognised easily. Her home, the forest, the meadow, growing up, laughing, hunting, living. And then she was back on the boat, watching in despair unable to do anything as her parents burned in the roaring fire, she drowned all over again as she fell into the raging sea and then she breathed again as she found a piece of driftwood and desperately clung to it. She cried again as she floated for days thinking she would die. And then she crawled ashore again and crashed on the beach.
Daughter gasped for air as she was let back into her own mind, quickly clawing at the man in front of her, trying to get away. She could feel him in her head still, searching for something, he was like nails on a chalkboard, scraping and grating, rising goosebumps down her spine.
"Get out!" She screamed it in her head and out loud.
And she felt his grip on her mind slip.
The High Lord huffed amused, intrigued as he took a step back, letting go of her. "Not entirely helpless I see." He stated, double entendre, as he picked an invisible piece of lint off of his shirt cuff.
"Try and do that again and I'll show you helpless.." She threatened him. No longer capable of showing him respect, for he had not earned it. "What did you say?" A dangerous smile on his lips. Daring her. But he soon would learn that she never backed down from a dare.
"I said, if you try that again, I'll give you a third purple eye you entitled-" The General stepped forward and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, dragging her away from the High Lord. "Whoa, I think you've heard enough Rhys. She is clearly not charmed by you. Let's not test it."
Daughter bit through his palm, spit out the blood and then stomped her heel down on his foot making him let her go with a hiss. "Neither is she a fan of yours, it seems, brother." Daughter was no stranger to combat. Her father had taught her swordsmanship and how to defend herself to the best of his ability. Along with all of the other skills one might need to survive alone in this world.
Like trusting your senses.
Daughter turned, sensing the last unnamed of the three move towards her. "Don't you dare touch me." She warned the male twice her size. "Adorable." She whipped around with a fire in her eyes at the High Lord's words.
"Spymaster. Leave her be." He ordered, his gaze flicking to the man behind her. She was aware of him approaching again to his High Lord's defence. And her knuckles were turning white from the tight grip in which she held the handle of her knife on her thigh, until she felt him back away at his High Lord's command.
"Relax, Spitfire, no one is going to harm you. I merely want to talk." Back to charming. Manipulative..
"As I think you well saw, I am nothing short of useless unless you want to mount my wings above your mantle. But if that is the case, then let's drop the theatrics." She spat, no longer giving this man the benefit of the doubt. She had seen his true colours when he looked into her head. And they were not to her liking.
"A female of business." Daughter watched him as he smirked with a suave arrogance only someone who called himself 'High Lord' could pull off.
"What do you want?" She asked him warily and with a glare. She wanted to let him know he was really in no position to ask anything of her. She'd sooner jump back out into the ocean. "What makes you think I want something?" The High Lord furrowed his brows feigning hurt at her accusation.
Daughter let her gaze drift to the General and Spymaster before it landed back on the High Lord. "I'm still here aren't I? You don't seem like a man who wastes his time once he realises there's nothing left for him to gain. So.. What is it you want?" She stated fiercely. The High Lord only smiled. She was not as dumb and helpless as he'd originally thought. "I want you."
"Me?"
The High Lord took a step towards her, "When I looked into your head, I saw the world as we know it gone up in flames and embers. An ancient weapon, with powers that could easily rival myself and even those few lucky Cauldron made." She took a wary step away from him as he took one more forward. "I don't know of such weapon? I-"
"You are the weapon. I can help you reach your full potential, use your powers for good and control the flame so the fire you seem to be born of doesn't burn you alive from inside out. I have some of the finest and strongest warriors, right here in my court. I can help you, house you, feed you, grant you safety and protection from those who wish to use you for evil. I can make sure no harm comes to you." He stopped walking a couple steps away from her. "Give you a home.." He knew that was what she really wanted, for he had looked into her mind. A place to stay, to feel safe and loved and cared for. He knew she had no one now and he fully intended to abuse her recent losses to his own advantage. He had been clever with his wording.
"And the conditions..?" But Daughter was far from stupid. She knew not to blindly trust fae and to never make deals with them without hearing their price. A mistake many made throughout history, according to her parents.
"You need to swear your loyalty to me, your High Lord, and the Night Court." Taking one step closer, the High Lord of the Night Court extended his arm to her. "Agreed?"
Daughter considered for a moment, weighing the options in her head. What he was asking was a small price to pay for what he offered. And she really had nowhere else to go and no one else to go to.
Daughter glanced to the other two males again. The Spymaster already had his dark eyes fixed on her. The General seemed to be staring intensely at his High Lord.
It was unbelievable how easy they all were on the eyes. Whatever they put in the water in this place, she wanted a gallon.
She mulled over the deal again, swallowing thickly.
"Agreed." She nodded, grasping at the High Lords outstretched arm, his fingers easily encircling her elbow as hers barely wrapped around his forearm.
Searing pain branded Daughter's skin and as the pain wrapped around her wrist holding the High Lord, she quickly tried to let go and pull away as if he had burned her. But he held her there.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it vanished.
Daughter gritted her teeth as she looked up through her lashes to the male she had bargained with. With a coy smirk and a scandalous wink, she barely had time to blink before the blackness swallowed her hole-
She tried to fight away, but the High Lord just tugged her closer to his chest, holding her in place with one arm - like she were a bird under a cat's paw - as darkness whooshed past her.
They were winnowing. Her parents had told her of this travel method, used by only the most powerful High Fae.
To where they were winnowing, she did not know. But all the same, she was held close to the powerful male, a male she was now bound to by a vow.
This movement through space itself was unlike anything, it felt like tumbling through a void, like she had stepped off the edge of the universe, leaving her praying to higher powers that her foot would only land on the solid ground of her destination. Wherever that might be.
But after a moment of clinging to the velvety fabric of his tunic, much to her pride's mortification, the darkness around them dissipated.
Gasping, she was released from his clutches. Stumbling backwards, she tripped on something behind her - stupid wings - something smashed to the floor as her hand grazed something immoveable-
Then strong hands grasped at her shoulders, steadying her.
One glance over her wings let her spy the one who'd been called Spymaster, stepping through a portal of his shadows, his hold on her preventing her from stumbling any further, or breaking anything else, for that matter.
She was close enough to be caught in those shadows that surrounded him, but she didn't particularly care, instead she was mesmerised by the way they curled over his tan skin and dark wings.
He was so close as he held her from behind, steadying her, that his breath hot on her neck, made her hair stand on end as she breathed him in - cedar and earthy notes of freshly fallen rain, his heady scent filled her.
His eyes, the colour of stained wood were even more entrancing up close, beautiful, but with an intensity that made her feel like he was able to peer into souls with just a look. It was almost menacing. And he knew it too. Which would explain the cheeky smirk playing on his lips - one he had no doubt learned from the male who had winnowed her here.. wherever here was.
Then, a voice darker and smoother than the blackest of ink poured in her ear, the shadows speaking the answer to her question:
"Velaris."
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