25.

  Faelwen

  I awoke to the sound of morning birds singing. The kind of music that makes the air shimmer, soft trills woven into the breath of morning. My lashes fluttered open to warmth and silk, to blankets the colour of the sunrise spilling across a horizon. The bed beneath me felt impossibly soft, like it belonged to a world untouched by sorrow.

  I rose on one elbow and my gaze wandered around the room. The chamber was vast and open, its walls yielding to archways that led straight into a garden painted in autumn’s blaze. A small fountain marked it’s centre. A woman carved from white marble, frozen in the act of pouring silver-blue water from her vase. It spilled into a pond that mirrored the sky. Around her, trees had turned gold and crimson, their leaves whispering secrets to the winds. Falling like lazy petals to the ground. The grassy meadow was a tapestry of amber and fire. The fallen leaves decorating it like a painting.

  The air should have been cold since it was the middle of autumn. But it was not. The air wrapped around me like a summer morning. For a long moment, I simply breathed. The peace of it a bit unsettling, like standing in a memory I had once longed to forget. Taking me back to my childhood before the war. Before the pain and the loss. The weight I seemed to carry these last months was gone. My chest felt lighter.

  “Come back to bed, darling.”

  Ash’s voice. Low, tender, so familiar. His hand grazed my bare back, and my body flinched as realization struck. My skin met the air without barrier. No clothes, no armour, no protection.

  I turned, and there he was.

  Ash.

  Drowsy-eyed, a smile curving his beautiful small lips. Not the kind weighed with sorrow and anger, but something freer. Unburdened. Is this what he looked like if he were carefree? It my breath away.

  “Is this a dream?” My voice trembled between awe and wariness.

  “What do you think?” he murmured, pulling me gently toward him.

  “This is a dream,” I whispered. “It has to be.”

  “Then it’s one I never want to leave.” His words brushed my cheek with a kiss, so soft it hurt. “Just give me one moment, Faelwen. One where the world doesn’t demand our suffering.”

  I looked back to the tranquil garden shimmering in morning gold. “I’ll have to wake soon.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “But let me hold you until then, without the darkness between us. Let me remember what it was like to love when it didn’t hurt.”

  When it didn’t hurt? His voice was a whisper through the trees that increased the gnawing feeling of dread in my heart. Why would he say that? He kissed the back of my head. His fingers threaded through my tangled hair, reverently.

  “You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, eyes drinking me in when I turned back to him. “Like the full moon on a clear sky surrounded by endless stars and constellations. And your smell…” He breathed in. “It’s like the first fresh air that enters your body after being locked up for so long. Let me love you, my dear.”

  His words felt like poetry born from ache, and I melted, forgetting for a heartbeat that something in me had already begun to tremble with anxiety. This was Ash. He wouldn’t hurt me, would he?

  But when his touch deepened, the air changed. His hands trailed over my body as I laid on my side. His lips caressed my skin from my neck to my shoulders causing my breath to hitch. His hands were soft, warm and gentle. Softer than I remembered them to be. With his leg he pushed mine up to my stomach. Creating an angle where he could easily slip inside of me if he wanted to. The warmth grew heavy, his breath rougher. I felt him harden against my back. This felt too real, too vivid for a dream. My heart began to pound, not with longing, but with unease.

  “Ash…” I breathed, a tremor in my voice. His fingers travelled lower and lower. Until they settled in between my legs, moving in slow circles, making my nerves explode in my body. Instead of making me feel all warm and fuzzy as usual, a nervousness took hold of my heart.

  “Shh,” he murmured, and his tone darkened, fraying at the edges. His hand was no longer gentle. With one hand his grip on my neck tightened. With his other hand he hooked my leg up a little further slowly easing inside of me. Pain flared where there should have been only tenderness. I gasped, and a cold dread rippled through me. Was he bigger than I remembered or was it the unusual feeling of dread that pushed my longing away into the depths of my core?

  The sound of his breathing deepened, lower, harsher.

  “Breath, my dear. Just breath. Everything will be alright,” Ash whispered in my ear. It should’ve comforted me, but instead only increased my anxiety.

  Slowly and gently he started to move inside of me. The sharp pain from earlier fading, replaced by a pleasant warmth that curled in my lower abdomen. I tried to push away the dreadful feeling from earlier, trying to enjoy the moment we had together. A moment free of the burdens from the world on our shoulders. I arched into him, giving him better excess. He moaned low in response. Lower than Ash’s normal voice. Again a shiver ran down my spine. And not one from pleasure.

  I froze. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Ash?” My voice broke, fragile as glass.

  “Shh…” His whisper turned guttural. His body moved with purpose harder and faster, his voice now a stranger’s. A hiss and a moan unwillingly escaped me as I felt him grow thicker and harder inside me. “Ash… Gentle, please…” I groaned. He shivered and his lips softly touched my ear. His moans becoming more frequent, his body tensing. His release so close.

  “That’s it. You’re taking me so well, my dear.”

  Fear engulfed me and his next words shattered every shred of doubt I still had.

  “I missed you, Eyela.”

  The name hit me like a blade through the ribs. My mother’s name. This wasn’t Ash.

  The world tilted. I tried to wake, clawing for consciousness, for breath… anything. But the dream held me fast. If it was a dream at all.

  “It’s okay, my dear. You’re okay,” he breathed in my ear.

  His voice grew distant, distorted, until with one final thrust he finished inside of me with a growl. His face buried in my hair as he breathed heavily. When the world stilled, I tried to move away, but the figure of Ash held me down for a moment longer. His body shivering, breathing hard.

  “You’re not Ash,” I clenched my jaw. Tears jumping in my eyes. He carefully released me and rolled onto his back, watching me.

  He lay beside me now, his illusion had faded. Midnight hair clung to his face, too perfect to be mortal, too cruel to be beautiful. His eyes… familiar black mirrors. Endless and empty.

  “I suppose the fa?ade couldn’t last,” he said lazily, stretching like a cat.

  My pulse thundered in my ears. “How did I get here?”

  He tilted his head. “I ask myself the same thing. One moment, I was dreaming of the Mid Realm, of the autumn sky… and her. The next, you appeared.”

  The Fiend smiled faintly, and even that small curve of his lips sent a chill through me.

  “Your soul wanders in dreams and realities, Faelwen,” he said. “When I’m near, sometimes our worlds… overlap. I’m a wanderer too.”

  “Take me back,” I pleaded. “I want… I want to… I need to wake up.” I stumbled over my words. Tears running down my face. I curled up in a ball, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

  “Oh my sweet little Elfling.” His tone softened, almost mournful. “I didn’t mean to... I just wanted… damn… you look so much like her.”

  His voice cracked, not with cruelty, but regret. He clenched his jaw, teeth gritting. It confused me. I couldn’t imagine a being so cruel to have any emotions at all let alone have empathy.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you return.” His hand, warm and trembling, brushed my shoulder. “Think of where your body might be right now. I’ll guide you back. And ehm…” He seemed to think for a moment, to find the right words before continuing. “Pay attention to your health. If you feel unwell, seek a trained healer and tell them what happened between us.”

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  A bit confused by his words, I did as he said, closing my eyes and summoning the cottage from my memory. The narrow bed, Spook’s quiet snoring, the musky scent of old furniture. And Ash… the real Ash. His laugh, his warmth, his heartbeat that always steadied mine.

  “There,” the Fiend whispered. “I’ll say goodbye for now, Faelwen. And… thank you, for letting me see her again.”

  His lips pressed once again against my cheek, a kiss like mourning. Then the dream fractured, the garden dissolving into darkness.

  A strange pull tore through me, and I fell. Weightless, spinning through darkness and memory until there was nothing left but the echo of his voice and the hollow ache of fear and confusion he left behind in my heart.

  ? ? ?

  Ash

  “Why won’t she wake up?”

  The words tore from me like a wound. Fear gnawed at my insides, a hollow and hungry thing. In only four months’ time this woman had found her way to my heart. I couldn’t imagine my life without her anymore. And every time I felt like I was losing her, crippling anxiety choked me, where normally I would be able to control my feelings.

  Fealwen lay limp in my arms, her skin pale as starlight, drained of colour. Her breathing was shallow and slow, a trembling thread tying her to this world… to me. I pressed my ear close, desperate for the familiar rhythm of her heart. It beat faintly beneath my ear, keeping me tethered to hope. But her eyes would not open. No whisper, no stir, nothing.

  Her soul is elsewhere, Ash. She tends to wander in her sleep. Finding other dreams or realities. Artemis soothing voice filled my mind, that low eternal timbre that always seemed older than time itself.

  It unsettled me a little, hearing him in my mind. I often wondered if he could read my thoughts as well or even beyond my thoughts. If he could see things I buried deep inside of me, the guilt and the shame I refused to name. I hoped not.

  Hells, I hoped not.

  Behind me, Spook groaned, his voice rough with pain. I heard the creak of the mattress as he tried to move.

  “Stay there,” I hissed, my tone sharper than intended. “Don’t even think about standing.”

  “But… I want to help,” he muttered weakly.

  “You’ll help by healing.” My voice snapped like a whip, and Spook shrank back, muttering curses under his breath. I didn’t care. My entire world was trembling in my arms.

  “What’s happening to her?” Spook asked after a pause, his voice shaking. I imagined the same dread I was feeling was also coursing through his veins.

  “Artemis says her soul is… travelling,” I said quietly, resting my chin atop Faelwen’s head. Her hair smelled faintly of the forest rain and smoke.

  “A… Artemis said…?”

  “She does that sometimes,” I interrupted Spook. “She walks between dreams and realities.”

  Before Spook could respond, Faelwen’s body jolted.

  Her eyes flew open, wild with terror, a gasp ripping from her throat as if her lungs had been deprived of oxygen for too long.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay,” I whispered, holding her tighter, as though I could keep the dream from reclaiming her.

  “Ash?” Her voice was a ghost of a sound, fragile and breaking. She reached up, fingertips tracing the lines of my face until recognition softened her features. Her body loosened. Relief shimmering in her gaze.

  In the corner of my eye, I caught Spook’s expression shifting from fear to quiet gratitude.

  Even Artemis leaned forward, brushing his wet nose against her cheek in a silent greeting.

  Faelwen met his gaze and they seemed to communicate for a moment before she said: “I was in the Fiend’s grasp. But he… I escaped.”

  The words struck me cold. Spook swallowed hard and voiced my fear. “Then… he knows where we are?”

  Faelwen’s nod was small, almost reluctant, but it landed like a blade between my ribs. I could feel his power pressing closer already, its shadows listening. This would make our journey through the Underworld more dangerous. The entire idea of sneaking through it undetected had fallen apart.

  “Shit,” Spook muttered.

  “Shit indeed,” I said, voice low with restrained fury.

  “What now?” His eyes darted between us.

  “We run,” Faelwen said, jaw set, fear turning into determination. “We get out of the Underworld as fast as possible.”

  I nodded grimly. “She’s right. Stealth is useless now. We make for the next waypoint. That’s our only way back to the Mid Realm.”

  Spook frowned. “Can’t you just make a portal, like in Sylvaeris?”

  “If I could, I would,” I exhaled through clenched teeth. “It’s easy to gain entry into the Underworld but getting out… The Fiend’s curse binds everything that enters his realm. The only exits are through the waypoints. Old relics built by his monks, like the ley lines between elven cities. Without those waypoints, we’re trapped.”

  “Where’s the nearest one?” Faelwen asked, scratching Artemis between the ears. Her calm steadied me, though she had only just returned from a nightmare.

  “An old windmill,” I answered. “Not far from here, deep in the marshes. You’ll know it by the black stone embedded in its wall. Same as the tree we saw in the Fiend’s garden.”

  I didn’t mention the rest, the rumours of a wraith haunting that place, or the way even the Fiend’s servants avoided it. I’d faced worse than ghosts, and if we had to gamble our lives on this cursed ground, then so be it.

  Spook swung his legs out of bed, grimacing. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “Sit back, buds,” I ordered. “You’re half-healed and no use to anyone if you bleed out halfway there. We rest one more day. The Fiend won’t dare approach this close, like I said before.”

  Faelwen’s gaze cut to me, sharp and unyielding. “Staying gives him time to send others. I’m sorry, Ash, but no. We leave now. I’ll heal him.”

  She rose from the bed, but I caught her arm.

  “Wen.” My tone carried the warning it always had, the kind that usually stopped her in her tracks.

  But she didn’t stop this time. Her eyes met mine with that unshakable defiance that both infuriated and enthralled me. Hells, this woman… even here, in the Underworld, she burned brighter than reason. If Spook weren’t here I would’ve turned her on her stomach and made her squirm underneath me, begging for more.

  “Ash,” she said, matching my tone, and pulled free.

  Before I could retort, Artemis’ voice filled the space between us.

  He already knows where we are, Ash. She’s right. Let her heal Spook, so you can move before it’s too late.

  I ground my teeth.

  “Fine,” I muttered, standing.

  Faelwen sat down next to Spook on the bed, placing her palms against his wounded shoulder. The air around her shimmered, faint silver threads weaving across her skin, crawling down her arms like living veins of moonlight. She whispered words in ancient Elvish, her voice like a melody half-forgotten by the world. I paused in my movements, remembering the last time I heard those words and nearly lost her while she healed herself. Spook hissed as the wound began to close. Flesh knitting, scar fading, until only pink new skin remained. I could see the strain in Faelwen’s face, beads of sweat tracing down her temple. Her skin paled, shadows forming beneath her eyes. I stepped closer, my heart clenching.

  “That’s enough, darling,” I murmured, hand on her shoulder. She ignored me. Of course she did. Stubborn woman. I counted to ten in my head, waiting.

  Spook finally reached over, his hand trembling.

  “Little fox, stop. I’m fine. I can travel.”

  Her chanting faded, the silver light dissolving from her skin. Relief washed through me, loosening something I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  “Good,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I’ll get us something to eat before we go.”

  “Ash?”

  I turned. She looked up at me, her eyes that deep forest green-brown that always saw straight through my armour.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For getting lost again. For drawing his gaze. I didn’t meant to…”

  I stepped closer and placed a finger against her lips.

  “It’s alright, darling,” I said softly. “If you ever get lost again, I’ll look for you. Even if I have to walk through every dream in every realm to do it if it means I can bring you back to me.”

  A faint smile curved her lips, fragile and real. Warmth and love shining in her eyes, burning my soul. The weight between us shifted instantly, the fear, the anger dissolving into something warmer, steadier, lovelier.

  I kissed her, a soft promise pressed to her mouth, before turning toward the door.

  “Rest while you can,” I murmured. “We’ll need our strength.”

  As I left, the hollow quiet of the Underworld pressed closed. The kind of silence that always came before the next storm. And I prayed for any god to listen and protect her at all cost.

  After breakfast we thanked Auntie Hattie for her kindness and left her crooked little cottage behind.

  The cottage that now looked safe and warm in comparison to they grey expanse of the Underworld in front of us.

  The path toward the windmill wound through the wetlands, veiled in low-hanging mist that curled around our boots like restless spirits from the dead. The air was heavy with the scent of rot, iron and sulphur. Day and night were almost the same. Just a dull reflection of each other, the same blood-red moon, now a crescent moon, forever bleeding through the clouds. Paler by day, but still watching, still haunting.

  We spoke little. The dread of the Underworld keeping us locked into our own minds. Every sound seemed to wake something ancient beneath the mire, a whisper in the fog, a ripple in the dark water. And each time it happened, we tightened our grips around our weapons, bracing for what might emerge. Afraid the minions of the Fiend might jump on us from the shadows.

  It wasn’t a long journey, but it did feel endless. Until at last the windmill rose from the mist.

  It loomed before us, one of its walls had caved in. The great blades were frozen in a half-turn, squealing faintly as the wind teased at their rusted hinges. The door of the entrance now hung on one hinge, tapping against the stone with every breath of wind.

  A black void gaped where the threshold used to be, dark and ominous, and the mill wheel below was strangled by weeds rising from the stagnant green water.

  We moved closer, careful not to step on any twigs. The air pressed down on us, too still, too quiet. The kind of silence that feels like something bad is coming.

  Then Spook slipped.

  His boot plunged into the murky water with a wet slap that echoed across the bog. We all froze.

  Every muscle tense, every eye fixed on that dark void. The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Nothing moved.

  I exhaled, slowly. But then…

  “…Thieves…”

  The voice slithered through the mist like a cold breath against the back of my neck. A woman’s voice, distant, broken and wrong.

  “Thieves in the night…”

  The sound turned my blood to ice. I had heard the story whispered once, back when I still served the Fiend. The miller’s daughter, once promised to one of the fiends who ruled these lands before he consumed them all. When she tried to save her beloved, the Fiend tore her apart. But death hadn’t silenced her. She had forged a bloodstone with her dying breath. A vessel to bind her spirit, to keep her vengeance alive.

  I had dismissed it as superstition then. But standing there, hearing her voice, I wished I’d believed.

  “Thieves…”

  It came again, closer now, soaked in sorrow and rage.

  I swallowed hard. “Someone’s angered this wraith,” I whispered to the others. “We can’t destroy her, only trap her. Be ready.”

  Faelwen turned to me, lips parted. “How do we…”

  “Give me back my… BLOODSTONE!”

  The final word split the air like lightening. The scream that followed was no sound of this world. It tore through the mist, through us, shaking marrow and thought alike. From the black doorway erupted a shape of a woman’s outline twisted by agony. Her skin was ash-pale and torn, her mouth stretched wide, and tangled hair lashed around her like tendrils of smoke. Where her nose had been was only a hollow, and from her brow jutted two small, broken horns.

  She was not flesh. Not shadow. Something in between.

  And for the first time in my life, I screamed.

  Spook’s voice joined mine, raw and unsteady. Faelwen stumbled back, her hand reaching for an arrow. Artemis whimpered, low and mournful, as the wraith’s shriek drowned the world around us.

  Oh yes, I’ll join the Discord server of my fave author, meet awesome people, and become super famous, right? Well, that was the idea ’til everything went sideways, and now my life is upside down and inside out.

  Who can I trust? What is real? Is anyone on Discord actually a person? Or is it all just some whack game designed to drive me mad? I’ve got one friend who I sorta count on, but dare I confide in him my deepest, darkest fear: what if no one on Discord is actually real?

  How far down the rabbit hole did I go in my quest for fame and fortune? There’s only one way to find out, so you know what to do. Yeah, click Read Here.

  What to Expect:

  

  
• Female lead.


  
• Sapphic characters, no romance.


  
• An innocent, lovable gal with quick wit who gets in over her head on Discord.


  
• Comedy turned psychological thriller without violence or physical peril.


  
• Character driven. Found family. Slice-of-life moments.


  
• This stand-alone book is a spin-off from my series and is a Royal Road Write-A-Thon Participant for Fall 2025.