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He saunters over, his face reflecting my own lack of success. But something in this chest feels important. My magic is tingling in my fingertips, and I use that power to unlock the trunk and open it.

The only thing inside is a deep velvet purple cloak with silver trim and embroidery, and a mother of pearl clasp that holds it at the neck.

I pull it out, shaking off the dust, and hold it up.

Racul 's eyes narrow. "I recognize that," he says. "It belonged to the Maiden Fate."

Me.

This was mine?

Or my past self at any rate.

I drape it over my shoulders and I am thrown into a memory that feels so vivid, it's as if I could be living it right now.

I stand nextto my sisters. They are not sisters by blood, I know this, but by power, by destiny, by Fate. We are the Fates and we are draped in our royal robes. I wear purple, the Crone wears emerald green, and the Mother wears sapphire blue. We have silver masks that cover our faces, allowing us to keep our mystery, and we stand before the Mother of Dragons, who is angry, but I do not remember why.

We turn to leave, and once we are alone, the Mother takes off her mask, and I see the beautiful face of Landal, her blue eyes that match her robes glistening with tears. "We have made a grave mistake in what we have done," she says.

The Crone nods. "It is as you say. We should never have agreed to this."

I take off my mask and see in a mirror my own face, similar to what it is now.

And then the Crone removes her mask, and my present self gasps as I collapse to my knees.

The face unveiled before me is one I know.

One I trust.

I am looking at the face of Matilda Night.

Chapter 12: The Monster

"We delightin the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty."

~Maya Angelou

Racul insistson returning with me to the castle, though I'm not sure his presence will make this conversation go easier. Since time is of the essence, and I need to know what the hell is going on, I suggest teleporting us both.

"I prefer to fly," he says.

"That's fine. But I'm not going to wait for you, though."

He pauses, clearly torn between wanting to be a part of the conversation, and not wanting to trust me with dematerializing him.

"Clock’s ticking, buddy. I'm leaving now." I have the cloak—my cloak—stuck in my bag. Touching it, holding it, feels like connecting with a part of myself I'm still trying to find.

And Matilda must have known this whole time who, and what, I was. Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she help me? Why has she kept her identity a secret?

Racul cocks his head, studying me. "You feel betrayed. But you must know, the Fates’ identities were never revealed to anyone. Not even my mother knew who they were. Nor did the Druids. Their secrets are what kept them safe."

"Except I am a Fate. She knew that. She could have told me." I pause. "And besides, Landal told you, didn't she?"

He glances away. "And that trust ended her life."

My own feelings give way to compassion as I see the hurt he carries with him. He's a giant ass. He has been ever since I've known him. But he's also someone in pain, like all of us. Someone who lost a person he loved. I can relate to that. My brother's death still tears at the fabric of my soul on a daily basis, though it's getting easier to bear, if easier is the right word.

I take a step closer to him. "You don't know that for sure," I say. "And even if it's true, I believe she would still make the same choice, to share the life she had with you while she could. I don't remember much of my time as a Fate, but I do know that life is never guaranteed, even for immortals. And spending your days hiding behind a mask is no way to live. She had love. She gave love. That's a lot for any life," I say. "Really, that's everything."