Page 94 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

EPILOGUE ONE

F aythe sat in the presence of everyone she held dear at the grand round council table in Dalrune. Without a royal family, a year following their victory in the Darkest Hour War, the rulers of Ungardia had come to the unanimous decision that it would be a free land; a neutral ground. A lot of dark fae left without a home after the collapse of the Mortus Mountains had chosen to reside here. It would be a place for fae, dark fae, and humans to coexist under a governing body appointed by each of the rulers from the six surrounding kingdoms.

Their annual meetings to discuss kingdom and continent matters would be held right here, at this table, where they all sat as equals, on land that belonged to all of them and none of them.

At least…it had almost been unanimous. They were missing one ruling vote.

Kyleer entered inconspicuously through a side door, giving Faythe a solemn shake of his head.

Zaiana wouldn’t come.

She’d refused her title as the Queen of Valgard profusely. The dark fae was grieving still, and though Faythe could harbor no sorrow for Maverick’s death after all he’d done, she understood Zaiana’s loss. Maverick wasn’t her villain; he was her reflection, and in the end…for all that time he’d hidden behind wickedness…her protector.

Above that, Zaiana had gotten no closure for his death, with Mordecai still unaccounted for. There had been no sightings even though they’d all contributed efforts to try to track him. Faythe knew that was what kept Zaiana preoccupied too.

“We can’t stall much longer,” Reylan said close to her ear. He raised their linked fingers, kissing her knuckles.

Faythe smiled fondly at him, still giddy with butterflies in her stomach every time their eyes met so close. He was absolutely breathtaking in his royal black, gold, and crimson wears. A modest gold crown adorned his silver hair, and Faythe would never stop considering herself the luckiest person alive to have him.

“We can begin,” she said, squeezing his hand before letting go.

Faythe glanced over the table, taken by love and pride at the sight of all her friends and allies gathered together with nothing but hope and joy to discuss. The others chatted among themselves, and she basked in a moment longer to watch their happiness.

Nik and Tauria leaned into each other, talking conspiratorially, with such bright grins and soft chuckles. While Nik wore his usual color of deep blue and Tauria had kept her emerald green gowns, they’d merged kingdoms proudly in the deep green sash Nik wore around his middle, and in Tauria’s, which was blue. Their crowns matched, curving up into a subtle peak at the front like antlers. Their kingdom crests sat side by side as brass pins on their ceremonial shoulder cloaks.

Her dear friends were absolutely exquisite depictions of love and royalty.

Tarly and Nerida wore white and gold, appearing so ethereal it stole Faythe’s breath when they first arrived. Nerida was known as Queen Amelie Da’Naid to her people but cherished her humble wanderers’ name, Nerida, among her friends at this table. Tarly had stayed true to his decision, relinquishing his claim on the Olmstone throne despite Nerida’s protests. The humble prince wanted to be hers—as her consort, nothing more. He’d given his throne to his sister, Opal, who was too young to rule alone, but her mother sat by her side, reformed and freed from her life by Varlas Wolverlon’s cold side. Both wore the familiar wears of Olmstone in their color of deep purple.

Faythe’s sight lingered on the vacant chair in front of Valgard’s serpent crest carved on the table. The island that was condemned as the villain was no different to them. The citizens, mostly dark fae, wanted peace and connection with the mainland after so long in barren isolation. Their lands still didn’t grow anything natural, and Faythe, along with all the others, was committed to helping them with trade plans. Without a monarch, things were uncertain for the kingdom, but Faythe hadn’t given up hope that Zaiana might return and claim her birthright.

She’d wanted Zaiana to be a part of this day, but as Kyleer had tried to keep track of her, every time he made contact, it was not a welcome reception.

Faythe watched Kyleer make his way silently around the table to stand behind where Faythe and Reylan sat, joining his brother Izaiah, and Tynan who had seamlessly joined Rhyenelle military ranks after the war.

The table was a deep walnut, with the crest of all seven kingdoms burnished into the wood in front of each monarch. Faythe’s fingers grazed proudly over her Phoenix emblem.

“I have a surprise waiting for you,” Reylan murmured. His low tone broke a shiver down her spine.

“Is this you trying to hurry the meeting along?”

She turned her head to him, and he’d leaned his elbow on his armrest, lazily reclining as he watched her. His smile was devious. His fingers brushed her cheek.

“Absolutely.”

Faythe needed no more encouragement. Her palm flattened over the large Phoenix emblem on the table, and her magick spilled into the lines, making it glow. In turn, the others around the table lit up one by one too.

In front of the owl crest of Dalrune, there was no seat but a statue. Faythe didn’t see Maverick Blackfair when she looked at it—the dark fae who’d killed her, killed Agalhor, and killed many to spare the unforgivable deeds from Zaiana. Carved in royal finery, poised bravely, and wearing the crown of Dalrune…was Callen Osirion.

All seven kingdom emblems stayed glowing when Faythe settled her hand back in her lap, and they wouldn’t burn out until the meeting was over.

It hushed the others into attentive silence.

Faythe drew a long breath, leveling her chin. “Before we turn grossly formal as monarchs to discuss kingdom matters, I have to say this…” She had to pause, swallowing the lump in her throat, the emotion of pure gratitude and love. “We fought through the Nether for these lands, and for each other. Ungardia has never been stronger, more united, than it is with us. I hope history remembers us not just as victors and rulers of the darkest hours our world has seen, but as the family we found in each other that kept us strong. That our bonds with each other made sure we could not lose. We all have our kingdoms to rule, but we are one land, one people, and a movement against one of us is a movement against all of us. The dawn of a United Ungardia starts here.”

Nik’s eyes sparkled with endearment while his half-smile turned up in amusement. “For one not raised into this role like the rest of us, you truly are a remarkable beacon of an example. You couldn’t have done this without us, but we all needed you as much as you needed us.”

Tauria sniffed. “You promised this wouldn’t get emotional.”

Everyone chuckled, and Tauria’s eyes weren’t the only ones glistening. It was difficult to release their breath and settle into their peace after so long fighting.

Tarly said, “I didn’t think I’d be here. For a long time, I didn’t even think I wanted to be. I found reason in Nerida, but I found acceptance in all of you.”

The graying skin from his dark fae bite had never reversed, but he had full function of his arm and his hand. Though she didn’t know him as well, Faythe was glad he’d survived it. Tarly Wolverlon was a hero as much as any of them for his tactics in the war.

“I learned how to grow vegetables!” Opal said excitedly.

Soft laughter echoed around the table. The young princess had kept safe on a farm on the outskirts of Olmstone, thanks to Tarly and his human friends who’d taken them in.

For the next two hours, they shared how their kingdoms were faring and what still needed to be rebuilt. They were committed to helping each other where they could with resources and workers.

When it ended, Reylan led Faythe away.

“Where are we going?”

“I found something you need to see.”

They wound through the castle, which was still in a state of repair. Faythe stopped by a torn painting, her hand joined in Reylan’s, straining with tension.

Faythe found herself caught in a moment of reflection. “After everything he’d done…he was never hoping for redemption, was he?”

Maverick—no, Callen’s portrait was torn. Two scars across his face. Faythe made an urgent note in her mind to have it restored.

“I was almost the one to kill him…” Reylan trailed off.

Faythe squeezed his hand.

“It was like he was waiting for it. As if he knew I’d come and he’d already surrendered.”

“The goal that kept him fighting was fulfilled,” Faythe whispered.

She’d never expected to harbor any feeling for Maverick, but after hearing his final message, Faythe could at least understand him. He’d done it all for Zaiana. Faythe knew that kind of love. The kind that made villains out of people in its name. She’d sacrificed for Reylan and put the world at risk, and she had no regret.

“Except Zaiana rejected it all,” Reylan said.

“Her place among us will always be open. When she’s ready…she’ll come back.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Faythe turned to him, casting away the somberness with a grin. She poked his chest. “You’ve finally stopped pretending you hate her.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing her wrist and pulling her flush against him. “There’s a kingdom that needs a leader before it falls to anarchy. I acknowledge she’s important.”

“You’re always the first to see Kyleer and ask about her the moment he returns.”

“I have to make sure he comes back with four limbs and two eyes after his dangerous monthly venture.”

Faythe chuckled, and Reylan smiled before leaning his head down to kiss her. She wanted more after their long day of talking kingdom politics and catching up with their friends.

Before she could push him against the wall, Reylan pulled back, grinning at her look of protest. “After,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more before taking her hand and resuming their walk.

They headed down several steps, so Faythe assumed they were underground by now. She couldn’t begin to guess what he might have found in his many scouts of this castle as they decided what to use it for and what needed the most repairs after the century it had spent overrun by the enemy dark fae with no order.

The room he led her into was dark, and she coughed from the dust a few steps inside. Stuffing her nose into her elbow, she surveyed the shelves, which appeared littered with trinkets and artifacts. Deeper within, Faythe saw something large leaning against the far back wall, covered in an old sheet. It was what Reylan let go of her hand to approach. When he pulled back the sheet, Faythe jumped at her own reflection.

It was a mirror…sharp around the edges, with no framing.

“Is that…?” Faythe couldn’t be sure if she wanted it to be what she thought.

“A Dresair mirror, yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because my reflection waved at me when I first discovered it. Ask Kyleer—he almost ran out of here screaming.”

Faythe snickered. “I’m sure he’d have a different account of that.”

Reylan came back to her, resting a hand on her hip as they stared at their reflection together. “Last I was here, I saw a flicker of a familiar face.”

Faythe looked up at him in confusion. Until color bled into the mirror—dark and glittering, like a night sky unfurling. It beckoned her to step forward; to soar into its endless expanse.

“What is this?” Faythe asked through a breath of wonder.

The midnight canvas cradling hundreds of constellations began to shift. It morphed into swirls of starlight before Faythe started to make out the shapes of buildings. A city that was born for the moon and stars with how brilliantly it shone under the night. Faythe took a step closer, mesmerized by the starlit labyrinth and the proud, glittering black castle.

Then the image changed again, and Faythe’s spine curved back in shock.

“It’s Nyte,” she said.

Nyte didn’t pay her any attention. Perhaps he couldn’t see her. Nyte wore a smile she’d never seen before on him—one that unmasked every vicious part of him to reveal nothing but pure love and joy for the woman beside him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her silver hair had strands that glittered when she moved, smiling with the same adoration at Nyte. They both wore finery fit for Gods, and what a picture of divinity they were.

“Astraea,” Faythe said, recalling her name. Nyte’s mate. The woman he’d chosen to return to rather than stay in this realm, where he was born.

Faythe’s eyes welled, but she blinked to clear her vision, needing to capture this moment entirely. “He made it back to her,” she said.

Reylan’s arm tightened around her, and his lips pressed to her head. “It’s happy endings like theirs and ours that are worth trekking through the Nether for,” he said.

“In every realm and in every time.”

“That is our promise. Do you want to prove it?”

Faythe couldn’t deny she was tempted to step through the mirror if it could take her to that beautiful city. To exchange happier tales with the last family member she had left. But she had much more to see in this realm, and so, for now, she wanted to stay right here.

“Maybe someday,” she said and let herself dream beyond the confines of her own stars.

Her heart swelled for Nyte’s happiness, and she captured every last flicker of the night and the star who turned away from the mirror as it began to fade.

Before Faythe and Reylan headed home to Rhyenelle, Faythe had one last stop she had to make.

Staring up at the two figures that proudly stood in Farrowhold’s outer-town market square, Faythe paid tribute to her fallen friends on one knee. It never got easier to see their faces carved in stone instead of having them by her side, but she was glad their bravery and sacrifice had been immortalized right here.

Jakon Kilnight and Marlowe Kilnight

Fallen Heroes of the Darkest Hour War

After, she found herself in the Eternal Woods with Nik. They parried lazily with their swords, talking mindlessly about court gossip.

“Asari has been particularly protective of Tauria recently. I knew it was only a matter of time before that wolf turned on me,” Nik said.

Faythe ducked under his sword, twisting on her sole before lunging up and blocking his next attack.

“Doesn’t Katori stay with you too?” Faythe asked.

Nik huffed, and a smile twitched Faythe’s mouth at his pretend annoyance.

“Yeah. Apparently, she’s miserable in the cold in Lakelaria. Now I have two oversized mutts I never asked for.”

“You love them,” Faythe teased.

She feinted left, and Nik fell for it, giving her the opening to disarm him with her fist slamming down on his sword hand. Nik hissed, shaking his tender hand with a scowl.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Nik complained.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Faythe quipped, sheathing Lumarias.

“Speaking of, Asari has started climbing into our bed, and Tauria finds it cute .”

Faythe giggled. “Maybe she’s a better cuddler.”

He shot her a scowl, which only made her grin wider. She missed Nik so much when they were apart, but it made these moments of reunion so special.

“We should head back if you want to get on the road to Rhyenelle before nightfall,” Nik said, swiping up his sword.

Faythe strolled toward the ruins of the temple and sat on the broken steps. “I’m going to stay a few more minutes. Meet you at the castle?”

Her eyes skimmed over to the twin graves covered in bluedrops. Jakon and Marlowe’s resting place was so beautiful.

Nik cast her an understanding smile with his nod, and she watched him walk away.

The silence of the woods only lingered for a moment.

“You still haven’t told him you can see us?” The sound of Jakon’s voice pricked her nose and eyes.

She turned her head, and the sight of him healed and broke a piece of her. “In his own way…he sees you too,” she whispered.

Faythe didn’t know whether Jakon was truly real or just a desperate figment of her imagination. She didn’t have Aurialis’s essence inside her anymore—the Spirit of Life was gone. But perhaps the essence of Marvellas, the Spirit of Souls , which she was born with, allowed her to manifest the image of Jakon and Marlowe’s souls here.

Marlowe hooked her arm around Faythe’s, leaning her head on her shoulder. The touch was barely-there—a seed of doubt that this was real. But Faythe cast her doubts away and chose to believe.

It was only here she could pretend they were still with her in flesh, but no matter where she was, they lived in her heart every day.

“Rhiannon has visited a few times over the past year, along with Livia and Samara and their Phoenixes. Rhiannon hasn’t said outright, but I’m sure she thinks I’m selfish for not surrendering Atherius’s egg for her to take to the island. If it hasn’t hatched for me, then I’m only holding it back from finding the rider it was meant for instead,” Faythe relayed.

It ached in her chest to admit that she wanted the hatchling to awaken for her so badly, so she could keep a piece of Atherius, whom she missed dearly.

“You won’t be the last Ashfyre it may choose,” Marlowe said.

Faythe’s mind opened with the hope and yearning she’d harbored before in small kernels. Her hand hovered over her stomach at the beautiful thought of silver-haired Ashfyres. She didn’t know when they would be ready for children, as there was so much she wanted to do with Reylan before then, but a smile bloomed over her face at knowing they had all the time in the world now.

Then, as though the key to that future could feel her joy, Reylan appeared through the trees ahead.

“Off you go then, Phoenix Queen,” Jakon said playfully.

Faythe huffed a laugh, but she fought tears like she did every time she had to leave. She forced herself to stand, and Faythe didn’t look back, too afraid her friends would be gone and the illusion would shatter. Instead she walked to Reylan with their presence still strong behind her.

“Ready to go home?” he said gently, reaching to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes,” she said through her tightening throat.

Her hand slipped into his warm, waiting palm. Faythe had learned that the future wasn’t a gift; it was a choice. And now, at last, it was theirs to make.