Page 44 of Beyond the Winter Kingdom (Faeted Seasons #2)

Meera

I dreamed of a floating island.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had strange dreams, but this one felt different. Weightless, lucid, and painfully real.

The sky above stretched in an endless canvas of cobalt, painted with swirls of cloud. Beneath my feet, a bed of impossibly soft grass tickled my bare soles, vivid green and almost glowing. A low breeze whispered across the terrain, though nothing moved with it. The air smelled faintly of autumn.

In the center of the island, purple water cascaded down from a shallow pool, flowing like silk over smooth, dark stone.

Each level of the waterfall spilled into another, forming perfect, concentric pools that spiraled out toward the edge before tumbling into infinity.

The whole island hovered above a vast nothingness.

No land. Just the sky below and an endless, terrifying void.

It was beautiful in a way that didn’t exist anywhere else. Majestic and haunting all at once. Enchanting and ethereal. It felt as old as time itself.

What appeared to be a place of calm and comfort, I felt nothing of the sort. Trepidation tiptoed through my psyche.

I stepped forward, drawn by a sound I couldn’t quite name—until it hit me with crystal clarity.

Vareck’s voice was low. Strained. Each word carried a heavy burden, the cause of which I didn’t understand yet. But gods, I felt it. I felt his pain before I saw him, and it tore at my very soul.

Kneeling on the grass, shoulders hunched, he looked like a man defeated.

In front of him loomed a massive serpent; golden, beautiful, and dangerous.

It coiled like liquid sunlight and towered over him, its scales catching the light of both the sun and moon as they existed simultaneously on opposite sides of the sky.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real.

“You musssst not truly feel it,” the serpent hissed . “Or you would do anything to regain the bond.”

My chest squeezed tight, an invisible fist closing around my lungs. Each word it spoke slid over my body like oil, coating me, trying to suffocate my skin.

“I can’t bring it back,” Vareck said. His voice cracked . “The ley line took it. There’s no going back.”

“But there issss,” the snake whispered, slithering forward. Its movement was hypnotic in the same way fire and flames captivated and held our attention . “There issss a way to bring it back.” It slithered closer to him. “The amulet. You sssstill have it, don’t you?”

I didn’t know how I’d gotten here. Whether this was a memory, a vision, a dream, or something far stranger I couldn’t yet comprehend.

I felt the pull of his soul like a thread tied to mine, taut and trembling.

Something deep and old, fraying in ways I hadn’t noticed until now.

Tension coiled, low in my belly, nausea forming and taking hold.

The serpent laughed and hissed, “ Liessss .” It tightened its body and flicked its tongue to taste the air.

“ Lying doessss not become you, curssssed king. You know where it issss. Even if you don’t carry the piecessss, they are sssstill yourssss.

Hidden. Bound. Massssked by blood magic. Forever your burden to bear.”

“How do you know this?” he whispered, his voice laced with anxiety and agony .

“I am of the Fold,” the serpent whispered . “Undo the glamour. Find the piecessss. Repair it ... and bring back what wassss losssst.”

I could feel the weight of Vareck’s hesitation ripple through the dream scene.

My stomach flipped over, threatening to drop me to my knees.

He was in a horrible nightmare. One I shouldn’t witness.

One that was filled with fears and wounds he tried to keep hidden, tender and still bleeding, and wrapped tightly beneath his stony exterior.

“Then why keep it sssseparated?” it asked, wrapping its body tighter, rising as though it were ready to strike. “What have you protected, Vareck, king of winter and death? Nothing changed. The cursssse sssstill sssstrangles the land. Fatessss are losssst. Your mate issss sssstill gone.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was afraid he’d hear it.

Afraid he would see me and know that I was invading such a private moment even though I didn’t intend to.

I wanted so badly for our sleep to sync.

I wanted so badly to talk to him, but this was never the reunion I had imagined.

Now I worried if he saw me here it would hurt more knowing he wouldn’t have me when we woke up.

“Resssstore it,” it said. “And perhapssss the old wayssss will return. Perhapssss she returnssss. Whole. Yourssss. Again.”

“She would be mine again?” Vareck whispered.

I couldn’t breathe.

I was already his. Couldn’t he tell? Even though I was scared and even though the realm played its tricks, he had to know he was mine and I was his.

Damn the invasion of his private thoughts.

I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I couldn’t let him think this way, dream this way.

Even if he didn’t have me when we woke up, he had to stop thinking what we have is gone just because I wasn’t there. I walked forward, but he didn’t move.

“Vareck?” I said softly, but nothing happened. “Vareck.”

Nothing but stillness. Sickness roiled in my gut.

The air felt suffocating. Cloying and rotten and no longer crisp like autumn.

Everything was wrong here. Something had taken hold of him. Something perverse and evil. Whatever this thing was, it didn’t belong to the beauty of this place.

I moved quickly, screaming his name. Trying to tell him I was here. Trying to free him from his nightmare.

For a moment, I had hope. His head jerked slightly. His eyes searching like they were looking for mine, but he never saw me and my steps faltered.

“Why can’t you see me?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself.

Then the serpent turned with methodical intention. Its mouth separated into a horrifying smile, its tongue again flicking and tasting the air. Blackened eyes glowed with the red embers of a dying fire, watching me with hunger.

“I ssssee you, lovely,” it whispered, smug and soft.

My body froze as it stared at me. This wasn’t right. This was Vareck’s dream. His nightmare. “How?” I breathed out in a shaky voice.

“I am of the Fold. The Fold knowssss everything.” The snake’s eyes flashed with power as it coiled tightly, rising higher. The thick muscle of its elongated form twisted. “I’m afraid it’ssss not time for you yet.”

Before I could move, before I could reach him, before I could even scream his name again, a wall of raw, ancient magic hit me like a tidal wave.

The ground disappeared.

The light vanished.

And I tumbled backward into darkness.

I woke with a gasp, the scream still lodged in my throat.

Pain bloomed at the back of my skull, sharp and hot, like I’d been dropped from a height I wasn’t meant to survive. My limbs were heavy, leaden. As if my soul had been dragged back to my body too quickly.

I tried to sit up, the twisting of my gut threatening to spill the contents of my stomach.

Strong hands shoved me back down.

“Don’t move,” a voice said, low and unfamiliar. Calm, but cold.

I blinked hard. Everything spun. My vision swam, colors flickering like candlelight before settling into shapes.

When the scene came into focus, my heart began to race.

Figures stood over me. Tall. Broad. Black, jagged wings folded tightly against their backs. Their eyes were sharp, predatory. These were not Nameless, nor were they fae.

They were furies .

I needed no confirmation . I felt it in my blood; charged, primal, and fierce. Like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

Damon looked at me silently with rage-filled eyes. One of the furies had him by the back of the neck, holding him in a headlock. He was on his knees. Magic shimmered along the fury’s skin like smoke. Damon wasn’t resisting, but his jaw was clenched, and his gaze was locked on mine.

Panic surged, but so did my nausea. I tried to get up, but I rolled to the side, emptying all that had been churning there since my encounter in Vareck’s dream.

“I said don’t move,” a figure repeated, reaching for me. I tried to knock its hand away in a weak attempt at self-preservation.

What a weak fae I was, sprawled on the floor, vomiting while held captive.

“Drink this,” another said, offering a skin of some unknown substance. I glared at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“No,” I rasped, trying to push it away.

“I told you she needs a moment to come out of it,” one spoke to another. “She’s had an encounter with a demon shadow.”

Damon growled softly, a low rumble.

“Let him go,” I croaked, my voice raw. Pressing my hand to the ground, I moved to sit up, away from the puddle I’d left on the floor.

A fury regarded me for a moment, then looked at the one holding Damon back. She inclined her chin and Damon was released. He catapulted forward, palms landing flat as he sucked in air in harsh gasps.

A fury offered me the skin again, but I looked at it with distrust.

“If I wanted you dead, I could have done it earlier. I don’t need to poison you. Drink. It’ll help you feel better.”

I coughed again, accepting my fate. The fury had a point I couldn’t argue.

I took the skin and drank from it, feeling its cooling contents flow through me.

It wasn’t water, and it wasn’t wine. Whatever magic it contained was rejuvenating.

My shaky muscles felt stable again. The uneasiness in my stomach settled, and my pulse slowed . ..

They offered one to Damon, but he scowled, knocking it out of the hand that offered it. Several furies towered over him, leaving little room for him to attempt to stand. They may have let him go, but they weren’t willing to risk him fighting, apparently.

“If you’re looking for the king, I don’t know where he is,” Damon said, sitting back on his haunches.

“We aren’t looking for the king.”

Damon’s brow furrowed, and he held his chin high.

A fury laughed. “We care not for a prince, either, despite knowing who your father was.”

His eyes narrowed, but concern filled them quickly as he met my gaze once again.

“What, then?” I asked, my voice shaking.

The fury to my left tilted its head, regarding me closely.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said. “Our Queen.”

To be continued . . .