Page 301 of Cursed Evermore

The thought split me open, and I realized it was the one fate I couldn't endure.

And yet it was one I had to face, because the danger had grown out of control. Dreynthor was the least of my worries now. Zyrra—if it was her—had sided with my enemies, and there were too many questions I couldn't answer. I knew the ring was their object of desire. But why? Why chase it if I was the only one who could wield its power? Perhaps they thought to steal it as Elariya's father had. But that still left the greater question—why?

After everything that had happened, I was certain my father's death was linked to the rebellion. But not to fracture the kingdom. That felt too small now. Whatever plot was moving beneath the surface, it had to be something bigger. That must have been why the ring was hiding.

Until I knew, until I had answers, I had no business dragging Elariya deeper into this war. Perhaps she was better off not knowing me at all. My selfish need to keep her close was the very thing that could destroy her.

I pressed my palms into the jagged stone, bowing my head as the storm raged above me. And then the air shifted.

My shadows coiled tighter along the walls, and something whispered through the darkness. I looked up as a flash of silver flickered overhead. At first, I thought it was more lightning. Until a swarm of Nyzith strands descended, searing against the gloom.

In my desolation, they wrapped around me, light threading through the dark. Then they sang, the same prayer-like song I had heard the day the spell to track the ring first failed.

The strands wound around me, weightless but sharp, brushing my skin like whispers. Slowly, they gathered, knitting themselves into a figure. A person. A woman.

Long hair spilled down her back like a river of starlight. Her outline shimmered, a face forming within the silver glow. The strands pulsed, flickering in and out, the shape wavering between smoke and substance. Yet with every heartbeat, the figure grew clearer. Undeniable. Impossible.

I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs louder than the storm, screaming recognition even as my mind refused to believe. The strands bent and twisted, pulsing, the face still blurred, yet there was no mistaking what I saw.WhoI saw.

My mother.

As soon as recognition struck, the strands sealed, and her body seemed to become flesh. Bright blue eyes fixed on mine, long black hair streamed like silk in the wind, and a silver gown flowed around her like water.

She stood before me as she had in life, poised and unyielding, though her form wavered at the edges as if the Nyzith still held her together.

My breath snagged. I pushed to my feet, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“My beautiful boy.” Her voice was as gentle as a lullaby. “Let not your heart be troubled.”

“Mother. It really is you.”

“Indeed. I've longed to see you.”

My entire body stilled. Even my shadows froze to take in this unbelievable moment.

“How is this possible?”

“Destiny sent me to put things right and keep you from walking in the shadows of death forever.” Her gaze swept over my Deathwalker form, sadness dimming her eyes. Then she reached out and touched me.

The gentle caress washed over my body, and I became myself again—the Fae prince—shedding my Deathwalker form.

“Listen well, Wolfe. We don't have much time. The strands can only hold me for so long.” She studied my face, and her expression softened. “I can see the weight you carry, my son. You've been lost in darkness too long.”

“I feel trapped, Mother.” I couldn't hide the anguish from my voice.

“No. You only feel that way because too much has happened that should never have been. But now it is time for you to be strong. To fight for life. To fight for love.”

“Love.” I whispered the word, but it felt like I had shouted it through my soul.

“Love,” she echoed, firmer now. “You must go back to her, Wolfe. Your mage needs you.”

“I don't want to put her in more danger. I only want to do what's best for her.”

Her smile faded. “Then hear me well. If you do not return to her, she will die.”

A knife twisted in my chest, and the air in my lungs became razor-thin. “Die?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, my love. And with her death, everything you've ever fought for will fade. Even your soul. Only you can protect her, Wolfe. Only you. Because you love her.”