Page 62 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Felsin

Strange, how writing has comforted me these past few years.

I will miss the boy, but his departure is for the best. We sometimes do not realize better days will come.

We refuse to believe they will arrive. And for some, they do not.

But we shall never reach them, unless we take the next step forward.

-Excerpt from Alfaris’ private journal

Felsin stood in his room for the last time, packing a small bag. His body ached, bruised from his tumble into the sinkhole.

He stared at the stars he’d painted the ceiling with in his youth, remembering something Alfaris had often said.

‘You’re still a novice. You have much to learn.’

Felsin turned his palm over. How many secrets yet hid within this magic?

The door flew open and Mother strode in. Bandages wrapped her chest, hidden beneath a tartan robe. “Are you ready?” She asked.

“As I can be,” Felsin said shortly. “I never imagined being exiled.”

“I could.” She leaned on the door frame, smiling.

How could she claim to love him, yet stand there smiling, knowing his doom?

Felsin stepped back in shock. “You. . .did you want this to happen?”

The smile Heras wore deepened before fading. “Is it cruel to say I prefer this end to your death?”

“Then everything didn’t go to plan?”

“Spirits, no.” Heras folded her arms and walked past him. “Fate is what this moment leads to. Stray even a step, and the canvas changes.”

Watching her closely, Felsin kept a distance between them. “The mirage evoker wasn’t supposed to be there, the night at the inn. What would have happened, had Janus died as she was meant to?”

“Nothing.” Heras unfolded her arms and turned to him. “She was the cornerstone of the sky, the one piece I needed to remove.”

“But she still lives.”

“She does.” Heras tapped a crystal ball wistfully. “But the path has changed. She is harmless, without you.”

Curling his fingers behind his back, Felsin leaned toward her. “What are you doing, Mother?”

“What I’ve always done. I love Altanbern dearly. Charged with its keeping, I will do everything in my power to see its people prosper. So fascinated by the ancestors, you never looked toward the people who live now, nor those who come after.”

“I didn’t realize they had it so bad.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Heras said. “Why accept the poor and destitute when we could save them? Why persist in being the alliance’s weakest link when we could prosper?”

Heras spoke the truth. Of all the lies his mother had spun in the past months, this statement was not among them.

“You could have talked to me,” Felsin said, stepping back. “Or was there no future in which I ever listened?”

Heras said nothing, providing the answer.

The clockwork soldiers, the attacks on the alliance, Brand’s mention of sitting a throne. . . Felsin had an idea where their plans led.

To war. A war Altanbern would win with ease.

Shouldering his bag, Felsin stalked toward the door, but paused in its frame. “Tell me this at least. Who murdered Father?”

“I wish I knew.” Heras’ face fractured with sorrow. “Know this. Even as your memories fail you and your mind deteriorates, I will always hold Veren’s memory close. This world shall not forget him.”

Felsin wanted to say something more. He stewed in the doorway, trying to voice his thoughts. Gritting his teeth, he turned from his Mother and walked away.

Keeping his head down, he fled through the castle, avoiding errant gazes. Sors raced down the stairs after him, chasing closely behind his feet. Cold air greeted him as he departed the gates and left his home behind.

Silence blanketed the streets as fresh snow fell. A woman in black stood alone in the middle of the road, waiting for him. She pushed back her hood as he approached, releasing a stream of red locks.

“Lady Mela,” Felsin said, surprised. “Or was it Valkyrie?”

“The latter.” She looked him up and down. “Need an escort?”

“Is that worthy of a songbird’s time?” Felsin stepped around her, walking at a slower pace.

Valkyrie strolled alongside him. “The way I see it, you’re wanted dead. So it’s in my best interest to keep you alive.” Her scarlet eyes trailed across his collarbone, focusing on the crystal necklace.

Without his clan’s maevruthan, the crystal would lose its power. His memories would fade. Alfaris, Father, Janus. . . soon he would forget their names.

How ironic. Felsin had struggled to grasp Alfaris’ magic because he clung to his memories and the teachings of his ancestors. But without them, his mind would become a hollow shell, unable to understand what lay ahead.

How did Alfaris do it? How did he keep hold of his past while letting go his regrets?

Felsin sighed. “It’s a long journey out of Altanbern. And if I’m not out of the city by tonight, they’ll throw me out.”

“I know.” Valkyrie glanced at the manor to their left. “Did you want to say goodbye?”

Felsin paused, staring at the suite where Janus stayed.

‘She’s harmless, without you.’ Mother had said.

“No.” Felsin shook his head. The best way to keep Janus safe was to stay away from her.

Even if it meant not saying goodbye.

“But, give me a moment,” Felsin said, approaching the suite.

Kalid stood guard outside the doors, glaive held tightly, steel pointed skywards. The wariness he’d once regarded Felsin with was absent.

Pulling a folded-up letter from his pocket, Felsin offered it to Kalid. “Would you deliver this to the princess?”

Kalid accepted the letter. “She would prefer you deliver it yourself.”

“I know. But it’s better this way.”

Nodding in understanding, Kalid bowed his head. “I’ll see that she gets it.”

“Thank you.” Felsin returned the bow and rejoined Valkyrie.

“Alright,” Valkyrie said. “Talon’s told me much about you. Why don’t you pull a fortune to see us off on our journey?”

“Why not?” Felsin reached into his satchel and pulled out his cards. Shuffling them, he stared up into the stars, feeling the faint resonance between the heavens and the tarots.

Yanking a card free, he chuckled.

A jester, in an endless landscape. The Fool.

How fitting.