Page 47 of Mountains of Mist and Magic (A World of Sun and Shadow #4)

I n one moment, Phillippe was climbing, moving forward up the mountain, and in the next instance, a white light flashed across the sky, and the ledge he was climbing up suddenly transformed and smoothed until he was holding nothing. He panicked, but instead of falling off the side of the mountain, his feet hit solid ground.

He still couldn't see anything; the light around him was painfully bright. It was like looking directly at the sun; he squinted and looked down, his eyes watering.

“Hello?” A voice ventured into the bright nothingness. But it was a voice he recognized.

“Selenia!”

“Phillippe?”

“Yes, it's me!” He walked carefully towards the sound of her voice, his hands outstretched, feeling for anything in his path.

“I'm here too!” Renya's voice came from his left side.

Suddenly, the harsh light began to fade, and Phillippe could finally make out his surroundings. They were high in the mountains now, nearing the tallest peak of the highest mountain. They were sheltered from the sun, and yet so high that Phillippe could nearly reach out and touch the clouds. The sides of the mountain continued up another fifty feet or so, providing a little sanctuary nestled at the high altitude.

His eyes caught on a reflecting pool in the middle of the space, the water silver and still. The pond was so clear and pristine that the reflections of the clouds were mirrored. Floating on the surface were several lily pads, idly moving in the smallest of breezes. Fluorescent fish swam in the pond, and Phillippe had never seen such a rainbow of colors. Behind the pool, a large, flat stone stood, carved into a large seat. It looked ancient, the bits of rock and limestone carved away carefully, but weathered as if it had been there for eons.

“What is this place?” Selenia asked, her tone hushed and reverent as if they were trespassing on a sacred site, which led Phillippe to wonder if perhaps they were.

“I'm guessing...this is the end of the line,” Renya said, biting her lip. “I—”

She gasped suddenly, and both Phillippe and Selenia looked at her in alarm.

“It's nothing,” she said, breathing deeply, as if greatly relieved. “I can just hear Grayden again. His thoughts. Our bond is back.”

“My magic is back too...I can tell that this place is full of magic—magic in its purest form. It's...intoxicating.” Selenia looked around cautiously.

Phillippe grinned, and then twisted his fingers in the air. An icicle formed, then hit the ground and shattered. Both women stared in disbelief.

“Phillippe, what in the Gods' names—” Selenia started, her mouth wide open with shock.

“I have powers. Pretty amazing, huh?” He smirked, enjoying their attention. He concentrated hard and brought forth a small flurry that sprinkled over the pond, the tiny flakes hovering over the water. An orange fish, streaked with silver, jumped out of the water, trying to catch the snowflake in its mouth.

“So did it work?” Renya asked excitedly. “Is magic restored?”

Selenia shook her head. “I don't know what's happened to Phillippe, but my bond—I can tell Sion still can't feel it. But I can feel him again, so I think we're back where we started.”

Renya crossed her arms. “What happened to the two of you?”

Phillippe was eager to tell his tale. “I ended up in a temple that was full of fire and lava—and it looks like I got powers just in time to make it through. You said my task was bravery, Renya, and you were right.”

A look of guilt crossed Renya's face, and it made Phillippe instantly uneasy.

“What?”

“Phillippe, bravery wasn't your trial. It was sacrifice. I—I didn't want you upset or worried going into your trial, or overthinking it—”

Phillippe brushed off her comment. “Renya, you could be wrong though. It was just some silly story, right? Was yours true?”

Renya nodded and then looked over at Selenia.

“Mine was too. It was wisdom—although it wasn't what I thought it would be.” Selenia looked close to tears, and Renya inched towards her and put her arm around her.

“Now what?” Renya asked, looking around.

“Now it is time for the final trial,” an ominous voice answered.

The three jumped slightly, looking around for the sound of the voice. To their surprise, a hazy figure sat in the stone seat, slowly becoming more and more corporeal with each passing second.

“Who are you?” Phillippe asked.

“I am the first fae...and the mistress and liaison to the God of the Sun.”

Phillippe instantly looked at Renya, wondering if she realized the implications of this. As her eyes widened, he figured that she, too, realized that this was her ancestor.

“I—I'm Renya Solaris.” She looked at the fae, who was now taking the shape of a woman.

“I know who you are, light bringer.” The woman was now fully sedentary. Her beauty was nearly painful to look at , Phillippe thought. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, flowing like liquid sunshine. Her skin was golden, and her blue eyes burned as harshly as the sun. She seemed taller than them, but perhaps it was merely the way she carried herself: she sat stiffly on the stone chair, regal and elegant. Her gown was covered in images of the sun, moon and stars, with bright comets and solar flares worked in.

“If you know who I am, then you know why we are here,” Renya said, lowering her head respectfully. “The magic has faded from our world, and the balance greatly disrupted. Kingdoms have disappeared, and fae are becoming extinct. Fated mates are few and far between, and the drums of war between lands seem near. The very fabric of the world you were born into is tearing—and we can't mend it without you.”

“Alas—I am not the granter of magic,” the first fae said.

Selenia looked about ready to cry, and Renya opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. Phillippe was equally shocked. All this way, and nothing could be done?

The first fae smiled. “Come, all is not lost. For I have a connection to someone who can return the magic to this world.”

“Now you tell us, I nearly had a heart attack,” Phillippe grumbled under his breath.

The woman looked at him, her piercing eyes seeming to look straight into his soul. Suddenly, panic gripped his heart and he felt like his chest was being torn open. He collapsed on the ground, heaving and breathing shallowly.

“Stop that! What are you doing to him?” Selenia screamed shrilly.

Renya's face had paled. “Selenia, it's not her. It's—Esmeralda.”

Fire pulled and tugged, and Phillippe grasped at his heart. He felt like it was in a vice, and his lungs were failing him. His vision blurred from the pain, and he lay flat on his back, looking at the clouds. They had seemed so serene before, but now they swirled and darkened, and he wondered if he was losing consciousness.

“Renya, what's happening?”

Tears began flowing from Renya's eyes, which scared Phillippe more than anything. “I can see—I can feel what Grayden is feeling, and—Esmeralda has been hurt. Badly. Oh my god, there's so much blood—”

“Do something!” Phillippe heard Selenia's desperate plea, but he didn't know who she was begging—Renya or the first fae.

“He will be fine. Once she dies, their link will be severed. He will go back to normal.” The first fae’s voice rang through the air.

“Once she dies?” Renya squealed. “There has to be a way!”

“There is. I can sever their bond, and he will instantly stop hurting.”

Phillippe ground his teeth, moaning from the pain. He struggled to speak, his tongue feeling thick. “Sever...the...bond? Is she...my fated mate?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” the first fae said.

“No. Don't—sever. Love her—would rather...die than be without her.”

The first fae smiled, and Phillippe felt like this had all been some kind of trap. Esmeralda was dying, and once again, everything seemed to be riddles and games.

“I offer you a trade...Phillippe Snowden. Your powers...for her life.”

His powers? The magic he had just discovered? But he had only had them for less than an hour, and he was so excited—

Then, like a whisper in his ear, he remembered the words of the Murcurial, long ago...

“You will enjoy the feeling of power, Phillippe Snowden. But you'll have to choose. Would you rather love, or magic? For you shall not have both.”

Love, or magic. His powers, or Esmeralda. It was clear to him.

“I choose her—I choose love.”

But the pain didn't stop—it intensified. Cold moved throughout his body, and then it was replaced by molten heat. His entire body broke out into sweats, and he felt like he was being roasted over an open flame. His skin tightened everywhere, pulled taut. Just when he thought he would split open, it stopped.

“Trial passed, Phillippe Snowden.”

He lay on the ground, willing his body to stop convulsing. For the first time, he noticed that Selenia was at his side, as well as Renya. They both helped him to stand, and he got to his feet, a bit off balance, still shaking like a newborn elkten.

“Renya?” he croaked.

“She's fine now, Phillippe. It looked like a manticore got her—but her wounds are closed. Everyone on the beach is flabbergasted.”

“I have no clue what flabbergasted means, but I'm guessing it's what I'm feeling too.” He flexed his fingers, feeling the residual pain. But this time, no magic came forth.

But it didn't matter. He chose love—and he would choose it again and again. Esmeralda was his future—and he would cherish her until the day he drew his last breath.