Page 37 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Morgana

“ L ooks like Etusca and Diomi came through,” I say to Leon when a dryad arrives at breakfast the next day with the message we’ve been waiting for. Not only has the council voted to help heal me, but Diomi is already waiting for me, ready to start the process.

That means they think they can really do it .

I don’t give much thought to what the process might involve; I’m too fired up by the prospect of having my magic back.

Even if I know it’s not the only thing that makes me strong, being separated from that power feels like I’m missing a part of me.

I want to be whole again, and the dryads are going to make it happen.

“They must be feeling very guilty,” Alastor comments as I hurry to finish my toast. “And all it took was a big undead wolf trying to maul you.”

I give him an unimpressed glare, knowing his words will only stoke Leon’s distrust toward the council. Sure enough, he insists on coming with me, and his face is a picture of hostility when we meet Diomi.

Etusca’s brother waits for me among the greenery beyond Aquila Hall, at the top of a set of brown stone steps that lead beneath the earth.

Two statues stand on either side of the flight of stairs—male and female figures.

Their cloaks are made of pewter, and on their heads are circlets of connected stars.

If the steps lead me closer to the stones, I can only guess the figures represent celestial guardians.

“What’s down there?” I ask Diomi.

“A temple,” he says. “It’s a good spot for convening with the gaidonesti.”

Diomi shifts awkwardly, his eyes flicking from me to Leon.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he says. “But I’m afraid Prince Leonidas can’t be present during this ritual.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Leon says abruptly. “Whatever you’re going to do, I’ll be watching, making sure you don’t get her nearly killed— again .”

Both Diomi and I wince, though perhaps for different reasons.

“Excuse us for a moment,” I say to the dryad with a polite smile, leading Leon out of earshot.

“I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe,” Leon growls before I can say anything. “Losing you would destroy me, Ana.” He stares defiantly into my eyes. “Call it self-preservation.”

Tira’s told me a little of what Leon was like while I was being held captive in Qimorna.

“A man possessed” was one of the phrases she used.

When I think about our roles being reversed, it’s easy to imagine how unbearable it must’ve been for him.

And after yesterday’s close call, I can’t blame him for being on edge.

“I’m not asking you to apologize,” I say. “I just want you to remember what we talked about yesterday. I love that you want to protect me, but?—”

“Balance, yes, I know,” he grinds out. “I have to let you lean into your strengths too. Although I’m not sure how this counts toward that.”

I reach out and trace the inside of his hand with my fingers, attempting to soothe his agitation.

“How about trusting me when I say we shouldn’t pressure the dryads to bend their rules, especially when they’ve just agreed to help us?”

He catches my hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it.

“Alright. Point taken,” he murmurs against my skin. “Although it seems like a stupid rule to me. ”

In the spirit of compromise, when we return to Diomi’s side, I ask the question.

“With respect, why can’t the prince join us?”

He hesitates, searching for the words.

“The ritual requires you to explore certain memories and focus on the emotions they bring up. It’s possible having someone present who is so… intertwined with Your Highness could distract you from the procedure.”

I nod, understanding. They’ve seen what Leon and I are to each other, and they think we’re too emotionally close for me to maintain focus if he’s with me.

It’s a fair assumption, and I’m not going to argue with the dryads’ methods.

They’re the healing experts after all. But I’m a little surprised when Leon doesn’t argue the point either, asking a totally different question.

“This ritual—is it dangerous?”

I hadn’t considered this. I’ve been too excited to get my magic back, and I feel a touch of uneasiness when Diomi once again weighs his response before answering.

“Frankly, that depends on Her Highness and how much she resists the ritual.”

I can’t think of any reason I’d fight the thing that’s going to restore my powers. But he didn’t say if I resisted the ritual—he said how much . I’m more nervous than I let on when I turn to Leon.

“I’ll be okay,” I say. He gives me a look that tells me he sees right through me.

“You will be,” he says. “Because the council aren’t going to let anything else happen to you.” He fixes an intimidating stare at Diomi. “Correct?”

The dryad stands a bit taller, clearly trying to stay strong under Leon’s withering gaze.

“If it ever looks like Her Highness is at risk of serious harm, I will stop the ritual,” he says.

Leon nods, though I see a muscle twitch in his jaw.

It’s hard for him to accept this. He’s fighting all his instincts to let me descend those steps without him, and I’m grateful for his restraint—for his trust in me.

I catch his eye and mouth the words “thank you” before following Diomi down to the temple’s entrance.

When we step inside the temple, I see exactly why we needed to travel underground.

The tip of the gaidonesti might be in the bottom level of the hall, but Diomi explained yesterday that they stretch far below ground.

Here, the dryads have excavated the earth around one of the stones, and an entire, sloping wall of the temple is made up of its shimmering surface.

The building has obviously been constructed to maximize contact with its power. A large altar is positioned directly beside the gaidonesti, surrounded by six dryads. Some I recognize from the council meeting. Others Diomi introduces as senior healers.

With each introduction, my nerves grow. I’m realizing what we’re about to do will be no easy task. Maybe I’ve known that all along, but I just didn’t want to face it before I had to.

“First, we will give you a potion that will heighten your ability to recall memories,” Diomi explains. “When you think of them, they will be more vivid and intense than usual. Then we’ll ask you to lie down on the altar and place your hand against the gaidonesti.”

I swallow, that familiar tension in my gut stirring.

My memories have been what I’ve spent this whole time fighting to avoid.

I was afraid that letting myself focus on them would break me, but now they’re going to come for me stronger than ever.

I suppose if I’m going to risk facing them, it’s safest when surrounded by a bunch of healers.

They at least might be able to stop me completely losing my mind.

“And then?” I ask, unable to keep the strain from my voice.

“Then you will need to revisit any experiences that may have depleted your celestial spark. In short, connect with your most traumatic memories. You will use the gaidonesti’s power to purify them. That should rob them of the ability to diminish your inner flame.”

“Purify?” I repeat, trying to picture what he’s describing.

“My guess is that it will appear like a fire, burning through the memory. But however you perceive it, you must let the celestial power flood the images. After that, your inner flame should be able to light your darkest memories so they won’t smother your magic anymore.”

I take a deep breath, absorbing it all. The process doesn’t exactly sound pleasant, but like Diomi said, if I can just face those memories, I shouldn’t have a problem doing what they ask. Then my magic will be back. I hold onto that thought as I nod.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”

“We’ll be using our viatic power to try to connect with your body during this process—it should allow us to get some sense of what you’re experiencing,” Diomi says as one of the other dryads hands me the potion.

It’s a thick, bitter concoction with a strangely tart aftertaste, but it goes down easily enough.

Then the dryads begin to conjure, chanting in old Agathyrian as they help me up onto the altar.

I settle down on top of it and lay my hand on the surface of the gaidonesti.

A fleeting thought comes to me, something about how this situation feels familiar…

I’m lying on the altar in the high temple, pain searing though my nerves. My hands are bound, and I’m surrounded by Caledon’s surgeons. No matter how hard I tug on my bindings, I cannot escape the slicing of the clerics’ blades. I scream as another piece of flesh is ripped from me.

“The potion’s working, Your Highness.” A voice cuts through the memory, a voice that doesn’t belong in the high temple in Qimorna.

I focus on it, clinging to each word to try to stem the tide of terror.

“The memories will come to you naturally, but try to order them. Start with the earliest one and work your way through, methodically.”

I want to tell him I’m not sure I can, but his voice has already shaken loose the memory of the Temple. I wait, letting more thoughts rise to the surface, until I’m aware of an old, distant image calling to me.

With a deep breath, I let it in, and all of a sudden, I’m nine years old, banging on the manor doors, begging to be allowed to see the visitors I believe are my parents.

Then the guards’ strong hands are holding me back as I watch their carriage leave, and I feel as if I might break into pieces.

I fight the men as hard as I can, screaming and sobbing as I plead with them to let me run after it.

I know I can’t survive this, not if they abandon me again, but if my parents could just meet me, if they saw me, they might remember they love me, and then they wouldn’t leave me here in this prison…

“Use the gaidonesti, Your Highness.” Diomi’s voice comes to me through my tears. “Burn the pain away.”