What remained of the day seemed to drag at a snail’s pace. Upon returning to my garden, I could scarcely concentrate on the work at hand, my mind drifting back to my conversation with Genesis.

  The twinkle in his eyes. The grin on his face. How tenderly he received the pages I offered.

  What would he think? Would he enjoy my ending, or reject it? My thoughts raced back to those questions and more, and by the time the chime of the clock signaled dinner, I’d accomplished nary a thing. I woke from the Dream in a daze, to see Belial waiting at my door.

  “Shall I take you now, or would you prefer to freshen up, Fair Lady?”

  I looked down at my hands, slick with sweat and worn red from work. Next I touched my face, flinching at the dirt upon my cheeks. Had I been so slovenly when I met him earlier? Yet another behavior quite unlike me. “I should like to return to my room. Would you be so kind, Good Belial? I’ll make my way to the dining hall once I’m presentable.”

  “Not at all! Not at all, Lady Celeste. Please,” Belial bowed their head and reached out a hand, conjuring the door to my room next to me. I thanked them and disappeared onto the other side.

  ***

  After a quick trip to the washroom, I stood before the mirror, observing my appearance with newfound scrutiny. I touched my cheeks, still flushed from the warm water, and frowned at the light freckles dotting my nose. Mother called them cute, Lucien preferred adorable, but what would Lord Genesis think?

  I moved to do something with my hair, but my brow furrowed at the time it would take to braid it. With a defeated sigh, I let it fall past my shoulders, but tucked behind my ears. Ears I’d spent years hiding, afraid that their strange shape would inspire suspicion, but that, as of late, I preferred to show.

  ‘It’s only dinner.’ I tried to convince myself, failing to still the flutter in my chest. It was dinner, but not only dinner. Not this time. Though I yet lacked the knowledge to give it a name, that strange, but pleasant feeling had returned. Warm and light; hot and heavy. It quickened the blood rushing through my veins, stirred a smile on my lips that lingered long after.

  The clock chimed again, snapping me from the grasp of that unknowable feeling. Eager to see him — hoping he was eager to see me — I slipped into something light and easy, a white dressing gown, and made my way to the dining hall.

  I arrived breathless and buzzing, fingers twitching at my sides as I waited for the doors to open.

  It was no different from before. No softer lighting, no extravagant decorations.

  But it was nothing like before.

  Genesis sat at the end, elbows on the table, face half-hidden behind his steepled fingers. When he caught sight of me, the fire in his eyes burned brighter, and a wisp of smile graced his lips.

  “Lady Celeste.” He said in a smoldering growl.

  I took a breath and allowed myself a restrained, but genuine, smile. “Lord Genesis.” With a bow of my head, I took my seat across from him. As I did, I realized the table seemed smaller than before. Cozier, as if I could reach out to touch him. “I apologize, yet again, for my tardiness.”

  “Hard at work, I’ve no doubt.”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” I shook my head. “My afternoon was spent deep in contemplation and, if I may be vulnerable for a moment…eager anticipation?” My eyes lifted, meeting his. The smile on his lips grew; heat rose onto my cheeks once more.

  “In due time. There’s much to discuss, but, if I may be vulnerable for a moment,” Genesis chuckled, “for the first time in a very long life, I am quite famished. Shall we eat, first?”

  “Of course, Lord Genesis.” I said with a nod. My stomach rumbled at the thought, mouth watering as a distortion swept over the table, replacing empty trays and glasses with fresh food and drink.

  Wild boar, roasted and glazed with honey, buttered corn and green beans, mashed potatoes and fresh bread. Good Belial had outdone themselves with the evening’s feast. Even the drink, a rich, red wine, seemed more delicious than the norm.

  Genesis needed no prompting to join me this time. He ate with ravenous hunger, restrained just enough to ensure I had my fill before following closely behind to scoop up what remained. We ate in silence, save our clinking utensils and glasses, but it was a comfortable silence. Warm like a blanket in the dead of winter.

  It wasn’t until the last roll was eaten, washed down by the last sip of wine, that he spoke.

  “I read your ending to Tears from the Sky.”

  I paused, glass still at my lips. A shiver ran down my spine as I peered at him over the edge of my glass.

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve a way with words, capturing the essence of Princess Saoirse and the Wizard King perfectly. It was as though the author rose from the grave to pick up the pen once more.”

  “You flatter me.” Though I rolled my eyes, his honeyed words tickled my ears and stirred the fluttering in my middle once more. I licked my lips and took a sip of my drink. “More importantly,” I set my glass down and folded my hands on my lap, “let me — in a turnabout of our usual pattern — ask you: what did you think of the ending, Lord Genesis?”

  He smiled, eyes darting to the corner of the room as he resumed his typical posture. After a pause, he said, “It was an ending only you could write, Celeste.”

  A twist in my gut. My smile weakened, and my eyes fell to the table. “It was not to your liking, then?”

  “It was beautiful.” A low growl rumbled in his throat as he sank into his chair with a furrowed brow and wistful smile. “Do not misunderstand me, it was a kinder, better ending to the tale. One too beautiful to be believed.”

  His gaze met mine. “One only you could envision. The world is far crueler than you see it, Celeste. There’s no world in which a Princess as noble and pure as Saoirse would ever see the Wizard King as anything but a Beast to be slain.”

  “I cannot accept that.” My mind tingled as it had those many nights ago. I brought my glass to my lips — had Belial filled it without my knowing? — and drank it down in a single gulp. It was full again when I leaned back to rest. “Ours could be such a world. We need only make it so.”

  Genesis’s eyes flared. But it was a gentle flame, accented by the crooked smile on his lips.

  “Is that so?” He took a drink from a suddenly refilled glass, trickles of red staining the corners of his mouth. “The Wizard King, as all Beasts are, was a slave unto his nature. Compelled by greed and death and darkness to consume. Such a Beast would never turn from his wicked ways — could not turn from his wicked ways — even when faced with so compelling an argument as beautiful Saoirse.”

  I took another drink. My head buzzed; my glass filled.

  “A rebuttal spoken from ignorance and fear. A match may be a frail, fleeting flame, but a flame nonetheless. Darkness, no matter how great, cannot hope but surrender to the light.”

  My lips curved into a coy smile. I took a final drink — Genesis downed a glass in response — and rose from my seat. Legs shaking, but body held aloft by the warmth bubbling in my middle and the fizzy fog in my head, I circled the table, trailing my fingers along its lacquered surface.

  “You’ve terrorized this land for untold centuries, O’ Mighty One.” I recited in a high, breathy register. “Do you not tire of senseless destruction?”

  The Fiend Lord growled, low and dangerous, the castle quaking around him. He rose to his feet with the patient grace of a predator, lips drawn back in a beast’s grim snarl. “Senseless destruction? Is there sense to creation? To living beyond simple persistence? How, dear Princess, is the end I offer senseless?” He swept around the table’s edge, crossing the distance between us with two long-legged strides. The full weight of his presence pressed upon me.

  “I offer an end to war. To greed, famine, and suffering. When the world is embraced in fire, and when only silent ashes remain, that which makes me a monster will be no more. Can you call true, unending peace, senseless, Princess?”

  I drew back and turned away, hands clasped over my chest. The dining hall around us vanished, whisked away in a swirl of light and shadow, replaced by the Wizard King’s throne room. A tall, rounded roof, lined with open windows that peered into an open red sky dotted with steel clouds. Padding across the now plush, red carpet, I gazed back over my shoulder at him.

  “But will you be at peace in such a world, O’ Mighty One?”

  The Fiend Lord paused. It was not the line he expected. He licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. His eyes widened when I returned to him, laying my hands against his chest.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Will suffering in eternal silence bring you joy? Can you tell me the sense in so lonely an existence?” His chest trembled beneath me; his heart and mine ached as one. Seconds ticked by with no answer. My teeth found purchase on my lip. I nearly turned away, to return to the table, when his hands grasped my shoulders.

  “There can be no peace for me, Princess.” His jaw tightened. The fire in his eyes cooled to a simmer as they peered into mine. “No other fate for a man who has slain so many. I cannot be at peace, knowing what I’ve done.”

  His grip on my shoulders tightened.

  The fabric of my gown tore at the first kiss of his claws against my flesh, but I did not flinch. The ache within him consumed my every thought. A smothering flame; a crushing grasp. Knives, lashes of whips, and brutal beatings. Too many sensations to name, but present all the same.

  “How can…” The Fiend Lord’s voice shook and he lowered his head. “How can I be anything but a monster, knowing the blood on my hands can never be cleansed? That no reparations can ever undo the damage I’ve done?” He growled; his claws sank into my skin. Pools of red bubbled to the surface, staining my gown. “There is no climbing from this pit, no way out but to die in its depths.”

  “Death is not justice.” I said in my own voice. My hand, moving on its own, rose to touch his face. Turned his eyes to meet mine. “It does not undo the damage, or bring back the lives lost. It is just an end. One that offers no restitution, but cuts short the good these mighty hands,” my other hand held his, ”might do, should they turn away from evil.”

  Genesis clenched his teeth. Steam rose from the corners of his eyes. “No good would ever outweigh the evil.”

  “Perhaps not,” I blinked and tears fell from my eyes, voice catching in my throat, “but eternity is a rather long time to try.”

  The scene faded, returning us to the dining hall. He blinked and drew his hands back from my shoulders. Blood dripped from his claws; strips of smoke rose from my shoulders.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “So are you.”

  Genesis growled and shook his head, taking a step back. He froze when I followed, pressing my hand against his chest and caressing his cheek, my body aglow with starlight. “Why? Why insist upon harming yourself for my sake, Celeste?”

  “I told you, Lord Genesis.” A soft smile came to my lips. “Someone has to, and if it can be me, it must be me. But,” I added when he opened his mouth to protest, “more than mere compulsion — more than a child’s fantasy of fulfilling some greater calling — I do so because I want to, Genesis.”

  He said nothing more as my body burst into radiance, all of my heartfelt energy pouring into him. It crashed against the gnarled roots at his core, gnashing and tearing until it sputtered out. No closer for the effort, but no less driven for it.

  ***

  When I stepped into the Dream that night, I ventured from Castle Dreadskull for the first time in nearing a week. Still weakened, the short flight took longer than I’d have liked, but I soon found my family a mere fortnight’s journey from the castle.

  Mother and Lucien had gone to sleep, leaving Vasco to keep watch as was his preference. I landed before him with a meek smile and eyes low. “I fear all I do as of late is apologize, dear Brother. I left you to face the wastes alone for days now. You’ve no idea the joy it brings me to see you well in body and in spirit.”

  Though he replied not, I took his silence as acceptance and slid to the ground to rest beside him, taking stock of his injuries.

  Mother had done a commendable job in patching him up, as to be expected of Spring Hill’s most talented apothecary. Knuckles bruised and bleeding, wrapped in fresh bandages and treated with what smelled like nuristol leaf. A rare plant, exceptionally rare. One she must have saved for such an occasion. His arms were bandaged to the shoulder, his torso similarly wrapped from neck to hip. It was a dull throb, but one that radiated throughout his entire body. Heaviest in his hands and shoulders, save an excruciating sharpness in the middle of his back.

  “I’m sorry, Vasco.” Laying my hands on him, I watched his face as the wounds healed and flesh lightened. A smile tugged at my lips when he gasped and sat upright.

  “Celeste!” He said in hushed excitement. “You’ve returned?”

  “I have, Brother. I swear to not leave you for so long again.” As I worked my magic and the pain dulled to a pulse, his shoulders loosened and his grimace was replaced by a smile.

  `“You’ve had us — Lucien most of all — worried, Sister. The thought that your intervention somehow brought you the wrath of the Fiend Lord…” He paused, his fists clenching. “We could not bear to think you suffering for our sake.”

  “So I noticed. You’ve maintained a brutal pace, Brother. Were I not in dire need of more time, I’d commend you for your urgency. But, you needn’t worry. I am unharmed.”

  The last of his bruises faded, but my hands lingered on his arm. Stronger than any man should ever be, trembling beneath my touch. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a grin on his face.

  “To think we felled a Fiend.” Vasco shook his head. “What would Father say? Not three months ago, a single Fellbeast pushed our backs against the wall and threatened all we hold dear. Now, we march on the Fiend Lord’s doorstep, one of his mightiest minions a fading memory in our wake. It feels as grand as Lucien tells it. We may very well fulfill the prophecy.”

  I frowned. To hear it said so plainly was not the comfort I’m sure he meant it to be. He knew not of my plight. And what would he say if he did? Would he chastise me? Call me naive and foolish? On that, he and Genesis were as one.

  Both saw no other outcome and saw me mad for hoping for another.

  “You should visit Mother,” Vasco said, his voice startling me from my thoughts. “She doesn’t show it — tells us each day that if we’d only show half the strength you possess, we’d already be at your side — but she worries. She worries so much, Celeste. And I fear I’ve not the words nor the means to ease her aching heart as you can.”

  From where I sat, I could see Mother in a fitful sleep. It was subtle, she did not whimper or moan, but after seeing her sleep every night for nigh on twenty years, I knew it in the way her brow furrowed and her hands clenched.

  “I will, Brother…” I laid my head against his shoulder. “You needn’t be hasty. I’m in no danger, you’ve time to rest and recover. When you reach Dreadskull…I hope to have this matter resolved.” With a kiss on his cheek, I rose to my feet, pausing first to tend to Lucien and Mother’s wounds.

  ***

  Our garden in Spring Hill greeted me upon stepping into Mother’s dream, as if I were exiting the back door to our cabin. I smiled as I walked the well-trodden path, relishing the feeling of soft, loamy soil beneath my feet. I found her tending to the Sunrose daisies, watering them and humming a lullaby she once sang to me on the nights before I discovered the Dream. As I stood at the edge of the garden, I knew not what to say, nor did I want to disturb her.

  When she at last noticed me, she jumped to her feet and greeted me with a crushing hug. One I sank into gladly and returned with as much strength.

  “Oh, Celeste. Oh, darling, I thought — well, I knew you would be fine, but — after what happened I…” Mother trailed off and held onto me tight. “Oh, I’m just so relieved to see you again, Dearest.”

  “And I, you, Mother. It has been too long, longer than I ever intended. Time is, as of late, my greatest enemy.”

  “What do you mean, Dear?” She asked, pulling away to get a closer look at me.

  I motioned for her to join me at the workbench. But once we were seated, I found myself unsure of where to begin. How much could I tell her? How much could she understand? If it were Vasco or Lucien, I’d be agitated, but otherwise unbothered to hear them call my madness what it was. But her? I feared it might destroy me to hear the disappointment and disapproval from her lips.

  “Something’s troubling you.” A statement, not a question. I nodded; she continued, “It’s quite unlike you to be so reticent, dear. You bite your tongue so rarely, I once thought you incapable of it.” She chuckled and draped an arm around my waist. “You know you can speak to me about anything, girl. I’ll not go gossiping to the boys no matter how tempting.”

  A smile found its way back to my lips. “I should hope not. Lucien is no paragon of discretion.” She laughed, but I did not join her. If anything, the worry gnawing at me grew more agonizing. With so many thoughts swirling in my head, I chose to start with the least offensive among them. “Was…or rather,” my lips pursed, “Mother when you spoke of my birth, was it all true?”

  “Every word of it.” She answered without delay. “I’ve not so much as looked at a man, save to treat a rash or bandage a bruise, since Giulio’s death. On Titania’s name, you were born without a father. As if you sprang from this,” she gestured to the Dream around us, “directly into my womb. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you as a gift from the Fairy Queen, herself.”

  She looked at me with a wry smile and raised brows. “Even if you are the worst girl since Eve, giving your ailing mother no lack of grief when you insisted upon sleeping in Charles’ fields when a cow got sick so that you could nurse her back to health.” Mother laughed again and laid her head against mine. “Even so, I’d not trade you for the world, Dearest.”

  No pangs of guilt or quickening of breath. Not even the subtlest hint of unease reflected in the Dream’s haze around us.

  “I’m not the Promised Healer.” The words spilled from my lips before I could catch them, my voice broken and hollow. “There is no Promised Healer.”

  “What do you mean, Celeste? We’ve seen your Soulspark. Power like that —“

  I shook my head. “The prophecy was a lie. Penned by Lord Genesis and conjured into being by Good Belial to deceive the world into hoping for a happy ending.” More tears — how I’d come to hate how freely they fell as of late — rolled down my cheeks. I turned to her, biting back a sob. “If I’m not the Promised Healer, then what am I, Mother?”

  Mother took my hand in hers and squeezed it tight. “A healer with promise.” She looked me in the eye, smiled, and said it once more with conviction. “Our healer with promise.”

  Her arms welcomed me as I sank into her embrace. My face buried in her shoulder, my body wracked with sobs, the words I’d held back came flowing free. “I never meant to kill him. I wanted to heal Lord Beelzebub, not banish him into Oblivion’s embrace. What promise is there for a healer who calls a poison an elixir?”

  “Oh, Celeste…” Mother stroked my hair and pressed her cheek against my head, as she had countless times in my youth. “I am so sorry, my girl. You couldn’t have known. We were fighting to survive against one far more powerful than ourselves seeking our destruction. Sometimes…in such situations there can be no other outcome.”

  I shook my head and untangled myself from her arms, wiping away my bitter tears. “No.” My voice cracked, but there was no uncertainty in my heart. “No, no, no! I refuse to believe that. I will not believe that.”

  Vasco and Lucien.

  Lord Beelzebub and Good Belial.

  Lord Genesis.

  And now, Mother, too.

  All of them pursuing the same outcome, blinded to any other possibility. That certainty, that insistence that mine was a flight of fancy, impossible even in the Dream, filled me not with sorrow or guilt, but white hot anger. One that burned brighter than my starlight, brighter than the Fiend Lord’s fellflame.

  My shoulders shook as I met her bewildered gaze with one unwavering. “I will not let it be true. I…I will end this violence, but I will not kill the Fiend Lord. I will not kill Genesis. I will find some other way, I just,” my voice softened and my gaze lowered, “I just need time, Mother. Please. I know that Lucien and Vasco will stop at nothing to see me freed, but if I could just have a little more time, I can find an outcome where no one has to die.”

  I took her hand in mine. “Please?”

  Mother stared back at me, silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “There’s no changing your mind?”

  “None at all.”

  “Very well then. I shall do what I can to buy you a moment longer.” She chuckled and touched my cheek. “You’re such a difficult girl. You know that, right? Wanting to spare the Fiend Lord.”

  With a watery smile, I leaned into her touch. “If that is what I must be to see this through, then so be it.”

  Thank you so much for reading!

  Feedback of all kinds is appreciated to help make the story better, improve my writing, and keep me motivated!