Page 39 of The Fae Lord

The elf was very clear. He had no map, told me none exists, but that everything is held in the memory of him and his kin.

As he spoke, I felt like a fool. How have these creatures, with all this knowledge, existed under my nose all these years?

“There is a library,” Garratt said, in his usual flippant tone of voice. “It holds many ancient texts. Things the elves kept safe when fae tried to destroy them or lose them. Records we, ourselves, have kept.” He shrugged and lit his pipe. “Our ancestors used to guard it. Keeping it was an honour. A duty.”

“Not anymore?” I asked, frowning as my wings flicked out sideways, causing him to startle.

“No,” he replied. “Not anymore. What can I say? Traditions get lost. People change.”

Garratt’s words replay in my mind as I ride. The salty sea breeze whips through my hair and catches the underside of my wings.

The farther I ride from the citadel, the more the weight of my responsibilities seems to lift from my shoulders. Out here, with nothing but the vast expanse of the ocean and the endless stretch of sand, I can almost pretend that I am not the Lord of Luminael, that the fate of an entire kingdom does not rest upon my weary shoulders.

But the illusion is fleeting, shattered by the relentless thump thump thump in my skull and the haunting whispers of my mother’s voice. She is not what she seems. I created her.

I grit my teeth.

Alana Leafborne.

Garratt promised me the abandoned library would provide answers. Perhaps a younger, wiser version of me would have questioned him further or made him accompany me. But something deep inside me knew he was telling the truth. The rest of me? Well, the rest of me doesn’t care if I’m marching into danger.

I would risk death if it offered an end to the questions that torment me.

I ride until sundown.

As the sun dips below the horizon, I spot the entrance to the cave, just as Garratt described. A yawning expanse of darkness nestled between two towering cliffs, its edges worn smooth by centuries of wind and waves.

I have not ventured this far since I was a fledgling fae. Perhaps I never ventured this far away from the citadel. If I did, the cave does not trigger a memory or any sense of recognition.

I dismount, my boots sinking into the soft sand. Tethering the horse to a nearby outcropping of rock, I run a hand along his glossy neck, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my palm. “Wait for me,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to his. “I won’t be long.”

With a final pat, I turn towards the cave, my heart hammering against my ribs. The shadows seem to writhe and twist before me, calling me, beckoning me towards them.

I should find shadows comforting. I alone can control them.

But in my visions, it is the shadows that terrify me the most. And so, now, I notice a sense of cold unease taking hold of my body.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and step into the darkness.

The air is cool and damp, the sound of my footsteps swallowed by the heavy silence. I summon a ball of light to my palm, casting an eerie glow on the rough-hewn walls. The passage winds deeper into the earth, the temperature dropping with each step.

Just when I’m beginning to wonder if I really was a fool to trust the elf, I emerge into a vast cavern, its ceiling lost in shadows, and in the centre of the space lies a still, dark pool, its surface as smooth as glass.

I approach the edge, peering into the inky depths.

It is as black as tar.

“The entrance to the library lies beneath the surface,” Garratt had said. “It won’t be easy for you. Fae aren’t known for their strength as swimmers.”

I hesitate, but then I think of Alana, of the way her face haunts my every waking moment, and the way my mother’s cryptic words echo in my dreams.

I need answers, and I have run out of places to seek them.

This is my last chance.

With a final, steadying breath, I extinguish the light in my palm and dive into the pool, tucking my wings against my back and diving down, down, down.

The water is shockingly cold, stealing the breath from my lungs. I kick downwards, propelling myself towards the bottom, my eyes straining to see through the gloom.