Chapter 61 THE CHOICE
(HAVEN)
Five days!
Five days since the attack of the Storm Hydra, five days since we returned to Drakorath and five fucking days since Auren passed out on Lyle and our mate bond just faded.
After I killed that Hydra, three more came our way. I and a heavily bleeding Amelyn held them up while Imogen used his invisibility magic to go up the mountain and took what was needed to cure Lyra.
We didn't stop at Tir'Narel on our way back as planned due to how injured everyone was. We flew straight to Drakorath and had everyone attended to. In a matter of two days, everyone was up and running again. Even Lyra who had been fighting for her life, barely hanging on by the time we returned is now healed and able to walk around the castle as usual.
The only person who didn't show even a hint of improvement is Auren.
We managed to stop the bleeding and stitch up the wounds, but that was everything we could do.
Imogen says his dragon fire hasn't burnt out yet, at least not completely. He said that explains the small, almost inexistent presence I feel of our mate bond. The curse is taking him and soon his fire will completely go extinct.
Well , I'm not going to let that happen, because I have already decided what it is that I'm going to do.
I fasten the belt around my dress, adjust the slightly daring neckline and head out of the bedroom, throwing one last look at Auren on the bed.
“Where are they?" I asked the guard who came to inform me of the guests presence.
" In the reception room, My Queen.”
I nod and make my way to the reception room, my heart experiencing none of the fear it did the first time I had to take on ruling Drakorath.
Imogen and Draven are already present alongside the visitors who had requested to see me. I recognize the woman. She was the person who saw me once at court and broke into a fit mistaking me for my mother.
Not that I blame her, though. We are both a lot like each other when it comes to looks
“It's a pleasure to speak with you, Queen Haven,” she says with a slight bow. " I'm Neraya, the high ambassador of what's left of the fae people, and this is Eryndor, my brother.”
I nod as I take my seat. " How may I be of help to you?”
" You can save us, your highness,” Eryndor says, causing me to raise a brow. " Your mother was our life force. With her magic, she spun the flowers that keeps our race alive.”
" But she's been gone for a long, long, long time, and whatever magic that had been spun in the flowers are wearing out. The last of the flowers are withering, and with it our entire race.”
" What will you have me do for you?” I ask, my voice more detached than I'd have loved it to be. But right now I don't have it in me to care. I'd rather they say what they have and fast so I can go see Tyren.
I know the fae are my people and that restoring Vaeleria is my job as the fae princess, but I just can't bring it in me to care. Not with my mate lying almost lifeless.
“We need your mother, and the other fae held in the Library Of Lost Souls set free."
The reception room feels colder than it should, even with the roaring fire in the hearth and the heavy tapestries muffling every sound. Neraya’s eyes, silver like mine, and my mother’s, never leave my face as she speaks. Eryndor stands a step behind her, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid with the kind of hope that looks painful.
I listen, and nod once when they finish. My voice comes out flat, almost bored. “I’ll… consider it.”
Neraya’s shoulders drop a fraction, relief warring with disbelief. “Your Highness…”
“I said I’ll consider it.” I rise before they can press further. “You’ll have my answer soon. Until then, you’re welcome to rest here in Drakotath. My people will see to your needs.”
Eryndor opens his mouth, and closes it again, probably realizing that whatever he had to say, I wouldn't want to hear it. Neraya bows deeply, murmuring a thanks that sounds fragile. I don’t wait to hear more. I turn on my heel and stride out, the heavy doors swinging shut behind me with a dull thud.
Imogen is waiting in the corridor, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral.
“They’re desperate,” he says quietly as he falls into step beside me.
“I know.”
“You look like you’re about to set something on fire.”
“Maybe I am.”
He doesn’t push. Better.
We walk in silence until we reach the arched doorway that opens onto the upper gardens. The evening air hits me like a slap, cool, and scented with night-blooming jasmine and the faint metallic tang of dragon scales that always lingers in Drakotath.
Tyren is already there, leaning against the stone balustrade, staring out over the black-glass cliffs and the distant glow of the lava rivers below.
He doesn’t turn when I approach. “You look like death warmed over, kid.”
“Thanks. You always know how to make a girl feel special.”
He finally glances at me. The usual mockery is gone from his eyes; what’s left is something heavier. Tired. Almost… resigned.
“Imogen told me what the fae want.”
“Of course he did.” I lean beside him, elbows on the railing. The wind tugs at my hair—still streaked with silver from the fae awakening, refusing to fade even after five days. “They want my mother back. They want the Library of Lost Souls cracked open. They want me to fix a dying kingdom I barely remember.”
“And you told them you’d think about it.”
“I told them I’d consider it. There’s a difference.”
Tyren lets out a low, humorless laugh. “You sound like him.”
My throat closes, and I don’t answer.
He straightens, turns to face me fully. “There’s a way to keep Auren breathing. Not forever, not even close. But longer, long enough for you to do what needs doing.”
My heart stutters. “What are you talking about?”
“Euron.”
The word lands like a stone in still water.
I laugh—sharp, disbelieving. “Euron? The shadow-realm? The place where nothing living can survive for more than a handful of minutes? The prison used to trap only the worst of criminals? You want me to walk in there?”
“Not just walk in, seal it properly. The fracture’s been bleeding for centuries, ever since it was reopened to trap Eurolys. Every time something powerful dies or something ancient wakes, the crack widens. That’s why the curse on Auren is eating him faster than it should. He's using his own powers to hold the broken Seal together. Seal the breach from the inside, and you might have a chance at prolonging lifespan, and we trap Eurolys and whoever is the other creature in there forever. It's a win win.”
I stare at him. “And the person who goes in?”
“Doesn’t come out.”
The words hang between us.
I feel the garden spin. My hands grip the railing until my knuckles bleach white.
“You’re asking me to die.”
“I’m asking you to choose.”
“There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.” His voice cracks—just once, barely audible. “I’ve looked. Imogen’s looked. Amelyn’s torn through every archive we have. Euron is the only door left. Someone has to walk through it and lock it behind them. If it’s not you, it’ll be him, and the curse will finish what the Hydra started. And then it’ll keep going, your sister, Amelyn, Imogen, the dragons, the fae, everything. One thread pulled, the whole tapestry unravels. We need a permanent solution..
“If I say yes, will you make him wake up?” I whisper and he nods. “How long would you give him?”
“Months. Maybe a year. Maybe more since he won't be using his power to hold the seal. Long enough to say goodbye.”
I open my eyes again. The lava rivers below look like veins of fire pulsing under black skin.
“And if I say no?”
“Then he dies tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. And you live with knowing you could have stopped it.”
Silence stretches. Wind howls through the spires.
I think of Auren on the bed—pale, still, chest rising so faintly I have to press my ear to it every hour just to be sure. I think of the way his hand trembled when he touched my face five days ago.
“Worth it,” he’d whispered.
I think of Lyra walking the halls again, laughing at something Draven said this morning. Alive because we made it back in time.
I think of Neraya’s silver eyes, pleading.
I think of my mother’s voice in the sky…”My brave girl.”
My voice comes out steady. Too steady.
“I’ll do it.”
Tyren exhales like he’s been holding his breath since he came here.
“When?”
“Two months from now, on a full moon. The veil between here and Euron is thinnest then.” He reaches out, hesitates, then rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell him. Not yet. Let him sleep next to you knowing you'll be there every morning. Enjoy the little time you have with him.”
I nod once.
He squeezes once, then lets go. “I’ll prepare the ritual. Imogen will help. No one else needs to know until it’s done.”
I don’t answer. I just turn and walk back toward the castle.
Toward our bedroom.
Toward the man who’s been my storm and my shelter since the day I stumbled into this world.
I slip inside quietly. The fire has burned low; only embers now. Auren hasn’t moved. His face is slack, peaceful in a way that hurts worse than screaming.
I climb onto the bed beside him. Careful. So careful. I curl against his side, head on his chest, listening to the faint, stubborn thud of his heart.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand twitches, and he lets out a soft cough, before his lids flutter. “L…Little Flame?”
His eyes open slowly and as his lips pull up into a smile, I just know that walking away will not be as easy as I thought.