Chapter One Hundred Twelve
Chapter One Hundred Twelve
The week had been everything Avery didn’t know she was starving for. Warm fires. Late-night laughter. Quiet mornings with coffee and sleepy kisses. Family dinners where no one looked at her like she was a symbol or prophecy - just, Avery, someone they loved, someone who belonged.
By the last night at Riven’s parents Lodge, Avery felt something she hadn’t felt before; Whole, Connected, Home.
The lodge’s great room glowed with firelight as Avery called everyone together. Her mates flanked her instinctively - Molly holding her hand, Lucien leaning against the back of her chair, Kael sitting cross-legged at her feet, and Riven standing behind her with a steadying hand on her shoulder.
The families settled around them, curious and relaxed from the week. Avery took a breath, “I need to tell you all something. I had a vision.. during the murder mystery game.”
The room quieted instantly. She swallowed, fingers tightening around Molly’s, “I saw Londrell.” A ripple of surprise moved through the room. “He was… severing ties. With the supernatural world. He was walking away, turning inward. Changing tactics.” Her voice wavered, “It felt like he was… giving up.”
Silence, heavy, stunned, uncertain.
Auron and Remy exchanged a look, both speechless. Mark and Elena froze mid-breath. Alic’s brows drew together sharply. Therion and Isolde sat back, eyes wide, absorbing the weight of it. Kael’s parents, Markus and Selene, were thoughtful, their expressions shifting with understanding.
But it was Molly’s parents, Darian and Gwen, and Lucien’s parents, Alaric and Sera, the gammas and the assassins, who lean forward - not shocked, but contemplative. Gwen speaks up first, “Avery… visions don’t always show intentions.”
Avery blinked, “So… he’s not giving up?!”
Darian shook his head, “No, he is choosing, and choices like that reshape the future.”
Lucien squeezed her shoulder, “It means the world is shifting, and we need to be ready.” Kael rested his chin on Avery’s knee, “And you saw it because you’re part of that shift.”
Riven’s hand tightened on her shoulder, “We’ll face whatever comes next, together.” Molly leaned her head against Avery’s, “You’re not alone in this. Not ever.”
Avery exhaled, the fear she’d been holding, loosening in her chest. Her vision wasn’t a warning of imminent danger. It was a sign of change. A sign that the future was moving - and she wasn’t meant to face it alone.
She had her mates. She had her family. She had a world that believed in her more than she believed in herself. And for the first time, the unknown didn’t feel terrifying. It felt possible.
Londrell slipped through the veil between realms with only a handful of his trusted followers- warriors, advisors, and his second-in-command Varyn.They moved quietly, cloaked in shadow and magic, avoiding the eyes of the supernatural world he plans to bring to its knees.
His outburst had shaken everything, his people questioned him. And he… doubted himself.
The land welcomed him and rejected him at the same time. The trees bowed, but their leaves were brittle. The wind whispered, but it carried a sour note. The soil pulsed with life, but it trembled beneath his feet. Londrell felt every fracture.
He walked ahead of his group, stopping at a quiet clearing where a stone marker sat beneath an ancient willow. His grandfathers resting place. He knelt, for a long time he said nothing. Then he let his power seep into the ground - slow, steady, deliberate. And then it shuddered.
Londrell inhaled sharply as visions rippled through him - the lands memories, its wounds, its fear. He felt the strain he had placed on it, the imbalance. The slow, creeping death that had begun to spread from the shades presence, “What have I done….” He whispers to himself.
A sudden gust of wind spirals around him, lifting leaves and dust into a shimmering vortex. His followers reach for their weapons, but Londrell holds his hand up to halt them. Then he becomes obscured from their view, and dozens of fairies step out, wings glowing like fractured moonlight, expressions solemn, ancient, and unafraid.
Before Londrell can speak, the Elder Fairy steps forward, her voice like bells, “Londrell, son of the old line, you have returned to a land you continue to wound.”
Londrell bowes his head, “I know, I feel it now. I didn’t understand the cost.”
Another fairy approaches, “You need to continue to reflect, if you continue, you might find your way back and the prophecy can be fulfilled, and you can have what you seek, peace, power. You are your fathers rightful heir, and can have his lands,, and place on the council, but you will have to stop the destruction, and finally face your consequences.”
The fairies exchange a look - ancient, knowing, heavy with consequence, “If you accept, Avery and her mates will meet with you. A summit. A chance to speak and be heard, and to hear with respect. A chance to start healing what is being broken.”
Londrell froze, Avery. The girl he has tried to kidnap, the one his grandfather said would bring him great power. The one he feared, resented, and misunderstood, “Why her?”
The fairy elder pauses, then moves closer, “She is the balance you stole, and the future for the realms. Accept the summit, let the world shift with you, not against you.”
He closed his eyes. He thought of his grandfather. He thought of the land trembling beneath him. He thought of the people. And he thought of Avery - the girl who saw too much, carried too much, and still reached for peace.
When he opened his eyes, they were unsteady. The wind dissolved, the fairies disappeared. And somewhere, sar away, avery felt a ripple in the land. The summit was coming, and the world would never be the same.