Chapter 88

Chapter 88
Kate’s POV

Ashleen is sitting in the center of the room, her legs folded beneath her, and the Queen follows every movement of her breathing as if listening to a secret. The light filtered through the roots of the Mother Tree falls in golden stripes across the floor, and when Ashleen raises her hands, it’s as if she’s trying to hold a piece of the sun.

I watch her in silence. Now she tries to follow the flow of energy the Queen shows her, explaining how sunlight is needed for plants to grow healthy, and I see in her a concentration that makes me smile without even noticing. The thread of magic that springs from her palm is uneven and shaky, but it’s there.

The Queen tilts her head, satisfied, because today’s lesson was about how, maybe, Ashleen could use her gift to tilt the plants toward the right direction, toward where the light comes from, at the very moment the light is there, without the plant having to rely on its own movement. A movement that would be too slow and take days, without her truly being able to catch that light.

Ashleen lets out a nervous giggle when the spark of magic slips away and dissolves in the air, but I can’t laugh with her. My chest fills with a strange mix of pride and pain. The more she blooms, the heavier the weight of my decision feels, stuck in my throat. As if every one of her laughs were a reminder: I must keep my promise. I must give her a safe place so that this laugh can last.

The lesson ends shortly after, with the Queen making an elegant gesture for Ashleen to lower her hands. My sister sighs loudly, her curls now messy, falling over her eyes, and comes running to me. She throws herself into my lap with an energy I wasn’t expecting. I hold that hug like someone holding the whole world.

“I managed a little, didn’t I?” she asks, her voice muffled against my clothes.

“You managed much more than a little,” I reply, kissing the top of her head.

But before I can lose myself in that feeling, the Queen speaks, soft but firm:

“Niv’leen, take her outside to play.”

The summons comes without explanation, but the way the Queen stays still, staring at me and Dan, says more than any words could.

Niv approaches, his wings beating fast, his gaze sharp. He understands. I see it in the way his eyes narrow, in how he avoids looking at his mother more than necessary. Then, he lowers his flight before Ashleen and puts on an exaggerated smile.

“Come on, little pest, before your sister melts from too much pride. I bet there are flowers outside just waiting to be enchanted by you.”

Ashleen hesitates, looking at me, but I smile and stroke her cheek.

“Go with him, it’s only for a little while.”

Niv doesn’t take long to head toward the exit, and Ashleen runs right after him, excited, the two of them disappearing down the hallway.

The room feels bigger now. As if the space itself breathed differently, free from her laughter, free from the lightness that had filled every corner. I miss her immediately. That emptiness makes me certain the Queen didn’t send her away just to play — it was so she wouldn’t see what’s about to happen.

Dan has been leaning against the side wall since we got here. His arms crossed, the tip of his tail tapping the ground, his eyes fixed on the Queen. But I can see what lies behind it: an invisible tension, ready to burst. He doesn’t like this. Not at all.

The Fairy Queen moves slowly, as if every beat of her wings were part of a ritual written long before I was born. She positions herself before me, and the light dripping from the ceiling through the roots falls over her hair, as if she were made from the Mother Tree itself.

“It’s time,” she says.

I swallow hard. My hands tremble, but I don’t want to show it. Not to her. Not to Dan. Not to anyone.

Dan uncrosses his arms.

“If she doesn’t want it now, it won’t happen now.” His voice is low, but it carries a weight that could almost be a threat.

The Queen slowly turns her head toward him. “You know as well as I do that it isn’t about wanting. It’s about need. But don’t fear, forgotten dragon. I’ll keep my word and take no more than what was offered.”

Dan’s shadows shiver on the ground, stretching a little like claws. I get up before that tension explodes.

“I said I would do this, didn’t I?” I try to keep my voice steady, though I’m not sure I succeed. “I won’t go back on it.”

The Queen studies me for a few seconds, her eyes shining with an almost unsettling calm. Then she extends her hand toward a wall that begins to creak, the intricate veins of the trunk that make up the wall unfolding until a passage forms.

“Come.”

I feel my heart beating so fast it’s almost painful. But my legs move. Dan pushes off the wall, following close behind me. When I glance sideways, I see he’s walking close enough that our hands almost touch. That gives me strength.

We cross hallways covered in roots, pulsing with an ancient energy, as if they were aware of what is about to happen. The air grows denser with each step, thick with the smell of damp earth and sap. The Mother Tree watches us expectantly. I feel it.

We reach the throne room, and the Queen turns to me. “Here, you’ll surrender what you’ve accumulated since the last time Varkhael laid hands on your magic. And that is much more than I think necessary, I can feel it. So much, so much magic that I don’t know how your body has endured it without breaking. But that’s a good sign, proof that your physical structure is as strong as that of a pure-blooded elf.”

“I’m not proud at all of why I carry that inheritance…” I mutter.

“But you can make good use of it, and that’s what matters,” she counters, and I don’t try to argue because I know she’s right. “What I take from you will be transferred directly to the Mother Tree, and with that, both of us will wield this magic to strengthen our defenses.”

Her words are soft, but they don’t untie the knot in my stomach. I think of Ashleen outside, Niv distracting her with some joke, and it feels like I’m walking straight into an abyss.

Dan steps forward, standing at my side. “And if I say I don’t believe in easy promises?”

The Queen looks at him with something that almost resembles amusement. “Don’t be foolish, forgotten dragon. Fairies don’t lie, not even when they should. But if belief is still hard for you, then stay and watch. You’ll see there’s no deceit.”

I take a deep breath. I try to gather courage, but fear still runs inside me like cold water. Then I feel Dan’s presence at my side grow stronger. He doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t need to. I know he’s there, that if something goes wrong, he’ll throw himself against anything, even the Fairy Queen, without hesitation. And that gives me the final push I needed.

I lift my chin, even with my throat dry.

“Let’s begin.”

The Fairy Queen raises both hands, and the roots around the throne tremble, as if answering an ancient call. There is no haste in her movement, no violence, but the silence that falls is so absolute it feels like even my breathing is too intrusive.

My body wants to back away, but my legs stay firm. I remember what I told myself before the mirror, that I won’t let anyone decide for me. This is my choice, and I’ll see it through.

“Close your eyes, daughter of man,” the Queen asks, her voice so soft it’s more like a whisper carried by the wind.

I obey.

In the dark, I feel the cold first. Not the cutting cold of the Pale King, but a light chill, like the cool shade beneath a tree in the middle of summer. A cold that surrounds me, that invites me. Then comes the warmth. It’s like something inside me begins to stir, a spark I never noticed, living with me all these years since I fled the ice palace.

It’s my magic, too much of it, pulsing like an extra heart.

I choke in silence when I realize it’s leaving me. But it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tear anything essential away. It’s like someone opened a window in a stifling room and the air, finally, found its way out.

Dan moves at my side. I don’t open my eyes, but I feel his tension, like shadows ready to rise. The Queen, maybe sensing it too, speaks again:

“She isn’t suffering. There is no pain. Only what was too heavy to carry is being lifted.”

I take a deep breath. And it’s true. There’s no pain. On the contrary, a strange lightness runs through me. As if every fiber of my body had been dipped in a river that cleanses and gives back breath.

The magic keeps flowing. I feel my chest expanding and contracting in rhythm with something greater. It’s nothing like when Varkhael drained me until I almost broke apart. This is different. Here, I am part of the choice; I allow it to happen.

The Queen murmurs something in a language I don’t know, and the sound runs over my skin like petals falling. The throne’s roots glow. I can see light even with my eyes shut, a green and golden glow.

I think of Ashleen. I think of her laughing outside with Niv, maybe letting him fix her hair again, maybe planning what hairstyle she’ll try next on Dan. That image gives me strength. Makes it worth it.

Suddenly, I feel the flow slowing down. That heavy presence I hadn’t known I carried shrinks to almost nothing. And, as promised, the Queen stops. She doesn’t force, doesn’t demand more. She only ends the gesture, like someone closing a book at the last page.

“It’s done,” she says.

My breath comes out unevenly. I open my eyes slowly. The throne room still glows, as if it had kept part of me inside the roots.

Dan is beside me, his gaze fixed on me, his shadows restless but restrained. He looks ready to tear the world apart if I gave the slightest sign of pain. But when he sees my face, his expression shifts. Just a little, but it does.

I smile faintly, almost too weakly. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t answer right away. The shadows retreat slowly, as if testing the truth of my words. At last, he mutters low, like it’s only meant for me:

“You’re unbearably stubborn.”

I let out a short laugh, still trembling. “Good thing you know that.”

The Queen watches everything in silence, and for a moment, she even looks satisfied. But it’s not a cruel satisfaction — it’s something calmer, as if she were certain the Mother Tree had received exactly what it needed. And I, despite the fatigue, feel at peace.

I sway a little as I take the first step, but it’s not weakness — it’s as if my body were still adjusting to the absence of something that, for so long, had weighed inside me without my knowing. Dan moves ahead before I can fall. He doesn’t actually hold me, but his hands hover close to my arm, as if the air between us were the only space allowed. Even so, I feel his warmth.

“Slowly,” he mutters, almost a low growl. It isn’t scolding, it’s care.

I breathe deep and try to arrange the feeling running through me. The Fairy Queen closes her hands slowly, and the roots around the throne grow quiet. The green and golden light that had filled the hall dims until it’s only tiny glimmers hidden in the cracks of the wood.

“As promised, only the excess was removed, with your consent,” she says. “Your essence remains intact; no one was harmed in the process.”

Those words strike me deeper than I expected. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding my breath until I let it all out at once. Part of me feared that, in the end, I’d lose more than I offered. But no. I’m still whole.

Dan leans a little closer, his face almost level with mine. “Are you really okay?”

I nod, feeling my lips curl into a tired smile. “Yes. I might just need to sit down for a bit.”

He watches me for a few more seconds, as if searching for any hint otherwise. Then, without saying a word, he places himself closer, offering his body as support. I could protest, but I don’t. I don’t want to.

The Queen watches in silence, as if part of the ritual were letting this moment of intimacy linger. Only after several seconds does she continue:

“What was given is already woven into the roots of the Mother Tree. With this, Tir na nÓg will have some respite until I can identify what exactly is prowling through our domain.”

I nod, my mind still wavering between exhaustion and relief. It’s almost hard to believe it’s over, that the moment I dreaded turned out to be… bearable. No, more than that: it was almost beautiful.

Maybe, from the very beginning, since the time when bars were the walls around me in an ice palace, consent was the most important part. The part I never had until now.