Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance
Fairydale: Part 3 – Chapter 23

Part 3

Groaning, I shift to my side as pain radiates from my breastbone. Bringing my hand to my chest, I expect to see it covered in blood. Instead, it comes back empty.

I frown, then blink before my eyes widen in surprise.

Bringing myself to a sitting position, I take in my surroundings. The sun is barely up in the sky, which suggests it’s fairly early in the morning.

I’m in…a field.

I quickly get to my feet just as panic threatens to overtake me, but as I turn around, I note a familiar building.

The Old Church.

I slept in a field behind the Old Church.

Plucking some twigs from my hair and dusting my clothes, I scrunch my brows in concentration as I try to remember what had happened.

I followed the sound of music that led me to the Old Church, and then…

Slowly, all the events from before come to me.

I’d seen my death.

I’d witnessed my death as Elizabeth.

A pang erupts in my heart as I recall everything that had happened—and how it had happened. And by God, it couldn’t have been more different than what Rhiannon showed me.

Amon did not kill me. He would have never killed me.

Instead, I was killed by Abel. My own child.

I died together with Abraham.

Tears fall unbidden down my cheeks as I go over every little moment, reliving every bit of pain, of disappointment and of heartbreak.

For moments on end I can’t seem to get a hang of my feelings, and no matter how much I try to rein in my emotions, they are too powerful—too out of control.

It feels like an eternity before I can breathe properly without sobbing my heart out. And as I slowly calm myself, my mind becomes sharper, the realizations trickling in.

The necklace.

Amon had given me the necklace to confer me an equal lifespan to his that would make me stronger. Previously, when he’d told me he was searching for an object that could help me, he’d been speaking about the necklace.

Though some details are still fuzzy, the origin of the necklace still unclear, I know it’s something extremely important to me.

And I know exactly where it is now.

Mr. Nicholson.

If I hadn’t seen those pictures of Mr. Nicholson in his twenties, maybe I wouldn’t have believed it. But now I am absolutely certain.

Mr. Nicholson is Abel. And the gemstone on his cane is my necklace.

His powers and his healing were dependent on the cane when he’d fought Rhiannon, and now I know why.

Because they are not his. They were never his.

Oh my God….

My hand flies to my mouth as realization sinks in.

Mr. Nicholson—Abel—had killed me almost two hundred years ago in order to steal my power. And if I remember correctly, he admitted to alerting the coven to Amon’s presence, which had undoubtedly led to his imprisonment.

The only question is…how had he known about it?

The why, I can wager a guess for. He’d been angry at us since a young age for the death of his family, and that had only festered as he’d grown older until he’d decided to take the revenge into his own hands. Yet it’s more than that, isn’t it? He’d wanted recognition from the coven and abilities that he could only get through stealing.

What might have started as revenge turned into a foolish quest for power. One he is still pursuing to this day.

I cannot recall too much about the necklace, but given Abel’s rapid decay, I think he’s used up all the power inside of it and now he needs more. And the only way to get more is through Amon.

Even as I understand his thirst for power, I still cannot comprehend how he could hurt his own brother. How could he kill him in cold blood?

Maybe in a twisted way I can understand why he would go for me, or Amon, because we were guilty in his mind. But Abraham? He’d never done anything wrong in his life.

My heart hurts every time I think of my fallen son and the way he’d died—with his throat slit from behind.

Damn you Abel! Damn you and your cowardice!

Despite my renewed sorrow at Abraham’s death, there is a modicum of peace at knowing my Lydia had fully lived her life. She’d somehow escaped unscathed and she’d lived a happy life.

Don’t give it to him.

Lydia had known.

She’d had a vision about it, and I’m quite certain she’d seen Abraham’s death, too.

Why hadn’t she warned us? Why hadn’t she said anything?

More theories are going through my mind the more I think of the past, yet one thing question will not leave me be.

How could Abel have known about the necklace, or about Amon’s identity? For him to accuse Amon of being a demon means he must have had a source from the coven.

But who?

As I stop in front of the church, I try once more to open the door, cursing out loud when it doesn’t budge. It seems the only way I can access the church would be…through the catacombs.

Yet I’ll have time to think about that later. With the hour growing late, I trudge my way back to the Hale manor, all the while ruminating over the new information I’d received.

Kress and Fin. Abel had mentioned those names. Could it be…

A gasp escapes me as I think back to the two men who’d advised Fiona in the past, and who had now made a sudden appearance in Fairydale.

Could it be that they are the Kress and Finn Abel was talking about?

Certainly, they seem to be present everywhere and have a vested interest in Amon.

I increase my pace as I remember it’s still dangerous for me to be outside. At least now I know who is sending these creatures after me.

Abel.

Ironic how he’d branded Amon a demon, but he’s not above using those evil creatures for his own gain.

What I’m still a little unsure of is how my blood figures into all this. Is it really a source of power, since as I’d experimented before, my abilities are quite finite? Or is there something more that I am not aware of?

How could it be useful to both Abel and Rhiannon, yet for completely different purposes?

Reaching the Hale gate, I make my way to the main entrance of the house, getting inside.

Yet before I can stealthily sneak to my room, Rhiannon calls out my name.

‘Darcy, do join us in the drawing room.’

Curious, I head for the drawing room.

‘Hello,’ I greet everyone, not surprised to see the two men from before present.

‘These are my special guests. They are here from the Holy See and will oversee the ritual at the end of the month,’ Rhiannon explains.

I put on a smile as I take a seat opposite them.

‘I am Kress d’Pio and this is Finn d’Reig,’ he introduces himself and his friend.

‘Darcy O’Sullivan,’ I nod.

Both of them have impressive physiques—taller than any men I’ve ever seen except Amon. Kress is dark haired and dark eyed with an olive complexion. Finn has equally dark hair, but his eyes are a hazel shade, his skin lighter.

Their poise and demeanor remind me of Amon. But it’s the format of their last name that makes me more suspicious. How are they related to him?

Yet the more I watch them, the more I realize there is something about them… Something that makes me wary and anxious at the same time.

‘They are here to help us with all the logistical aspects of the ritual. They are specialists in demonology and know about Amon best.’

‘I see. Is there anything I can help with?’ I ask politely.

Right as the words are out of my mouth, I get struck with the most potent headache.

Gritting my teeth, I try to not show the physical symptoms as I push against it with all my strength. Yet as I meet Kress’ gaze, I note his eyes narrowing at me, his mouth slanting down.

Finn is also regarding me with an odd expression.

It’s a second later that it dawns on me what could be happening.

This headache isn’t a regular one, is it? Especially as it feels as though there is a relentless pressure against my skull—almost as if someone was trying to probe into my thoughts.

The realization is startling, and as more information aligns in my brain, I am inclined to make the educated guess that these men have similar abilities to Amon.

And if that is the case, then they are definitely trying to read my mind.

A little too annoyed at the prospect, I focus all my strength into building a solid mental barrier as Elizabeth had done in the past. But going one step forward, I visualize my mind as a wall they are trying to break, hitting against it without stop.

Focusing my attention on the outside forces, I build an offensive as I mold the wall into a weapon, pushing them out of any corner of my mind.

Everything happens at once.

The moment I attack, Kress and Finn physically recoil, giving each other a secretive nod before they resume their positions as if nothing happened.

‘We will have a meeting at the end of the week,’ Kress says. ‘The other members of the coven will be present too and we will detail the terms for the attack.’

‘Attack?’ I frown.

‘Amon is a very dangerous demon, Miss O’Sullivan. As Miss Hale must have told you, his seal is weakening,’ he purses his lips. ‘Amon was locked in the Old Church on the thirty-first of October eighteen-five. In just about ten days, it will be exactly one hundred and fifty years since then and it will be the perfect time to perform the ultimate ritual to kill him.’

Ten days?

Rhiannon had mentioned there would be guests coming at the end of the month, but I hadn’t realized they were planning on completing the ritual so soon.

‘While he is still weak, we must focus all our energies into neutralizing him. If not, it will be increasingly difficult to do so.’

‘Why?’ I suddenly ask. ‘Why couldn’t you kill him the first time?’

Kress and Finn share a look.

‘As I mentioned, Amon is no ordinary demon, Miss O’Sullivan. Even with the entire coven circle present we could not defeat him.’

Dear God, what happened after I died?

My heart squeezes in my chest at thinking what my Amon might have endured. Yes, I might have been upset with him momentarily, but even as I lay dying, he was my last thought—my last hope.

And he had come for me. Of that I am certain. It’s how they’d trapped him in that blasted church.

But just thinking of him hurt makes me physically ache.

I swallow hard, closing my eyes for a second as I banish that thought. It’s not the moment to lose myself in my grief. I need to be strong to navigate the circumstances at hand. And the best way I can do that is if I have as much information as possible.

Rhiannon had been very vague about the ritual except to specify that they would need my blood to fuel the spell.

Yet I am still uncertain what happened the first time. How had that one failed?

‘I understand that,’ I fake a smile. ‘What I do not understand is how. Can you walk me through the events of that day?’

‘I don’t see why that is necessary,’ Finn adds, narrowing his eyes at me.

‘You require my participation, is that not so?’ I raise a brow.

‘We do,’ Kress takes over as he lightly touches Finn.

‘Then I would like to have all the details. I would like to know what I am risking and what the chances of success are for such a risk. Hasn’t Rhiannon told you that I have not yet fully agreed to participate?’

They turn to Rhiannon for confirmation. She gives them a bitter nod.

Kress exhales in annoyance.

‘We received information that Amon was sighted in Fairydale and we made a plan of attack. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, Amon had already killed Elizabeth Montford when we caught up with him,’ Kress pauses, and following a hand cue, Finn continues.

‘We engaged Amon in a fight to keep him distracted until the Elders arrived. When they did, they tried a nullification spell, which was unsuccessful. After that, they decided something was better than nothing and settled on another powerful containment spell.’

My lip twitches in amusement as they don’t seem to realize their slip. They just confirmed it had been them who’d fought Amon in the past.

‘The reason why they died, Darcy, is that they attempted multiple forbidden spells one after another. Their energy was depleted, but they used all of it in one last effort to seal Amon,’ Rhiannon interjects.

I nod thoughtfully.

‘You’re saying there isn’t much risk as long as everything goes according to plan.’

Rhiannon nods.

‘But what if you can’t neutralize him now, either?’

‘We can. With your power, we will be able to. Just like Lydia foresaw.’

I feel a pang in my chest at the thought of my daughter.

‘Let’s say that it is so,’ I nod, turning to the two men. ‘Why could you not kill him?’ I ask pointedly. ‘With rhodium.’

Their eyes widen for a brief second before they compose themselves.

‘And how do you know about rhodium?’

‘Oh, Rhiannon must have mentioned it when she was telling me about Fiona and Elizabeth, is that not so?’ I plaster a smile on my face.

She frowns, but she doesn’t disprove my claims, seemingly thinking she might have told me something of that nature.

‘You are correct that rhodium is a metal that is poisonous to this…demon,’ Finn admits, his voice strained. ‘But it is not that simple. The only way for him to die is to pierce his heart with a pure rhodium weapon.’

‘So why could you not do that?’

My question seems to have struck a sore spot as both stiffen, their fists clenching. Yet just as before, in a matter of seconds they have themselves back under control.

‘Amon is a skilled fighter. He is a master sword fighter and undefeated in hand-to-hand combat. To pierce his heart, one would need to get close enough to him, and that was impossible.’

I narrow my eyes at his answer. Odd that he would focus only on Amon’s skills on the battlefield when he is supposed to be a vicious demon with countless abilities.

‘What about while the elders attempted the spell? Surely that amount of energy could have held him immobile,’ I counter.

‘Anyone interfering with the spell would have suffered the same repercussions as he. Trust me, Miss O’Sullivan, there was no way to kill him back then,’ he assures me though it clearly pains him to make that statement.

‘And what makes you think there will be a different outcome this time? How would you even go about this neutralizing spell if rhodium is the only way to kill him?’

My questions seem to enrage them further, which to me signifies that there are severe gaps in their plan, and that they are not at all certain anything will work.

‘Because,’ Kress grits his teeth. ‘He will be far too weak this time to pose the same challenge as before. And he will be neutralized with rhodium. In a slightly different manner,’ he clicks his tongue against his teeth, his eyes like two razors as he cuts me with his gaze.

And with that, I know I will not get any more information from them.

I nod with a smile.

‘We will discuss this more in depth when the coven members arrive here, Darcy. Don’t worry, you will find out everything when the time is right. Though this is dangerous for everyone involved, I do believe that we will succeed this time,’ Rhiannon adds. ‘And no more people will die.’

‘Thank you for the information,’ I incline my head to the two men. ‘I was just wondering if you could tell me more about why my blood is so important, and how Mr. Nicholson figures in all of this. Since you’re from the Holy See, you must have all the information.’

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but it’s imperative they believe I’m going along with their plan. Especially since they must be put out that they cannot access my thoughts—another reason why I think they must be related to Amon in some way.

‘I trust Rhiannon has already told you about the story in the codices? The ability has been dormant in your family for millennia, but it only pokes its head to the surface every few hundred years or more. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was the exception to the rule since her mother bound her powers and the coven could not use the properties of her blood in the ritual. But they have been thoroughly documented before,’ he says confidently.

I nod. Nothing new there.

‘And Mr. Nicholson?’

‘He is someone who will be dealt with by the Elders when the time is right. He has gone against our standards and has procured forbidden spells for himself which he has been using for decades. Rest assured that he will be punished accordingly,’ Finn adds.

‘Thank you for clarifying everything,’ I murmur, letting my gaze roam about the room and observing every little movement.

Isn’t it odd that Abel has been in Fairydale for more than a century, seemingly using forbidden spells, and no one has intervened? Even as he threatens the coven’s mission, he’s been left alone.

Why?

Could it be that he has someone on the inside? He’d certainly known plenty about Amon before.

‘The gentlemen must be tired already. Why don’t we let them retire,’ Rhiannon suddenly says. ‘They will be lodging with us for the duration. Their rooms are on the second floor.’

I barely stifle a sigh of relief at hearing they will not be anywhere near me.

The last thing I need is to have these highly suspicious men in my proximity. Especially since it seems I must be on my guard at all times since they might be able to read my mind.

Just as they are about to leave, though, someone appears in the doorway.

‘Your cook let us in, Miss Hale,’ Sheriff Lawrence says as he knocks on the wooden frame of the door. There is another deputy behind him and they are both sporting severe expressions.

‘Sheriff. What a surprise,’ Rhiannon exclaims. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Where is your nephew, Miss Hale?’

‘Oh, he is upstairs. His wife too,’ she says before she frowns. ‘I’ll tell Frida to call them,’ Rhiannon says as she heads to the kitchen to ask Frida to call the entire family down.

‘Would you like anything, sheriff? A coffee? Tea? You know my rose tea is the best around here.’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Hale. But we’re here on police business.’

Rhiannon swallows hard, nodding.

From the police officers’ expressions, it’s clear they aren’t bringing any good news with them.

In just a few minutes, Connor Hale and his wife come down the stairs, joining us in the drawing room. Katrina is at school so she cannot be present.

‘If you will sit,’ the sheriff tells Mr. and Mrs. Hale.

Their features are gaunt as they absentmindedly nod and I have a feeling they suspect what the sheriff is about to tell them.

‘There is really no way to tell you this, Connor. I’m really sorry to come here bearing such bad news but…’ he takes a deep breath. ‘We found your son.’

He found…Caleb? I frown at the wording, but the others don’t seem to share my confusion.

Thomasa gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as tears fall down her cheeks.

Connor’s hands are clenched tightly into fists as he takes her in his arms.

‘What do you mean? Be more clear, Lawrence,’ he demands.

Rhiannon shakes her head, her eyes teary as well.

What the hell is happening?

‘He’s dead,’ the Sheriff states.

Loud gasps permeate the air.

‘We found him in the marshes a few weeks back, but he’d already been out there for at least a couple of months. He was completely unrecognizable so we had to ask a coroner from Ipswich to come help us identify the body. We used everything at our disposal to make a correct identification…’ he continues to speak, but I can no longer hear.

All I’m focused on is the fact that he said they’d found Caleb dead. A few weeks back in the marshes? He’d been dead for months?

How?

He was with me yesterday. Right in front of them.

I open my mouth to argue, yet no words come out. Because just as I question everything, the answers come naturally as if I’d known from the beginning. Every little doubt I’ve had in the last few weeks is suddenly resolved until a quiet certainty washes over me.

There was never any Caleb. There was never anyone else but him.

Only ever him.

Every little point suddenly aligns as the story gains a new perspective.

The odd eye color shift. The odd disappearances.

Everything that didn’t make sense about Caleb suddenly does.

The paintings. His subtle warnings. The way he seemed to know me better than I knew myself. But more than anything, there’s the obvious: the way he made me feel.

The way only one man could ever make me feel.

Just as I’d asked myself before how could I be in love with both men, it dawns on me that my confusion was not because I loved two men, but that I loved one man under two different identities.

What had he said before? That I would never let another man who is not him touch him.

And he is right.

Only one man can evoke those deep feelings inside of me. Only one man can make me feel alive with one touch.

Only him.

Amon.

My Amon.

The man who’s been by my side from the beginning.

I may not know why he felt the need to assume someone else’s identity to do that, but I will question him the moment I get the chance.

‘How… How did he die?’ Connor asks, his voice breaking.

‘There were lesion marks around his neck. We believe he may have killed himself,’ the sheriff purses his lips. ‘I’m sorry about this, Connor.’

‘Can we see him?’

‘You can but I do not advise it. He does not look like the young man you knew.’

‘It’s that war. That goddamn war. He’s never been the same since he came back. Always on his own. Always in his own head,’ Thomasa cries out. ‘We should have been more vigilant. We should have helped him somehow,’ she wails.

‘Shh,’ Connor hugs her, doing his best to comfort her.

Seeing the grief and pain on their faces, I cannot help but empathize with their situation despite never knowing the real Caleb.

But as they continue to discuss personal matters, I realize it is not my place to be privy to them. Giving everyone a tight nod of acknowledgement, I move stealthily towards the exit before dashing up to my room and closing the door behind me.

My breathing is out of control, exhaustion clawing at my mind as I try to make sense of this infuriating realization. And I just…don’t know how to feel.

I am not thrilled about the deception, that is for sure. At the same time, I cannot help but feel for Amon and his circumstances, the fact that he’s been waiting for me for so long and he felt the need to take another identity to approach me.

Why?

Even as I ask the question in my mind, I have a few theories, the most salient one being that he was afraid.

Without my memories of the past, I would have been susceptible to the things said to me and around me—all which painted Amon in a bad light. And he would have been right to fear that. If I hadn’t seen the truth of the past, I would have likely fallen prey to Rhiannon’s machinations, or God forbid, that of Abel.

As I mull over our entire acquaintance, I have to wonder how come no one ever saw him. Clearly, Rhiannon’s wards do not work against him in the house. But for no one to have seen him, how is that possible?

Unless…he’d used his mind controlling abilities. But how?

I’d been with Caleb around town, and I’d interacted with people, yet no one ever noticed? What about his appearance? The Caleb I know doesn’t look like Amon. Though…

I frown as I try to mentally change his coloring and some of his features.

Whereas Amon has white hair and light blue eyes, Caleb had black hair and black eyes—though Amon had admitted he could change his eye color at will.

Yet as I superimpose their images on top of one another, I have to admit that the bone structure is similar, their physiques identical and their mannerisms the same.

He looks…just like Amon disguised as Jeremiah Creed had.

And I feel absolutely ridiculous for not making that connection earlier. The only excuse I have for myself is the fact that I’d only recently remembered about Amon as Jeremiah and his ruse. Add to that the fact that sometimes my dreams can be a little…foggy, and I don’t think it’s too far-fetched that I couldn’t recognize him.

More than anything, in my mind, Amon had been trapped in the Old Church this whole time.

God, I’m such an idiot. Embarrassment colors my cheeks the more I remember things that were dead giveaway that he was my Amon—but only retrospectively. At the time, I’d only seen what I wanted to see. I’d been so drunk on the happiness of the moment and the attention Caleb was lavishing over me, that I would have never questioned his identity. Not when, despite the little odd behaviors every now and then, everything else seemed to check out.

Though I am still a little upset about his deception, especially as it dawns on me that those times he’d made me question my sanity due to his uncontrollable outbursts, I can put everything in perspective and see the big picture—the fact that he’d been by my side from the beginning.

He’d protected me in his own odd  ways, and he’d always been there for me from the shadows. Even when I did not know who he was and I could not remember our past relationship, he still risked everything for me.

The incident from the cabin comes to mind, the way he’d been unusually ill, his eyes flashing different colors. Now that I’m aware it hadn’t been my erroneous perception I can surmise a guess that he might be ill.

All this time, he’s been protecting me at the cost of his own wellbeing. God knows what state he might be in, and that thought alone is enough to make me break out in a sweat.

Everyone had agreed the seal is weakening and his influence is growing, but no one had realized there is a cost for it.

Good Lord, the blast yesterday!

He’d taken that hit for me, hurting himself in the process even while he knew I would have healed. Maybe it would have been initially painful, but I am certain I would have healed.

But he… Since then, he’s been absent, and I can’t help but think of the worst.

If I close my eyes, all I can see is  his tense jaw and the pain clinging to his features as he’d braced himself over me after that hit.

Already weakened and he’d still sacrificed himself for me despite my healing abilities. He’d known that, too, but he’d done it, nonetheless.

‘Ah, Amon,’ I whisper as tears coat my lashes. ‘I love you,’ I whisper into the empty air. ‘Under any other name, and I would still love you.’

I don’t know if he can hear me, or what is the limit of his abilities, but this overwhelming emotion bursting out of my being cannot be quieted down anymore.

‘I love you. Oh, how I love you,’ I repeat, wanting to scream the words so everyone would know. But more than anything I need him to know that there is no other for me.

Only him,

But first, I need to find a way to the catacombs. And to reach him, I will need something to nullify the barrier placed in the tunnels.

A weary sigh escapes me as I try to think of my next steps. Undoubtedly, I will require a spell to clear the way for me to advance to the Old Church. I do not, for one moment, believe there is radioactive material down there.

The only danger is Amon.

But not for me.

Only for those who’d done nothing else but hurt him. Time and time again.

My fists clench together in anger.

Abel. Kress and Finn. Rhiannon. The coven.

Everyone has sought to hurt him and take advantage of him at every turn.

And this is not merely something that started a couple of centuries ago. This has been ongoing from the very beginning, with the first sighting of Amon and the mystery of the first woman with the birthmark.

They’ve had a silly vendetta against him for far too long, and the thought that anyone would harm my beloved tears at my insides.

The pain is sharp and continuous as anger mounts inside of me.

Do I still have a lot of unanswered questions? Yes. But what I may not know, I feel.

Everyone who’s ever had a hand in hurting my beloved will pay. They need to suffer just as much as he has, wither in the same timeless torment that he has.

A sob escapes me as a ghost of dread slithers against my skin.

He’s been alone for almost two centuries, unwaveringly waiting for me. And for twenty-four years I lived in blissful ignorance while his loneliness increased one day at a time.

Letting myself be led by pure instinct, I open the door, stepping into the hallway and heading towards the Creed suites. The small hallway is now eerily familiar, and as I turn to look at the portraits hanging on the wall, my heart bleeds in my chest at the sight of my precious children.

‘My precious Lydia and my sweet Abraham,’ I whisper as I stop in front of the family portrait. Even now, I can see his lifeless face and the blood pouring out of his open wound.

One moment he’d been alright, the next he’d been dead, slumping in my arms as he’d given his last breath.

The only relief is at knowing that at least Lydia escaped the carnage.

I linger for a moment as I take in the happiness on all our faces—the time we’d still been a family.

God, but I don’t want to imagine what Amon must have felt like when he’d come to the church to find both Abraham and me dead. That amount of pain would have been harrowing and I choke back a sob as I imagine his reaction.

Shaking myself, I continue to the master bedroom. There is one more room I hadn’t entered. One I hadn’t known existed until the last dream, but one that he had mentioned before.

The Creed private gallery.

It’s a hidden door right by the wardrobe, and as I place my hands against the wall, feeling for a slight protrusion, I push gently until the door pops open.

More dust assails me as I take a step inside.

Given the nature of Amon’s paintings, he’d always insisted on an enhanced security mechanism. So I’m certain it’s been exactly one hundred and fifty years since anyone has been in here.

‘I’m the only one who can see you like this, my love,’ he’d told me.

And so he’d built a secret chamber that was to be our love nest.

The moment I’m inside, I can see that everything is as it’s been left. But more than anything, my eyes widen at the fact that while the ground is covered with thick layers of dust, there is none on the paintings. Just like the flower from the balcony, they’d been cleaned and well-kept.

‘Amon…’ his name slips past my lips as his regard never fails to astound me.

Even while suffering alone in his cell, he devoted what little of his powers he still had to this—to make me happy. To preserve our happiness in these little moments despite it slipping from us in the real world.

Ah, but how I love this man.

From floor to ceiling, the entire room is covered in canvases—all of them depicting us.

I have to admit there was one instance when my mind had played tricks on me—though it had been of Amon’s making. That had been when I’d seen the erotic paintings in the studio.

Now, seeing them in their original location, I know it had been Amon who’d placed the ideas in my mind—potentially to remind me of the past? Regardless of his reason, he hadn’t included the most scandalous of paintings, where not only I am the main subject, but he, too.

The entire room is one debauched scene after another as my husband had painted us together in every erotically charged moment and in every position.

There is one small window that allows for minimal sunlight inside the room, and as I close the door behind me, I let the memories wash over me.

‘Soon, my love,’ I murmur lovingly as I stop in front of a painting.

Though not as sexual as the others, this one shows us in our natural habitat.

We are both naked, but that is the extent of salaciousness.

I’m on my back on the bed while he’s lying on top of me, hugging my midriff while his head rests atop my breasts. We’re languidly wrapped around each other, limbs intertwined, gazes locked together.

He’s looking up at me with absolute love and devotion while I smile affectionately at him, threading my hands through his long hair and cradling him close to me.

The scene is so warm, so intimate, that a pang of longing hits me right in the chest.

Bringing my finger to the canvas, I trace his features, and for a moment, I wish for nothing more than to curl in bed and sleep—dream of that wonderful past in which we’d been so happy, so in love, so…full.

Yet there’s also the sickening realization that it would have never last. Despite all those happy times I yearn for, this is the present—the consequence of all those past actions. And as such, I need to steel myself to the future instead of losing myself to the past.

Now, more than ever, I need to find a way back to him.

‘Give me a sign, Amon. Tell me what to do…’

The truth is that I’m lost.

With everything happening around me and despite my continuous struggle to understand everything and keep afloat, I am absolutely lost.

There is only one purpose that keeps me adrift—Amon.

But while I have the goal, I do not have the steps to accomplish it.

No matter how much I call out his name, he doesn’t answer—likely cannot. And that makes me worry even more, leaving me in a state of near-frenzy as a mix of anger and frustration explodes in me.

He needs me. Amon needs me and my stupid brain won’t work to find a solution.

Exiting the secret room, I make sure it’s fully closed before I turn to the bedroom, letting my gaze linger a little as I absorb the residual memories of the past.

I need a spell to break the barrier from the tunnels.

But would I be able to perform any spell?

Pursing my lips, I plop myself on a chair as I bring my hands to my temples, rubbing them gently as I mentally backtrack.

First, I need to find a way to get my hands on that spell. Unfortunately, I am sure it’s part of the codex, or belongs in some spell book, all of which are located in Rhiannon’s quarters.

Maybe I could sneak inside while she is away, and if I’m lucky enough I could find something.

But…

‘Damn it,’ I mutter out loud.

Even if I did find something, it would be in Latin—as are all the texts related to the coven.

Just my luck.

Couldn’t I have studied Latin instead of English? I doubt there would be too many positions to fill, but at least I wouldn’t find myself in such a predicament at the moment.

Unless…

A bulb lights up in my brain—ironic considering this wing of the house does not have any electricity—and my eyes widen with excitement.

The library! I am more than certain I will find some Latin dictionaries there and they should help me ‌find the spell. To make my job easier and smoother, I will make a list of potential words—all synonyms of barrier—and flag them for easy reach.

As I calm down, the ideas start coming to me. And what better moment if not now when the family is undoubtedly grieving the real Caleb Hale?

Doing my best to keep quiet, I sneak to the servants’ staircase, which leads straight to the kitchen. The library is right around the corner and I successfully manage to avoid any detection as I slip inside, closing the door behind me.

Amon—since I can no longer think of him as Caleb—had showed me all the book categories as they’d been arranged on shelves, and I remember quite well that he’d pointed out the selection of dictionaries as being in the far back of the library.

Heading there, I start browsing, noting quite a variety of German, French and Ancient Greek dictionaries, but only one of Latin.

Relief courses through me that there is at least one, and I pluck it from the shelf, noting the thick layer of dust.

Damn, but it seems no one has been interested in Latin in a long time.

Just as I am about to turn with the tome, the door slides open.

My spine stiffens with fear.

‘We should leave them for now. Maybe find somewhere else to sleep the night,’ one of them suggests and I recognize the voice—Finn.

Kress grunts.

‘We need to stay out of it as much as we can until the others come. We can’t afford any questions at this point. Not when everything’s already set in motion.’

‘We still need to see Nicholson. That old fool is going to ruin all our plans,’ Finn curses.

Aha! So I was right about their acquaintance. But even that doesn’t help my increasing anxiety at being in the same room with them. Especially since it becomes clear I’m listening to something that I’m not supposed to, and my pulse quickens at the thought of being discovered.

Stepping further back into the shadows, I bump into one of the shelves.

Oh, God…

Yet to my surprise, no sound erupts in the air.

There’s only a light breeze that brushes against my cheek and the quietest whisper that I’m still unsure whether it’s real or not.

Shhh.

I keep myself still as I let the mist envelop me in a protective cocoon, somehow instinctively aware that it’s him.

‘Fuck,’ Kress curses as he comes deeper into the library, taking a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. Finn follows him. From my angle, I can see them but I doubt they are able to see me too. Not when Finn looks directly at me without any reaction.

Thank you.

I whisper the words in my mind, convinced he will be able to hear me.

Yet he doesn’t reply.

I don’t let that disappointment overtake me as I focus on what Kress and Finn are talking about.

‘So, what did you think?’ Finn asks.

Kress flattens his lips in a thin line.

‘I’m not sure. She was asking too many questions.’

‘You think she knows something?’

‘I couldn’t probe her mind. Could you?’

He shakes his head.

‘I tried but there was a strong push,’ Finn answers, clearly put off by that.

‘Damn,’ he curses, suddenly standing up. ‘She can’t know, Finn. She can’t remember.’

‘You really think she’s Sela?’ Finn rises, too, his features hard.

‘You saw her too. She’s identical. Just like Elizabeth.’

‘But how could it be? Even among the General ranks, no one has that ability—to die and come back all over again,’ Finn counters.

‘You forget this is Sela we’re talking about, Finn. She’s the exception to the rule.’

‘No. She doesn’t have her powers anymore. It can’t be of her own doing,’ he argues.

‘You think it could be that damned spell Amon performed? The one that went missing with the original codex?’

Kress nods.

‘It’s the only explanation. But that doesn’t solve our problem. We’ve known about that damn prophecy for two centuries but we never realized the chit would be Sela’s reincarnation. That changes everything,’ Kress grits his teeth.

‘But the prophecy said she would be the one to end him. Do you think maybe it’s true? You know that even weak Amon will pose a challenge, regardless of the coven’s presence.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ Kress says drily. ‘The prophecy also said she would unleash that evil, and both events are equally possible,’ he pauses. ‘But maybe we can make some use of this. Amon and Sela were mated, were they not? You know that a male’s greatest weakness is his female.’

‘But how? There’s never been a documented incident of a female going against her mate,’ he sighs. ‘At least not among our kind since the mating requires free will.’

Our kind?

‘Yes, but look at it this way, Finn,’ Kress turns towards him. ‘Even if they are still technically mated, Darcy does not remember what happened as Sela, or that she mated Amon. That is vital to our plans. We can’t risk her having knowledge of the past. More than anything, she can’t know that Amon isn’t a demon.’

My eyes widen in surprise at his words, yet there’s a familiarity to that sentence—a knowledge deeply buried inside of me.

‘You’re right. We should probably talk to Rhiannon about it and have her check for her memories. If Hale thinks she is Elizabeth she will also be alarmed of the potential switch in loyalties.’

Kress grunts, but his features are still unyielding.

‘Fuck it! This complicates our plans too much when we don’t have the time. The search party could be here any time in the next decade.’

‘I still can’t believe they haven’t let it go. They are using precious resources on a traitor,’ Finn spits out.

‘A traitor with enough underground support that could wipe out the entire empire. They know what they are doing, Finn. I might not like it, but it makes sense they require evidence that Amon is dead. Otherwise, we will always be under threat. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I would do the same.’

‘Even after all this time?’

Kress gives him a sad smile.

‘You haven’t known Amon as long as I have. But you’ve seen what he is capable of. He didn’t become the youngest General in history for no reason, Finn. His reputation wasn’t unearned, which is why we need to finish him off while he is weak. If he regains his strength, we won’t be safe. The empire won’t be safe. Fuck, the world as we know it will not be safe.’

Finn shakes his head as he paces around.

‘How did he even become so strong? I know back home he was a legend, but what we saw him do in that Church was beyond anything I’ve ever seen,’ Finn adds, his voice tinged with awe.

‘I don’t know,’ Kress takes a deep breath. ‘It might be a spell from the original codex. We already know the spells in this world are compatible with us. That could have given him more power than he already had.’

‘He can kill with his mind, Kress,’ Finn accused. ‘If we didn’t have that shield protecting us, our brains would have become mush just like everyone else in town. He made everyone’s insides melt. That’s some fucked up shit,’ he exclaims.

‘I had no idea he would be capable of that, either. For fuck’s sake, you saw that even the Elders had trouble restraining him,’ Kress shakes his head. ‘In Arkgor, he was famous for his combat abilities, but no one ever mentioned that type of matter manipulation. It’s something only the Reva in the North Woods were capable of, but their kind is nearly extinct. Unless…you think Elora might have known? She said she had one last trick up her sleeve to get Amon ostracized by the people.’

‘Maybe,’ Finn shrugs. ‘At this point I just want to finally be rid of him. I’ll be able to sleep well at night again, without thinking we would be found out and…’ he swallows hard. ‘You saw what they did to his supporters when he was accused. If we don’t kill him, we are next, Kress.’

‘I know,’ he answers somberly. ‘I, more than anyone, know what’s at stake.’

‘We need to deal with Darcy and make sure she has no knowledge of who or what Amon is. This entire operation hinges on the belief that Amon is an evil demon out to destroy humanity. If they find out that isn’t true…’ he trails off.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he waves his hand. ‘Humanity’s greatest folly is its unerring condemnation of that which it does not understand. That hive mentality will not perish anytime soon. We’ll merely take advantage of their ignorance again.’

‘That doesn’t mean…’

‘Shh. Someone is coming,’ Kress stops Finn.

A few moments later, Rhiannon opens the door to the library, stepping inside.

‘I’m so sorry about this, gentlemen,’ she says, her tone sad. ‘It seems it’s not a good day for our family. But if you’ll allow me to show you to your rooms,’ she gives them a smile.

‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Kress inclines his head. ‘And allow us to pay our condolences. It can’t be easy to lose one so young.’

Rhiannon shakes her head, her eyes glossy.

‘He’s been missing for a while now, but we always thought he would come back. He used to do this before. Leave for a couple of months and then return,’ she sighs, barely able to hold back her tears. ‘The funeral will be in a few days. You will have to excuse me if I’m not as present as I would have liked. We will discuss and plan for everything afterwards.’

‘Do not worry on our account. We are already more than grateful that you’ve received us in your home. Take as much time as you’d like.’

‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon murmurs.

They make small talk for a while longer before they all leave the library, closing the door behind them.

The moment the room is empty, I feel the air curl around me as it frees me. And before I can say anything, that warm presence is gone.

I’m frozen to the spot as I mentally go over everything I heard, my confusion mounting again.

Dear Lord, but this is more complicated than I could have ever thought. And if Amon is not a demon, what is he?

Somehow, the statement rings true in my mind, but my memory of the past is incomplete. I cannot remember anything about what or who Amon is.

Although I do know he used to be a General, and that he’d dedicated all his life to the army before, I do not know when and where. It seems to me that the only one who would have had the full version of the past was Sela. And though I have memories of my life as Elizabeth, Sela is a complete mystery.

I’d had that one vision in Ancient Rome and nothing more.

Moreover, what spell from the original codex was Kress talking about?

‘Agh,’ I huff out loud. There are too many narrative threads for me to make sense of, and without all the information I feel like I’m running in circles.

The only way to understand everything is to go straight to the source.

Amon.

Anticipation courses through my blood as every little part of my body throbs with longing.

Opening the book, I look for the translation of the barrier.

With the family busy with the funeral, I might manage to find the time to infiltrate Rhiannon’s quarters.

Flipping the pages in search of the letter b, I’m surprised to see something fly out of the book, landing on the floor.

The paper is worn, the edges yellowish.

Bending to pick it up, I note the beautiful penmanship as well as the name and date scribbled in the corner.

Lydia Creed, May 1835.

As my eyes scan the document, I realize it’s a spell.

A spell to nullify the barrier.

My God!

I cannot believe what I’m seeing, or the fact that Lydia had written this more than a hundred years ago. She must have known I would need it in the future.

‘My Didi,’ I whisper, my lashes coated with tears.

Is she here, I wonder?

Rhiannon had said there are ghosts, but is Lydia here, too?

God, but what I wouldn’t give to talk to her again. Tell her I’m sorry about everything that happened…

A sob escapes my lips and I wipe the tears off my face with the sleeve.

‘Thank you, Didi,’ I tell her, hoping she will somehow be able to hear me.

Folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my blouse, I place the book back in its place and go back to my room.

Once nightfall comes, I prepare myself to proceed.

My heart threatens to burst in my chest thinking I might see Amon soon, yet I don’t want to put my hopes up in case it doesn’t work.

I’m already dying to touch him again, to hear his voice and feel his skin against mine. If I don’t succeed, the disappointment would prove too much.

Dressed in my best gown, I put on some make-up and arrange my hair in loose curls around my shoulders.

My cheeks are already red with shame at being so vain while my beloved is suffering. But I don’t want him to see me ragged or unkempt. Somehow, his opinion of me matters too much.

Smoothing my hands over the dress, I hide the spell inside my brassiere as I compile a small basket of items for him, too. I don’t know what state I might find him in, so I need to be prepared for every eventuality.

I pack a few towels, medicine and even some food as well as a few weapons that might be helpful later on.

Maybe I’m silly about it since I don’t know what someone as powerful as Amon might need. But just thinking about him not having basic items makes my blood boil and my heart hurt.

If it weren’t for the weight, and the fact that I’m not that physically strong, I would have taken with me an entire infirmary.

With everything ready, I take a deep breath and open my door, stepping into the hallway. I do my best to be quiet as I move about the house. The last thing I need is for Kress or Finn to catch me and interrogate me on my whereabouts so late at night.

Taking the servants’ staircase, I head to the kitchen where the entrance to the catacombs is.

As expected, the Hales had somehow locked the door.

Sighing, I bring my candle next to the lock, examining it closely and noting it’s not something I’m likely to unlock on my own. Instead, I’ll have to find some way to break it—but without drawing any attention to myself.

Removing a screwdriver from my basket, I jam the pointy tip inside the lock.

It might not open it, but it should definitely break it.

I struggle for minutes on end to push it inside when, suddenly, I hear a small click and the door opens on its own.

Blinking in surprise, I withdraw the screwdriver and dump it in the basket.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper in a low voice as I take a step inside, closing the door behind me and going down the stairs.

The candles allow for some light, but the entire area is pitch dark.

I swallow hard against a wave of discomfort that hits me, just as a small shiver of fear goes down my back.

It would be fair to say that after a while in Fairydale I’ve developed a certain distaste of dark places that might be rife with the supernatural.

But even as that thought crosses my mind I force myself to focus.

This is for him—all for him.

I walk for a couple of minutes before I come across the invisible barrier from before.

Taking out the piece of paper from my brassiere, I bring the light over it as I clear my throat and start reading.

The words are all in Latin, and although I can’t be sure my pronunciation is on point, I hope it will still work.

I channel all my hope in the words I’m saying—all the love and longing in my heart.

When I’m done, I find myself completely out of breath.

Peering up, I expect to see something happening, yet the tunnel is just as before—dark and foreboding.

My heart hammering in my chest, I take a tentative step forward.

Then another.

My lips tremble as they tip up in an optimistic smile the more I walk, the path clear for me.

From hesitant steps, I slowly pick up speed until I’m running for my life.

Adrenaline dances in my veins as my feet take me closer and closer to him. My skin tingles with every moment, my body humming with something utterly indescribable.

A blinding light suddenly appears before me.

Blinking, I slowly accommodate to the light as I take in the new surroundings. The tunnel funnels into a wide space that looks like a chamber. The walls are a light color, the area clean and tidy—clearly indicative of someone living here. A bed rests against the northern wall, some books piled on top of the blankets. There are various items around, all well-kept and unusually clean considering the circumstances.

And there…right before me, it’s him.

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