I forget to breathe. My chest tightens. A tingle of magic dances across my skin.
We lock eyes.
Her gaze is the color of emeralds; of the new spring and the deep forests. Her long hair is a rich shade of bottle-green, so deep it’s almost black. It’s been bound into a pair of long braids that trail down her back.
She wears a dress made of foliage; of thousands of tiny leaves knitted together without seam or stitch, clinging to her lithe form like a second skin before flaring out at her hips to form a long, flowing skirt.
Her skin is flawless; ageless, she could be mistaken for being on the cusp of womanhood if not for the weight of her gaze and the wisdom etched into her expression.
She looks formidable; unimpregnable.
For a moment, I’m awestruck and utterly intimidated.
But then she breaks.
Her expression crumbles. Her eyes shimmer with tears.
She might look like an ethereal being, but her expression right now is so very human.
She opens her arms, beckoning to me.
I have no words. As if in a trance, I walk towards her, my feet moving of their own volition.
Into her embrace.
She wraps her arms around me, and suddenly everything feels right.
“Finley,” she whispers, her voice smooth and resonant. It’s like a balm for my anxious soul. “I’m sorry it took me so long to reach you. What a fine young woman you’ve grown into.” She softens her embrace and extends her arms just a little, putting some distance between us so she can take a good look at me. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. I reach up and wipe them with my sleeve. “If only I could have nurtured you the way I wanted…”
I can’t bear to see her like this; filled with bitterness and remorse and grief. This should be a joyous occasion. “I’m sorry, too. For so long, I didn’t know. That man hid your existence from all of us. I’m sorry it took us so long to find you. You don’t need to be sorry for anything, mama. You never did anything wrong, and by placing the seal on me and cursing Lucar Solisar, you protected me. It worked out all right, didn’t it? I’m here. I’m well. And so are you… I hope.”
“I am well, my child.” She leans in and gently kisses me on top of my hair, her love and warmth radiating through me. “Now that I’ve found you, I am well, and I know that you’ll be in good hands. You’ve made a fine choice of mate.”
“I certainly have.” I beam through my own tears. “Did you know that we were getting married today? Is that why you’re here?”
She nods, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Corvan and I have been in communication. One might say that all of this was his idea. I am sorry I didn’t come and see you sooner, but I was in no state to meet you yet. I was weak, and consumed with the need for vengeance. But all that has been dealt with now—Lucar Solisar included.
Oh? My eyes narrow in curiosity. “What did you do to him?”
Her smile turns devious. “I have my ways. I could have simply devoured him, but I thought it best that he should suffer. He works for me now—both he and the one called Dorava. He’s to make me a forest in the middle of the empire. After that… I’ll decide what to do with him, but regardless of what I choose, he’s going to be my slave for the rest of his life.”
Her eyes glow faintly. For the first time, I get a sense of how terrifying she can be if crossed.
She wraps her arms around me again. “But let’s not worry about that now. Today, you’re to be wed, and I am so very happy for you—and proud.” She takes my hands into hers and squeezes tightly. I don’t feel even the tiniest sliver of ill intent. She exudes warmth and love, and it’s as if I’ve known her my entire life. “The entire time I was held captive—when those stupid Rahavans used my power for ill-conceived purposes—the only thing that kept me going was the thought that I’d meet you again someday. But even though I wished for it, I never imagined that our reunion would be as perfect as this. I’m here now, Finley, and I will be here for you from now on. I’ll teach you all about your heritage; about the power that you are yet to unlock, and although you probably don’t need it, I offer you my vow of protection.”
“Of course I need it,” I say gently. “And I would gladly become your pupil, mama. Now that you’re here, I want to make up for all the time we’ve lost—and more.”
She reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair away from my face. “Of course we will. But first things first. It’s your wedding day, and I still haven’t given you and Corvan your gift.”
“G-gift?” I hadn’t even thought of such things.
“Indeed.” She releases my hands and lifts her arms up into the air. The faint light in her eyes becomes more intense, casting an emerald glow across her features.
I feel the power radiating from her, and it is astounding.
It’s pure euphoric energy washing over me. It’s life itself.
A soft hum emanates from her, and the birds and the insects fall silent.
All around us, the garden starts to grow. Trees burst into full bud and bloom. Flowering plants emerge from the ground. Lilypads appear on the surface of the water, and huge purple flowers emerge, unfurling to reveal the most fragrant flowery scent I’ve ever known.
Vines snake up the far wall, unfurling deep green leaves and bright orange flowers.
The existing trees around us grow, arching overhead to form an interlinked canopy.
And something appears in the center of the pond—a tree of twisting roots and branches, rising up out of the water. Something comes with it.
It’s the statue of Hecoa, the Goddess of Death.
She’s chipped in places and covered in pond algae. I stare at her calm, benevolent face; at her blank, all-seeing eyes.
“She’s Eresus’s lover, and therefore, she belongs here amongst his glory.” The tree unfurls, branches reaching toward the bright, cloudless sky. “You and I are of the direct line of Eresus, the God of Life. Corvan is of Hecoa. Everything is interconnected. Life and Death. Senescence and rebirth. It’s fitting, don’t you think?”
Astonished, I look around. The garden has been transformed into a place of incomparable beauty.
It’s become the living, beating heart of Tyron Castle.
“This is my gift to you and Corvan,” my mother says gently. Her voice is a little strained—I suspect the sheer effort of doing this took a lot out of her. “It’s my sincere hope that the two of you will always live in harmony.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, tears coming to my eyes. I squeeze her hands. “Thank you, mama.”
“No need for thanks, my daughter. It’s the very least I could do. To see you grown up and so strong and capable—that’s the greatest gift I could ever ask for.” She lets go of my hands and gives me a stern look, her expression turning businesslike. “But enough of this now. You have a wedding imminent. It’s time for you to prepare, don’t you think?”
I hesitate, suddenly uncertain. It’s strange to think that I might have her around from now on—my very own mother; this fearsome yet gentle woman, who loves me unconditionally and has my back in all things.