Chapter 252: Episode 252.
Light Fae Realm:
The mirror felt like another pair of eyes.
Aire stood before it in complete silence, with both hands working slowly through the length of her silver hair.
There wad no servants in this realm. Just feas who volunteered to offer their help to her. She had answered none of them.
Now, only the sound of her own breathing filled the room. She gathered her hair together behind her head.
It had grown far longer than she remembered.
Months inside the Dark Fae Realm had changed it somehow. It reached way past her waist now, and softer than before despite everything she’d survived.
Her fingers moved automatically. She twisted, folded, and pinned the hair. She tied it into a loose bun without looking away from her own reflection.
For a long moment, she saw just herself.
Her pale face. The exhaustion beneath her eyes, and the faint shadows left by sleepless nights.
She barely recognised the woman staring back anymore. The Aire she remembered had smiled more.
This one didn’t know how.
Her fingertips lingered against the edge of the dressing table.
She inhaled slowly. She took in three breaths accordingly. She would think. She had to. Panicking had brought her nowhere yesterday.
She needed a way home.
A real one, and not another promise. Not another stranger insisting they knew what was best for her.
Her thoughts drifted immediately toward them.
Nate.
She could almost hear him complaining about something completely insignificant while pretending not to worry.
Xander would already be pacing. He never stayed still when anxious.
Alaric... A small ache settled beneath her ribs. He would blame himself. She forever knew he would.
Her fingers tightened against the wood.
"Don’t."
She whispered the word so quietly that even she barely heard it.
"Please don’t."
The reflection on the mirror smiled.
Aire froze.
Her own lips hadn’t moved. The woman inside the mirror smiled wider. Everytging about the reflection before her was wrong. It wasn’t warmth.
Aire’s heartbeat stumbled.
The face remained hers. The silver hair, the blue eyes, her skin, and her mouth.
Only the eyes weren’t hers anymore.
They darkened to gold. A familiar shade of impossible gold.
Lysander.
He stood inside the mirror wearing her face.
His head tilted lazily to one side, almost affectionately. His smile widened. Then, he slowly lifted one hand.
He touched the reflection of his own cheek.
Her cheek. Then whispered something. She couldn’t hear the words. The smile said enough.
’I’m still wearing you.’ the smile said.
Aire’s entire body jerked backwards.
"No." She shut her eyes so violently her lashes hurt. "Leave my head."
Her breathing came too fast, and too shallow. Her hands found the edge of the table before her knees gave out completely.
"Breathe." She whispered it to herself. "Breathe."
Her chest rose amd fell quickly.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Where was he?
If he still wore her appearance... If he truly walked around the Dark Realm looking like her... Her fingers dug into the wood.
Nate.
Xander.
Alaric.
Would they know? Would they realise? Or would they... Her eyes opened again, and the mirror reflected only herself.
The mirror reflected a frightened young woman gripping a dressing table hard enough for her knuckles to turn white.
She stared another few seconds, then deliberately turned the mirror away from herself.
She couldn’t bear looking into it anymore.
A knock sounded at the door.
Aire didn’t answer.
Whoever was behind the door knocked again, and the door opened anyway.
Apparently nobody inside this palace believed in waiting for permission.
Measured footsteps crossed the room. The footsteps were more than one person.
Aire kept her back toward them.
"I’m not interested in another conversation." Aire informed, sounding tired.
Behind her, whoever just came in remained patiently silent. They stopped a respectful distance away.
Another set of footsteps followed, lighter, slower, and almost hesitant. Aire felt an uncomfortable feeling stirring inside her chest.
She frowned.
That feeling felt familiar, tugging at her to turn, and refusing to leave. She slowly turned in respect to whatever she could be feeling.
King Asterion stood exactly where she’d expected him. His endlessly soulful blue eyes stared deep into her.
He wasn’t alone.
Standing quietly beside him was a woman. She couldn’t have been much older than her youth. Her long chestnut hair flowed over pale green robes.
Her face looked gentle, and kind.
There was sadness in her smile. Old sadness.
A kind of sadness that had lived inside someone for years until they no longer remembered what life felt like without it.
She looked at Aire with soft curiosity, and nothing more.
She didn’t recognise her.
Meanwhile, Aire’s heart skipped. Her breath caught, and recognition exploded inside her mind.
She remembered the woman in her vision the Light Fae carried away while King Elijah reached toward her from the ground.
The memory hit so suddenly that Aire spoke before she realised she’d opened her mouth.
"Beatrice?"
The room became completely still.
The woman blinked twice. Confusion spread slowly across her features.
"My..." Her voice faltered. "Forgive me?"
King Asterion looked from Aire to the woman beside him. Then he looked back at Aire again.
Neither of them spoke.
Aire stared at the woman. She whispered. "It really is you."
Beatrice searched her face carefully. "I’m afraid..." She smiled apologetically. "...we’ve never met."
"I know." The answer left Aire immediately. "I know." She repeated, as if to be certain herself.
She swallowed. "I only..."
How could she explain it?
"I saw you." She said simply.
Beatrice frowned gently. "Saw me?"
"In one of my visions." The words sounded strange even to Aire. "It wasn’t..."
She shook her head slowly. She looked directly into Beatrice’s eyes. "I saw the Faes taking you." She gestured to Asterion. "I never thought it would be the light faes."
Beatrice stopped breathing.
Asterion’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Aire continued quietly. "I saw you screaming." Her voice softened. "And they did not consider. Are you alright?"
Beatrice’s hands began trembling.
Aire felt her own throat tighten. "They wouldn’t let you touch your mate."
Beatrice’s eyes filled instantly. She covered her mouth with one shaking hand. For the first time in centuries, this was the closest she have ever felt to him.
The whisper barely existed.
"No one..." Tears spilled before she could stop them. "...no one knows that."
She stared at Aire as though seeing something impossible. "The wolves think me dead."
Her voice broke.
"My sons don’t even remember." She laughed weakly through tears. "They were babies."
Another tear escaped her, and so did a soft laugh. "They’ve never known me."
Aire’s chest ached. She remembered every second of that vision. The desperation, the screams, and the way King Elijah had fought until the Light Fae dragged Beatrice into the portal anyway.
Beatrice took one hesitant step forward, then another. Very slowly, she stopped directly before Aire.
Neither of them spoke.
Beatrice lifted one trembling hand. It was not quite touching her, just hovering. The gesture was so slow as she was afraid Aire might disappear.
Then suddenly, she closed the distance.
Her arms wrapped around Aire. Her arms were so tight and warm around Aire, like someone embracing a miracle.
"I’m so glad..." Her voice dissolved into quiet sobs. "I’m so glad you’re safe."
Aire froze. Every muscle in her body locked. She couldn’t even remember when last she felt such genuine softness towards her.
Her hands remained stiffly at her sides. She didn’t know what to do. She strongly refused to give softness to just anyone.
Aire eyes slowly closed. This wasn’t just Beatrice. This was Nate’s mother. Alaric and Xander’s mother.
Her hands finally lifted. Carefully and uncertainly, she hugged her back. Not because she knew her, but because she knew what she had lost.
Beatrice cried harder.
"I’m sorry..." She whispered against Aire’s shoulder. "I’m so sorry you have to endure all of these."
For one brief heartbeat, the room around Aire felt warm, safe, and almost like home.
Reality returned for Aire. She slowly pulled away, and her expression hardened again. She looked directly into Beatrice’s eyes.
"I’m not safe."
The warmth vanished from the room.
"I’m here." She stepped back. "My mates are waiting for me. They think I’m coming home."
She looked toward Asterion.
"And every second I stay here..." Her jaw tightened. "...someone else is walking around wearing my face."
The room immediately fell silent once more.