Caelynn
Many ages past, atthe beginning of all things, there was a tribe of beings blessed by the maker to build their own world as they saw fit.
Most of the ancients believed they were being tested, but not one of these beings agreed on how to pass this test.
Some thought to reign over their creations, calling themselves kings and queens. Some thought to make a successful world with mortal beings that ruled themselves. Some thought the world was their playground, a chance to experiment—they were not afraid to set it ablaze just to watch it burn.
After a few hundred years, the fighting began between the ancients, until only a dozen remained. None of the ancients truly wanted a ruler, but they agreed that the fighting would continue without a clear hierarchy.
Therefore, the Ancient of Light was crowned king of all and given additional power by every other ancient. He ruled along with his mate of shadows.
Under his rule, the ancients’ role was to create and oversee a society that could one day rule themselves, and each ancient claimed land, some alone, some sharing with others. They lent their power to soil and stone and water and air. Each province became itsown court. The king allowed each ancient to govern their court and only interceded during times of conflict to resolve a dispute.
The ancients had millennia of peace after the crowning of their king. And eventually, the fae began ruling themselves, creating their own laws and customs and cultures. Many ancients believed they had served their purpose and began the process of withdrawing from their creations.
At one final meeting between all the remaining ancients, the King of Light laid one final decree—the fae would have full autonomy over themselves and their lands. The ancients could remain, but they would have no control or say in how the fae choose to rule. They would have their own established hierarchy that did not include the ancients.
To complete this decree, a ritual would need to be completed to magically bind all ancients from interfering with fae royals.
A small group of ancients disagreed with this decision, but they did not speak out during the council, believing the king would not listen and would force the bargain on them. Instead, they plotted an insurrection.
The King of Light’s own mate drugged him during the ceremony before the final ritual. The Shadow Queen’s brother—the Night Bringer—and his mate led an attack the moment the king was unconscious.
The Shadow Queen did not anticipate that the others would try to kill her mate while he was weakened—a naïve oversight. She fought back against her brother and his mate. She fought fiercely, long enough for other ancients to join the battle. The Night Bringer and his mate were wounded and fled. Many believed them dead.
When the Light King awoke, he was immediately aware of his mate’s betrayal and killed her before she could utter a word, then he withdrew from the world and still to this day slumbers beneath the site of the final council.
***
MY HEAD FALLS BACKagainst the cushions of the couch behind me as my mind spins through all the possibilities.
The Light King is the key to this war, I know it. But Rev is determined to find other solutions. He wants to explore the option of the ancient beneath the Black Lake, which is fair, I suppose. But my mind is stuck here—the most powerful being to ever live in this world hates me simply for being a Shadow fae.
The fire flickers softly, filling the room with cozy warmth while snow falls lazily outside the large window.
“So, based on all of that,” Rev says, pacing beside the coffee table, eyes cast at the old leather tome, “shouldn’t the ancient king desire the death of the Night Terror?”
That’s a fair question. Only a week ago, the ancient king from the story was raised from his slumber—and almost killed us. The enemy of our enemy should be our friend... in theory.
“Should is not always reality, Prince,” the voice hisses from the magical book, laid open for us.
I frown.
“Did he answer?” Rev asks, turning to me. I blink,oh right. I’m the only one that can audibly hear the magic book that apparently knowseverything.Well, almost everything. He can’t see inside anyone’s mind. He doesn’t know intentions.
“He said ‘should is not always reality.’ Which isn’t really an answer,” I chide.
This time, writing appears on the worn pages, and Rev leans over to read his response.
The king does not know everyone involved in the insurrection; he knew only that his mate drugged him. He went to sleep immediately after her death. His slumber was deep—he knows nothing from that moment to the moment he was awoken.
My eyebrows bounce up, filling in the gaps myself. His mate was a shadow ancient, the creator of Shadow fae, and she betrayed him. Whatever her motives or thoughts during all of that—he hates her, and by extension, me. “And he distrusts Shadow fae so deeply he won’t believe us if we try to tell him,” I guess.
