A Court of Storms and Stars

Chapter 1

Time trudges steadily on, unmoved by the haunting events of history. The sun shines everyday, its only care of that to brighten the sky. I used to envy that kind of strength, the ability to show up consistently, despite resentments. Sometimes, all you want to do is crawl under a rock and wait until the world no longer remembers you. 

Stories of the ancient Cauldron Incarnate slowly began spreading throughout the Fae lands, eventually making their way across mortal lands as well. In many places, that name was replaced with the Queen of Hybern. Horrible, shadow-consumed Queen of a faltering country. Some say that she withered away when the Cauldron disappeared after the war. 

But it didn't disappear, not really. And neither did I. 

Though the eye of the Cauldron is distant, cast through layers of thick, shielded wards, I can still feel it. Perhaps if I tried hard enough, I might even be able to track its location. 

It could rust and crumble to pieces for all I care, I think to myself, staring at the reminder of our connection. The golden circle remains etched on my wrist. Power eternal. A caress of nails, probably intended to be harsher, brushes down my spine. The spiteful ancient object despises me now. Where there was once care, there is only hate. Not that the Cauldron ever really cared for my well-being. It only wanted to use me for a foothold onto the sentient world, with hopes of somehow controlling me. The thought that it could sends shivers down my spine, and I feel the tug of a smile from wherever it is hidden. 

"Welcome back, dearie," croons the innkeeper, her warm smile crinkling her deep brown eyes. After the war, I left the High Lords of Prythian standing along the rocky outcrops in the Spring Court. Prythian destroyed Hybern's forces gloriously after Amren, third in command of the Night Court, burst from the Cauldron as a thing of fire and deadly beauty. When I awoke, surprised at being alive despite watching the Cauldron split into pieces, I was amidst the High Lords. 

I almost stayed, despite all my horrible actions. With one look into the beautiful hazel eyes of the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, I almost stayed. For a moment, I felt that I could remedy all the pain that I had caused leading up to the war. As my own shadows wrapped around my body, ready to take me away, Azriel asked me not to leave. I can still hear his pleading voice in my head. 

I nod, a small smile pulling at my lips. "Here is the food that I promised you." The kind innkeeper's eyes widen as I drop some potatoes and rabbits down onto the counter. This morning I set out into the forest for some food. The innkeeper took one look at me and figured I could pay her with rations instead of money. Here in the Autumn Court, the lesser fae who live in the outskirts are extremely poor. Beron, the High Lord of Autumn pays them hardly enough for a livable lifestyle. 

After centuries of not touching my collected wealth, hidden deep in the wilds of the Middle, I gave in and spent a good amount on these fae. Helping those less fortunate like I used to would take a thousand years alone in this court. For the past few months, after diffusing all those wretched bombs the King of Hybern set in Velaris, I set out for warmer territory. Until I wound up in the Autumn Court. My heart broke for all those who dwell within the outskirts of the land. 

The innkeeper bows her head, "Thank you, m'lady." I haven't hid my pointed ears since before being a prisoner of Hybern. Though it is unlikely that any lesser fae will recognize me, I still glamour my hair and occasionally my eyes. Especially here, in this forsaken--albeit beautiful--Autumn Court. 

"It was my pleasure," I respond, bowing my head in kind response before turning to the stairs. Recently, my shadows have informed me that the Night Court has secretly allied with Eris, heir to the Autumn Court. No matter how hard I try to stay away from Azriel, I find myself always being pulled to him and the Night Court. So, here I am, hoping to gain any intel on Beron and his son. I don't trust Eris, and I have no doubts of an inevitable betrayal to the Night Court. 

This quiet farm village is the closest to the land surrounding the Forest House. Ordinarily, it would be easy to blend into the darkness and infiltrate the High Lord's estate, but recently, Beron has implemented some craft wards that keep even the shadows away. 

So, here I am in a small village in a tiny inn, contemplating a way to get into the estate. To gain intelligence and to pass it along--anonymously of course--to Rhysand and Feyre in the Night Court. 

The time spent first as a prisoner of Hybern and then as its Queen has changed me. The anger that fueled me during those long and torturous years twisted some part of my heart, feeding the shadows that still swirl around under my control. 

"It was not yet time," the Seer said that night in the forest. "There was still more for you to learn."

"About?" I asked.

"Who you are," he responded. 

That conversation runs in my head over and over again. The Seer knew that I would be the one to end his life, and yet when I tried the first time, he said the Cauldron still wanted me to learn more things. In a fit of rage at learning the truth about how my family--the village I was born into--was destroyed, I absolutely demolished the Seer and the surrounding forest. I can still feel the satisfied purr of the Cauldron after the deed was done. 

Like it wanted me to do that. Like it enjoyed the rage, the wrath, that swam through my veins. 

The thought chills my blood. 

I stop before the locked door to the attic room of the inn, shuffling around in my sack for the key to open it. With a squeak, the door reveals a dark room beyond, space enough for only a small, stiff bed, a washing pot, and a table. I close the door and ignite the faelight in the corner before dropping my sack and weapons on the surface of the wooden table. Dust floats around the air, the indication that this room has not seen a visitor in quite some time before I began renting it a couple weeks ago. 

Despite the usual cool autumn temperatures, the room is stifling hot. I open the window and let some fresh air burn away at the mustiness. In the distance, past the orange, red, and yellow trees, beyond the low hills, is the silhouette of the High Lord's grand estate. Tomorrow I will resume my contemplation about infiltration. Helping the innkeeper and the rest of the villagers today took up all my time. Not that I mind, helping others is what I enjoy. Though I find that it doesn't bring me nearly as much joy as it once had--before Hybern. 

That damned Cauldron and whatever its plans for me were. 

At least it is locked away now. 

I hope.

I use the pot next to the table to wash myself before crawling onto the hard bed and extinguishing the faelight. The silver light of the moon shines through the window, gleaming brightly onto my face. I pull the sheets over my head to block the light. 

A light wind dances into the room from the open window, lulling me to sleep with the sound of singing crickets. 

A voice calls from the distant darkness."Why do you reject it?" 

"What?" I ask, looking around. I see nothing but an abysmal blackness. Even my limbs are engulfed by it. 

"Why do you reject it?" The voice asks again. This time, I can hear some sort of familiarity to the tone, though can't place it exactly. 

"Reject what?" I ask, my voice echoing on for what seems like forever. Above, a streak of lightning races across the sky, stretching far away. Though it seems bright, it does nothing against the darkness.

"The--" silence. The voice pauses for a moment, a thrumming unease running through the thick air. "Someone is here," it warns.

My eyes rip open, still fixed on the gray sheets above my head. In the far corner of the room, I sense the presence of someone who should not be here. My heart begins to thunder as I note the dagger that sits snug against my thigh. 

I close my eyes tightly, stilling my mind for a moment. Then, in one fluid, rapid movement, I dash out of the bed, clutching the dagger, and jump on whoever was standing against the wall. The fae has no time to react as I pin them to the wall, my weapon grazing their neck.

I hear a faint laugh before I conjure the faelight to turn on. Flickering blue light dances across his angular face, highlighting his red hair. 

Eris.

His lips are turned in a grin, one eyebrow raised. "Hello, Keeper of the Cauldron."