𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 86

Chapter 86

Arwen was surprised when Feyre and Mor asked if she wanted to go to the Rainbow for a girls' day out. She had woken quite groggy and unwilling to even pull herself out of bed for hours but the opportunity was one she didn't want to pass given that there weren't many days where she had the energy to. Mor even did her hair into an intricate braid for her.

The Rainbow was just as she remembered, with new music down every street, murals painting the walls and artists selling their works in carts and shopfronts. Arwen already had in mind a few artists that she would approach once the town house was hers. Feyre showed them her studio as well as some of the paintings she had been working on. Portraits, for the most part. Over lunch, as Feyre and More ate, Arwen continued to admire the clay earrings that she had bought. The clay had been dyed black before firing and had flakes of gold through them like glittering, gilded veins.

"You should have gotten the blue."

Arwen's eyes snapped to Mor. "What?"

Mor smirked. "The blue ones. You should have gotten those."

Arwen frowned down at her black and gold earrings. "But I like the gold better."

Feyre grinned, tipping her head towards Mor. "I don't think they make gold siphons, do they?"

Mor shook her head. "They don't. But if they do, Azriel will be the first to change over to them after he hears about this." Arwen stammered and blushed as she caught in on what they were snickering about. "Tell us, Arwen. We're dying to know and all he'll give us is it's that 'it's complicated' bullshit."

Arwen twisted her fingers in her lap. "That's because it is. We're...I ca-don't want to reach for something that might not happen."

"Don't you want it to move forward?" her cousin asked. "Stay and be with him?" Arwen shrugged, putting her thumb between her lips. Mor and Feyre shared a look. "How about we head home before our feet start aching?"

Although Arwen was glad for the company and the trip, she readily agreed with the idea of being back in the comforts of the town house. Mor's questioning of Azriel lingered in her thoughts. Two sides of her head fought. She could be happy with him—would be, if she decided to take Helion's help. But it came at a cost. A cost that she had told Feyre just a few days ago when nobody else was home, that she wasn't sure she was prepared to pay. Arwen wanted advice, wondering how in the Mother's name she was supposed to tell that to her brother and mate. 

Arwen had been prepared to live. It had been, and was still, an uphill battle, but giving up seemed pointless. She just had to make it through each day to reach the next. And death terrified her—of getting stuck in that prison world again, tethered for another eternity.

But what if she didn't tether? What if she finally moved on? Arwen could almost feel that pull again, the soft hands that wanted to guide her away into a world of bliss. With her mother. She might even join the other spirits on Starfall, soaring across the sky in such a beautiful form. An eternity awaited her.

What was the point of staying in this life when she knew that she would make no mark on it? Once she died again in years to come, given no chance at an afterlife, she would be wiped from existence by the very people who claim to love her. What was the point of being here, knowing this was all she had, if she knew that it made no difference? What if she was never truly happy again and it was not worth trying to fight?

If she chose to die now, at least there was a good chance she could live on in another form. A spirit. A star. Something. The fact that she was here now was a testament that something more had to exist.

If she chose to live, then it would only be memory that carried on her existence in death. Arwen had already seen what they would do with her memory, the evidence of her life. But she could pretend. She wouldn't have to watch them cut her marks away.