Rowan looked up at the sun through the trees, around three in the morning he estimated. Could the time go any slower? He glanced back down at the slips of paper in his hands, together they contained maybe his only hope to finding his mate.
Rowan raised his head towards the camp again, they were all asleep, he winced inwardly when his eyes were drawn to the embers of the fire. It was part of the reason he stayed so far from the flame, it was intoxicating. If he looked to long at it his misery would swallow him whole. Rowan clutched the papers tighter, tearing his eyes away from the glowing ashes and back to the sleeping forms of his comrades.
Rowan knew that if he really wanted to he could wake them up right now. But he didn't, it wasn't courtesy that stopped him. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, though he yearned to hold Aelin again, he was doing nothing when he could be getting closer to that. Part of him wanted to savor the hope before it was gutted and burned, and the other wasn't sure what he would do with his companions after revealing the news. Rowan couldn't and had no desire to ask them to follow him into such unknown, from which they may never return. Maybe the wyrdmarks would lead him to a world of peace. where him and Aelin could live happily forever, escaping all their problems. It was selfish, and he knew Aelin would never willingly do that. And if they were never to get back, no matter how peaceful the land was, Aelin would never be happy knowing she left her people.
As Rowan looked over the papers again, he sighed, would she ever be safe? When he reached the last line of what Aelin had chanted to activate the wyrdmarks, he decided. He didn't want them to come with him. He also didn't want to deal with them trying to convince them otherwise.
Rowan's feet made no sound as he walked over to one of the packs, pulling out a paper and pen. He knelt on his knee, and wrote against his thigh, explaining what had happened during the night, where he was going, not to come after him, to return to Aedion and Lysandra, and tell them he would bring Aelin home. He took extra caution as he crept near Gavriel's sleeping form, securing the note under a stone near his head.
Once Rowan had turned away from the camp he didn't look back. He grew tedious of his slow pace and shifted into his hawk, he flew until he could've found the camp again even if he had wished too.
When he spotted a large boulder that had been smoothed by wind and water he landed soundlessly on the forest ground, wasting no time in pulling his knife out and cutting across his arm. He let the blood well up, before he started painting. Rowan didn't have to look at the paper to draw the wyrdmarks, he had spent hours analyzing every curve and dot. Never the less once he had finished he pulled out the paper comparing his recreation. Every line was identical, the circle of various marks surrounding one larger and more intricate mark. How his queen had drawn this in a cramped pitch black box he had no idea. Rowan glanced down had stinging wound on his arm, still bleeding, he released the barriers on his magic and allowed it to heal.
Rowan took several steps back, not taking time to admire his work, and pulled out the second paper, containing the words of the incantation. Fenrys had said Aelin had repeated it over and over, meaning Rowan might have to do the same, plus some words were missing. It might do something completely different than it should. He pushed these doubts to the back of his mind and began reciting the spell, following the words with his eyes to ensure he missed nothing. After sometime of repeating the words he felt a pulling- a draining, the wyrdmarks began to dimly shine, they were feeding off him. Rowan was unsure if this was a good or bad thing, but at least they were doing something. As he repeated the incantation again and again and as his power was drained the marks shone brighter. The color was now clear, an electric purple that shout out in rays, illuminating the whole forest. Rowan stood steadfast, his lips now moving as if on reflex, as he witnessed the large wyrdmark twist into a swirling tornado, creating an entrance into the stone. As each word was said the opening at the end if the purple tornado opened wider, revealing the most awe inspiring landscape he had ever beheld, in all his adventure no land could ever compare to this one. Snow capped mountains, indigo star splattered skies, it took his breath away. He prayed to the gods Aelin was here, gazing up at the same sky, safe and sound.
Hope you enjoyed!!! I wrote this really late, so have misery on me.
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Nameless ( A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass Crossover)
Fanfiction(Cover: Charlie Bowater) [Rowaelin and Feysand - Set after EoS and ACOMAF.] The story of how Rowan's and Aelin's lives crossed paths with those of the Nightcourt, during Rowan's search for Aelin after Empire of Storms.
