Hellfire

Morgan

She was talking. Her daughter, the one source of light in her life that had come so close to being snuffed out was talking to her. She felt her crouch in front of her, felt her warm, soft hand lift her face from her palms. She peered into the eyes that were near-twin to her own and felt another sob working its way up her throat.

"Who healed you?" she asked, her voice raw. Her daughter - Galena - smiled, and looked up at Hafiza.

"Not me," the old woman said, smiling back at her. "Yrene."

Footsteps sounded, and the young woman with beautiful golden-brown eyes and hair sat next to Galena, looking at them.

"I had a late night shift when I heard someone open the door. Your daughter stumbled in with a multitude of injuries, and, being the last one up late, I took it upon myself to heal her, even though I was still training. I noticed her tongue, and decided to do the best that I could to heal it, despite the wound being old. It wasn't the best work, and Hafiza ended up helping me finish the job in the end."

"Nonsense," Galena said, smiling at the young woman beside her. "You did most of the work." Yrene smiled in response, shrugging.

Morgan leaned forward, and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, for everything," she breathed, feeling more tears slide down her face.

Yrene embraced her back, then pushed off, walking back to a young, handsome, brown-haired man who smiled at her warmly. Hafiza helped both of them up. "Come on then, we're in the middle of something."

"Would you like to continue the introductions," Aelin asked, addressing Galena. She nodded, turning to face the crowd.

"I am Galena, a full healer at the Torre, and daughter of Morgan, whom I have not seen in many years. To quell those who question my ancestry, I possess none of the traits of Valg or witch. I am Fae, and have magic that I have conditioned to be healing magic, and healing magic only."

Such strength that was have taken, to morph her power of will to become a power of healing. Realization clanged through her, and she fought the urge to whip her gaze towards Lorcan, who was leaning against the wall with a blank face. She wondered if the multitude of the scents in the room masked her daughter's.

"Thank you," breathed Aelin, dipping her heads towards her. She faced the room, and made quick work of the introductions of her court.

"Rowan Whitethorn, my mate, and husband. Aedion Ashryver, my cousin, General of the Bane and commander of my armies. Lady Lysandra of Caraverre, and her heir, Lady Evangeline." The girl giggled at her title, burying her face in the folds of Lysandra's dress. A sigh went through the room at the sight, even Satarq's mouth quirking upward. Aelin allowed herself a small smile, then continued.

"Gavriel, the Lion of Doranelle. Fenrys and Connall, the Wolves of Doranelle. Vaughn and Lorcan Salvaterre. The five males who previously served Maeve along with my mate and are now part of my court." Titters erupted in the room, and Morgan noted several eyes sweeping over the males, assessing them.

"Prince Endymion Whitethorn. Crown Prince Galan Ashryver. Ilias, son of the Mute Master of the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert. Ansel, Queen of the Western Wastes. Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth. And, you've all met Morgan. However, there is another here whom I have inducted into my court and that is Chaol Westfall, my Hand."

She found him across the room and gave him a small smile. "There is also," she continued, drawing everyone's attention again. "Two who are not present, and that is Dorian Havilliard and Manon Blackbeak, the King of Adarlan and the Last Crochan Queen, respectively."

Brows rose around the room.

"For those who have questions about Manon," Aelin added quickly, "Her mother was a Blackbeak and her father was the last Crochan Prince. They believed that with their union, the curse on the Wastes after the Ironteeth war against the Crochans would be broken. Unfortunately, Manon's grandmother found out and decided that her granddaughter would not be for peace, but for war. She killed Manon's mother and hunted down her father. Manon herself did not know out this until recently, and she will likely threaten to kill me for telling you, but I doubt she will go through with it. She and Dorian, along with her coven, the Thirteen, and currently seeking the remaining Crochan witches in the hope of banding together a force to combat the Ironteeth legion in Morath. Any questions?"

Silence.

"Alright then, those from the Southern Continent, I would like to know who you are."

The introductions began, and by the time they were over, even Morgan had realized the extent of power gathered in this room.

She stood once they were finished.

"Thank you. And now I would like to finish what I started before you arrived." Without further explanation, she snapped her fingers, and the mirror she had been carrying around this whole time appeared next to her. The black silk slid off, revealing the dark interior, which looked like the surface of a black lake.

Satarq swallowed audibly from beside Nesryn.

"Is that-" he began.

"Yes, this is the Ölüm. The death-mirror. I have brought it because there are many of us who should confer with their dead in light of the upcoming conflict."

She swiveled her gaze to Aelin, who was looking at the mirror with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Aelin, I would like you to go first."

The Queen looked at her, eyes widening. "Why," she choked out.

"Because you have many dead whose wounds still haunt your soul, and because your dead may hold clues as to how we can defeat Maeve and the demon hordes."

Aelin's gaze dropped to mirror, and nodded slowly. Carefully she stood, Rowan closing the distance between them to put a hand on her lower back.

"Your turn will come, King," Morgan said softly, and Rowan's eyes flared. "Only if you want to," she clarified, holding up her palms. Rowan's eyes dimmed a bit, and he swallowed, releasing a small nod.

Aelin walked slowly towards the mirror, which Morgan had propped on a chair so that Aelin could sit across from it and look directly into it.

"Deep breath, Queen," Morgan advised, backing away so she could see the black interior begin to brighten. A man appeared, his lower body not visible, as if he was sitting at a desk. Aelin choked out a sob.

"Uncle," she breathed.