Diana wanted to speak, to ask questions of the voice, but couldn’t. Deep within herself, she knew that she was being privileged to this vision and that her silent reflection was necessary.
Free them, Daughter. Seek that which Elberon blessed me to bear—my gift to Madaera’s Children. A New Dawn shall rise after this Darkest of Nights.
The luminous energies surrounding the mouth of the pit began to glow brighter until Diana’s vision was completely enveloped in the world-blinding light. In its silvery shining midst, she saw the outline of a woman in long flowing robes, reaching out with pleading arms.
Diana reached out to embrace the woman and her soul caught fire with the blinding light as it was pulled ever upwards.
—
As she slowly regained consciousness, Diana quickly became aware of the sharp discomfort in her back typical of lying on rocky ground. Confused by the sound of flowing water, she opened her eyes and the sudden vision of the real world jolted her hazy mind back to reality.
She was in an underground cavern, and lying—with her dress soaked through—next to a stream. The darkness surrounding Diana was penetrated by a single beam of moonlight shining down through a hole in the ground directly above her.
“You’ve opened your eyes,” Darien said in passionate relief. “Thank Elberon beyond.”
“What happened?” Diana asked while groggily propping herself up on her elbows. “The last thing I remember is falling into darkness.”
“Honestly, I am not entirely sure, myself,” Darien replied. “You must have lost consciousness some time during the fall. I feared you had hit your head when we plunged into the water.”
Diana recalled the fall, the swirling shadows, and then—the vision. The Veil had embraced her, showing her the Pit of Shadows, where the Fallen wait in their chains. Darien had mentioned something about the depths of the Temple containing a gateway into the Veil, and that the Fallen’s prison lay just beyond it. When she lost consciousness, Diana’s soul must have been taken straight to it.
Then she remembered the voice. It had spoken of freeing her brothers and sisters—could it have really been Udana? Did the Moon Keeper truly speak to Diana? She called me Daughter.
Considering Darien’s earlier reaction to the subject of Moonshadows, Diana decided to keep the vision to herself—for now.
“So, we fell into an underground river?” she asked. “Where are we now?”
“I was fairly certain that the water from the Spirit spring flowed into some sort of drainage system, but wasn’t sure where it would lead. We weren’t adrift for very long, so we must still be within the area of Glastonbury.”
Diana gazed up at the moon through the hole in the roof of the cavern. The sight brought with it a strange sense of comfort.
“Why don’t you conjure us up a ladder or something so we can get out through there?”
Darien half smiled at her. “My, aren’t we bossy for someone who has just regained consciousness?”
“Cut your sass and just do it,” Diana ordered with mock authority.
“As my lady commands,” Darien replied with a playful bow of his head and stood up from the ground. He reached his hand out to Diana and she took it gratefully as he helped her to her feet.
Diana took a moment to wallow in the fact that she absolutely hated wearing wet clothes, and a completely soaked ball gown was a dreadful experience. She hoped she hadn’t ruined it over the course of their cave-diving escapade.
Darien approached the side of the cavern wall and touched it with both hands as he sent magical energies into the earth, causing it to ripple and contort. In moments, a makeshift ladder of dirt and stone led to the opening above.
“Not perfect,” Diana said, playfully inspecting the stone mage’s work. “But I guess it will do.”
“Not my best craftsmanship, I admit, but it’s the best I can do under the pressure of such a stern taskmaster.”
“Shut up and climb,” Diana said, poking him in the chest.
Darien complied quickly and began the ascent.
As she griped the stones, making her way to the opening, Diana’s soggy existence only worsened as the dirt clung to her wet dress and became a muddy mess. By the time they reached the surface, she’d be a filthy sight to behold.
Finally reaching to the top, they found a black metal grate covering the perfectly circular hole. Before Diana had a chance to ask what they were going to do about it, Darien used a bit of magic to pry the grate loose from the rock and lifted it open with the creak of old metal hinges.
In moments, he was out on the surface and extending a hand to Diana to help her out.
When she popped her head out of the strangely warm darkness of the cavern, Diana was immediately hit with a gust of frozen winter air that sent blessedly unmagical shivers up her spine. After the initial shock, Diana quickly recognized where they were—the Chalice Well Gardens; and they were steadily being covered in the white snows of a winter storm.
“How do you like that?” she exclaimed as she lifted her legs from out of the well—a considerable feat with the state of her skirts. “Does that mean we just went for a swim in elven toilet water?” Her teeth were beginning to chatter.
“I believe it does,” Darien replied with a smirk before his countenance turned grim at the sight of Diana’s quickly freezing person. “We need to get to shelter before you catch hypothermia.”
“What about you?” she asked through chattering teeth, gripping herself for warmth.
“Naphalei don’t freeze as easily as humans.”
Once Diana had given Darien the beguile ring, and they had switched out disguises, he pulled her to his side in an attempt to give her some of his body heat as they left the gardens. They tried to remain as stealthy as possible, considering it was still in the early hours of the morning. If Diana had to venture a guess, it was most likely somewhere close to 3AM, and the sight of a soaking wet couple in formal wear was likely to draw the attention of any police officer that happened to be driving by.
It wasn’t long before Diana felt so frozen that she could barely keep her wits. Darien’s body heat just wasn’t enough to keep hers from shivering itself to death as it steadily grew numb from the cold. Diana could feel her wet gown already beginning to freeze over and solidify. She just had to keep moving, she had no other choice.
In the distance, she could barely see the outline of the abbey ruins in the white flurries of snow and knew they were almost to the old town square. It wouldn’t be long before she could warm herself beside the cozy fires of the tavern—that thought alone gave Diana the drive to keep walking.
She took another shivering step and felt nothing as her foot gave out and she tumbled onto the frozen concrete of the sidewalk. Reflexively, she tried to right herself and stand back up but she couldn’t feel her feet. All that remained was the throbbing phantom of pain.
“I—I—can’t walk anymore,” Diana declared through shivers of cold and panic.
She could feel Darien’s alarm as he gazed on the sight of her freezing body and his overwhelming need to get her to the safety of a warm fire. With a renewed burst of energy, Darien scooped Diana up into his arms and began to run with reckless abandon.
“Stay with me, Diana,” Darien pleaded as he ran. “We’ll be there soon,” he said, his tone warm and assuring. “We just faced the wrath of my sister, the hunt of an Inquisitor, and the specter of Morgana—this little snow flurry is nothing.
Diana attempted to smile at his words but couldn’t tell if her mouth accomplished her mind’s goal.
Through the frozen haze she finally saw the swinging sign of The Red Dragon Inn and it might as well have been a shining lighthouse in a stormy sea. The sight of the beacon of hope was enough to fill Diana’s frozen heart with warmth.
Once inside the inn, Darien quickly procured a room, and in a matter of minutes, Diana was sitting in a chair before an empty fireplace with her nearly frost bitten feet in a bowl of hot water, steadily regai
ning circulation. She could already feel the stinging pain that signaled the return of sensation.
After several minutes of soaking, and Darien frantically pouring small amounts of magical energy into her limbs, Diana felt she could stand up on her own. As she was still shivering uncontrollably, oblivious to everything around her but the cold, all she wanted in life was to be out of her frozen gown.
Trembling and fumbling about, trying desperately to get out of a dress that she didn’t entirely know how she got into in the first place, Diana was in her own frozen hell. I’ll never be warm again.
Quickly sensing her incapacity, Darien appeared at Diana’s side. “Here, let me help,” he said and then gently helped to untie, unbuckle, and unfasten whatever was keeping Diana trapped in the frozen dress.
When her icy straitjacket finally fell to the floor with a thud, Diana rushed to the bed to snag a brown fleece throw—that looked very warm and inviting—as Darien got the fireplace going with his magic.
Sitting on the bed, wrapped in the warm embrace of the blanket, Diana felt her life and wits returning to her.
Was it all finally over? Were they safe? Darien’s frantic words before had held a fair amount of truth. Over the course of their fairy tale evening they had dealt with Edea’s wrath, Inquisitor Turion’s chase, and then a nightmarish encounter with the ghost of Morgan Le Fey, only to plunge headfirst into the darkness below the Temple of the Fallen. And if that was not enough, Diana had almost frozen to death to make it to the safety of her family’s ancestral home. Talk about one hell of a Zen’Naphalia. Hopefully Christmas would be a much more pleasant holiday.
With the blanket still tightly wrapped around her shoulders, Diana stood from the bed to meet Darien by the fireplace. Only then, as she gazed upon him poking the fire while he imbued it with small amounts of energy, did she realize that he had shed his own frozen formal wear and thrown a rug of dark brown fur over his shoulders.
As she watched the light of the newly formed fire dance shadows and glisten across Darien’s wet skin, Diana immediately felt her face begin to flush with warmth, regardless of her nearly freezing to death.
Save for the fur around his shoulders, which covered him like the mantle of some barbarian chieftain, Darien was completely naked—as was she.
Continuing to gaze upon the lights and shadows that defined his muscles, Diana’s thoughts coursed like a river through her mind. On that now distant night in Charlotte’s room, she had been ready to give herself to Darien, only to be jolted by the sudden revelation that he would be forever bound to her if they were to be intimate. Since then, Diana had unconsciously forced the thoughts from her mind, not wishing to complicate matters further than they already were. She had remained in such a state of mind until the Melkafir attack, when—with her mortality immediately before her—Diana realized how much she truly loved Darien. She had almost told him as much after he had rescued her. Since then, she hadn’t found the right moment; they were always on the move.
Diana focused on one of two things that still adorned her person—the thrall ring around her wrist—and clutched it with her other hand, feeling the lily ornamentations.
This is such a mess. It made Diana’s head spin to think that the enigmatic—and initially quite condescending—guy she’d ended up falling for turned out to be a magical elven lord who could be severely punished for loving her. There was absolutely no way the two of them could keep their relationship a secret forever; Edea had figured them out almost immediately, and sent Inquisitor Turion to kill her. Could the two of them be happy living such a life? Afraid and on the run, always looking over their shoulders?
If only it could just be the two of us, in our own little world. No Edea, no Inquisitors and no Shadowstalkers—just two people who love each other. It was so much easier when it was just Diana, Darien, and his smile for her.
Her thoughts drifted to the second adornment—the necklace of emerald leaves that once belonged to Darien’s mother.
Darien loves me; so much so that he practically asked me to marry him tonight. Regardless if Diana knew the necklace to be a betrothal gift or not, giving such a precious item to her meant there would never be another person in Darien’s life as dear to him as her. Even if he couldn’t grow old with Diana for the next 800 years, he would never marry another. His soul was hers and hers alone.
As Diana found herself moving closer to him, the river of thoughts began to evaporate. Inquisitors, Melkafir, even Edea—it all faded away once Diana approached Darien. All that mattered now was the two of them, in that moment.
Reaching her hand out from the safety of the warm blanket, Diana gently placed it on Darien’s shoulder. The touch of her hand startled him and he quickly stood up, turning around to face her. He wanted to say something, but it didn’t matter.
“I love you,” Diana declared, interrupting Darien before his words could be spoken.
In a rare moment he appeared speechless, gazing not at her nakedness, but deeply into her eyes. She felt the joy and relief flood over him at the sound of the words he’d longed to hear. She felt the weight of two terribly lonely centuries dissolve into nothing as his warm smile was given to her.
Diana reached up, taking Darien’s face into her hands, and pulled his mouth down onto hers as the blanket fell from her shoulders and onto the floor. She no longer needed its warmth; the cold that had frozen Diana to her core had been replaced by a heat that burned hotter than any fire she had ever felt in the past.
Darien brought his hands up, caressing the soft skin of her thighs and behind, before making his way slowly up the length of her back. His sensual touch sent hot shivers all through her body, beginning in her lower regions and coursing through her extremities. When he reached the base of Diana’s neck, Darien took her in his strong arms and pulled their bodies together in a tender embrace. As she felt every inch of their nakedness colliding, each section of her skin seemed at home touching his.
Diana was rapidly losing herself to a mystery that felt as if it were written before time began. She wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the moment. No thoughts, no preconceived notions of what to do—nothing existed save their love.
Darien abruptly pulled away.
Diana’s heart ached with profound displeasure as the indescribable moment was shattered.
From the pained look on his face, it had been a feat of insurmountable self-will. The torment in his eyes was troubling, but Diana’s burning heart was too consumed with the moment to register any feelings of sorrow or trepidation. He seemed incredibly conflicted; perhaps he doubted Diana’s commitment to what was about to occur.
“It’s alright,” she said with a warm smile of assurance. “I love you—I want this. I gladly bind my soul to yours; it will only strengthen our love into the next world.”
Diana’s declaration didn’t have quite the effect on Darien’s apprehension as she’d expected.
Though he seemed genuinely comforted, he was still unsure of himself.
“It isn’t—” he began, but Diana brought her hand to gently cover his mouth. She gazed intently into those eyes of polished gray stone, knowing exactly what she wanted.
“Make love to me,” she pleaded, her own eyes begging the man she loved to oblige the wish that was making her ache.
The caution that had filled Darien’s eyes quickly fled, replaced with what could only be described as a hunger to comply with Diana’s request.
In less than a moment, his lips were again pressed firmly against hers, their mouths opening and probing. The elven lord scooped Diana up in his strong arms and gently carried her across the room, placing her softly down onto the bed. Not once did he let their lips be parted.
The fire inside Diana—that had waned with Darien’s abrupt protests—returned, burning ever stronger, as it guided her along the path she was about to take. Diana had long been ignorant when it came to romantic affection, and the thought of making love for the first time had always filled her with a fair amou
nt of anxiety. Now, at the threshold and ready to leap, she felt no fear. On the contrary, all that filled Diana was the intoxicating, euphoric, fire within her soul—her mystic guide that longed to be one with the fire burning inside of Darien.
The fire urged Diana onward, telling her to move with the natural rhythm of Darien’s body, as if dancing a mysterious waltz that every pair of lovers has known since the dawn of time. There was nothing she needed to know apart from the instinctual guidance of her soul’s flame. When the fire burned hotter, her breathing quickened—as did the rhythm of the dance.
When the intensity of the smoldering pleasure began reaching its pinnacle, Diana felt as if the fire was trying to escape from its dwelling within the core of her heart. With instinct telling her to grasp onto it, Diana lifted her body upwards while gently urging Darien back from over top of her. With quick, fluid, motions, she entwined her legs around his middle as he brought her to his chest, enveloping her in his strong embrace. The fire had not longed to escape from its dwelling within, but rather, desired to be in this place—it was this moment that it had waited for since time began.
At the climax of the mysterious dance, the darkness of Diana’s world shattered in a burst of fire and light as burning euphoria washed over her, filling every fiber of her being. The two flames had finally become one, blazing together as one dreadfully intense inferno, both terrifying and wondrously beautiful.
In that blissfully perfect moment, Diana and Darien’s souls were united.
Diana felt more alive than ever before. The preternatural sense of satisfaction brought with it a profound meaning—for the first time, she felt complete.
Never wanting the indescribable moment to end, the fires of their oneness continued to burn long into the morning.
—
Diana’s gaze remained on the hearth as the still glowing embers from the night’s fire began to fade, their energy spent with the coming of the dawn’s light.
Moonshadow Page 35
