Linda was my age when she had me. She was alone and had no idea of the daunting road ahead of her. She went from bottle feeding and changing diapers when I was a baby to replacing my feeding tube and changing my catheter bag on a schedule. I remember getting so angry at her, hating her for not hating me, but every morning she would greet me with a smile like I was her own little miracle.
She did as Oren asked. She never let the darkness of this world harden her.
My heart fluttered with sadness. There were many scenarios that could play out, none of which left Linda and I living happily ever after together. If I stayed on Earth with Linda, I would eventually die, but the probability of me dying while fighting Medallion was unfortunately much higher. That was the risk I was willing to take. Even if I somehow defeated Medallion and survived in Empress, I would be there—away from her. There was no ideal outcome.
How could I explain any of this to Linda while still keeping her safe? After many years of her taking care of me, I needed to take care of her. She deserved a long happy life.
There was another photo—one of Tyler and me from when we were eleven, the first and only time I ever went hunting with him and his father, Tom. Tyler shot his first bear that day, I remembered crying when we found the bear dead with his eyes still open. Tyler held his father’s shotgun in one hand and the head of the bear in the other with a huge proud grin on his face. I sat at the edge of the photo, my eyes red from crying. I remember Tom telling me to smile, and me giving the weakest smile I could muster. Tyler thought the photo was hilarious, so it quickly became one of his favorites. Thinking of Tyler now made me realize how he and Linda were one and the same—human. If I couldn’t be here with Linda, I couldn’t be with Tyler either. How could I ever leave the two people that meant the most to me?
And what about Daylan, what did he mean to me?
I made my way to the foggy patio door and looked out at the cold winter breeze blowing the snow aimlessly around our backyard. The Empress tree had sprouted more flowers for the first time in years and the lavender blossoms popped beautifully against the white snow.
I gently touched my necklace and it felt warm against my chest. This time it wasn’t whispering, instead, there was a faint singing—the hum of a melody I had never heard before. Before last night, I thought maybe the feeling I had, the noises I had heard, was just a coincidence. But after seeing what Penelope was capable of and everything else I had witnessed—and felt, I knew the necklace meant more. It was trying to tell me something.
I set my coffee down and opened the coat closet. I bundled up in a heavy jacket, a scarf and my tallest winter boots. I opened the patio door and the bitter cold bit at my cheeks as I trudged through the crunchy snow to the Empress tree. My necklace was still warm, but the faint singing had disappeared. I circled the tree and kicked away the snow at the trunk until I saw frozen ground.
Oren planted this tree.
I went to the garden shed and grabbed a metal shovel. I stood beneath the Empress tree and took a deep breath, and with all my strength I slammed it into the frozen ground. It barely broke the surface. I shoveled what little dirt I could and then spiked the shovel into the ground, stood on the blade and jumped. I did this over and over until slowly I made progress. I knew something had been buried there. The tree was drawing me in, like it was calling me home. Almost as if my heart had been missing something and this tree had what it needed.
My muscles throbbed, I was sweating and breathing heavy, but I enjoyed the fact that I was strong and capable. I kept going, digging deeper until I heard a thunk. My heart raced a little. I knew it.
My bare hands were red from the cold, but I dug them into the frozen dirt until I felt a small box. When it came free, I fell back into the snow, exhausted, yet relieved.
I trudged back through the snow to the house and undressed. With my hands still red and numb from the cold, I held the box over the kitchen sink and dusted off the dirt covering the ornate exterior. It was a wooden box about the size of a shoe box with intricate carvings of tree branches and blossoms that looked unbelievably real. Somehow, the tree on the box was magically identical to the tree outside. My thawing fingers tingled as I ran them over the bumpy branches on the box.
The wood creaked when I opened the box. Inside, lying on a cushion of red velvet, was a handcrafted dagger. I sucked in a small breath, taking in its beauty. It looked like it had been forged by the blessed hands of an angel. It was sharp, delicate and sturdy all at the same time. I wanted to pick it up. Somehow I knew it would fit perfectly in my hand.
I set the box down and sat at the kitchen table drinking my coffee admiring the dagger. The handle was braided with multiple gemstones, the rocks melded together into an exquisite piece of art. I ran my fingers along the rough stones. Vibrant emerald blended with a soft topaz. Soothing aquamarine wound together with a deep ruby red, and black opal made the shimmering sapphire pop.
The handle wound its way up the base of the iron blade like wild vines spiraling the trunk of a tree. The blade was wide, charcoal grey, with weathered marks from what might have been a blacksmith’s hammer. The edge was polished but looked like it had been sharpened many times.
Unlike the necklace, I knew I needed to tell Daylan about it. I topped off my coffee and poured another cup for Daylan.
I closed the box, put it under my arm and walked up the stairs to my room. Daylan was lying on his side with his shirt was off, and he still wore the jeans he had on from the day before. His bare feet hung off the end of my small bed, and even though I expected his wings to be sprawled on the bed behind him, they weren’t. His sleeping body was the most human I had ever seen him look. His mouth parted as he sucked in small quiet breaths. His eyelids were closed, but I could see his eyes shifting underneath, dreaming of something. His skin was smooth, and I wondered to myself if he ever had any facial hair. His hair was tousled from tossing and turning during the night, but for the first time his muscles were soft and relaxed.
Penelope said that faeries were captivating to humans. Linda said she felt like Oren could stop time. I often felt the same way in Daylan’s presence, and I wondered if I wasn’t part-human, would I still love him?
I sat down at my desk next to the bed, contemplating whether or not I should wake him up or let him sleep. He looked so peaceful, and after the torture he endured the night before, he probably needed the rest.
His eyes blinked open and closed again, adjusting to the morning light.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Yes, it is.” He smiled and stretched his arms above his head.
“How are you feeling?” I looked him over from head to toe, assessing any damage.
“I am doing well. Thank you for lending me your bed last night.” He sat up, and I handed him his coffee.
He was the second boy to ever sleep in my bed and it felt wrong in some way—like I was betraying Tyler.
“When we put you to bed last night, your wings took up more room then you did,” I said, now curious where they had gone.
“They are quite large.” He smiled.
“But where are they now?”
“They are still there.” He didn’t offer any explanation as to why I couldn’t see them.
“I hope I didn’t scare you last night,” he said.
“No, I was worried more than anything. It looked very painful.”
“It was, but also worth it. I feel complete again.”
This was the first moment we had been alone together in a while, and there was something I wanted to ask him.
Daylan saw the perplexed look on my face. “What is it? The wings?”
“No…Daylan, did you pay off all my insurance debt?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“My hospital bills, they were paid by an anonymous donor, I thought maybe—”
“It wasn’t me, Swayzi,” he confirmed again. “I wish I had an answer for you, although I didn’t even kn
ow you had financial complications.”
“No, it’s okay. I just had to ask. Strange things seem to happen when I’m around you.” I smiled playfully.
“If you think these things are strange, just wait till you see Empress.”
“Empress is strange?” I asked, getting a bit nervous.
“In a good way,” he reassured me.
I smiled as I thought of what magical things Empress had to offer…if we ever made it.
“What’s he like?” I muttered, still lost in thought.
“Who?” Daylan squinted in the morning light.
“Medallion. I want to know what to expect.”
He hesitated, unsure of where to begin. “Medallion is actually very charismatic. That’s part of the reason he has such a large following. It is easy to believe in him, to want what he wants—to be free. But, it would never work.”
“Free of what?”
“From living in secret. When the war in Heaven finally ended and our people were split into the three realms, there was an agreement between the Angels in Heaven and all who ended up in Empress. The Angels would allow us to live peacefully but at a cost. We had to protect the human race by remaining in our own world. And Hell’s portals were magically closed for good, giving them no peace at all.”
“Where does Medallion fit into all of this?”
“Medallion’s mother and father were originally Angels, but his mother chose Heaven and his Father chose Hell. Medallion couldn’t choose between them. He ended up in Empress, very young, and alone. Your father’s parents took him in and treated him like one of their own.”
“Wait—so, Medallion and Oren grew up together?” I was speechless.
“Yes, they were like brothers.”
“What happened? Why is Medallion so awful?”
“He was banished to Hell after he crossed through the portal to Earth. Your grandmother, our first Queen, gave the order. She had pressure from the Angels to use Medallion as an example. The day after she banished him to Hell, she stepped down as Queen, some say from a broken heart. That’s when your father, King Oren, became the ruler of Empress.”
According to Daylan, Oren was a great King—I had very large shoes to fill. I began doubting if I could live up to all the expectations.
“What happened to Oren’s mother?”
“One day, she just disappeared. We still don’t know what happened to her. It wasn’t long after her disappearance that Oren was sentenced to death by Medallion.”
"For what?"
“Medallion asked Oren to kneel.” He didn’t elaborate, but I assumed he meant that Medallion wanted Oren to surrender to his leadership and he refused.
“If Medallion was banished to Hell by Oren’s mother, how did he get out?”
“No one knows.” His tone told me he had asked himself the question a million times. “He really believes what he is doing is right, but he is mad. A human’s life is as fragile as a butterfly, and the angels have always made it very clear—just because we have the ability to crush a butterfly doesn’t mean we have the right to do so. Some faeries don’t agree. Some believe that humans are destroying Earth and we have the right to take it from them. But to believe for a second that angels, faeries, witches, demons and humans can live together in harmony is ludicrous. Most demons have no compassion, no understanding of the beauty of life and love, and some faeries believe in taking what is not theirs and claiming it as their own. We have our separate worlds for a reason.”
“Why would faeries want to live here if they would die?”
“Immortality can be maddening. When life has no end, everything blurs together. Years pass unnoticed, and experience loses meaning.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Just shy of two hundred years.” He smiled nervously—like somehow the information would scare me. But I already knew—his eyes gave it away.
“What does Medallion look like? Does he have wings like you?” I was curious but mostly afraid of what to expect. The way Daylan spoke about him didn’t make Medallion seem as bad as I thought he would be. But then I remembered the horror of the fire and those people jumping from the buildings. It jolted me back to reality.
“No, he doesn’t have wings, but he has animalistic traits. He has the horns of a ram, but the rest of him looks human.”
I remembered the horns on the chest of the Slayers’ armor, obviously in honor of Medallion.
“Like I said, he is very charismatic,” Daylan continued. “Before he was banished to Hell, he had many faeries waiting to be his wife. But he always believed loving someone made you weak.”
“And what do you think?” I asked shyly.
“I believe loving someone can make you stronger, give you something to fight for—a reason to live. Eternity is a long time to spend alone. Maybe that is partially why Medallion went mad.”
“When he comes to kill me, will he be alone?”
It was hard to grasp the severity of what I was saying. Being killed sounded like an idea, something abstract and far away, especially at the hands of some faerie who looked like a mountain ram. But it was all becoming very real—very quickly.
“Most likely, no,” he explained. “He has a very large army of Slayers, as well as demons, now that he’s opened the portals from Hell. Medallion also has a tengu bird that protects him, a witch, and a few faeries that never leave his side. But, there is a limit of how many beings can pass through the portal at any given time.”
“A tengu bird?” I sighed, confused.
“It’s a very powerful demon that can take the form of a bird.
“What if I’m not the right person for this? I’m not brave, Daylan. I know I asked all of you to believe in me, but what if I’m not the hero all of you want me to be?” My insecurities poured out. I wanted to cry.
Daylan scooted to the edge of the bed, put his hands on my knees and pulled me and the chair I was sitting on closer to him. He looked at me the same way he always did, like he was waiting to be woken from a dream. The surreal pull we had towards one another was intoxicating, and I wondered if I looked at him the way he looked at me. This was all so new to both of us.
“Being fearless doesn’t make you a hero, Swayzi. The real hero is someone who is afraid but does the right thing anyway. You need to believe in yourself and know that what you are doing is right, that it’s for the good of everyone.”
I looked into his blue eyes. They were the color of a glacier lake, and I wanted to drown in them. He made me want to believe I could change the world, but that want was weighed down by the small nagging voice in my head saying I was weak and insignificant.
“I have something to show you.” I sat up straight in the chair and set my coffee down, his hands still resting on my knees. I picked up the wooden box from my desk and ran my fingers over the carvings, admiring its beauty once again.
His eyes widened at the sight of it. “Is that…?”
I nodded. “I found it this morning.”
When I opened it, the light from my bedroom window hit the dagger and the rainbow of reflections from the colorful stones hit my walls like a disco ball lighting up my room.
“The Alexander Dagger,” he whispered.
“Alexander?” I asked. Alexander was my father’s last name, but I had never heard Daylan use it before.
“Yes. That dagger has been in your family since before Empress—back when faeries were angels.”
“You have never used the name Alexander before.”
“Alexander was King Oren’s family name.”
“This was his dagger then?”
“Yes, only six of these knives exist.” He kept his eyes on the dagger, taking in its beauty as he spoke.
“Why only six? Is there something special about it?”
“Yes, only an Alexander can wield it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here, I’ll show you. Pick up the dagger,” he encouraged me.
For the first time, I picked i
t up, unsure of how I was supposed to hold it. It was heavy but not uncomfortable. The bumps from the stones were rough under my grip but smooth enough that my fingers held it securely. The sunlight glinted off the dagger, bouncing into my eyes as I turned it back and forth getting used to its feel. Daylan smiled in excitement.
“What?” I asked him with a small grunt of laughter. “You look a little too excited to see me holding this.”
He nodded with a smirk. “Now, try and give me the dagger.” He held out his hand.
I held the dagger over his hand, ready to drop it into his waiting palm, but when I let go, the dagger fell through his hand and hit the ground with a loud clang.
“How?” I looked at his hand in shock.
Daylan reached down to pick up the dagger, but each time he tried to grab it, his hand went through the dagger like it was a hologram.
I bent down and picked it up, turning it, looking for its source of magic. When I looked at Daylan, he was grinning. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“You are definitely King Oren’s daughter.” He sounded proud.
I wished I could feel his joy. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all of this,” I said. “I’ve never held this kind of dagger before. I wouldn’t even know how to use it if I had to.”
Daylan took my free hand and pulled me off the chair, spinning me into him like we were dancing. The back of my head rested on his chest, and my back lay against his muscular torso. His hand slowly grazed my arm until it was holding the hand with the dagger.
“The dagger needs to become an extension of your body,” he whispered in my ear. He held my hand with the dagger gently moving it back and forth. “You need to feel its energy, control it, but at the same time, let it breathe.”
The way he guided my hand was gentle but precise, and I enjoyed the rush it gave me.
“This hand always needs to be up,” he said, moving my free hand closer to my face. “It will help you balance, and you can use it as protection, or as another weapon.”
His palm moved to my torso, his fingers resting just below my bellybutton. He stepped to the side, pulling me with him. Using my hand, he sliced the air like we had an invisible opponent in front of us.
Empress Unveiled Page 18
