Chapter 39- Fallen and Found

Ethereal Echoes

Kate’s POV

The crystal cavern echoed with the sound of my restless pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, each step a testament to my growing anxiety. It had been hours—or was it days?—since the Iele leader and her two companions had vanished through that shimmering vortex, off to the Fae realm to deal with whatever mess Liam had gotten himself into.

My mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Was Liam okay? Had he been imprisoned? Or worse? The thought of him facing the wrath of the Fae court alone made my stomach churn.

“Young one,” one of the remaining Iele called softly, her voice like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “Perhaps you join us in weaving flower crowns?”

I glanced over at the group, their delicate fingers expertly twining blossoms into intricate patterns. It was a transparent attempt to distract me, and we both knew it.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I muttered, resuming my pacing. “I’m not really in a flower crown mood right now.”

Another Iele approached, holding out a goblet filled with shimmering liquid. “Some nectar to calm nerves?”

I shook my head, the mere thought of the sweet liquid turning my stomach. “No, thanks. I need to keep a clear head.” The last thing I needed was to get drunk or high or whatever that stuff did when the fate of Liam—and possibly my only chance of getting home—hung in the balance.

Just as I was about to wear a groove in the cavern floor, a familiar shimmer filled the air. My heart leapt into my throat as the vortex materialized, spitting out the three Iele who had left earlier.

“Well?” I demanded, not even waiting for them to fully materialize. “What happened? Where’s Liam?”

The Iele leader fixed me with a cool gaze, her golden eyes unreadable. “Liam remains in Fae realm,” she said, her voice betraying no emotion. “We… come to arrangement with Seelie Court.”

My stomach dropped. “What kind of arrangement?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Liam tasked with retrieving Temporal Tether,” she explained. “Has until next full moon to complete quest.”

I frowned, mental calculations whirring. “The next full moon? But that’s only—”

“Three days,” the Iele leader finished for me. “In Faerie time, yes.”

“Three days?” I exploded, my voice echoing off the crystal walls. “That’s impossible! How is he supposed to find this thing in three days?”

The Iele merely shrugged with a cold smile, a graceful movement that did nothing to quell my rising panic. “That is agreement. If he fails…” She trailed off, leaving the consequences unspoken but heavily implied.

I collapsed onto a nearby crystal formation, my legs suddenly unable to support me. The cool, rough surface grounded me as I tried to process this information. “And what about me?” I asked, my voice small. “What happens if he can’t get the Tether?”

The leader’s expression softened slightly. “You one of us now, child. Transformation will continue, with or without Tether. It merely… slows process.”

I nodded numbly, the full weight of the situation crashing down on me. Liam was out there, risking everything for a magical artifact that might not even solve our problem completely. And here I was, stuck in this glittering cave, helpless.

The hours that followed were a blur of anxiety and frustration. I alternated between pacing, attempting to meditate (at the Iele’s suggestion), and staring blankly at the cavern walls. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.

As the emotional turmoil threatened to overwhelm me, one of the younger Iele approached. Her eyes were the color of a mountain river after the ice melts, swirling with depth and hidden currents.

“Young one,” she said, her voice gentle, “perhaps there way you could see how Liam do.”

I looked up, hope flaring in my chest. “How?”

She smiled, a mysterious quirk of her lips. “Saintly powers… include ability to communicate with spirits, yes?”

I blinked, caught off guard. Something tugged at the back of my mind, a half-remembered conversation. Hadn’t someone mentioned this before? But who? I vaguely remembered someone mentioning something about a “spiritual hotline” but could neither remember when or who it was. And why hadn’t they brought it up again? I pushed the questions aside for now, focusing on the possibility in front of me.

“I… I guess so?” I said hesitantly. “But I have no idea how to use it.”

The Iele’s eyes sparkled. “Magic tree grove ideal place to try. Connection to our ancestors strong there. You might glimpse Liam’s journey if connect with right spirits.”

A surge of determination coursed through me. Finally, a chance to do something other than worry! “Show me,” I said, standing up with renewed energy.

She led me through the winding paths of the forest, the air growing thicker with magic with each step. When we reached the grove, I gasped. My tree, the one I had spoken to during the ritual, had more than doubled in size in less than two days. Its branches reached towards the sky, leaves shimmering with an otherworldly light.

“Focus energy,” the Iele instructed. “Let mind reach out to spirits that dwell here. They may show you what you seek.”

I approached my tree, feeling slightly foolish but desperate enough to try anything.

“Child need only call when ready to return,” the Iele said, before gliding away, leaving me alone in the grove.

Placing my hand on the smooth bark, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes—time felt fluid in this place. I tried every meditation technique I could think of, every visualization exercise, but nothing seemed to work. Exhaustion began to creep in, my lack of sleep finally catching up with me.

I leaned back against one of the larger trees, its bark surprisingly soft against my skin. As my eyes drifted shut, I felt a strange shift in the air around me. A tingling sensation spread through my body, starting at my fingertips and racing towards my core.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a vast hall, dimly lit and filled with figures in flowing white robes. The scent of roasted meats and sweet wines filled the air, making my mouth water despite my confusion.

And there, across the room, I saw him—Liam. My heart leapt at the sight. He was alive! But the relief quickly gave way to concern as I took in his appearance. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes speaking of exhaustion. His clothes – a black outfit that he hadn’t worn yet when he had left – were torn and dirty, a far cry from his usual polished look. What had he been through?

My eyes were drawn to his hands, and I gasped silently. They were raw and bleeding, as if he’d been climbing rough stone for hours. Without thinking, I tried to summon my healing powers, desperate to ease his pain. But nothing happened. No warm glow, no tingling sensation – nothing.

Frustration welled up inside me. Was it because I wasn’t physically present? Or did this strange place somehow dampen magic? I had so many questions and no way to get answers. The inability to help, to do anything but watch, was maddening.

I tried to call out, to run to him, but my voice made no sound. I was like a ghost, invisible and inaudible in this strange place.

Then, with a jolt of surprise, I noticed Cyrus. My breath caught in my throat, emotions threatening to overwhelm me. What was he doing here? Anger flared first—the last time I’d seen him, he’d left me with his brother and Marcus. The memory of their treatment made me shudder. But beneath the anger was confusion, and a traitorous flicker of relief at seeing him alive.

Cyrus looked as exhausted as Liam, if not more so. His usually alert eyes were heavy-lidded, his head nodding forward only to jerk back up as he fought against sleep. His clothes were similarly disheveled, and was that blood on his sleeve?

My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. How had Cyrus found Liam? Why were they together? Had Cyrus come to help, or was this some kind of trick? The Cyrus I thought I knew would never work with a Fae, but then again, I’d been wrong about him before.

Cautiously, I approached him. Maybe if I could just touch him, he’d sense my presence. As my hand neared his arm, I felt a sudden, disorienting shift. It was as if I was being pulled in two directions at once, my consciousness splitting.

Suddenly, I was both observer and participant. I watched as an illusion of myself appeared before Cyrus, but I could also feel every sensation as if I were the illusion. The dual experience was dizzying, confusing, and oddly exhilarating.

I felt my hands—no, the illusion’s hands—sliding under Cyrus’s shirt. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the rapid beating of his heart. My fingertips traced the contours of his muscles, feeling them tense under my touch. A shiver ran through me, mirrored in Cyrus’s sharp intake of breath.

When our lips met, the sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through both versions of me. His lips were soft but insistent, tasting of desperation and desire. I felt his hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and a moan escaped me—us—that seemed to echo in the vast hall.

Part of me wanted to stop this, to scream that it wasn’t real. But another part, a part I was almost afraid to acknowledge, reveled in the sensations. The warmth of Cyrus’s body against mine, the taste of his lips, the sound of his breath catching in his throat—it was intoxicating.

I felt the illusion press closer, felt Cyrus’s hands roam down my back, pulling our hips together. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I gasped, the sound swallowed by Cyrus’s kiss.

I felt Cyrus’s hands on my skin, his touch setting me on fire. I wanted more, needed more. I broke the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His skin was salty and sweet, and I couldn’t get enough. I felt his hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer, and I moaned against his skin. I could feel his heart pounding, matching the rhythm of my own.

As our bodies pressed together, I could feel the evidence of his desire, hard and insistent against my hip. I rocked against him, seeking relief, and felt a jolt of pleasure as our hips met. The friction sent a wave of heat through me, and I could feel myself growing wet. I broke the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

I could feel Cyrus’s internal conflict, the war between what he wanted and what he thought was right. I wanted to erase that conflict, to make him forget everything but me. I broke the kiss, looking into his eyes, dark with desire. I could see the want in his gaze, the need for me to touch him. I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget everything but the sensation of his body against mine.

When Liam intervened, I felt a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. The loss of contact left me feeling bereft, even as my mind raced to make sense of what had just happened. I wanted to stop their fight, to explain that it was all a misunderstanding, but my voice made no sound. I could only watch, helpless, as they traded blows and harsh words.

Horror gripped me as I saw the illusion of myself transform into a monster. I tried to summon my powers, to do anything to help, but it was useless. When I saw the creature rise for a second attack, I screamed a warning that went unheard.

Just as Cyrus’s blade struck the creature, I felt myself being pulled back together. For a split second, I felt a searing pain in my chest. Then, with a gasp, I jolted awake back in the grove.

My heart was pounding, and I was drenched in sweat. The lingering sensations of desire mixed with the phantom pain in my chest, creating a confusing combination of feelings. Had it all been a dream? Some kind of hallucination brought on by exhaustion and worry? But as I pressed a hand to my chest, I felt it—a tiny, pin-prick sized wound, a drop of blood welling up.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my mind reeling. “That was real. It actually worked.”

I sat there, shaken and confused, trying to process everything I’d seen and felt. Liam was alive, thank God. But Cyrus? How had he gotten involved in all this? And what kind of trials were they facing?

The memory of Cyrus’s touch lingered, sending an involuntary shiver through me. I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt, but it was tangled up with anger and hurt. How could I trust him after what happened? And yet, he was there with Liam, facing who knows what kind of dangers. Had I misjudged him?

As the adrenaline faded, I was left with a jumble of emotions. Relief that they were both alive. Worry about the trials they were facing. Embarrassment at the intimate scene I’d witnessed – and felt. And underneath it all, a simmering frustration at my own helplessness.

With shaky legs, I stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from my clothes. I had a lot to think about, and even more to figure out. But one thing was certain—I wasn’t going to sit around and wait anymore. Somehow, some way, I was going to find a way to help them.

“Alright, universe,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “You want to play hardball? Let’s play. I’ve got two idiots to save, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

As I made my way back to the cavern, I couldn’t help but replay the scene in my mind. The feel of Cyrus’s skin under my fingers, the taste of his lips… I shook my head, trying to clear it. Focus, Kate. Lives are at stake. You can sort out your complicated love life later.

But even as I tried to push the thoughts aside, I couldn’t ignore the warmth that lingered in my core, or the way my heart raced at the memory of Cyrus’s touch. And underneath it all was a gnawing guilt – guilt for enjoying the experience, guilt for the pain I saw in Liam’s eyes during their fight.

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. One problem at a time. First, find a way to help them. Then, if we all survive this mess, I can figure out what – and who – I really want.

With renewed determination, I stepped into the Iele’s cavern. “Alright,” I announced to the room at large, “I need to learn how to control this spirit communication thing. And I need to learn fast.”

The Iele turned to look at me, their ethereal faces a mixture of surprise and intrigue. Good. I had their attention. Now to make the most of it.

“Who’s ready to teach a saint some new tricks?”