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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 2 years

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The Heart of a Wanderer: Letters

A collection of letters from Elain to her family throughout her travels across Prythian. Set in my THOAW universe.

Elain Week Day Five: travel & adventure

Dear Nesta,

I hope you are well and have continued your training with the Valkyries. I am writing to you from the sandy shores of Adriata, where I’m almost certain I’ve eaten my body weight in gelato. It really is beautiful here but so odd that it is eternal summer, all year round! It would have been splendid back when we were human, the winters always were the hardest.

Sometimes I sit and think about how far we have come from our little cottage in the mortal lands. How drab even the most magnificent of manors below the wall now seems. I wonder if I would have ever been granted the opportunity to travel and see all the wonderful things I’ve seen if I had wed a human Lord’s son. Thank the Mother I didn’t.

I have just arrived at the Summer Court after travelling through Day for longer than I had anticipated. Helion was kind enough to escort me here on his golden chariot pulled by his Pegasus— such a stunning creature! He claimed he needed to consult with Tarquin about some business or another, but I think he just wanted to show off his magnificent Meallan. But I think you would love it there. Helion has a great number of libraries, they’re far beyond anything I have ever seen! I fear if you ever visit, we may never see you again! We’d surely lose you to the labyrinth of books Helion houses in his court.

But Adriata really is lovely, it’s such a shame Cassian isn’t allowed back here. I would have loved to spend family holidays on the beach. Perhaps I can convince Varian to speak to Tarquin to have him consider rescinding the order on Cassian’s banishment? He does seem like a truly charming male.

How is Cassian, by the way? I know it is spring time back home. Please remind him that I made extra batches of the herbal tincture for his allergies before I left, the vials are in the far-right cabinet of the kitchen at Feyre’s. Just three drops in his morning coffee will do.

Anyway, I’m sending a few books I found whilst perusing the Day markets alongside this letter, I hope you enjoy them. One of them is rather scandalous!

All my love,

Elain.

P.S. Tell Cassian not to bother trying to replacing any pots he may break in my garden. I’ll know.

My Dearest Feyre,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And Happy Solstice to everyone back home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you for your special day, but I know Rhys will have planned plenty of special surprises for you! I’m spending the Winter Solstice with Vivian and Kallias. They have been so gracious, showing me around their Winter palace and the grounds beyond. I’ll have to remember to write to Morrigan and thank her for her good word to them on my behalf.

The sleighs here are pulled by darling creatures, bears and wolves and reindeer! And they wear adorable little vests! Can you believe it? They are so clever! I think when I return to Velaris, I’d like a pet.

Everything here looks like a sparkling, diamond wonderland. It truly is breathtaking, particularly at sunrise when the light reflects off the ice just so. I do miss the flowers, however. Everything here is all covered in snow.

How is my precious Nyx? I hope he is sleeping better these days and not keeping you up too often at night. Although if he’s anything like his father, it would possibly be his favourite time of the day and wouldn’t want to miss seeing the stars.

I sent my Solstice gifts to Rhysand last week to add to the pile for hiding. I hope the little onesies I sent Nyx still fit him, I managed to find a style in the Dawn Court that have little openings for wings! You cannot imagine how difficult it has been to find them, considering there are so many winged fae in the world.

Well, dear sister, I must leave you for now. But give a big kiss to Nyx from his aunty Lain and send my love to everyone back home. I miss you today, more than ever.

Love always,

Elain

Nuala & Cerridwen,

Well, you were indeed correct about the Dawn Court. The loveliest sunrises have been here so far! And the palace on the Eastern shore faces out toward the Continent. On clear days I swear I can almost see across the entire expanse of ocean to the lands on the other side. With any luck, I’ll be heading there by ship soon.

But I wanted to let you both know about a vision I had. I am unsure if it means anything but just in case it is of importance to Az the network, I thought I should let you know. I saw an autumn leaf wither and fall to the earth, I saw a giant hound’s paw crushing it, mincing it further into the dirt. I then saw the silhouette of a female running. However, she didn’t seem to be fleeing, but rather…flying? As if finally set free.

I have thoughts about what these images could mean, but in case of unwelcome interceptions of this letter, I shall not put into words my deductions. I know you both will understand my meaning.

I miss you both terribly. Thesan’s scullery maid taught me a new recipe for braided lavender bread! We’ll have to trial it out once I’m back home. I have it written down on a card in my knapsack.

Stay safe and look after one another,

Elain xo

Rhysand,

How are you, dear brother? I hope my sister and nephew have kept you smiling, and all is well in Velaris.

I am currently in the human realm below the wall. I will only be spending a few days with Queen Vassa and her court before sailing off to the Continent. However, as requested, I journeyed through the Spring Court on my travels here.

As you suspected, the beastly High Lord has still not emerged from his self-inflicted ostracism and his lands fall into further disarray. I am afraid your visits thus far with him have been fruitless.

I didn’t go searching for him, as promised, but murmurings on the roads travelled led me to believe that his people have lost faith in his leadership. They fear infiltration from bordering Courts as well as enemies from across the seas. There are now whisperings of assembling guerrilla groups of local fae for protection against such invasions.

I truly hope it doesn’t come to that. And if it does, I hope we can provide refuge for as many faeries that reside in his lands as we can.

Take care please, Rhys. And until I return, enjoy winning the family chess tournaments. We all know who the real Inner Circle chess champion is. Enjoy your reign while it lasts, old man.

Sending all my love,

Elain

Oh! P.S. If Nyx is particularly fussy in the next few weeks it will be a little growth spurt in his wings. I have a special salve that will relieve the ache. Cassian and Azriel usually fight over it- ask one of them where they would have left it. Ahh the perks of being an all-knowing Seer.

Darling Morrigan,

Thank you for putting in a kind word with Kallias and Vivian for me. The Solstice I spent with them was truly magical. They send their regards, as does Vivian’s sister.

They introduced me to a drink, a Winter Court specialty, they claimed. It is made with whiskey, a cinnamon quill, orange slices and honey. It’s delightfully warming. They also told me you were the curator of such a drink many many years ago. And that you all went on a spree of sorts after imbibing in one too many of them in your youths… Why Morrigan, I never saw you for one to place bets on sleigh races! Remind me to ask you of your adventures when I return. I feel as if I have centuries to catch up on.

I plan to travel to the mortal lands soon, and then onto Montesere and then Vallahan. If you are still visiting on the Continent for your duties as emissary and find yourself there in the coming weeks, perhaps we could see each other.

Anyway, I should be on my way. I hope Amren hasn’t been too cranky of late, I left Summer only a few days ago and Varian mentioned he had been extremely busy the last couple months. She can get quite scary when he isn’t around, don’t you think?

Miss you all.

Elain

Elain,

The past months have not been the same without you. I thought avoiding you would be best, but in truth it’s been complete anguish.

I miss your warm smile, your long hair that I find everywhere even after your gone, the soft lullaby’s you hum to Nyx, the adorable way your nose scrunches when you berate Cassian when his wings knock over your potted flowers. I miss your sweet laugh and your enchanting scent. I found jasmine oils in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf and have been adding them into my bath each morning. It is said jasmine has a relaxing effect on the mind. It’s not the same, but it helps me feel a little closer to you.

My shadows intercepted all the letters you sent to our family. And I noticed that I was absent from all of them. Do you truly not think of me?

I know I hurt you, I should never have never left you that night, but—

Azriel groaned, crumpling up the parchment in his hands. The scars on the back on his palms stretching as he closed his fist around the umpteenth letter he had attempted to write to Elain. All undelivered. All now reduced to ash in his fireplace. The same fate this one would meet too, no doubt.

She’d left months and months ago. And all their family had received numerous correspondence about her adventures throughout her travels. But not him. She hadn’t written to him once.

He couldn’t blame her.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair and tossing the unfinished letter across the room into the crackling hearth. Gods, he missed her. The ache around his heart coiled tighter, leaving an empty feeling in his belly.

He slumped heavily into the chair behind his desk.

Come home Elain, he pleaded silently.

Just, come home.

*******

@elainarcheronweek

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms

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nikethestatue · 2 years

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A Girls’ Night In

Elain Week, Day 3, Friends and Family

The rain was coming down hard and the General of the Night Court armies skipped over the puddles like a ballerina, throwing a suspicious glance, to make sure that he wasn’t seen. But the weather was atrocious and the street was empty.

He opened the wrought iron gate, jogged over the soaked cobblestone path and then knocked on the door. The wards around the townhouse remained impregnable, and he couldn’t just barge in. Now that Elain was living here full time, only she had additional permission to enter, though Mor’s has been pulled.

He heard a patter of steps and the door opened up.

“Oh shit!” Cassian the fearless General squeaked in fear, taking a step back. A monster!

“Evening Cass!”

“What the hel is on your face, petal?” he finally got his bearings back, but he was so shocked by her appearance, that he forgot to even greet her properly.

Elain was barefoot, her toes in some kind of weird contraption, which made them separate widely. Her face was black, and shiny. But charcoal black.

“It’s a charcoal mask,” she explained, looking at him in confusion. “Why are you here? Is Nesta alright?”

He was dripping water everywhere, the rain soaking his cloak and his massive figure was flooding everything around him on the porch.

“Ummm, come in then,” she invited, uncertainly lacing her voice. “But, can you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” he tore off the cloak and left it on the little bench on the porch, before entering the familiar confines of the townhome.

Not much has changed in the décor--same black marble fireplace, bookshelves, and even the furniture was the same, though Elain had upgraded to a new sofa. But there was also something different about the place too--fresh flowers in crystal vases, the smells of baking truly delectable, the scent of Elain’s delicate perfume. Certainly wasn’t the same as when a bachelor of a High Lord lived here.

Cassian removed his boots, prowling inside, and was stopped in his tracks.

Nuala and Cerridwen were on the rug, seated around the coffee table, which was laden with bottles of wine, a cheese and sausage spread, all kinds of biscuits and chocolates.

“Ladies,” he greeted the wraith twins. Nuala sported a blue mask on her face, while Cerridwen had the same as Elain. All three women were wearing pajamas. On the floor, there were a few magazines, half of them depicting male Fae in various states of undress.

Elain scrambled, when she noticed his amused look, and tried to push the magazines under the table. Her spread toes didn’t allow for a graceful, unnoticed movement and she failed.

The Handsome Fae of Velaris

Faebook for the Ladies

Males of FaeGram

One of the magazines was opened to an article titled ‘How to Make Him Give You the Orgasms of Your Life. Every Time’.

“I am intruding,” Cassian whispered, unable to stifle a smirk.

So that’s what these girls got to when they were alone.

“No, it’s alright,” Elain said, “we are having a girls’ night in.”

“I can tell...”

“How can we help you, Cassian?” Nuala inquired, sipping her wine, watching him squirming a bit.

“Umm...well,” he rubbed his wet hair and sprayed droplets everywhere, causing the women to shriek and throw pillows at him. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“Illyrian brute,” Cerridwen muttered under hear breath.

“I need a favour,” his voice turned pleading and Elain nodded. She went to the powder room, and brought him a towel, along with a male shirt. He took the shirt, puzzling over it--it didn’t look like one of Rhys’s tunics, though it was large, made for wings and definitely well-tailored. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed it was Azriel’s! Haha, that was funny. Him wearing Azriel’s shirt...Though obviously it wasn’t Azriel’s, because why would it be?

He dried himself, while Nuala poured him a glass of wine, and all three females stilled a bit, breaths hitched, when he removed his sodden tunic and stood in front of them bare-chested.

Elain blushed, because she always blushed, which he found cute, and he noticed how Nuala bit her lower lip, as she watched him wipe himself and then tug on the new shirt. Hmmm, it fit him well. Also, smelled nice, of cedar and chilled night air.

He accepted the wine and then helped himself to the cheese and the bread.

“I have a cat,” he announced.

“A cat?” all three cooed, surprised.

“I found him in the library. And I love him,” he declared fiercely.

“Alright,” Elain sat beside the twins on the floor and pulled out the foamy things from between her toes. It dawned on Cassian that it was something connected to a pedicure. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but Nesta and Elain and Feyre always had their toes painted. It was pretty. And he liked it.

“But I need to...slowly...introduce him to Nesta,” he explained carefully.

“Yeah,” Elain nodded, well-aware of what he meant. “Really slowly.”

“Sooo,” he bubbled his lips. “Would you care for him for a bit?”

“I’ve never had a cat,” she reasoned, chewing inside of her lip.

“He is very easy! Just give him fish and milk--well, I give him cream--and I buy the fish at the market--but he is not needy or anything,”

“Cream?”

“Yes, he likes cream. A lot.”

“What’s his name?”

Cassian got very excited talking about his cat. Apparently, it was white and quite hefty, and he wanted to call him Smoochy, but then decided on Enalius. And it was the smartest cat in the world, because he read books (yeah, right!) and he didn’t catch mice. The General rambled for a good ten minutes about the cat, without pause. He drank more wine, relaxing into the armchair, and Elain offered him a small plate with more cheese and sausage slices.

Once he finally stopped talking, Nuala chuckled and then whispered something into Elain’s ear. Elain snorted and nodded.

“What?” he demanded.

“I’ll do it,” she said simply.

“You will?!?!” he cried out excitedly. “Excellent! Thank you, petal. I knew I could count on you!”

“But,” she raised her finger. “Under one condition...”

>>>

Cassian was spread out on the floor, Cerridwen seated on his hips, her hands massaging his huge shoulders. He was oiled up like one of those hunky Fae males in the magazines that the girls were looking at.

“He is totally flexing!” Cassian complained, leafing through the magazines, looking at the buff models with bulging muscles, “and they are all oiled up!”

“So are you, big boy,” Nuala laughed.

Cassian was currently sporting a green mask on his face, with black undereye patches ‘to remove wrinkles’ as Elain explained, though he had no wrinkles because he was Fae.

Elain was lotioning up his rough, calloused hands, and damn if that didn’t feel nice on his fingers and palms. Cerridwen was massaging his back and Nuala was berating him for his dry skin, and lack of moisturizing, and something else that he couldn’t even discern. Exfoliation or something?

He was drinking a weird green drink that they had made for him, which looked awful but tasted pretty good. Like salad.

He was enjoying himself, and the girls seemed to be enjoying it too, even if he crashed their party. But the fact that he was now bare from the waist up didn’t seem to bother them at all.

“What in the blasting hel...”

His brother’s amused, condescending voice and tone jolted Cassian out of his pontification about what the male models were lacking.

“Shit!” Cassian jumped up, almost tossing Cerridwen aside, and catching her at the last moment.

“What are you doing?!” Azriel was standing in the foyer, arms crossed, observing the scene with mirth in his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you are having a spa evening and wearing a facial mask...But that couldn’t be right? Right?”

“What are you doing here?!” Cassian demanded suspiciously.

“I just dropped by,”

“Well, so did I!” Cassian snapped defensively.

“No, no, by all means,” Az made a wide sweep with his arm. “Please continue.”

“Ugh, whatever. I gotta go anyway!”

Elain pouted and shot daggers at Azriel, saying, “it’s raining! You don’t need to go out now, Cass.”

“It’s alright, petal. It’s time to go. I’ll bring Enalius tomorrow,”

She nodded, while Azriel was laughing silently, watching Cass wipe the oil off his torso and put his shirt on.

“It’s okay, Cass. I don’t want to ruin your complexion,” Azriel told him and extended his hand to him. “I’ll winnow you home.”

“I’ll never live this down, will I?” Cassian groaned, scrubbing his face.

“Not for a while,” Az nodded sagely.

“Don’t tell Mor!” genuine fear sparked in the General’s eyes.

“I’ll consider it.”

After Azriel dropped his brother at the House of Wind, Cassian tiptoed into the bathroom, to wash off the remnants of his face mask and the oil. As he stepped into the bath, a thought occurred to him. How did Azriel winnow into the townhouse if he didn’t have permission?

@elainarcheronweek

#ElainWeek2022 #elainarcheronweek2022 #elain archeron #cassian #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #Enalius makes an appearance in spirit #a little bit of Azriel #elain

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fuckmelifesucks · 2 years

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Elain: *doing something wrong, in a sour mood* Cauldron boil me!

Nuala and Cerridwen: *casually passing through the wall* It already did.

Elain: *intensely glaring at the wall*

#elain archeron #acotar #pro elain #elriel #pro elain archeron #azriel #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #acosf #nuala acotar #cerridwen acotar #nuala #cerridwen #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #elucien #elain x lucien

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strangecreationchaos · 2 years

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i read this part in acotar and feyre is talking about Nuala and cerridwen... !! they can walk through closed door by pressing someone between them!!

now what if elain is practicing all these cool stuffs with them everyday!!!!! like they will be sneaking out of the house now and then for a night walk!!

i am super excited to see their friendship!!!

#pro elain #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #elriel #elain #elain kingslayer #elain x azriel #elain acotar #acotar series #acotar #pro feyre #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron

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shitwillnotbegiven · 2 years

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Elain showing the first signs of her healing with Nuala and Cerridwen in Acowar.

It was also the start of their friendship. Nuala and Cerridwen are part of Elain's trio. Can't wait to read more about them in Acotar 5.

There's absolutely no reason to hate them.

#elain archeron #nuala #cerridwen #elain x nuala x cerridwen #elriel #acotar 5

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lawngah · 1 year

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It's just my opinion

Well, elain is like some persons who live in our universe that they don't study any exam but can go to university by chance or people who don't do anything to gain something but however living wealth and healty life

#feyre archeron #high lord rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #acosf #acotar #elain archeron #elain x nuala x cerridwen #acotar series

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shallyne · 1 year

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Awww, I just realized in chapter 18 when Lucien came to the townhouse and Elain began to feel uncomfortable, Nuala and Cerridwen where suddenly there

I am not crying, you are

They're not talking but they are there for Elain 😭

Acofas chapter 18

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar reread #Acofas reread #elain kingslayer #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #Nuala #Cerridwen

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moondrawss · 2 years

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Elain, Cerridwen and Nuala

— A court of Thorns and roses

#elain acotar #elain kingslayer #elain supremacy #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #acotar #acomaf #acowar #elain archeron #acofas #acosf

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wingedblooms · 3 months

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Blooming dreams

Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors. (Mary Cantwell)

This meta is a continuation of my thoughts over the years, but especially the ones expressed in the following links. Please be aware that there are major hofas spoilers in this post and avoid if needed.

Secret, lovely seer / Forbidden secrets

A rose in the thorns / The flower of life

Seer, wise woman, witch / Three sisters witches / Starborn light

Since my first meta, I have been fixated on Elain’s connection to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (let's call her Wyrd) and her potential powers, including sight, shapeshifting, and healing. They are all related when you’re talking about Wyrd, though I am not here to say what I have written is what Sarah has planned. This post is more a love letter to Sarah’s mystical and earthy depiction of Elain and what I would love to see in her story based on all the seeds she’s planted (and if there is an actual magical bean seed involved, I’ll love her all the more for it). Thanks especially to @psychologynerd for previewing this fever dream of a post.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (acotar)

From the first book in the series, Feyre recognizes that Elain views things differently. She views things that are sad and dark with hope, and that’s why Sarah has called her the quiet dreamer. It’s a strength that sets her apart. I like to think that’s also what the Cauldron—though warped by the Asteri—saw when she was forced into its womb.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes and I wondered if it may have recognized Elain as a kindred spirit, some echo of its Mother form. A creator, life-bringer. Were the waters of the Cauldron more like Silba’s Womb—a darkness of creation, sweet and lovely—when Elain was immersed? Or is it possible that when Elain entered its dark womb she viewed it differently than her sister? Did she see a wounded creator to help rather than an enemy to combat?

Elain’s hopeful perspective might be why it gifted her with such powers, powers that we know allow her to see differently than others. And since it may have enhanced her unique perception, I wonder if it also enhanced her ability to bring life and beauty into the world. As a gardener, Elain is well acquainted with the task of envisioning her garden and then getting her hands dirty to make that vision a reality. Dream and reality are entwined in gardening, just like her Sight.

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar) If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar) She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar) If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar) “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar)

As we saw in acosf for Nesta—a new type of warrior who forges magical swords and retrieves the Harp from an ancient fortress (the Prison) connected to the Starborn—these descriptions are clearly meant to foreshadow what occurs in the sisters’ stories. While Nesta is a freshly forged sword, Elain is blooming life in Illyria. And what do we learn in hofas?

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.” Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...] “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

We receive confirmation that the Cauldron is associated with the sister peaks, as I suspected, and Ramiel in particular as @merymoonbeam has previously suggested.

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.” [...] “They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas)

In Forbidden secrets, I theorized that Elain’s powers might allow her to map the secrets of the land in order to heal it and @offtorivendell discussed magical mounds in her theory on reviving dusk. It seems like the Asteri did indeed leave secrets behind, which might explain why certain places continue to be forbidden and barren. But we are given hope that they do not need to remain that way. In hofas, Bryce wakes and wields the land belonging to her Starborn ancestors on the Prison island:

And precisely as Theia had gifted her own power to Silene … perhaps Silene had in turn left that same power here, to be claimed by a future scion. One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark— [...] Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away. With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body. White light erupted everywhere. Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was the evening star and the last rays of color before the dark. Azriel had nearly reached the tunnel. Another flap of his wings and he’d be swallowed by its dark mouth. But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him. The room became a wolf, its jaws snapping for the winged warrior— The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene. “Stop him,” she said in a voice that was more like her father’s than anything she’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Azriel swept for the tunnel archway—and slammed into a wall of stone. The exit had sealed. Slowly, he turned, wings rustling. Blood trickled out of his nose from his face-first collision with the rock now in his path. He spread his wings, bracing for a fight. The mountain shook, the chamber with it. Debris fell from the ceiling. Walls began shifting, rock groaning against rock. As if the place this had once been was fighting to emerge from the stone. [...] From far away, she could sense it: the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain. Twisted, wretched creatures. Some had been here since Silene had trapped them. Had been contemplating their escape and revenge all this time. She’d let them out if she restored the mountain to its former glory. And in that moment, the mountain—the island—spoke to her. Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth— (hofas)

The mountain–Bryce’s mountain–speaks to her, asking her to open her heart to it so it can finally rise from its slumber. Cue internal screaming, my friends, because this language was intentional and it might finally explain Elain’s conversation in this scene:

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

Elain’s hearing is a source of concern after she is Made because it is unusually heightened; she hears so many things, usually connected to the nature around her as @silverlinedeyes theorized. Like calls to like, and so she might be able to hear the beating heart of the land around her, even as it slumbers. Perhaps that is why her eyes were drawn to the barren ground in Illyria.

Vesperus, an Asteri trapped in a glass coffin below the Prison, tells us more about the connection between the Cauldron and the land:

“I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. Bryce rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll call you the Evening Star, too. Happy?” “Is it not fitting?” A wave of long fingers capped in sharp nails. “I drank from the land’s magic, and the land’s magic drank from me.” [...] Vesperus folded her hands in her lap. “A planet that was once green, as this one is.” “And that wasn’t good enough?” “We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” [...] “Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron…” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

This should come as no surprise because we saw this play out in acowar, but the Cauldron is tied to the soul of their world. The term soul is intentional, and we will return to it in a bit, but I started to wonder in Forbidden secrets about that connection. The influence of Wyrd is especially clear in the sacred peaks, where the Asteri left behind their secrets. Could Elain unravel the Asteri’s magic from the slumbering heart of the earth, and unbind the Cauldron as a result? Or will she need to go to Cretea to retrieve and purify the magic of the Asteri from the Cauldron like a healer would, in body and in spirit? (Hello, Nephelle celebrations, let’s go.) Nothing feels more right than seeing our strong-willed gardener get her hands dirty as she rips out the Asteri from the root, or beating heart, of their world. Sarah may have even hinted at this role for Elain as she describes getting into her mind for her book:

“There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain’s head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book. I’m not even joking. Elain’s now going to have dreams about ripping ivy out and the ivy creeping in through the windows to strangle her at night, because let me tell you, that ivy does not want to go.” (Sarah’s interview in acofas)

English ivy is an aggressive invader and its hosts decline over time before they die. That’s exactly what the Asteri are: aggressive invaders that feed off of their hosts, warping the power of the land for their sole benefit, until it begins to wither away. In hofas, we learn that the Asteri hid their power throughout the land, including at the root of sacred mountains:

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

And we see the moment Bryce discovers that Vesperus has hidden her power in the root of the Prison mountain, which is what sustains her and weakens the land:

Bryce clutched the Starsword tighter. Its power thudded into her palms like a heartbeat. “But why store your power here? It’s an island—not exactly an easy pit stop.” “There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.” […] “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” […] “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer…She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.” Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.” Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet— (hofas)

These thin places are where ley lines—highways for magic and communication—overlap, allowing travel for those who are suited to it (wayfarers). Starborn and Asteri alike seem to be suited to these places, and have used them to store their power, causing the land around it to wither.

“Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.”

All of the sister peaks thrum with power and are at odds with the land around them. Barren. They might all be thin places, interconnected through ley lines...and hiding a cache of magic in the root (heart) of their souls.

Bryce’s ancestors, separated by the Void, planted clues for those with the gifts and vision to see it.

What had looked like etched seas or rivers of stars now filled in with starlight, became … alive. Moving, cascading, coursing. A secret illustration, only for those with the gifts and vision to see it. (hofas)

A secret carved in stone. What secrets remain under other sacred mountains, such as Ramiel? Is it any coincidence that Enalius, who defended Ramiel, was the owner of Truth-Teller? Or that the Cauldron is depicted there? Who would be equipped with the gifts and vision to uncover those secrets and finally set the soul of the land free, like Bryce?

“Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her. Quiet and old and forgotten, but there. She heard how Avallen had yielded its joy, its bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it. […] Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was. (hofas)

Helena bound the soul of Avallen in magical chains. Doesn't that sound like what the Asteri did with the Cauldron and the land? There are so many hints that Elain is set up to address this plot, but the one I find the most compelling is given by the Under-King when he confirms who Urd (Wyrd) is:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos.” […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

The statues are essentially the same and Wyrd has already been described in terms that evoke the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (Forces That Be). And Nesta just happened to feel the need (fateful tug?) to place Elain’s rose—a symbol of life and joy and beauty—right next to Urd, and drew our attention to it again in the final scene of her story. What do you want to bet that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, gave her favorite gardener the gifts and vision she needs to make her dream of building more gardens, of breathing life and beauty into the land, a reality?

Sarah has confirmed that the main female characters in her books are helped by others, usually a love interest and friends. So who might be foreshadowed to help Elain?

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. (acowar) - “I’ll help you,” Nesta offered. But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.” Then she was gone–shoulders a little squarer. - It was three by the time the others went to bed. [...] Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)

It’s no coincidence that the characters closest to Elain possess unique powers that complement her own and relate specifically to the elements of Stone Mother. Azriel learned to speak the language of shadow and wind and stone, while the half-wraith twins are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone as @psychee92 discusses here. Their magic likely thrives in thin parts of the world. It also isn't a coincidence that Nesta noticed and wondered this:

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

Their beautiful, wraith-like team has the gifts necessary to traverse the slumbering heart of the earth as easily as foreign courts, which is a hard combination to find and is uniquely suited for Elain’s mission to release the Cauldron and land from the magical chains of the Asteri. Especially since we learn that Bryce uses both blades of the Starborn to free Avallen from its magical chains:

On an exhale, she plunged the weapons into the slits in the eight-pointed star. The small one for the knife. The larger one for the sword.

And like a key turning in a lock, they released what lay beneath. (hofas)

They even help Bryce rid the land of the Asteri and their core of power, creating a larger void to devour the one the Asteri set in place. Back in acowar, as many have noticed, Sarah already planted this moment between Azriel and Elain:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

She and Azriel seem to represent the balance of light and dark in the Starsword and Truth-Teller, as @merymoonbeam theorized. The Starborn blade—the one belonging to Enalius—is a bridge of connection between them. Bryce leaves the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller with Nesta, encouraging her to learn about her connection to the Starborn (eight-pointed star). That might mean the Archeron Starborn connection may happen after all. I could see Elain wielding those blades when needed, activating their magic as she seemed to do with Truth-Teller, to release the land from its magical chains. It would also be interesting if Elain and Azriel functioned like the Made blades themselves, releasing the Asteri’s chains with their own blend of raw magic, and watching joyously as life blooms in earnest again.

Once they remove the magical chains of the Asteri—on the land and their sacred Cauldron—perhaps we’ll also discover what exists between Elain and Azriel at last:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports–likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City–the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…” (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @elriell and others have written extensively about mating bonds, so I won’t discuss that in depth here. Essentially, Feysand and Nessian appear to have bonds that are true in spirit, and they are described as living threads of pure golden light between their souls.

Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful. (acosf)

This living light reminds me of the dawn, which is associated with healing and new beginnings. When Feysand and Nessian bind their souls together in these scenes, the dawn is invoked each time:

Feysand

…I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world. (acomaf)

Nessian

Cassian roared as he came, and the sound was the summons of a hunt, a symphony, a single clear horn playing as dawn broke over the world. (acosf)

And when Azriel first sees Elain in his bonus chapter, her hair is unbound and she appears like the dawn, gilded in living light on the longest night of the year.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

Is it possible that, with Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land, her own threads of life are similarly chained, or warped? Perhaps when Elain clears away the Asteri’s power, we will finally see the truth blooming between them: threads of golden light twining together in an endless, earthy melody.

#hofas spoilers #hofas #acotar #crossover theories #elain archeron #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #urd goddess #stone mother #mother cauldron fate #forbidden secrets follow up #healing the land #she has the gifts and vision #elriel #elain x azriel #this was written like a fever dream #i may need to reblog more later

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kopfkino-o · 1 year

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The Seer’s Stone - Chapter 2

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Oracle. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 3687

Taglist: @downingg2001 @gracie-rosee @nivem565 // Let me know if you want on (or off) the tag list for future updates! Thank you all for reading <3

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Author’s Note: Sry about the infodump lmao. Dropping an Azriel chapter for the next update.

Thanks for reading!

Half an hour later, Elain and her companions gathered around the low coffee table and the ancient map of the known world spread across it, cups of freshly brewed tea and plates of light pastries cluttered along its curling edges. Her stomach was in too tight a knot to even consider eating. Her thoughts were consumed by the Staff depicted in Kalla's book, that image of the crystal fixed to its end a loop turning over and over again in her mind's eye.

Find me, find me.

Exhaustion and the last hour were beginning to weigh on her. If it'd been up to her, Elain would have gladly taken the book of Relics and Lost Items back to the Riverhouse and curled up beneath her covers, content to read about the Staff's history from the comfort of her room above the manor gardens. The text, however, was in a language neither she nor the twins could read. They needed Kalla and her translations to understand it, her mastery of the Old Language an invaluable asset to their cause. Which meant Elain wouldn't be getting to bed or back to the Riverhouse any time soon.

Which also meant putting her complete trust in Kalla.

Elain couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety at the thought. The artificer had given no indication she was not to be trusted, she had come all the way from the Continent to aid in their search after all, but Kalla had yet to ask for anything in return. No request for gold or silver, no request for an equal trade of information, not even a hint of a favor she might be expecting in return for her dedicated research and contribution. Nothing at all. Elain sought out Kalla's knowledge of the arcane and the artificer had simply delivered, no questions asked or payment requested.

Elain raked a hand through her hair and shoved her doubts and anxieties down deep. There were still good people in the world, people who wanted to help her, who believed in her and the strange visions that plagued her. At least that’s what she liked to tell herself.

And if Kalla came asking for payment for her services, well, Elain would deal with that then.

But tonight, she needed to be focused. She needed to be ready.

“We best get this over then,” Elain said to no one in particular.

“You sure?” Nuala asked, stretching her arms out as she loosed a yawn. “I quite like sitting in this dusty old shop into the wee hours of the morning with you all. We should do this more often.”

“No one asked for your opinion, Nu.” Cerridwen muttered.

“I don’t recall anyone asking for yours either, sister, but alas.”

Elain fought the urge to roll her eyes at her friends and their constant bickering. She met Kalla’s amused gaze from across the table and gave her a small, apologetic smile.

“Just ignore them,” She said. “If they want to hear the story of the Staff they can translate the text themselves.”

Kalla chuckled softly. “I’m more than happy to wait as long as you all need. It’s not often I get to delve into the history of a relic from the time of the Old Gods.”

This shut the twins up. Their heads both snapped towards the artificer as if her words, this mention of the Old Gods, physically struck them. Elain cut them both a hard look that was reproach enough.

“May I?” Kalla asked.

"Yes, but know this. I’m going to scry, if I’m going to try to find this Staff, I need to know everything you know." Elain said, voice firm but gentle. "No secrets, no half-truths, no withholding of information. Every detail counts. Understood?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, Kingslayer. I know what becomes of those who cross you. And I quite like my pretty little head atop my shoulders, thank you very much."

Nuala and Cerridwen both sputtered at the comment, the former nearly snorting tea from her nostrils while the latter threw a dagger of a look in Kalla’s direction. The artificer, unbothered and unamused as always, merely winked at the twins. Elain couldn’t help but wonder if Kalla was more aware of her creeping suspicions than she initially realized. Then perhaps any of them realized.

Later, she told herself. She would worry about Kalla and her motivations later. After she got what she needed from her, after this was all settled.

Elain gestured to the map, the open books scattered around the table. "The floor is yours then, Sparrow. Let’s hear it.”

Kalla cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, the casual look she'd worn all evening suddenly turned serious, more focused with a sharp intensity that seemed to almost simmer in her green eyes. A warrior preparing for battle only this was a battle of the mind, of history.

"There are a very limited number of texts and records on the Staff, but its history is still long and rather fascinating. It's one of the last remaining relics leftover from the reign of the Old Gods if accounts from Prythian's earliest scholars are to be believed." Kalla began, her voice measured and even. "Some theorize the crystal fixed atop it--or the Seer's Stone, as you called it--was a fragment of a fallen star. Others believe it was hewn from a rare mineral that no longer exists in this world. As for its wooden handle, well, all records are in agreement that it was most likely hewn from an Ironwood tree and carved specifically so the Stone could sit atop it."

A whisper of a vision flitted through Elain's mind. A star plummeting from the heavens, white light rippling in its wake. She shook her head, forcing the image away, and clenched her jaw so tight her teeth sang as she tried to focus on Kalla's history lesson.

"While the origin of the Staff, as well as who–or what–might have forged it, is still heavily contested, the first recorded wielder of the relic is not." Kalla was saying. "All records, texts, and folktales are in agreement that the staff was first wielded by a woman named Pythia. Hence, the relic eventually came to be known as the Staff of Pythia. A decent name, I’d say."

Nuala and Cerridwen exchanged a look.

"Pythia," The former echoed. "That's a Day Court name."

"And an old one at that," Cerridwen added.

"Excellent observation, ladies,” Kalla said. “Pythia was from what is now the modern Day Court. She ruled over the temple at Seraphyros as its high priestess, her reign beginning just before King Fionn's rebellion when the Daglan were still the masters of this world and lasting until just after the formal establishment of Prythian's seven courts following the High King's fall." She explained. "Every record I found on her indicates she was known far and wide, amongst both the High Fae and the Lesser Faeries, for not only her beauty and great wisdom but also for her rare gifts of clairvoyance and divination. An oracle, they called her."

Something twisted in Elain's gut. Oracle. That word echoed through her like the beating of a distant drum. Would people call her the same centuries from now when she was nothing more than a whisper of dust along the wind, or would she be remembered as something different, something far worse.

A part of her couldn't help but wonder if anyone would even remember her at all.

"People from all across the realm sought her wisdom and prophetic visions. Peasants and princes, the old and the young, the rich and the poor. Everyone wanted to know what Pythia of Seraphyros might glimpse in their futures. Or from their pasts." Kalla continued. "These pilgrims came eagerly, often in great masses, each and every one of them bearing gifts to lay at Pythia's feet. Golden discs and silver chalices, every manner of jewel, enchanted lutes and ink pots that never dried, daggers made of ivory and greatswords forged from pure gold, cowhides and local wines and honey from village apiaries, countless riches beyond belief. But Pythia would have none of it. She was known for telling her followers, her pilgrims, that her Sight was a gift from the Mother and the Mother did not demand gifts in return for her blessings. So every gift she turned away, every gift she sent back with its bearer. All except one."

Kalla passed one of her many open books to Elain and the twins pressed in closer, each vying for a glimpse of the detailed drawing within.

Elain's eyes widened as she beheld the intricate illustration, blinking as she took in every detail. It depicted a woman of ethereal beauty, her supple body robed in flowing white robes and her head of flaxen curls crowned with an aureole of golden light. Her beautiful face was serene, filled with a sense of knowing wisdom Elain could practically feel radiating from the page. Her arms were raised as if reaching for the sun itself and in one hand the priestess held a crystal-tipped staff, sunlight radiating around the strange stone.

"The Oracle of Seraphyros", read the inscription beneath the image.

"Cauldron spare me," Elain breathed. “I can’t get over just how alike it looks to what I saw in my vision. The strange markings, the dim light radiating from it, the shape, it's nearly exact."

Kalla nodded. "I thought you might say that."

Nuala and Cerridwen leaned in closer, their dark eyes widening slightly at the sight of the ancient priestess. The former, the artist of the two twins, reached and brushed a long finger over the sunburst leafed in gold on Pythia's forehead. A low breath of wonder escaped the back of her throat.

"It's almost as if you can...feel her," Nuala said.

"It's said that the crystal fixed to Pythia's staff was so powerful even the mere likeness of it carried a spark of its magical essence. Some records state it improved a seer's natural inclination of knowing fates yet not revealed, while others claim it gave its wielder the ability to see through time and space themselves." Kalla said. "Perhaps that's what you're feeling."

Elain studied the rendering of the Staff more closely now. It had never appeared in any of her visions, only the Stone fixed to its end, the rest veiled in mist and shadow. Yet... there was something almost familiar about it. Nostalgic, even. Elain blinked.

Find me, find me, find me.

Elain blinked again.

"Who gave it to Pythia?" She asked abruptly. "It had to be someone important to her for her to accept the gift when she turned all others away."

Kalla's eyes were bright, shimmering with intrigue. "That's what's strange, you see. There are several theories out there, some stating the staff was gifted to Pythia by an elderly woman so blind she couldn't even see the beauty of the priestess she was offering it to. Other accounts claim it was a maiden, a girl so young she hadn't even had her first bleed." She said. "But the one thing that is consistent throughout history is that this female, whoever she was, was peasant born.”

Elain's head was swimming. Why would a mere peasant have such an item and how could a blind old woman or young child even come across such a relic in the first place? How had the Stone come to be bound to the ironwood staff in the first place, and who could possibly have enough power to make such a weapon? A hundred questions warred with one another in her mind, each clawing for her attention. The Staff, the Stone, the maiden and crone, the ancient priestess with enchanted relics lain at her feet.

A gentle hand patted her own, and Elain opened her eyes to find Kalla studying her closely. "I know it's a lot to take in," she said softly. "We can take a break if you need some time to make sense of everything."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a shade too sharply. She drew in a deep breath and tucked her hair behind an ear. "We do this tonight, not tomorrow, not next week. Tonight."

"There is more, though."

Elain tipped her head back and loosed a sigh at the ceiling. "There always is."

Kalla hesitated a moment as if there was something she wanted to say, something else she wanted to share, but the artificer swallowed and continued with her story, leaving whatever warred in her pale eyes behind.

"The staff remained in Pythia's possession for years, the high priestess wielding it even during the early battles against the Daglan when the priestesses took up Fionn's cause, but then the High King was betrayed by his clever wife and his closest friend." Kalla said. "The very same night Fionn's blood ran red down the steps of his royal dais the temple at Seraphyros was set ablaze. So fierce was the fire only a few blackened stones remained, almost all traces of Pythia's once great seat blown away to ash along the sea breeze."

Nuala sucked in a breath. "And the priestesses?"

"No one knows for sure. No bodies were found amongst the temple ruins, no trace of the women even having been there at all. It was as if they'd simply vanished, Pythia along with them, their once great order disappearing into the shadows of history."

"What of her Staff?" Elain dared to ask.

"That, too, disappeared along with Pythia and her priestesses," Kalla said, then she reached for her pack and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook. "But there have been whispers over the years," she continued, pale fingers flipping through the pages until she came across what she was looking for. "Whispers of a staff wielded by a healer from a misty isle, of a wooden scepter wielded by a Lord of old, a swamp witch with a cane capable of seeing through the stars themselves."

Cerridwen drummed an impatient finger. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that the Seer's Stone is out there, in some form, in some way. Magic that powerful never truly disappears, at least not entirely. Whether the Stone remains part of Pythia's Staff, well, that still remains to be seen. But the Stone... the Stone can be found." Kalla turned abruptly towards her and met Elain's eye. "Found by none other than you, Elain."

Like calls to like. The phrase rose in the back of Elain's mind, unbidden.

She wasn't sure if she could do it. It'd been months since she last attempted to scry and even longer since she'd done so successfully. There were some days Elain was certain finding the Suriel for Feyre had been nothing more than a fluke, something she achieved solely out of desperation to help her little sister.

I'm pretty damn desperate now too, Elain thought.

She needed to find the Stone. She had to find it. There were no other options. It was calling to her and something deep inside her was whispering back. Something was coming, something she needed to be ready for.

Elain could feel the certainty of it in her very bones. The Stone, the visions, Pythia and her missing priestesses, the Cauldron and its whisperings, it was all connected. It was all connected to her.

Elain raked a hand down her face. There was no time for doubt. "Is that all, Kalla?" She asked softly.

"For now.” The artificer replied.“I'll begin searching the various museum and archive collections here in Velaris tomorrow. You’ll be the first to know if I come up with anything new."

"Very good. I'll see to it you're granted access to the Library too. My sister, Nesta, has a friend there who might be able to assist you."

Kalla inclined her head in a show of thanks then stepped away from the table, gesturing to the map with a flourish. "Whenever you’re ready, Kingslayer."

Elain nodded then reached for the bowl of scrying stones set at the corner of the map. She picked them up one by one and then weighed them in her hand. There were seven in total, six black as pitch and one white as moonlight on virgin snow. Each was carved with a single whorling symbol that was neither a rune nor a ward but something other. Elain closed her eyes and focused on the feel of them, the shape of them. Their faces were smooth and cool against her palm and, so faintly, she could feel some sort of magic humming within them. Almost like a heartbeat.

It was that humming that drew her in, lulling Elain into a dreamlike state she knew all too well. That humming grew louder, twinning both around and inside her. A bitter cold flooded Elain as her magic pulled her down and down and down again, deep into that place in between where there was nothing more than mist and shadow and whispering shade.

The world fell away, the room and her companions along with it.

Show me what I seek, Elain whispered into the void that remained.

Dreams and nightmares, memories and ignorances, everything and nothing swirled and eddied here in this strange place. Swirled and eddied like the dark water of the Cauldron had when it stole her, when it changed her. Down and down, darker and darker. She was everywhere and nowhere, both everything and nothing. She could see across the world, could see the earth from both above and below, a thousand eyes searching far and wide.

Show me, she whispered again.

Something black and oily slithered along the edges of her mind.

Elain forced herself to ignore it, forced herself to focus. The map, the scrying stones, Pythia’s Staff and the Seer's Stone atop it. Find them, find her, find him. Elain scattered herself on the breeze, sending her mind out to every corner of the world, searching, seeking.

Show me the Stone. Show me where it went. Show me what happened.

That dark thing broke free from its iron cage.

Do you know how much I miss you, my dearest love, my darling Elain, A voice that was both cruel and kind, young and old, from everywhere and nowhere, murmured.

The Stone and the Staff, stars falling from the heavens, falling and falling and falling.

Elain was spearing through the world now, flying past cities she did not know and overgrown glades in forests she'd never seen and racing beneath the dark water of an ocean she could not name. Visions welled at the corner of her thought, warring with the dark presence that threatened to swallow her whole, twisting and warping, nothing ever clear.

Oh darling Elain, won’t let me in?

No. Never again.

Show me. Show me. Show me show me show me--

Elain's eyes flipped open and the world tilted as she slammed back down into her body.

Someone was screaming her name. Someone else was shaking her. Her vision cleared and she found the twins standing over her, faces drawn with panic and concern. Nuala was shaking her so violently Elain feared she might be sick, and Cerridwen was already wiping the dark trickle of blood away from Elain's nose, her usual mask of coolness replaced by a look of pale worry.

“Elain," Nuala's voice cut through the ringing in her ears.

She could only stare up at her friend, wide-eyed and trembling.

"It was too soon, too much," Cerridwen hissed.

"Saying that helps nothing."

"She wasn't ready. Nuala. She needs more training, more time."

"Enough."

"Thirty minutes, she was gone thirty fucking minutes. If that isn’t reason enough to stop entertaining ideas like–”

"I said that is enough, Cerridwen."

Elain shoved up from the seat she'd been helped into and away from her friend's worried looks, her skin overheated and drawn too tight across her bones, her ears still ringing. She wanted a breath of fresh air, she wanted something to soothe the hammering in her head. Her stomach heaved and for half a heartbeat she thought she might be sick. Another warm trickle leaked from her nose and Elain wiped it away with the sleeve of her dress, refusing to look down at the dark crimson staining the roughspun.

You’re okay. It’s all okay, she told herself.

Then her eyes settled on something black shining beneath the table. A scrying stone. Not just one, but several of them. All shattered and broken atop the weathered hardwoods. Elain could have sworn something fractured in her chest at the sight of them.

She staggered forward, knees weak, but then Kalla was at her side, cold hands grabbing her by the shoulders and hauling her upright.

The artificer shook her hard. So hard Elain could feel her head rattle around her skull, jarring her from the swimming thoughts that still consumed her mind.

"You did it," Kalla breathed. "You bloody did it."

Elain could only stare at the woman. "I did?"

"Look, gods damn you."

Kalla gestured to the map and slowly, hesitantly, Elain followed her gaze.

Shock and wonder and fear knotted her stomach at what she beheld. Three stones, all black as pitch, scattered across the map, smooth faces shimmering in the low glow of the hearth light.

"It worked," Elain breathed.

Then a new realization washed over her. An understanding that stole her breath and buckled her knees. There were three stones atop the map. Not one, but three. Elain drew nearer, her stomach dropping somewhere far below here knees as she saw where each stone had fallen.

One stone on the Prison Isle. One stone in the Middle.

And one in the very heart of the Autumn Court.

#The Seer's Stone #elain archeron #elriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elriel #elain x azriel #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen

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