The sun had started its slow descent when Sylvain reappeared to escort me to dinner. As we walked, I noticed the warm glow of the setting sun reflecting off the windows and the long shadows it cast across the corridors. It was a peaceful time of day, and I felt a sense of calm as we made our way to what I assumed would be a private dining room.

However, as we approached the dining hall, the sound of lively conversation and the clatter of cutlery against plates grew louder. My surprise grew as Sylvain opened the door, and I realized that everyone was gathered here for their meals.

It was the same large, bustling room with long tables that we had breakfast in. The air was filled again with the aroma of delicious food. I noticed that everyone seemed to be engaged in cheerful conversations, their faces illuminated by the soft evening light streaming through the windows. It was far from the isolated, quiet meals I had envisioned. The kind of meals I am accustomed to back in Crescent City. As I took my seat, I felt a sense of warmth and community, and I realized that this was a special part of their daily routine.

"I assumed that this morning was a special occasion," I whispered to Sylvain. "Do you always eat together like this?"

"Yes, the mid-day meal is normally smaller groups," Sylvain smiled, her sharp teeth glinting in the evening light. "It is a tradition as old as the city itself. In the heart of our home, we gather here to share our day's experiences and find comfort in community."

I could hear the pride in her voice as she spoke of their traditions. I spotted familiar faces from that morning, their eyes sparkling with the same cheerfulness that seemed to permeate the room. The dark fae had an unnatural grace and an otherworldly beauty, and their lively conversations and laughter filled the air. Sitting beside me, Sylvain continued, "Of course, there are times when we retreat to our private chambers for more intimate meals, especially when important matters need to be discussed. But this, this gathering, is a time-honored custom, a respite from the weight of our duties, and a reminder of the strength that lies in unity."

I listened, captivated by her words and the sense of belonging that permeated the room. It was a stark contrast to the solitary meals I had waiting for me back home, where each meal reminded me of my aloneness in a city that never slept. As the sun's last rays illuminated the hall, casting long shadows that danced across the tables, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The community’s warmth, the food’s aroma, and the gentle hum of conversation lulled me into a state of contentment. In moments like this, I completely forgot that I was a non-magical queen of the light realm sitting amongst possibly the most dangerous people in the entire land.

As Drakaris stepped into the room, a hush settled over the crowded space. All eyes were drawn to their leader. He was adorned in armor that gleamed like a full moon, casting an otherworldly aura around him. His serious expression only added to the weight of his presence. His presence commanded attention, and I felt the weight of his authority.

He spoke to them in their language but focused directly on me. It was obvious that he did not want me to know whatever he was saying. As Drakaris finished speaking, the room erupted into a flurry of whispers. The fae exchanged curious glances, their eyes flicking between Drakaris and me. I felt a surge of unease as I realized I was the subject of their hushed conversations. The looks and whispers only worsened when Drakaris sat beside me.

I couldn’t focus on my meal after that. Every glance in my direction felt sharp, like a blade slicing through my composure. The dark fae around me was scrutinizing my every move—studying me as though I were some enigma they couldn’t solve. The tension in the dining hall was suffocating, and deep down, I knew something was coming.

The sudden crash of the doors being flung open made me flinch. A group of dark fae stormed in, their black leather armor gleaming under the dim light. They moved as one, their formation rigid and precise. At their center stood a man, trembling so violently I thought he might collapse. His hands fidgeted with something I couldn’t make out, and his face was pale, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

My breath caught in my throat. It was Aric.

But he wasn’t the same man I’d seen just a few nights ago. His skin was darker, like he’d spent weeks under an unrelenting sun, and his usually neat hair was a wild mess. He looked... different, broken.

One of the armored warriors stepped forward, his voice calm and steady. "Beklager at jeg er sen, Sir," he said.

Lord Drakaris rose from his seat at the head of the table. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he welcomed the newcomer. "Yes, we have been expecting you," he said, his tone low and menacing. "What’s your name, sir?"

"Aric," the man stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Even from my seat, I could see the tears streaming from Aric’s eyes. It was jarring. Just the other morning, he seemed so hopeful, and now…

Drakaris moved closer to Aric, deliberate and predatory, as though he were cornering a wounded animal. Instinctively, I stood, my chair scraping loudly against the floor as I prepared to intervene.

But before I could take a step, Sylvain’s hand gripped my arm tightly, holding me in place. I went to yell, but an invisible barrier over my mouth prevented any noise from coming out.

"She's gone," Aric choked out, tears streaming down his face.

Drakaris's expression softened in a way I didn’t expect. "It’s okay to grieve," he said, his voice unnervingly quiet. "We’ll protect you while you mourn. There is no judgment here."

As Aric wept, a black mist began to rise around him. It coiled and twisted, creeping up his body like smoke until it completely engulfed him. The light in the room dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls.

I watched in horrified silence as the transformation unfolded. His skin turned a dull gray, his once-bright yellow tattoos fading into an inky black. One by one, the fiery orange strands of his hair darkened to jet black. The tears on his face left streaks that reminded me of spilled ink on parchment. When the mist finally dissipated, the man who stood before us was no longer Aric. He was a Dark Fae.

"It will be alright," Drakaris said, placing a hand on Aric’s shoulder. His words sounded more like a father talking instead of a Lord. "You are safe here."

Sylvain’s voice purred in my ears, soft but haunting. "Dark Fae are not born—we transform."

My stomach twisted as her words sunk in. I scanned the room, my gaze lingering on the other dark fae. They had all been like Aric once. Normal. They had all been from my realm. They are my people.

Sylvain must have noticed my unease. She leaned closer, her voice low and soothing. "You don’t need to worry, Little Light. Aric is still himself, just… different."

Different. The word rang hollow. I nodded, though her reassurances did little to ease the fear clawing at my insides.

I watched in horror as I witnessed the entire encounter.

As the realization of what I had just witnessed sank in, emotions churned violently within me. Betrayal, anger, and fear wrestled for dominance, each threatening to consume me. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to make sense of what I had just heard.

My gaze snapped to Sylvain; my vision blurred with unshed tears and fury. The barrier over my mouth weakened, and words spilled forth, trembling with emotion.

"You lied to me!" I accused, my voice shaking, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls. "You said you did not take my people! Aric is one of my people! How many others have you stolen from my realm?"

Sylvain stood motionless, her expression an infuriating mask of calm. Yet, for the briefest moment, I caught a flicker of something in her dark, impenetrable eyes—regret? Sadness? No, it was something colder.

"Little Light," she said, her voice measured and smooth as silk. "We offer them protection from you." She gestured toward Aric, now standing with an otherworldly stillness that sent chills down my spine. "Aric is one of us now. He is not yours anymore."

Her words struck like a blow, and I staggered back a step, my chest tightening with disbelief. "I don't understand," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Why would you do this to him? He was innocent."

Aric turned to face me; his once-familiar features now twisted with something foreign—something darker. His eyes, which had always been filled with warmth and light, were now hard, cold, and unrecognizable.

"You failed me," he spat, his voice like a blade cutting through the fragile hope I clung to. Each word seemed to twist and change, his tone laced with grief and fury. "My Lyra is gone. My mate bond is void. It was your fault!"

His words pierced me, and I felt my heart shatter into jagged pieces. I had no words, no defense. My mind reeled, grasping at threads of the past, trying to understand how it had come to this.

Without warning, Aric lunged toward me, his movements wild and desperate, driven by anguish I couldn't begin to comprehend. The air seemed to shudder with his raw emotion, and I stumbled back, frozen by the intensity of his charge.

Before he could reach me, a shadow moved faster than my eyes could follow. Drakaris stepped in, his tall, imposing figure cutting between us like a dark tide. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a swirling wall of magic that wrapped around Aric, stopping him mid-lunge.

"Enough!" Drakaris's voice boomed, resonating with a power that silenced the room. Aric thrashed against the magical restraints, his cries of anguish tearing through the air like thunderclaps.

I was trembling, unable to tear my gaze away from the scene before me. The Aric I had known—the friend, the protector—was gone, replaced by someone consumed by grief and rage.

Drakaris turned to me, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Do not think for a moment this is simple, Queen of Light," he said, his voice low but heavy with authority. "Your realm has its sins, just as ours does. Our realm exists because of yours."

My lips parted to respond, but no words came. Once filled with righteous fury, my voice was now caught in my throat, choked by the weight of truth I wasn’t ready to face.

Sylvain's voice broke the tense silence, softer now but no less piercing. "You cannot change the past, little light. The only question now is how you will face the future."

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing tighter, the air colder. My mind raced, trying to reconcile the pieces of this fractured reality. I was losing my people—one by one—to a darkness I didn’t understand, and the weight of my failure threatened to crush me.

"I…" My voice cracked, and I forced myself to meet Sylvain's gaze. "I will not let this stand. I will not lose another person to this… this madness."

Drakaris's dark laughter echoed, low and chilling. "Brave words, Your Lightness. But bravery alone won’t save anyone. It never does."

Aric let out one final, heart-wrenching cry, his struggles subsiding as the magical restraints held firm. I watched, helpless, as Drakaris tightened his grip on the situation, his power undeniable.

Drakaris and Sylvain exchanged a quick nod. Then, without saying any more words, her grip was on my arm, and we were back in my room. The sudden shift left me disoriented, and I felt panic rising in my chest. I knew this feeling all too well—the tightening of my chest, the rush of adrenaline, and the overwhelming sense of dread. I recognized the signs of a panic attack, but I was powerless to stop it. The room spun around me, and I sank to the floor, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Sylvain's concerned face swam into view, her dark eyes searching mine.

"Little light, breathe," she commanded, her voice sharp, cutting through the fog of my panic. I focused on her words, dragging air into my lungs in slow, steady breaths.

Gradually, the room stopped spinning, and the panic receded, leaving me exhausted and shaken. As I leaned back against the wall, my heart still pounding, Sylvain's words echoed in my mind. "Aric is one of us now."

I struggled to process this revelation. Aric, a Dark Fae? I thought back to the man I had known, the hope and light surrounding him, now extinguished. My mind raced with questions.

Does this mean I lost the bargain, or did I prove their guilt? Did Drakaris know that Aric was changing and saw an opportunity to gain a debt from the light realm?