The Entwined Soul
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In the silence of her mind, she heard a voice. It was a whisper that seemed to come from far away and yet at once all around her. A softness in it spoke of comfort and familiarity but also something deeper: an understanding so vast it felt like a homecoming.
She turned toward it, seeking its source even as she knew not where it came from or how long ago it had spoken. The words were familiar—the language used by those who lived in the Otherworld. But they weren’t hers; this wasn’t a memory of her own life. This belonged to someone else entirely.
She saw herself then, sitting on a bench beside a small stream with her back against one of the trees growing along its bank. Her hair fell down over her shoulders and across her chest. In front of her was a woven basket filled with vegetables.
There were potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, parsnips, leeks, turnips…and more. All these things grew here under the sun’s light—or what passed for sunlight in this place. They’d been grown in soil rich enough to nourish them, and watered regularly until their roots reached deep into the earth.
And there were herbs too: sage, mint, lavender, thyme, rosemary, oregano, chives, basil, and dill. These plants thrived without needing tending. Like everything else, they needed only the warmth of the sun to grow strong and healthy.
But there was no way to know if any of this would be true when she returned home again. For now, though, it was enough just to sit and listen. To breathe deeply and let go of all thoughts of pain and loss. It was good to feel safe here, among friends, surrounded by beauty.
A breeze blew through the leaves above her head and brushed her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, letting the cool air wash over her face. As she did so, the voice whispered in her ear. “You can stay here,” it said. “Here is your home.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather an offer that carried with it nothing less than certainty. “Yes,” she replied softly, knowing already what this meant for her future.
“I will give you strength,” the voice promised. “And I will teach you how to use it. You must learn to protect yourself, child. The world is dangerous and dark beyond measure. Many are lost because they have forgotten how to find their way. But with me, you’ll never be alone. I am always near.”
She sat up straight then, turning to see who might speak such words to her. When she looked, she found herself staring directly into the face of a young woman dressed in simple clothes made from wool and linen. Her skin was fair and smooth, her features delicate and lovely.
Her eyes were blue, bright, and clear. Yet despite all this, there was a power about her. Power and wisdom. Beauty and grace. A sense of peace and contentment emanated from every part of her being.
This was the other half of her soul, the twin sister she’d known since birth. Though they could not remember each other, they shared the same memories, the same experiences. Their souls were linked together forever.
They had both been born to the same mother and father, although neither remembered their parents’ faces or names. Neither of them recalled anything before they woke up in the middle of a forest, wrapped inside blankets that smelled faintly of apples.
They didn’t know why they’d been left there. Nor did they understand the strange markings on their bodies, which glowed with a faint light whenever either of them moved. Or why they couldn’t remember anything after waking up in the woods.
No matter how hard they tried, they simply couldn’t recall what happened between leaving their homes and arriving here. What they thought they should remember eluded them completely.
For centuries, they wandered the land looking for answers, searching for signs. Sometimes they met others who claimed to know the truth. Some people told tales of ancient kings and queens, powerful wizards who ruled kingdoms far greater than theirs.
Others spoke of gods and goddesses, spirits and demons, or of places that existed outside the boundaries of the mortal realm. None of these stories were ever quite right, however. Each time they tried to piece together the missing pieces, the memories slipped away again. As the years went by, they began to lose hope.
Until finally, they stopped trying altogether.
Now, though, something different was happening. Something new. For the first time in many decades, they felt as if they were coming closer to finding the truth. The memory of the girl’s past was beginning to return to her mind, little by little. Slowly at first, but steadily gaining momentum. Suddenly, it was like a dam breaking open and flooding her brain with images and sensations.
At last, she understood. This place, and everything within it, was real. Not just some figment of a dream, but rather the actual world itself. A place where magic still lived and breathed, even though it was hidden from view. And the voice that called to her belonged to someone very special indeed.
The woman smiled kindly down upon her. “Welcome back, my dear,” she said. “You’ve been gone too long.”
***
Celaena Sardothien stood atop Endovier’s highest tower, gazing out across the city of Adarlan below. It stretched for miles, and the sun shone brightly against its white stone walls. In the distance, she could make out the shining river that flowed through the heart of the capital—the one that led to the sea.
In front of her, the glass-and-stone palace gleamed, reflecting the sunlight. Its towers rose high, their tops disappearing into the clouds. There, she knew, lay the king’s private chambers. Beside him, his wife and children slept.
There, she had once been told, rested the crown prince, Chaol Westfall, whom she had loved more than life itself. He would be twenty-five now, and he hadn’t been seen in public for months.
He’d grown into a fine man, she mused. With his golden hair and piercing green eyes, he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Even if he was a bit of a brute. She hoped he’d be happy when she returned.
But she wouldn’t be returning. Not yet.
A cool breeze blew over her face, carrying with it the scent of flowers and fresh rainwater. After so many days of traveling, the smell was welcome.
Dorian Havilliard paced beside her, his boots echoing loudly against the stones. His black cloak flapped behind him, billowing around his tall form. He kept glancing toward the city, as if expecting to spot Celaena’s guards lurking nearby. But they weren’t there, of course. Dorian had sent word ahead, telling them to stay well out of sight until she arrived.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why we’re standing here?” Dorian asked in an irritated tone.
She turned her head to look at him, noting how his gray tunic clung tightly to his chest and arms. “What do you think I’m doing? Waiting for the moon to rise so I can fly away on a broomstick?”
His mouth twitched, and he looked away. “Well, then, what are you waiting for?”
She shrugged. “Waiting for this to end.”
He snorted. “It never ends, does it? Every year is always worse than the one before.”
Her fingers curled against the railing. “Not every year. Not this year. This year hasn’t ended yet.”
He paused, then gave her a sharp nod. “Then let’s wait for it to end. Because if not, it will go on forever.”
They fell silent after that, each lost in their own thoughts.
After several minutes, Dorian cleared his throat. “So … do you want to talk about it?”
Celaena stared at him, wondering if he’d read her mind. If he did, it didn’t show in his expression.
“About what?”
“Whatever happened between us. Whatever made you leave. What makes you hate me so much.”
She studied his face, seeing the same pain that she felt inside herself. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She simply nodded.
Dorian sighed. “If you ever decide to stop hating me, send a message. You know where to find me.”
She watched him walk away, knowing that no matter what she said or did, he probably wouldn’t come back. That he would eventually forget her. Just like everyone else who had cared for her.
Just like Chaol Westfall.
As soon as she spotted the familiar figure approaching, she tensed. The princess, clad in silks and jewels, stopped several yards away, smiling pleasantly at Dorian.
“Good morning,” she greeted. “How lovely it is today!”
Celaena bit back the words she wanted to shout: Don’t smile! Be angry!
Instead, she said, “Hello, Elena.” Then she took a step forward, intending to keep walking.
Elena lifted both hands and spread her fingers wide as if she were holding something delicate. “Please, allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Princess Elena Alexandrovna of Adarlan. And you are …”
“Celaena Sardothien,” she spat out, refusing to give any other answer.
Princess Elena blinked, then bowed her head slightly. “And you are the Champion of Terrasen.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I am.”
Silence followed, and Celaena glanced at Dorian, silently asking if he still planned to pretend nothing had happened. He merely shook his head, his gaze distant.
The princess spoke again, her voice light but somehow brittle. “You’ve already met my husband, Prince Arobynn Hamel, haven’t you?”
Celaena’s blood ran cold. Dorian stiffened beside her.
“We have,” she managed.
The queen smiled—a real smile, not the fake one she’d given Celaena earlier. “My son has informed me that you two are close friends.”
Celaena opened her mouth, but Dorian beat her to it. “That’s right. We’re good friends.”
Elena pressed her lips together as if trying to hold in whatever she might say next. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “Do you remember our wedding day?”
Celaena’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t the question itself that bothered her; it was its timing. Had Elena been planning to ask this all along? Or had she waited until now, when Celaena knew exactly how much she hated her because the queen needed some kind of excuse to get rid of her?
“I remember everything about that day,” Celaena replied carefully.
“You danced with my brother, didn’t you?” Elena continued, ignoring Dorian. “When he first returned from Endovier. Do you remember?”
Celaena kept her eyes on Elena, willing her to understand that she had no interest in talking about this. But the princess only looked more amused by it all.
“Of course, I do,” Celaena lied.
“But you weren’t dancing alone. There was someone standing behind you, watching you dance.”
Celaena felt herself flush, and she wished for the hundredth time that she could just turn around and walk off. Instead, she forced herself to meet Elena’s stare. “Who was he?”
A small smile tugged at Elena’s lips. “Why, that would be me.”
***
Dorian watched Celaena stalk away without looking back. She hadn’t even acknowledged him. In fact, she’d barely spoken to anyone since they arrived at the royal residence. Not that he blamed her.
Elena approached them, and Dorian turned toward her, hoping she would offer some sort of explanation. But instead, she clasped her hands before her chest and said, “It’s such a beautiful day. Isn’t it, Your Highness?”
“Yes, indeed,” Dorian agreed, unable to suppress a grimace.
“Well, then, shall we begin our tour?” Elena asked brightly. She cast another glance at Celaena, who remained focused on the path ahead of her.
They walked through the palace gardens, which were filled with bright flowers and trees. They passed a fountain spewing water into the air, and Dorian saw Celaena pause, staring up at it.
He paused beside her. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and the queen?”
She flicked her wrist, dismissing him.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her brows rose. “You mean besides telling me why you’re here? No. Nothing.”
“I’m sorry, Celaena,” he said quietly. “I should never have brought you along like this.”
She scoffed and started walking again.
Not wanting to make things worse, he fell into step beside her. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
She shot him a glare over her shoulder but said nothing.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Elena, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she snapped. “Just keep your distance, and you’ll be fine.”
Fine. As in, she wouldn’t kill him?
They entered the courtyard, where several maidens stood waiting to greet them. The queen and her guards soon left, heading somewhere else within the castle.
Celaena stopped in front of the nearest girl. “Good morning! Is that a new dress?”
The young woman blushed. “Oh, yes!” Her blue-eyed gaze flickered to Dorian.
“It is lovely, isn’t it?”
Celaena gave a curt nod and moved on.
Dorian followed after her. “Where are we headed today?”
Celaena glared at him, so he added quickly, “After the tour, perhaps we could go to that café you wanted to try out, or maybe see a play.”
“No,” she spat. “And stop following me.”
He frowned, confused by her sudden change in mood. Then he remembered what the queen had told him: You must stay far away from her. And if she doesn’t like it … well, too bad.
Maybe she was going through some sort of withdrawal—like she’d gone through after she killed Rolfe in the Red Desert. Maybe she was angry about being locked in a cell for days on end, and she took it out on everyone around her. He didn’t care. If she wanted to lash out, let her.
If she wants to hurt you, I’ll help her.
His face burned, but he made himself ignore the words. When they reached the other side of the courtyard, Celaena strode past the girls, and he hurried to catch up to her.
“Do you mind telling me what’s wrong?” he demanded as they exited the gates of the royal residence.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, and he braced himself for an explosion.
Instead, she sighed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why won’t you speak to me?”
“Because you deserve better than whatever I might say.”
“That’s not true.”
She rounded on him. “How dare you?”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“You’re right. It’s unfair. Because you haven’t been completely honest with me either.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“So now you think I’ve got ulterior motives?”
“Answer my question first.”
“All right. Yes. I am trying to get close enough to you so that when the king dies, I can take his place.”
A chill ran down Dorian’s spine. “Why?”
“Because I need power,” she said. “But more importantly, because I want to find Cain.”
The End