Chapter Text
Nesta had known freezing winters that pierced through layers of clothing, her and her sisters bundled together to try to beat out the chill, but all of that seemed to pale in comparison to the black water nipping at her thrashing heels.
It was a cold so deep that it predated everything known. A void that existed before the stars exploded with life, one that would swallow her whole if she let it.
A human did not have the strength to overpower the monsters trying to shove her into the Cauldron, but still, Nesta bucked and kicked with the ferocity of a hellcat.
Her baby sister was lying on the stone floor, utterly drenched and shaking, even with the red-haired, one-eye Fae male’s coat over her. Devastation wrecked his lovely features, and Nesta could emphasize with that. Especially at the sight of pointed ears through Elain’s sodden hair and the immortal, ethereal glow of her fair skin.
Put her under, the hard-faced Fae king ordered.
His words injected into her veins, a permanent imprint on her very soul. The male who had stolen Elain’s life and was about to steal hers.
She would not relent in her fight, but at that voice, Nesta knew, in her heart of hearts, that she would lose it.
There was no hero coming to take her from this fate: not Feyre, not the beast still in love with Feyre, and not the handsome prince of darkness that claimed to be Feyre’s mate.
Not the Illyrian warrior who had vowed to protect her, his body broken and bleeding out on the floor. His muscles quivered as he tried to rise; tried to be the hero that Nesta needed.
The King of Hybern–he was the source of this. He was the fucking catalyst for Feyre’s fate. Elain’s. Cassian’s.
Hers.
The icy water pierced the soles of her feet.
It was a kiss of venom, a death so permanent that every inch of her roared in defiance. She’d be damned if she let them do this easily.
If she let them steal her humanity and everything she was.
The water hungered for her, wishing for her to submit to its sharp pull, the siren song of the void raising in volume.
Nesta would not go easily.
Ripping her arm free of one of the guards, she pointed a single manicured nail in the direction of the wicked King.
A promise of death.
She relished in the look of his arrogance. Then at his fearful doubt because she would be the last godsdamn thing the bastard ever saw.
The icy water consumed her like it had been waiting for her presence.
In the beginning
And in the end
There was Darkness
And nothing more
Cold was nothing but fangs, an initial bite that contrasted against the true nature of the waters. A bottomless, endless sea of dark, consuming fire.
Her blood boiled to steam as it was replaced with molten silver. Bones were broken and made new like newly forged steel. Pain ripped her in half, but the void filled her, choked her screams.
This was a place no human should ever go, darkness and agony and power from the very depths of the universe. Peace was a lie, but any hope of it was ripped from her in this place.
She was vengeance incarnate, as she reached out and tore through the darkness with sharpened claws and teeth, turning it into ribbons and fragments.
This place shuddered and bucked and thrashed as she had done moments prior; the dark eternity that was her killer had become her victim.
She laughed at the terror that shook the void. Laughed as she took mouthfuls and fistfuls of raw power, determined to steal what made this place special. She laughed at the way the eternity became part of her with ancient whispers and stories.
The Cauldron was a broken bird in the clutches of a fiery hellcat who would not bow.
Who would not yield.
Nesta would steal its very soul to make up for what had been taken from her. From Elain.
Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.
✵
The world was slower and faster all at once as Nesta caught her breath, sprawled across those rough stones. Every sense was heightened, utterly consuming in a way that had Nesta craving the burn of a strong drink. Her stolen power echoed inside her, violently thrumming to be used.
All she could think about was Elain as she stumbled to her feet, ripping off the gag and charging for her baby sister. She shoved the red-haired Fae male aside, briefly startled by her own strength as she barked, “Get off her!”
Elain slipped as she tried to stand, but Nesta’s grip remained resilient, steadying. Her younger sister’s name fell from her lips over and over again in broken sobs as Nesta checked over her changed sister.
Her face, her shoulders, her hair, her eyes–
Fuck, that look in Elain’s eyes would haunt her. Heartbroken and dazed, but also as though there was nothing inside her anymore.
Those dark fucking waters had killed them both. They were dead. Their life was gone, thrust into a world they had never wanted to know.