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nomie-11 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 27 - Starchild Rising

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“Genevieve!” Genevieve’s mother called out, her eyes flickering with joy in the sunlight. “Don’t go too far!”

“I won’t!” Her little voice carried far in the wind. May was Genevieve’s favorite month of the year, despite being born on the spring solstice in April, because the flowers bloomed after it rained all April, and the fields cleared for her to run through. “I promise, mama!”

And the little girl laughed as she ran, her bare feet sinking into the soft earth as the sun bathed the world in golden warmth. Genevieve’s heart soured with the freedom of youth, her long hair flowing like ribbons behind her. The world felt boundless, safe. The meadow stretched endlessly before her, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the hum of bees. In this place, everything was perfect, untouched by darkness.

She darted between the tall grasses, her giggles echoing in the open air. Her small hands reached for the wildflowers, gathering them in bunches of color—violet purples, lily whites, poppy reds.

Her mother’s voice was distant now, but Genevieve paid it no mind. She felt invincible. The sky seemed as endless as her dreams, and the meadow was a world where nothing could go wrong.

But the memory, vivid in her unconscious mind, suddenly darkened. The sunlight dimmed as if clouded by an unseen force. The flowers in her hands faded to black and withered, turning brittle and dry, crumbling to ash. The wind, once warm and inviting, turned cold, biting at her skin.

“Genevieve!” Her mother’s voice, once filled with joy, was sharp now, almost panicked. “Genevieve, come back!”

The little girl turned to run back toward the sound of her mother’s voice, but the meadow had changed. The grass was no longer soft, but sharp and thorny. It cut at her feet, leaving trails of blood behind. She stumbled, fear swelling in her chest as the world around her seemed to close in.

Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

“Mama!” she cried out, but only the cold wing answered her. The vibrant colors of the world faded to gray, the sky turning an oppressive shade of stormy black.

Suddenly, there was a figure in the distance—a shadowy form in dark purple robes with blood red eyes that loomed large, watching her. This was no longer a memory but a nightmare, but Geneiveve, even in this child form, could feel the malice emanating from it. She backed away, her heart pounding, but her feet wouldn’t move fast enough.

A voice, deep and menacing, whispered through the air, “you will never be free.”

Genevieve’s breath came in panicked gasps as the shadow advanced. The ground beneath her feet cracked open, and she fell, tumbling into darkness.

The last thing she heard before the ground closed up around her, and the darkness consumed her, was her mother's voice, faint and filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, my starchild…”

Genevieve’s body twitched in the present, her unconscious form lying broken and battered. The fever dream blurred the lines between past and present, pain and memory. Until she shot up in her bed.

A horrid cough wracks her body for a second, before she immediately pushes the covers off of herself and attempts to stand, startling Xaden out of his wide eyed trance. Clattering to the floor, Genevieve’s shaking hand made contact with the nearest trash bin and pulled it in close, throwing up stomach bile and tears.

Xaden was on her in seconds, his hands steady as they rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles. “Gen, you’re safe,” he whispered, though his voice was thick with worry. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own retching.

Her body convulsed, violently rejecting whatever remnants of the poison still lingered in her system. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision blurred with tears and nausea. The taste of bile stung the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with every gasping breath.

When the heaving finally subsided, Genevieve slumped forward, trembling, her forehead resting against the cool metal of the trash bin. her entire body felt weak, drained, like every ounce of energy has been ripped from her veins.

“Here,” Xaden’s voice was closer now, softer. He crouched beside her, holding out a glass of water that he had clearly been holding onto for hours—no, days, in hopes that she would wake up and take it from him. She flinched at his touch, her mind still reeling from the nightmare, from the searing pain that had held her captive.

“Don’t—” Her voice cracked, rough like sandpaper and barely above a whisper. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, couldn’t even bear to see whatever mix of emotions he might be feeling—anger, guilt, maybe even pity. She wanted none of it.

“Don’t what? What’s wrong?” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more. Desperation? Fear? It was hard to tell.

“Don’t touch me,” She croaked, pulling herself away from him, even though every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her arms shook as she tried to push herself off the floor, but she didn’t make it far before she collapsed once more, tears stinging her eyes. “What even happened?”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering near her back before he withdrew it slowly, respecting her wish for space. His jaw tightened as he looked down at her, the weight of the situation crashing over him like a wave. “You… saved Violet,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You nearly died doing it.”

Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitching as memories of the battle of Liam’s last words, and of Violet’s pale, dying face came flooding back. Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Liam…?” She didn’t dare ask, didn’t want to hear the answer, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Xaden’s expression darkened, the weight of his silence crushing her. “He’s gone, Genevieve,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “He… he made sure you got to Violet. He knew what it would cost.”

The room seemed to close in around her, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. Genevieve shook her head, denying the truth, her heart shattering anew. “No… no, no, no.” Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her forehead, trying to stifle the sobs rising in her throat.

Xaden knelt beside her again, close but not touching, his own grief etched in the hard lines of his face. “I’m sorry, Gen,” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Liam… he knew. He knew what you had to do, and he made the choice.”

Genevieve shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him,” she choked out, her voice thick with guilt and regret. “I promised him. I promised I’d save him and Violet, and I—I couldn’t… I couldn’t save him”

“You did what he asked, Genevieve,” Xaden said, his tone firm, but still gentle enough to not startle her. “He didn’t want you to stay. He wanted you to save her. He wanted you to live.”

Genevieve couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer, her body wracked with the force of her grief. The weight of everything she had lost—Liam, her friends, even pieces of herself—was too much to bear. She had done what Liam asked, but at what cost? She had sacrificed a part of her life force to Violet, and now… now she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel whole again.

“Genevieve—” Xaden moved to catch her before she could fall fully, his grip firm but not overbearing. He didn’t let her fall, but he also didn’t force her to stay. “You need to drink the water.”

She wanted to push him away, to shout at him, to scream that none of this was fair. That the world had twisted her, torn her apart, and left her with nothing but ashes and the guilt of the lives she couldn’t save. But the words wouldn’t come. The fight was gone, replaced by a hollowness so deep it consumed her.

“You should have let me die.” The words slipped out, unbidden, harsh, raw.

Xaden’s expression hardene. “You don’t get to say that.” His voice was sharp now, cutting through the lingering fog in her mind. “Not after what you’ve been through. Not after everything they’ve done to keep you alive.”

She laughed bitterly, hand moving to her head to ease the headache that still persisted, though her laugh was more sounding like a wheeze than anything. “Keep me alive for what, Xaden? To keep fighting? to be fed more lies? To watch more people die? I couldn’t even save—” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow down the tears. Now Xaden knows that she remembers everything. “I couldn’t save him.”

Xaden’s eyes darkened, shadows flickering across his face as her words cut through the room like jagged glass. He sat back slightly, his jaw clenching tight. “Don’t do that, Genevieve. Don’t blame yourself for Liam’s death.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the exhaustion melting away just enough to let the raw anger, the pain, and the guilt rise to the surface. “How can I not? I promised him, Xaden. I promised that I would go back, that I would save him once I saved Violet. I was supposed to get him out alive, and now he’s gone.”

Xaden’s hand hovered just shy of touching her shoulder, like he wanted to comfort her but knew she would recoil. His voice was low and steady, but there was an edge to it—sharp, but forgiving. “Liam made his own choices. We all did. And I won’t let you destroy yourself over something you couldn’t control.”

Her throat tightened, tears threatening to fall, but she swallowed them back. “You weren’t there,” she whispered. “You didn’t see his face, hear his scream, see the way he looked at me. He trusted me, and I failed.”

Xaden fumbles for a moment, shoving his hand into his pocket to retrieve a carving of two dragons. The two dragons were unmistakable, the larger one was Tairn, no doubt, but the smaller one wasn’t Sgaeyl or Astrape. It was Deigh. The two dragons stood side by side, each and every scale intricately arranged.

She turns in his direction, her gaze immediately lockeding on the figurine, and her eyes water. “It’s my fault,” she whispers once more.

“No, it’s mine. If I had just told you everything sooner, you would have been prepared. Hell, you and Violet probably could have figured out how to kill them.” Xaden’s heart breaks all over again as she swipes at the twin tears with the back of her hands. He sets the carving down in the palm of her good hand. “I know I should have, but I couldn’t bear to burn it. We laid him to rest yesterday. Well, the others did. I haven’t left this room since we got here.” Their gazes collide, and it takes all of his strength not to reach out for her, but he knows he’s the last place she’ll seek for comfort now. “I haven’t left you.”

“You shouldn’t have brought me back here,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible. “You shouldn’t have risked everything.”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer. “We didn’t go back to Basgiath, Gen.”

Her eyes snapped open at that. Confusion clouded her expression as she looked around again, realizing for the first time that the room wasn’t familiar. It didn’t have the cold stone walls of Basgiath. There were no healers bustling around or familiar faces from the war college. Everything was quieter, softer, as if the world outside this room was… peaceful.

“Where are we?” She croaked, throat still burning.

Xaden stood, moving toward the window. He didn’t answer immediately, instead drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal the view beyond. Genevieve squinted, her head throbbing, but as her vision cleared, her breath caught in her chest.

The city outside was familiar. It wasn’t crumbled, so no, it couldn't be… this wasn’t the ruined Aretia she remembered from the rebellion’s devastation. It was rebuilt. The stone towers, the arched bridges, the marketplace teeming with life—it was like a memory of a place that should have been long gone. But it was real, standing tall against the horizon, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun.

“We’re home,” Xaden said quietly, his back to her as he looked out over the city. “Aretia.”

Genevieve’s heart stuttered in disbelief. “But… how?”

He turned to face her, his expression serious but soft. “You know how.”

Genevieve’s breath hitched as she processed his words, her gaze flicking between Xaden and the city beyond the window. Aretia, her home, wasn’t lost. It had risen from cinders and fallen pillars of smoke and ash.

“You’ve… rebuilt it,” she whispered, barely believing it herself.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Genevieve didn’t know what to say. The weight of her guilt and her pain still hung heavily on her, but there was something else now, too. A glimmer of hope—fait, but undeniable.

With some miraculous wave of strength, Genevieve pushed herself to a stand. “Give me like ten seconds to get dressed, and then you have a lot to spill.”

“Kicking me out of my own room,” he reaches for that sarcastic, teasing tone he used to use with her before… everything flipped upside down. “That's a new one.”

“Now, Riorson.”

Ouch. Xaden can’t help but wince. Genevieve never uses his last name. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like to remember the world her father isolated her from when mentioning Fen Riorson, but he’s always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, a death blow to every ounce of hope he was clinging to in their relationship. “Bathing chamber is through there. Call if you need anything, ok?” He points to the far wall and strides for the exit, swinging his sword over his back on the way out.

As he leaves, Bodhi is leaned up against the wall, talking to Garick, who’s boasting a new six-inch scar from temple to jaw, but they both fall silent as he shuts the door behind him. They tense and Garrick stands to his full height. “She’s awake.”

“Thank Amari,” Bodhi says, his shoulders sagging. His arm is still in a sling, recovering from the four places a venin fractured it.

“And the poison? Is her hair still all weird?” Garrick asks, concern in his eyes. He’s already told Xaden that he thinks the effects will be temporary, or won’t really affect her on a daily, but the real worry is for Xaden’s mental state if she doesn’t forgive him for not telling her sooner.

“The black is mostly faded from her hair, just a few streaks here or there,” Xaden shrugged, glancing back at the door to his room which held the very girl they were talking about. “Any word from the fliers?”

“Syrena is alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Bodhi answers. “So is her sister. But the rest…” He shakes his head.

At least they made it out, and now that Genevieve is awake, Xaden can finally breathe. “You figure out that that box was that Chradh was drawn to back at Resson?” He asks. Garrick’s dragon is apparently remarkably sensitive to runes, which allowed them to retrieve a small iron box beneath the rubble of the clock tower Violet had blown up.

“No clue. They’re working on it right now. Hopefully we’ll have an answer in the next couple of hours. I’m glad she’s all right, Xaden. I’ll tell Violet and the others.” He nods once and heads down the hall confidently, knowing the castle lay out almost as well as Xaden does, considering he spent every summer in this very building, in this wing, before the apostasy.

Bodhi wrinkles his nose.

“What?”

“No wonder she kicked you out. You smell like dragon ass.”

“Fuck off,” But he catches a whiff, and can’t argue. “I’m using your room.”

“I’ll consider it a personal favor, your majesty.” Bodhi snickers.

Xaden flips him off, and heads to his room.

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An hour later, Xaden is bathed and impatiently waiting outside of his own room in a fresh set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten Xaden’s irrevocably dark mood like he always is, when the door opens and Genevieve is just standing there.

He nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of her unbound, damp hair curling just above her shoulders. She awkwardly glances between Bodhi and Xaden, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her own fresh set of leathers, that was definitely not originally hers.

Bodhi grins, flashing a smile that looks exactly the same way Xaden’s aunts used to. “Good to see you up and about, Hale.” Then he smacks Xaden on the shoulder as he walks off, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll go fetch the backup plan. Good luck.”

She looks back at Xaden, and with her good arm, she struggles to put her hair up into a bun, before just huffing in annoyance. “I would normally just have Violet do it,” she grumbles. “Well, come back in, you’ve got shit to explain.”

“As long as you've invited me.” He walks in, loathing the distrust and discomfort in her eyes.

Genevieve moved toward the small wooden desk by the window—his small wooden desk by the window—her steps slow and deliberate, her body still aching from the aftereffects of the poison and the battle. She sat down with a quiet exhale, her gaze fixed on the city beyond the glass, not looking at Xaden as he approached.

Xaden took a cautious step into his own bedroom, unsure of where to begin. His mind raced with everything he needed to explain—why they had left Basgiath, why they had come here, the rebellion, the secrets he had kept from her. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and for a moment, he wondered if any of it would matter. Would she ever trust him again?

“Is this all original?” She asks, her gaze sweeping over his bedroom.

“The majority of the fortress is stone,” He says as she studies the detailed arches at the ceiling, the natural lighting from the windows that consume the western wall. “Stone doesn’t burn.”

“Right.” She nods. “And my manor…?”

Xaden’s gaze flickered with hesitation before he answered, his voice low and cautious. “It’s in ruin, abandoned, Genevieve. No one has touched a single thing since you were taken.” He watched as her face tightened, but she remained silent, staring out the window as if the city beyond could give her back what she had lost.

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, he thought she might lash out, but instead, she let out a long, shaky breath, as if steeling herself for the inevitable truth. “So, nothing from my old life remains,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“The manor is still standing, but not of use, no.” His throat felt tight, knowing that her entire world had crumbled in ways she hadn’t even been conscious of. “But we salvaged some things. I had them brought here.”

That got her attention. She turned slowly to face him, a flicker of curiosity cutting through her otherwise guarded expression. “What things?”

“Personal items. A few heirlooms. I couldn’t save much, but your father’s journals… they’re intact.”

Genevieve blinked, a brief flicker of emotion crossing her face before it was gone, replaced by the same hollow exhaustion she had carried since waking. She glanced away, the weight of her father’s legacy hanging in the air between them.

“The journals,” she echoed softly, her voice distant. “Of course.”

”I can get them for you if—”

“No.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she shook her head quickly. “Not now. I… I can’t deal with that right now.”

Xaden nodded, not pushing any further. He could see how much it took just to stay upright, to focus on the conversation. “That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.” He swallows. Hard. “I think after all you’ve seen, the question I have to ask before I tell you anything more is pretty simple. Are you in? Are you willing to fight with us?” She could just as easily decide to turn them all in. She didn’t know enough to condemn him before, but she does now.

“I’m in,” She nods, her eyes narrowing at the mere prospect of the question.

Relief surges through him in a rush more powerful than anything he could channel from Sgaeyl, and he reaches for her. “I’m so sorry I had to keep…” His words die on his tongue as she steps back, avoiding him.

“Not happening.” A world of hurt flashes in her light eye, and he withers. “Just because I believe you and am willing to fight with you doesn’t mean I’ll trust you with my heart again. And I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.”

Something in his chest crumples. “I’ve never lied to you, Gen. Not once. And I never will.”

She stands at the window and looks down, then slowly turns back to him, her hand snaking around her ribs as if trying to ease some pain or pressure. “It’s not even that you kept this from me. I get why you did it. It’s the ease with which you did it. You let me love you, you let me trust you with my heart, and promised it in return.” She shakes her head, and he sees it there, the love, but it’s masked behind defenses he had once crumbled but now foolishly rebuilt. “And you didn’t give me it in return.”

But he loves her, of course he loves her, he loved her months ago and he loves her now, but if he tells her now, she’ll think he’s saying it for all the wrong reasons. And honestly, he is. But he will not lose the only woman he’s ever fallen for without a fight. “You’re right. I kept secrets,” he admits, pressing forward again, taking step after step until he’s less than a foot from her. He palms the glass on both sides of her head, loosely caging her in, but they both know she could walk away if she wanted. But she doesn’t move. “It took me a long time to trust you, and an even longer time for me to realize I fell for you.”

Someone knocks, they ignore it.

“Don’t say that.” She lifts her chin, but he doesn’t miss the way she glances at his mouth.

“I fell for you,” he lowers his head and looks straight into her gorgeous eyes. She might be rightfully pissed, but she sure as Malek isn’t fickle. “And you know what? You might not trust me anymore, but you still love me.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t deny it.

“You reminded me why I don’t give out my trust easily, and it will be very hard for me to give it to you again.” She masks the hurt with a quick blink, a perfect porcelain mask slipping right into place.

Never again, Xaden thinks. Those eyes will never reflect the hurt I’ve inflicted ever again.

“I fucked up by not telling you sooner, and I won’t even try to justify my reasons. But now, I’m trusting you with my life—with everyone’s lives.” He risked it all just by bringing her back here instead of taking her body to Basgiath. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know and everything you don’t. I’ll spend every single day for the rest of my life earning back your trust if it means I get to spend it with you.”

Genevieve blinks. She’s forgotten what it felt like to be loved, really truly loved. And he’d forgotten as well. It’s been so many years since his father died. And his mom… not going there. But then Geneiveve gave him those words, gave him her trust, her heart, and he remembered. She remembered, too. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fight to keep it.

“And if it’s not possible?”

“You still love me. It’s possible.” Gods, do I ache to kiss her, to remind her exactly what we are together, but I won’t, not until she asks. “I’m not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are. I would rather lose this entire war than live without you and if that means I have to prove myself over and over, then I’ll do it. You have my heart, and I’m keeping yours.”

Her eyes widen, as if she’s finally seeing the resolve within him.

It’s time she knew everything. Knowing Genevieve, he knew she wouldn’t stay tucked away, safe behind Basgiath’s walls, especially not now that she knows just how corrupt those walls are. And whether or not he likes it, Violet is going to come along as well.

She’ll fight this war at his side.

There’s another insistent knock at the door.

“Fuck is she impatient,” he mutters. “You have about twenty seconds to ask a question, if I know her.”

She blinks. “I’m still hoping that the missive at Athebyne was really about the War Games. Do you think there's any chance we just happened to end up in the middle of a wyvern attack at that outpost?”

“That definitely wasn’t an accident, my girl,” she says from the doorway.

Xaden sighs and moves to the side, watching Genevieve’s eyes widen as she sees her standing in the doorway. “Told you I knew someone better than Nolon,” He says softly.

“Mother?” She stares at the woman in the doorway, her own mouth open in shock.

Aviva Hale just grins and opens her arms.

“Oh, my starchild, what have they done to you?”

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And that's a wrap on the main chapters of Fourth Wing!! We will have one more chapter, a brief epilogue will be posted on Saturday and then my longer final notes will be posted along with that.

What did we think? Good plot twist? I don't think anyone expected her mother to show up (she didn't expect it either-yikes sorry gen). How do we think Genevieve will take her mother's presence? We havent even talked to Violet yet, theres so much to do!

Anyways, thats it for now! I'll see you with the epilogue on saturday and then that will be a wrap on the wounded healer! As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you on Saturday!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #liam mairi #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #liam mairi x reader #the empyrean #the wounded healer

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