"Vane, do you realize that you never told me about Thomas?"

"And you realize you never told me about Azriel?"

The two friends laugh, Selaene speaks first, "You start."

Vanessa becomes more serious before beginning the story, "I miss him so much. We had accepted the bond just a few months ago, and one night we thought we would check to see if we could winnow into animal form, and well, that's how it ended. He was-no, he is the best person I know, Elle. If I ever come back, I won't be upset if he continued to live."

"You mean... You mean when you come back, not if. Right?"

Fae cannot see her friend but imagines the sad smile that would show on her face.

"Sure. Now tell me about Azriel."
Selaene chuckles, though a twinge in her chest makes her sad. Nevertheless, she cannot help but smile.

"He is... perfect. I would have accepted the bond that very night, probably. I would have cooked him his favorite food and then we would have gone to his cabin and started a family. I hope with all my heart that he's moved on, because I know him and I know that when he loves ... he loves with everything he's got, and sometimes he risks destroying himself."

Vanessa does not respond, but the darkness they have learned to live with envelops them like a blanket.

"We used to sing together. He is a Shadowsinger, and I simply like to sing, as you already know. That's how we fell in love; the bond snapped after that."

After a moment's pause, the tiger speaks.

"You know, Elle, I have seen you only a few times and briefly, but for me you're the Moon."

Selaene cannot be seen, but she smiles bitterly, "My mate used to tell me that too."

And that is how they end their talk, silence settles over them, and Selaene's eyes close involuntarily.

She is running across a meadow, the light of a summer day now almost at an end illuminating the field in which she prances, she feels the sun kissing her skin, such inviting warmth. Behind her she hears the laughter of a male, no. Her brother's. Rhysand. It is a memory, she realizes, from when she was a child. She was only a decade old at the time.

"Rhysand!"

"What's the matter? Do I have a bug on me?"

Her brother laughs, but when he sees his little sister's tears, he does not hesitate to run to her and ask her if everything is all right.

"Selae...what's going on? Are you hurt?"
When his sister does not answer him, he becomes seriously worried.

"Rhysand... are you," a sob interrupts her, "really you?"

"Selae, but are you okay? Do you want me to call mom?" Concern is evident in his tone.

The sister watches her hands, as if in disbelief at what she sees. "That's not possible..."

"Wait here, I'll go get her."

"No! Please don't go."

This is her chance, she thinks. If his brother knows she is alive, if he has even the slightest chance, he knows he will look everywhere to find her.

"Rhysand, you need to wake up."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rhysand. Please, you're dreaming."

"Did you hit your head?" Selaene denies with a wave of her head, and then begins to feel her body again. She is running out of time.

"Rhysand, you may not understand now, but when you wake up I want you to remember what I'm about to tell you now. I am not dead. I'm stuck in....."

But the fae cannot finish the sentence: he is already gone and the light is replaced by darkness once again.

Selaene wakes up startled and out of breath. She expects to be on a flowery meadow with the sun warming her muscles and her brother beside her, but she has to come to terms with reality. She had never dreamed before. No, it was not a dream.

It was a memory of an unforgettable day for her, she still remembered that late summer afternoon. Her father had finally given in to the child's pleas and taken her to the Velaris River along with her mother and brother, but he had not stayed with them. He had not allowed Rhys's friends to come, however.

But Selaene had been content and had played among the fields and water as never before. It is one of the best memories she has with her brother.

The dream leaves bitterness on her palate, and she has to swallow a knot in her throat before turning to Vanessa, hoping she is still asleep.

The two of them have this silent agreement: if one is awakened by the other crying, or having a nightmare, they are silent and pretend to be asleep, to leave some private space.

But this time Vanessa is awake, and although she cannot see her, she knows that he is staring at her.

"What is it?" The younger fae asks, her voice stymied."You haven't... you've never had a nightmare the almost five centuries. Do you want to talk about it?"

All Selaene is able to see is darkness, but nevertheless she still rolls her eyes. She doesn't want to talk about it. Neither of them has ever wanted to. Why now?

"I don't want to talk about it."
"It might help you..." Vanessa's tone is sweet, and it turns her stomach. She doesn't want her sympathy.

"I don't need someone to feel sorry for me."

The tiger snorts, a sound more animal than human, "I didn't say that. But when I have my nightmares, I'd like to have someone to talk to about them."

"What?"

The tension in the air between the two gets so thick it could be cut with scissors. Vanessa thinks hard about what to say before she speaks again, but nothing good comes to her mind.

"Vanessa. I thought we had a silent agreement."

"And we do. It's just that I've been here almost six fucking centuries. I just wish someone would tell me we're going to get out of this and it's going to be okay, but instead I'm always the one who has to comfort."

The words entered from Fae's ears and went straight to her heart, breaking it even more than it already was. She wanted to get angry, to scream at them to get over it, to leave her alone. But somehow those words hurt her more than they should have, hit her right in the center.

She had never realized-she had never thought that her sister, while showing herself strong and hopeful, was suffering as much as she was, for even longer than her. She never said anything comforting to her, nothing sweet, never listened to her vent, or never consoled her. At this point she doesn't know if she can call herself her sister, her friend.

"Vane..." A sob comes out of the depths of her throat, sudden and violent, and tears away the one small healthy part of her, the only unbroken part of her.

"You leave me alone now. I don't want you to comfort me just because I told you to. I would have liked you to do it spontaneously. Sister to sister."

Selaene hesitates to respond, the crying still unabated, and the worst thing-the thing that keeps her from stopping-is that Vanessa does not approach her, does not give her warmth with her fur or try to comfort her. She ignores her. And somehow it is even worse

Somehow, these four and a half centuries she has been locked up in the UnderWorld are all being felt now, creating an excruciating pain in her chest, at the level of her heart. Her friend probably feels the same way, but in contrast to her, she has never had anyone to encourage her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Vanessa. I'm so sorry..."

And she would like to say more, she would have liked it so much. She wished she could have told her that if there was anyone in that place who deserved to go back to the top, then it was Vanessa. That she deserved it more than anyone. That if it wasn't for her, she would have gone crazy. That even if Selaene was not, the tiger for her was the best sister she could ever ask for.

That if they had found a passage, Selaene would have sent her first, would have given her that opportunity because it was hers to take.

Instead, tearing those words from her throat, for the first time in nearly five hundred years,is a passerby passing so close to the violet-eyed fae that she loses her balance. And so, just as in only a moment she ended up down here, in only a moment she is also back up.

Without Vanessa.

...

Rhysand wakes suddenly, his eyes wide open and out of breath. He does not want to wake Feyre, who lying beside him seems so peaceful now that she has finally managed to sleep a full night without being woken by Nyx.

He sits on the edge of the bed and sighs exhaustedly. With one hand he strokes his face as if to ascertain that he is real, that he is not dreaming.

He thinks back to the dream. Or what he thinks is a dream.

He never dreamed of his sister. He lets out a snort before getting up and heading to his study. When he gets there, he takes care to lock the room before throwing himself down in his chair with a thud, dead weight.

Why after all these years? Why did his mind have to play such tricks on him?
In the dream she ... was a child, but she spoke as if she were alive, not as in the memory of that beautiful afternoon at the river. As if the memory was just a way of communicating, a conduit.

Rhysand tries to calm his breaths. He has come a long way in accepting the death of his loved ones. In forgiving himself for not being there to protect them. His breaths become labored as he feels that wound in his heart slowly reopen as he replays the dream in his head.

It was so strange, so destabilizing. Selaene begged him to wake up, as if she was alive and knew he was dreaming the same thing.

For a moment, a thought flashed through his mind, but he did not allow it to stay, or to think about it. Too many years have passed. She cannot be alive. Azriel himself has heard her die.

A soft knock distracts him from his thoughts. With a sigh he rises from his chair, and he does not like the heavy feeling invading his body.

He opens the door and finds himself facing his mate.

"Rhys... is everything all right, honey?"
Rhysand does not answer her, but throws himself into her arms, leaving her a little surprised.

"I miss her so much, Feyre." He finds himself saying through tears, his face buried in her hair.

Feyre does not respond, but stands there with him on the doorframe and supports him, holds him up and offers him a shoulder to cry on.