"No no no no no no," Aidan cried, cradling Azriel's head in her arms. "Wake up! You have to wake up!" 

The chaos of the battle subsided around her, Maeve's bloodsworn soldiers no longer trapped under orders they did not want to complete. Subconsciously, she processed the many people standing around them. A hand was warm against her shoulder as tears dripped down her face and onto Azriel's. 

"Please," Aidan whispered. "Please don't leave me." 

She shook him and held him for what seemed like hours, and the others walked off to help heal the wounded from both sides. The sun was finally setting in the distance, and the moon was rising in the east, alongside a familiar star. 

As she stared at it, it got larger and larger in the sky and closer to wear she was hunched on the ground, and Aidan felt the need to reach out and touch it. She placed a single finger on the the little orb, and it exploded into light all around her, momentarily blinding her. 

The orb grew bigger, remolding itself into the shape of person and then a woman. Aidan's eyes widened as the woman took a step toward her, she recognized her immediately. With silver hair that sparkled in the waning light, Aidan knew she was the same being that had given her the twin mirror. 

"Hello, child," she murmured and then looked down at Azriel. "Fate is a cruel and fickle Being."

A tear dropped out of Aidan's eye. 

"Do not cry child," she said. "You can bring him back." 

Aidan looked up at her sharply, "What do you mean?" 

"All you have to do is give him the light," she said as she began to dissipate. 

A smile played on her lips as she returned again to the small orb and floated off into the dusky sky. Aidan chewed on her lip as she contemplated the mysterious woman's cryptic meaning. She looked around, trying to find the light that she was talking about. Many of the wounded had left the field and the meadow was becoming abandoned. A set of Fae were putting out small fires with buckets of water, and a thought dawned her. 

Placing both of her hands on his chest, Aidan imagined herself pouring all of the light and fire she had in herself into his heart. She imagined his body filling with the warmth of it, expelling the darkness of death as it went. She imagined herself giving him every single drop of it, leaving none for herself. As the flame trickled away from her and into him, she finally felt the chill of the growing night. 

When the last drop of flame flowed from her hands into his heart, she removed them. Waiting. One minute. Two. The shadows that usually surrounded him had fled and color returned to his cheeks. She held his hand tightly. Three. She bit her lip, hoping she had done the right thing. Four. A searing pain shot through her hand, and she looked down at them, already blistering from a burn. Five. 

Azriel shot straight up, looking around in a daze, and then down at his own hands, which were consumed in flames. He looked up at her, eyes wide.

"What's going on?" he breathed. 

"I gave you the light," she said quietly, throwing her arms around him. 

"Stop! I don't want to burn you!" he exclaimed. 

"Focus on the flame. Imagine it going down," she said simply, and he did as she instructed. 

"How? Illyrians don't have traditional magic," he asked. 

"Illyrians don't, but I do. You are a part of me, and the flame is a part of me. Why shouldn't it all be together?" she shrugged. 

He grunted and got to his feet. 

"Where is everyone?" he asked, and Aidan looked around the field. Everyone had gone except a lone figure in the distance. 

"Come on," she said, nodding her head towards the figure. 

As they came closer, she realized it was Amren, building a pyre out of the wood in the adjacent forest. At her feet, laid a black-haired Fae that Aidan immediately recognized. Even with her eyes closed, Maeve's body was menacing. 

"What are you doing?" Aidan asked.

"Building a funeral pyre," Amren responded shortly. 

"I know that. But why?" Aidan asked. 

When Amren didn't answer, she said, "On the battlefield, you recognized her. You knew her, didn't you?"

Amren laughed darkly, "Do you remember that scroll you stole from the library?" 

Aidan's face heated up, and she opened her mouth to deny it, but Amren held up a hand. 

"Don't try to deny it. I know you took it. And returned it," Amren said. 

"What about it?" Aidan asked, trying to recall all of the details of the scroll. 

"It wasn't a story. I was King Rheol's most cherished daughter," she laughed. "So cherished that he gave me to the cruelest being that walked the realms." 

"Does that mean...?" Aidan stopped, looking down at Maeve. 

She nodded and said, "Maevedelina was my first-born child, a child of the monster my father sold me off to. When I held her in my arms for the first time, I sensed the evil in her. People say you can't be born evil, but Maeve was."

"As she grew older, I saw that she had inherited her father's cruelty, and it scared me. He doted on her, maybe even loved her if he was capable. After I gave birth to her, he found me repulsive, and I liked it that way. He found lovers, and I found mine. I had two more daughters, Moraline and Adelinmab. They were so inherently different from Maevedelina, so good and pure. Maeve hated them for it."

"Maeve's father was furious, hurting me in every way he could, threatening to take away my children, so I went to my father for help, and he refused. Or so I thought. Later that day, a rift in the world opened up, and I took my children and jumped through, but in the portal, Maeve ripped away from me, pulling Moraline and Adelinmab with her."

"I landed in Prythian in such a rage that they captured me and threw me in the Prison for a millenniums, but I kept my ears peeled for any news of them. It had been so long since I had heard of or seen her that I couldn't believe that they were the same person, and I'm sorry for not realizing sooner. This is the first one of my daughters that I've seen. I don't even know where Moraline and Adelinman are." 

At the end, Amren's voice cracked, and she fell to her knees, looking down at her first-born. 

"They're dead," Aidan whispered. "When they went through the rift, they landed in my realm. Both of them gave up their immortality to live out their lives with their human mates. Many people revere them as goddesses and if not, respect them as the Great Fae Queens." 

Amren nodded but didn't speak. 

Aidan continued, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Maeve was never destined to save people and cities. Fate is cruel like that. I hope she finds peace wherever she is," Amren said, getting to her feet. 

She started to collect wood for the pyre again, and Azriel and Aidan helped her build it. Azriel laid Maeve's body on it, and with Aidan's instructions, used his newfound ability to light it.

"Amren, do you want to say something?" Aidan murmured. 

"No. She can't hear me now," Amren replied, turning away from the giant flame and walking towards the camps that had been made. 

Days later, Aidan sat by herself in the House of Wind, tracing the broken shards of glass in the mirror. 

A voice spoke from behind her, "Are you ready to go home?"

She sighed and said, "Can we go get something to eat first?"

"Aidan, I mean home home," Azriel said, kissing the side of her head. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Adarlan home," he answered, and she turned to him sharply.

"But you live here. Your family is here," she said, hesitantly. 

"Maeve is dead, and they need you more in Adarlan than they need me here."

She put her forehead to his and whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." 

She held her hand out for one of his  Siphons and placed it on the mirror. 

"Give me your hand and focus all your energy into opening the door," she commanded. 

The two of them delved into their power stores, focusing on their energy into the mirror.

Nothing happened. 

"Focus more," she breathed. 

Aidan frowned in concentration. The mirror started to glow, and white light streamed out of it. Aidan's breath caught as she thought about Adarlan. 

"Gwaredor," she whispered. 

The world exploded with white light as she was slammed against the far wall, her hand still in Azriel's. 

"What happened?" he groaned, massaging a wing. 

Aidan frowned and walked over to study the mirror, her fingers playing along the broken edges. 

They stopped, and she whispered, "The mirror is broken. It's like the door is in pieces. How am I going to get home?"

Azriel hugged her from behind, "We'll figure out another way." 

The seven of them sat around a table in Sevenda's restaurant. Aidan couldn't bring herself to eat, peering at the mirror in front of her. 

"Staring at it won't help," Feyre said from across the table. 

"I know," Aidan sighed, putting it back into the leather bag that she continued to carry. 

Her finger rubbed against a silky surface, and she frowned at the unfamiliar texture in the leather bag. 

"Do you think it work if we glued the pieces back together?" Cassian asked, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth. 

Mor hissed at him, "Shut up!"

Aidan interrupted, "No. He's right. What if we could glue them back together?" 

"Even if you glued the physical pieces back together, would it be enough to make the portal work?" Rhys questioned. 

"If we use the right kind of glue," Aidan breathed, pulling the silky material from her bag. 

She removed the cotton fabric that surrounded it and offered it up to the group. 

"What is it?" Mor asked. 

"Spidersilk." 

The same Spidersilk that Aelin had traded a favor for so many months ago. 

"How does that help you though?" she asked again. "It's just a piece of silk."

"It can be molded into almost anything. Even glue, if the right person could melt it," she whispered, looking up at Azriel. 

"So, you get gooey burnt fabric?" Cassian asked around his chicken. 

"No," Aidan whispered. "I get to go home."