CHAPTER 189: THE ANSWERS I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

Aelin

We sat across from each other, the mountain breeze curling gently through the open space around us. The forest below whispered, and the sunlight danced through the carved wooden lattice above, scattering golden flecks over the floor like blessings. It was calm here.

Unreal

I pulled my hair back as the wind picked up again, brushing it behind my ear, and as I did—something clicked.

My hand froze midair.

Fingers still grazing my skin, I brought my hand lower, until it hovered under my eye.

I looked at Tala. The thought escaped before I could weigh it:

"My eyes were bright golden when I was born." I remembered what Killain told me and what caused the dispute in my family, "Why?"

Tala looked at me, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement—as if he’d been waiting for this question.

"Oh, that?" he said, leaning back slightly and resting his arms around his knees. "That was simply the power inside of you taking control."

My brows furrowed.

"Power taking control?"

He nodded. "When you were born, your magic had no idea what the world was. It was acting on instinct—trying to protect, trying to breathe. But since there was no danger around, nothing to fight... it calmed down. The power settled. Your eyes turned normal." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The sun symbol on your forehead would’ve faded then too, once the flare passed."

I blinked, feeling something stir within me.

"My eyes don’t turn golden when I use magic though" I said quietly, a little uncertain.

Tala smiled—that maddening, knowing smile.

He leaned forward and gently placed his hand over his heart.

"They will," he said softly. "When you use all of the magic inside of you."

My breath caught.

"All of it?" I echoed.

Tala nodded.

"You’ve been surviving. Fighting. Fainting. But not once... not once have you let it all out." He pulled back, but the heat of it remained. "Your power’s been waiting for the moment you’d believe it belongs to you. That it doesn’t need to be feared." He scanned me from top to bottom, "And maybe you need a little more help too."

I stared at him, stunned. I hadn’t even realized...

All this time, I thought I was wielding everything I had. Every spell. Every shield.

But there had always been a hesitation—a tether, pulling me back from surrendering fully to it. Fear? Caution?

Tala’s voice softened again. "You are not just a bearer of Solwyn’s gift. You are its vessel. You were born to carry it all."

I swallowed.

The idea was... terrifying. But also...

Freeing.

"..."

The wind had stilled.

The silence between us had turned heavier, as though the forest around us paused to listen.

I turned toward him slowly, words catching in my throat. But they came out anyway.

"Where did the Solwyn people go?" I asked. "Why did they vanish so completely? There are no records, no songs, no mentions anywhere. It’s like the world forgot they ever existed."

For the first time, Tala didn’t smile. In fact, the smile he had on faltered.

His features tightened as he looked out over the mountain, his gaze dropping to the fields far below, where the shadows moved like ghosts. When he looked back at me, the warmth in his eyes was still there, but it had dimmed—like a candle flickering in a jar about to close.

"They didn’t vanish," he said. "They died."

My breath caught.

!!!

"Died?" The word felt like a slap. "All of them?"

Tala gave a small, grave nod. "We were hunted. Killed. There were... almost no survivors."

I couldn’t speak.

The Solwyn people had been wiped out?

"Then how do I have this power?" I whispered. The wind had returned, a slow gust curling around my shoulders like a hand trying to comfort me.

Tala’s voice was low now, gentle like a parent explaining the world to a frightened child, "I said, there were ’almost’ no survivors." The look on his face was soft, "One survived."

I turned to him sharply.

"One?"

He nodded. "A single infant. A baby boy. We sealed the Solwyn power into him and sent him away during the slaughter, hoping he would live and carry the legacy. The power then passed down... quietly, one by one. All the way to you."

I sat back, stunned.

"What?" It was hard to believe, "So... all this time..."

Tala looked at me with a sorrowful softness. "You are the end of a line that has lived in shadows."

My hands were cold.

"But none of my ancestors had this power." My voice trembled now. "They never showed it. They were never known as mages or warriors."

He nodded. "Because none of them could wield it. The power was dormant, transferred from one host to the next—without awakening. It slept inside them... waiting."

I swallowed hard. "So... it was just... quietly transferred..."

The words tasted like ash.

And then came the sickness. The dread.

I thought of my father.

His scorn.

His distance.

The years I spent under his sharp silence. The look in his eyes that never softened when he saw me—because he believed I was not his. That my mother had betrayed him. That I was some stranger’s daughter.

And now—

Now I knew he had been wrong.

Was he wrong? I had to confirm it.

I could barely breathe.

"Why?" I asked hoarsely. "Why was it transferred so quietly?"

Tala exhaled, voice thick with old grief. "Because we were desperate. There was no time to ensure safety. We sealed the power into the child and prayed he’d be far enough to escape."

My chest ached. My throat burned.

"So... my ancestors carried it... but they didn’t even know?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Yes. The gift lay hidden inside their blood for generations."

I looked down at my shaking hands.

"Then from which side..." I asked, breath shallow. "From which side of my family is the power from?"

Tala’s gaze deepened, and his voice gentled. "May I look?"

"What?"

"You want to know which side you inherited it from, right?" He presented his palms to me, "I look inside and tell you."

"Oh..."

I hesitated.

Something about the idea made me feel vulnerable in a new way. Like he would be looking past skin and bone and into the memory of who I really was.

But I nodded, slow and unsure as I held out my hands to him.

He reached out, his fingers warm as they closed around my hands.

His eyes fluttered shut.

A hum filled the air—like the world held its breath. The wind grew still again. My pulse pounded in my ears as he stood still, motionless, save for the faint glow that pulsed faintly around his brow.

Then he opened his eyes.

"Your father," Tala said softly. "He was the carrier."

And my world shattered.

The breath left my lungs in a single, broken exhale.

My blood was his.

The one who had rejected me. Ignored me.

The man who had let me grow up in silence, without love, because he believed I wasn’t his.

He had always been wrong.

My heart cracked open.

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I clenched my fists instead, forcing the grief down into the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want Tala to see me cry for him. Not the man who had doubted me every day of my life.

The wound was deep, yes.

But it was also in that moment that I realized that I didn’t crave my father’s love anymore. I got my answer, but I had no urge to go to him and tell him the truth about it all.

Because I was over it.