Chapter Text
All Feyre could think about was the pain. She had worried for Nyx, of course, and what would happen to him if she and Rhysand both died. But now… the pain was overwhelming. She couldn’t even scream anymore.
Faintly, she thought she heard one member of the Inner Circle—one of the traitors —tell her to hang on, because Nesta was coming. Coming to say goodbye, probably. But Feyre truly could not. Not anymore.
The edges of her vision had gone dark, and she found it harder and harder to breathe. Rhysand was screaming. She was sorry—not for him, but for Nyx, for their baby.
For her sweet, innocent child, who would grow up without both of his parents. If he survived her death.
The entire world was dark now, reduced to darkness and pain.
Distantly, Feyre swore she heard Nesta’s voice, swore she heard something. ‘I love you,’ it sounded like. But she was tired… so tired. And the darkness was warm, inviting. Comforting. So Feyre fell into that darkness, and Feyre let the darkness claim her.
And Feyre Archeron died.
~~~
Feyre woke up with a gasp, a different kind of pain searing through her, and a feeling of disgust, a kind of revulsion seeping through her veins—
Then she heard the crowds of people around her, chanting and crying and she felt her senses become overwhelmed because of all of the sights and sounds and smells around her and she couldn’t breathe—
Where was she?
Then there were strong but gentle hands on her shoulders, and a voice from behind her. “It was the only way we could save you.”
That was— that was—
Feyre clenched her hands into fists, then turned around, being met with Tamlin’s unmasked face. And to the side, she saw Amarantha’s dead body. And the bodies of the two faeries she’d killed. The fae she’d murdered.
This was— it had to be—
She shuddered, falling to all fours, unable to believe what she was seeing. Hearing. Experiencing.
She felt that soft touch on her shoulders again, and gradually Tamlin pulled her to her feet, and guided her away from everyone else. She remembered this, from last time.
Last— last time. So this was real, then. She was in the past. Nesta must have done something, probably with the intention of saving her life, of giving her more time, but instead she’d… she’d sent Feyre back. Back in time.
A second chance, a chance to change things. To change her fate. And by the Cauldron, was Feyre going to take it.