Throne of the Fallen

What they knew of the Twin Pillars was that they were an access point, like a mortal train station of sorts, where both the light and dark Fae could travel to different realms.

When the portal was open, they could go to the mortal world whenever they pleased, bypassing the Gates of Hell and any royal request they’d need to make.

That had been their ultimate downfall.

The Unseelie liked playing with mortals. Liked taking human pets. Changelings were also amusements. They left Fae children in human homes, watching them wreak havoc on the unsuspecting parents.

Both courts had been warned that such games were not to be played in the mortal world. The Seelie took their pleasures elsewhere, never as intrigued by humans as the Unseelie were.

Lennox and Prim Róis weren’t as easily tamed. Since they were embodiments of Chaos and Discord, it wasn’t unexpected. Until the portal was sealed, they continued to freely send their court to meddle. Wrath had issued two warnings. The first a courtesy, the second a royal decree.

Lennox had sent even more of his court to spite the king of the Underworld.

The Pillars were buried below the earth and bound shortly after.

Now, as they stood in the ancient place, once teeming with magic, an odd sense of muted power thrummed from the inert columns.

Envy had never felt that before, wondered if the game was responsible. He made his way to them, the ache in his body dulling considerably.

Camilla walked to them like a person possessed, touching and marveling at each carving.

“The reproductions at House Sloth… they pale in comparison. The carvings are different, too. At least on this one.”

Envy snorted. “Please tell my brother that. He’ll be furious.”

She traced the art, slowly circling the columns. He wished they could remain there for as long as she liked, coming up with their own theories. But that wasn’t meant to be. She’d said Abyssus had mentioned sunset; he’d wager that was less than a quarter of an hour away.

He left the artist to her quiet contemplation and strode around the perimeter, looking for any clue or hint of what they were meant to do next.

The cavern had no other unique attributes aside from the Fae relics. He studied the shadows cast on the ground, wondering if they were meant to spark an idea.

Camilla expelled a breath, the sound breaking the stillness of the chamber. He turned to face her; she’d been watching him. As closely as she’d been just examining the pillars.

“What’s wrong with your court?” she asked. “Before we go any further, I need to know. I know that’s what’s driving you. I want to know what happened.”

His brows rose. That was the last question he’d expected her to ask him.

“The butler, your guards, the blood…” She narrowed her eyes, as if she could see through the wall he’d erected. “I’ve been going over my interactions at House Envy, and I can’t make sense of them.”

“What interactions?”

“Your butler didn’t remember where he was or who you were. Your guards could only repeat the same phrase continually. It’s like…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s like they’re all losing their memories. And the blood…”

She glanced back at the pillars, brow crinkled.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Your court is losing their memories. And in the wreckage, somehow tearing each other apart.”

She wasn’t looking at him. Like she knew if she did it would be too hard for him to respond.

He remained still, silent. Waiting for her to piece more together. After a moment, she continued.

“The artifact you’re after, somehow that will stop the memory loss and whatever is making them attack one another. That’s why you need to win the game. Your court is falling apart, literally ripping itself apart in the process.”

Envy ran a hand through his hair, pacing away.

“I wouldn’t say falling apart. Fuck.”

That was exactly what was happening.

He walked away, shaking his head. Camilla watched him silently, allowing him time to speak without prompting.

Envy had been holding on to this secret for so long, he didn’t know how to let it go.

He stopped pacing.

“Like all demons in each House of Sin, my court isn’t immortal like me and my brothers, but even being long-lived is not without its complications.”

Camilla gave him a wry smile. “Mm.”

“To sum it up succinctly. Yes. My court is failing. Every few hundred years or so they need to purge memories in order to make new ones. A problem mortals wouldn’t understand. There are… complications when they aren’t able to purge. Namely, they begin forgetting. Overloaded, they confuse delusion with reality. Friend becomes foe. Everyone poses a danger.”

Understanding flickered in her gaze.

“If they can’t remember or make new memories, they cannot fuel their sin of choice, either.”

He gave her a bittersweet smile. She was much too clever indeed.

“Which in turn cannot fuel my power,” he added softly, for the first time confessing the full scope of what he’d been facing.