Wicked Winter

Akan had been waiting for hours, and finally the news he had been so anxiously waiting for came through. “They’ve got her. They’re bringing her over the border now,” said the speaker on his desk.

Relief.

It had been months since Eve Scotts had disappeared from the Academy, and now, finally, she was in his grasps again.

Akan rubbed his hands over his face, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The raid was a success. It looks like that elf - Foster Quinn, was it? - actually came through. He was skeptical, at first, when the elf had sent a white owl with a piece of parchment that explained where Eve was, how she’d gotten there, and why.

Surprisingly, though, him and the elf worked together to pull it off, and the raid was a success. He was bringing Eve home.

He couldn’t explain to anyone the absolute panic he felt when the Count of Night, Sebastian O’Neill, came rushing into his sleeping quarters, screaming about faeries and white owls and Eve. He couldn’t explain why he sent out a code red for a single girl, though he was almost positive the other Sages were starting to draw connections. Their pointed glares and suspicious murmurs were nothing compared to his growing panic though.

The same hair. How well she managed the element of water without a single lesson on the subject. Her age, in particular.

He’d tried to keep her out of harm’s way for years - seventeen years, to be exact. Once he found out about the prophecy, he knew there was no way he could allow Eve to grow up like a pig for slaughter. He even put her in an orphanage, for Christ’s sake! He had people check on her, to make sure she was surviving, and he was always impressed with what he got back. She was a fighter, just like her mother.

He might’ve loved the Queen of the Winter Court, but even a love like that is nothing compared to the overwhelming devotion and all consuming love he felt towards his... daughter.

So, like any relieved father, Akan sat at his desk, his head in his hands, and wept tears of joy.