by K T Munson
“Aryan needed power to defend himself because I couldn’t protect him. I had made the ultimate sacrifice for him to be born—I let his mother die so that I could take him away. I bartered and gave away favors until I had nothing left to give,” Arawn explained. “He needed a father.”
“I agree, but you weren’t there.” Elisabeth swept her hands out. “Can’t you just make this place show you the truth? Can’t you make the inner sanctum show you what Aryan would have become if he had lived?”
Arawn shook his head. “It cannot show the future. It can only show how things could have been.” He leaned toward her. “Give me my son back.”
“I can’t,” Elisabeth said. Her heart hurt, but she knew she was right.
Arawn’s massive hand caught her around her throat. Her hands went to his as she gasped for breath. Panic welled up in her, but then a light shown off her and knocked Arawn to the floor. Gasping, she massaged her throat, her gaze fixed on Arawn as he slowly stood. Ethandirill’s decree had kept her safe.
He all but hissed at her when he spoke. “You are weak. I tried to show you and reason with you, but the time for reason has passed. I may not be able to break you with my hands, but I’ll fracture your mind. You must face your darkest fates.”
The world distorted again, but this time when it settled it was covered in blood.
Chapter 9: Hystera
Troy slowly opened his eyes. He had slept in darkness without dreams or thoughts, only an endless blackness. No matter how much he wished to remain there, his body was forcing him awake. It no longer needed sleep. Though his mind didn’t want to leave the confines of the comforting nothingness, his body had other demands. His stomach grumbled.
He tried to get his bearings. The room was dark, the only light coming from a candle that was burning low. It took him a moment to spot the body curled up on a chair beside him. The girl had brown hair, which had become mussed in sleep. He could just make out light dots around her forehead.
She seemed familiar, but his thoughts were sluggish and fragmented. His head hurt from the effort of thinking. When he tried to shift his body, it didn’t respond. Fear gripped him as he struggled to move. Finally, his fingers curled slowly toward him, and he sighed in relief.
When he glanced back over at the girl she was sitting up and staring at him with wide hopeful eyes. She smiled at him softly before coming out from under the blanket she had been burrowed in.
“Troy,” she said, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you?”
“I don’t…” he shook his head. “Who are you?”
“Right,” she said, curling her hair behind her ear. “It’s Kerrigan.”
That triggered a memory. An old man with two souls. All of it flashed before his eyes, ending with the old man’s body crumpling. Jinq. The old man’s name had been Jinq. There was something important about him. Troy’s head hurt again, and it made him grimace.
“How are you here?” Troy asked the girl, his eyelids narrow slits to fight the pain.
“You remember?” Kerrigan asked, sounding hopeful.
“Some of it,” Troy replied, looking away from her and closing his eyes.
“That’s good,” Kerrigan replied, patting his hand.
Her weight shifted the bed as she stood up. He felt panic rise up as she turned toward the door. “Where are you going?” he asked, hearing the desperation in his voice.
“You must be hungry,” she replied, “and now that you remember, there is someone who wants to see you.”
“Now?” He tried to push himself up. “What do you mean now?”
“Even as exhausted as I know you are, you are still brilliant. You’re right. This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up, but it is the first time you were coherent this long.”
“What happened?” Troy asked, trying to swallow. His parched throat wouldn’t allow it.
Kerrigan hesitated. “I shouldn’t tell you. Last time I told you, you started screaming and fell unconscious again.”
The hair on Troy’s arm stood on end. “I understand,” he said around the lump in his throat.
Kerrigan nodded and hurried out the door. Troy lay there, trying to focus on nothing as his head pounded; closing his eyes caused the headache to reduce to a dull throbbing. He tried not to think, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. It sprinted like a galloping quarter horse that wouldn’t be able to run much longer.
The door opened, but he couldn’t bear to open his eyes. “Troy?” said a voice that was deep and familiar.
Squinting, Troy looked up at the face of his fellow Gate Guardian. Malthael hesitated, much like someone would when picking up a broken animal. It was as though his words died before being spoken.
“Malthael,” Troy managed, although it hurt. “How are you here?”
“A.J. let us through,” Malthael told him before lifting a cup to Troy’s lips. “Drink, if you can.”
Troy let the liquid slide past his lips. With some effort he was able to swallow. It tasted like cold green tea. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind that meant something, but Troy couldn’t remember. It brought him comfort.
“What happened?” Troy asked again.
“Don’t think about it,” Malthael told him, which had the opposite effect. Again his mind raced, the quarter horse continuing its doomed run.
The pounding in his head started to dull. His lids grew heavy and closed. Somewhere in his mind he was aware that the drink was laced with something to make him sleep. He would have to lecture Malthael for his deception, but for now he needed sleep, welcomed it.
“Good,” Malthael said but he sounded so far away as something brushed against Troy’s forehead. “When you awake, you will feel better.”
Chapter 10: Hystera
Selene stayed with Kerrigan in her room in the castle as her friend slowly consumed her food. Ever since Nanette had brought Selene back and filled her in on Kerrigan’s heritage, her friend had been despondent. Apparently, Nanette had known all about the mystery around her parentage, but not specifics until Ki had filled in the pieces. Nanette had mothered Kerrigan and kept watch over her, but even she couldn’t fix everything. Eventually, when Nanette had left to get some rest, Selene had taken over.
Selene wasn’t used to dealing with people having such limited contact during her long confinement. Her fingers played with the edge of her hair as she tried not to remember its curse and the misery it had brought her. Selene eyed Kerrigan as she contemplated how to proceed fully aware she didn’t know how best to help her friend. So she’d done the only thing she could remember doing with her mother—she brought her food to eat and kept her company.
“Can you tell me more about Elisabeth?” Selene asked, hoping to distract her.
Kerrigan shrugged, sliding her food around her plate as they sat at a small table in front of a window. “Ki knows more.”
“Ki isn’t here,” she said, pressing for Kerrigan to open up.
“She looks like you,” Kerrigan said. Her eyes had been unfocused as she spoke, but now her eyes snapped over to Selene’s face. “She was kind to me, risked her life for my soul. She supported me when I was lost, sent A.J. to me so I wouldn’t be lonely. Elisabeth isn’t always very good at expressing herself.” Kerrigan chuckled. “But she always tries hard. I don’t know that much about her—she doesn’t like to talk about herself—but I know she is a good person.”
“So she’s half Soul Collector, yet she is a good person?” She didn’t wait for a response. “It doesn’t matter who your parents are. You’re a good person, too.”
“You don’t understand,” Kerrigan replied and went back to stabbing her food. “You couldn’t.”
Selene set the fork on her plate. “You’re right, I can’t understand. I can’t comprehend what it is like to find out your father isn’t who or what you thought he was. I can’t fathom that, but I can understand what it is like to feel trapped. To wonder what you did to deserve the fate you’ve been condemned to. I under
stand suffering.” Selene stood as her voice rose and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “Unlike me, you are not a prisoner. You are free to make your choices and live with the consequences.”
Kerrigan stared at her with a slack jaw and wide eyes. Selene was breathing hard from her sudden outburst, and it took her a moment to swallow most of it down. Her unhealed wounds tore open and bled; she could feel her demons picking at her scabs. Flustered and embarrassed, Selene fled from the table.
She dashed from the room and hurried down the hall. Selene hadn’t meant to say so much. She’d wanted to comfort Kerrigan, but instead she had yelled at her. What it was about Kerrigan that made her lose her temper? Distracted by her thoughts, it wasn’t until she rounded the corner where she thought her room was that she realized she had taken a wrong turn.
Selene sighed. Even as a child she hadn’t been very good at directions. Before she’d been taken by King Tricten, she would always get lost, which was why her mother had kept her so close. As Selene started to backtrack, she saw Malthael come out of a room.
Selene hesitated a moment. “Good morning.”
At her voice, he turned toward her with a raised eyebrow, which he immediately replaced with a warm smile. Being smiled at wasn’t anything she was used to. It made her feel lighter. If Elisabeth was anything like Malthael, she had a feeling her cousin would be just as welcoming.
“Good morning. I have some news for you.”
“What is it?” Selene asked, hoping it was good.
“I think I may have tracked down where you parents went after you were taken,” Malthael said. She stopped in her tracks. Her heart clenched, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. The deep-seated sense of longing to be with her family surfaced. She had so wanted to find her then but hadn’t felt right asking Malthael to help her do so while they were all working so hard to save Elisabeth and stop people from getting killed.
Malthael didn’t seem to notice her shock. “Apparently they relocated to a town closer to the outskirts of the city. I believe Untin is the name of it. Perhaps you are familiar with it?” He didn’t pause for her to answer, but she was still too stunned to respond anyway. “From there, they moved into the city of Vilden, likely hoping to see you, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint their exact whereabouts yet. I’ll find them eventually, but by now they may know you’ve gone missing since the monarch of Vilden sent men to search for you. I do not know what your parents’ reaction to this news will be, but hopefully we can locate them before they decide to move again.”
“Thank you,” Selene choked out, and that drew his attention. To him it had been a simple matter—she could tell from his voice—but to her it meant the world.
The way he awkwardly patted her shoulder caused her to laugh instead of shrink away. Giggling despite the tears threatening, she beamed up at him. Malthael might be terrifying on the outside with his black-golden skin and broken horns, but there was a gentleness to him. He didn’t scare her half as much as King Tricten, and despite her lingering fears she didn’t mind his closeness.
“I have to remember you girls are not like Elisabeth.” Malthael scratched the back of his head.
Swallowing her tears, Selene patted his arm. “From what I’ve heard, you raised an amazing woman.”
Malthael seemed taken aback by her statement. Then, ever so slowly, a smile crept onto his face. He appeared to be pleased with her assessment. “She is really going to like you.”
“I think I’m going to like her, too,” Selene said, and for the first time in a long time she felt like everything was going to work out.
Boldly, she linked her arm with his. “Now I need you to take me back through this labyrinth and back to Kerrigan’s room so I can apologize.”
“What happened?” Malthael asked as they retraced Selene’s path.
Selene sighed. “You aren’t the only one not used to dealing with people.”
Chapter 11: Morhaven
Ethandirill was not happy. There wasn’t much he could do from the confines of The Fates’ cottage. Only the Erinyes’s could move in and out without issue. Meanwhile, he felt like a captive in their little sanctuary. Whenever Erinyes’s returned, he would batter them for answers, but they revealed little—as cryptic as their masters.
“You shouldn’t pace like that,” Destiny said, which made Ethandirill tense up.
Ethandirill shot her an unamused look. “What else am I to do?”
She shrugged. “I only warn you because the house will retaliate. It does not like being trampled on.”
He stopped instantly. He glanced around at the house expecting it to react to Destiny’s words, but it did nothing. Shifting from foot to foot, he wondered if he should take Destiny seriously. She had been his cousin after all—before she’d become a Fate. So little of his charming cousin remained when she’d become Destiny.
“What news is there?” Ethandirill asked, trying to distract himself from his restlessness.
Destiny sat down and gestured for Ethandirill to do the same. Cautiously he took the seat on the couch across from Destiny’s chair. “Elisabeth is in the Inner Sanctum.”
Ethandirill shot back out of the chair. “What!?” he yelled. “He cannot take a mortal there. It will throw off the balance!”
“I know,” Destiny said. “Thankfully, she is only half mortal, so her presence only disturbs the balance half as much. Still, we must act before there is irreversible damage.”
“We have to rescue her!” Ethandirill yelled.
Destiny raised a hand. “Too long you have lived alone in exile. You forget how to temper your passions.”
Ethandirill slumped heavily back onto the couch. Destiny was right. He had lost control of his baser feelings. Within each Det Morian were powerful emotions that had to be tempered. Their powers were too great to be left to folly and irrationality. That is what had happened to their father. He had let himself be consumed by his passions. Worse, Ethandirill had it two-fold, as his mother had been part demon.
He took a deep breath and centered himself. “I am calm.”
“Good.” Destiny tipped her head. “Now we need to figure out how to get you into the Inner Sanctum.”
They plotted and discussed everything for the next hour. Without an actual clock, Ethandirill couldn’t be sure how much time had really passed, but he assumed it was an hour. They were on Netherworld time, which was slower than the planets. As their plan came together, it became clear he was in the best position to save Elisabeth.
Frowning, he brought up an important part of their plan. “We’ll need a distraction. Something to pull Arawn’s attention away.”
“The Soul Collectors are not bound to Arawn.” Destiny crossed her arms. Her eyes beseeched him to understand, but she said no more.
Ethandirill observed The Fate; she could not directly interfere with Elisabeth’s rescue, but she could nudge people in certain directions. He knew she could help if someone asked for it and could give guidance. Already once she had whisked him to safety, but only because he was a Det Morian. Those of the Det Morian bloodline were outside the rules of balance because of something their ancestor had said long ago, spoken words that had become true and given them immunity beyond the rules of the Divine Court. The Fates had been forced to leave Ki and Elisabeth, though, because they were still subject to the rules of balance. Despite their assistance, they could not outright defy the King or Morhaven. Ethandirill suspected once he left the safety of The Fates’ cottage, he would be on his own.
His lips twisted in an ironic smile at his accidental joke. “Can one of the Eryineses bear a message?”
If she had eyes, he imagined she would be giving him a level stare. “They can.”
Nothing further was said, but there was a whooshing noise; it seemed talking about Eryineses summoned one. Almost soundlessly, Megaera stood in the threshold of the little cottage, her wings curled around her body. She wore bright armor that matched her long flowing skirt, both of which shone brillian
tly. She was gorgeous, but Ethandirill knew what she was. Under the right circumstances, her beautiful red hair would turn to serpents and her wings would become bat-like. She would have sulfur on her breath and poison in her blood.
Soul Collectors went to the planets to collect the souls of the recently passed, while the Eryineses policed the Netherworld. They served three purposes: they ferried people who committed truly heinous crimes from the Netherworld and the planets to Morhaven, they gathered wayward souls and delivered them to The Fates for judgment, and they were messengers to The Fates. Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megaera were the only ones who could take souls of the Divine Court. Soul Collectors were the nightmares of children on the planets, while children of the Netherworld dreaded the Eryineses.
They were shadows on the wall and the bumps in the night. They only appeared in a few places, and usually only to those they were going to punish. Ethandirill knew this was a moment he would never have again—to see an Eryines and not fear death.
“What message should I bear?” Megaera asked. Tipping her head caused the light to shine off her fancy silver headdress. It made her dark skin seem all the darker.
Destiny stood and made her way toward the long hallway as she spoke. “Take whatever message Prince Ethandirill of the House of Det Mor wishes, to whomever he dictates.” Without waiting for a confirmation, she left the room.
Ethandirill shifted his attention to Megaera. The Eryines stared without blinking, like a cat. It was unnerving. Ethandirill swallowed heavily. The Fates could do many things, but The Eryineses were their swords.
“Take a message to the forty-one Soul Collectors who bore the Spiritwalkers. Tell them that Ethandirill Det Mor, Prince of Morhaven, requests their assistance in helping Elsariel, the last of the Spiritwalkers, by attacking Morhaven. Tomorrow at the turn of the light,” Ethandirill said carefully, wanting to give them just enough information to gain their consent.
