Chapter Nineteen

I traveled back to London, to the underground headquarters of the Fae Resistance. I winced as Torc barked orders to the púcas gathering sparkling weapons on the platform to hurry it up.

“Almost ready?” I said to Torc’s back.

He startled, whirling around and letting out a snarl. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Like what?” I said raising an eyebrow.

He waved his hand at me. “That Aisling thing. Your mother was the same. Always blipping in and out.”

My mother. Her gentle face flashed in my mind. What would she think of our mission? Was this the world she dreamed for us? She had fought once, too, planned and plotted in this same station amongst the Fae living mortal-side, dreaming of a new world where they could live free amongst humans. When I first came to know these Fae, I had no idea how many of them lived in secret and in hiding, fearful the Fianna would snatch them up, imprison them…torture them. That game of cat and mouse seemed almost quaint, given the obstacles we now faced—the end of all magic, the severing of an entire dimension, a treacherous goddess destroying the world. We needed to work together, or we would all die.

Torc glanced at his watch. “Give us a few more minutes. There are two more crates we need to bring up.”

I nodded, wandering across the platform and into a back room no one had entered for a long time. I brushed away the dust and cobwebs, my fingertips dancing over the mural my mother had once painted so long ago. She knew about time. The entire history of the Fae emerged from those swirling lines. The Fir Bolgs, the Fomorians, the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Celts. The line spun out to her death, the witch who had imprisoned her lurking in the corner, several floating cages floating in a murky blue background. She had seen it all. Another dark figure caught my eye, and I wiped away more dust with my sleeve. The wispy detail of black feathers emerged, wings outstretched. I had mistaken them for more swirling lines, but as the grime fell away, the distinct design of a raven stretching around the circle my mother had created shone through the dust, the awen symbol drawn on her breast in bright red. I rubbed vigorously, trying to uncover more of the mural. How had I missed this before? I stepped back, my breath short.

On the left side of the circle was the Tree of Life symbol. On the right side, a blazing sun. Danu and Bel. The gods separated by the chaos of the Morrígan. Around Danu’s symbol, my mother had painted a luscious garden of flowers, but around Bel’s sun, she had drawn lines, lines I had mistaken for decoration, randomness, but the lines were a series of roads, endless roads leading nowhere, symbolizing exile. The history of the Fae was predicated on this exile, this break. Long before anyone else, they fought this war against the Morrígan alone, and in this chaos, she thrived. I rested my palm on the cool stone, right in the circle of the sun. What if I brought Bel back to Danu? What if I were the person with the only power to do so? Perhaps I could end this war forever.

I closed my eyes and thought again of Danu waiting in her garden for her exiled lover. I’m sure she was beautiful. What goddess wouldn’t be? My mother had asked for her help once, and she had answered. I never went to church growing up and didn’t see myself as particularly religious, but in that moment, I prayed.

Danu, come to my aid. Help me bring Bel back to you.

I repeated these words over and over in my mind, desperate for an answer. Out of the quiet came the faint hum of a song, and it startled me back to the present. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, only the silence of the platform greeted me, the symbols on the wall still flat, dimmed with grime, and two-dimensional.

Bel. I needed to find him. I needed to find him and take him back to the garden, to Mag Mell. United, he and Danu could turn the tide, destroy the device, bring peace. How? I had no idea, but there were larger forces at work, and I refused to give up.

“You in there, Princess?” Torc’s voice echoed across the empty chamber.

“Coming,” I replied, taking one last look at the mural before jogging back to the main platform of headquarters. Torc’s people mingled, talking in nervous tones. As I walked amongst them, a hush passed through the chamber, and I stood in front of Torc, staring into his whiskey-colored eyes. My gaze swept across the púcas.

“Thank you for joining us,” I said.

Torc nodded. “I will hold you to your word.”

I gripped his shoulder and drew him close. “And I will keep it. I see a future now, a future where there is peace on both sides of the Veil.”

Torc smiled. “Your mother had visions, too.”

I lifted my chin and closed my eyes, gathering Torc, his tribe, and all those weapons close to my own energy. Soaring through the astral plane, I set a course for the Seven Woods, to our cave. But instead of returning to our quiet military camp, we touched down into chaos.