Elm
When I finally placed Kol on the exam table with a steady hand, Fern rushed over and elbowed me away. I was stunned by her abrupt action. She’d never been so assertive in my presence before, always bowing humbly before making any decisions.
Still, I took a few steps back and watched as Fern carefully examined Kol, her brow furrowing as she silently studied the creature before her. She moved around him slowly, gently prodding to get an idea of his physical state. With each touch, the sylph let out a whimper of pain as if his very soul was being wrenched from his body.
I’d seen Kol injured before, but never to this degree. Fey could typically resist wounds that would easily be fatal to other creatures because of our natural healing magick, however when there was too much blood loss, it became harder even for us to recover from.
I stood there in horror, unable to look away, as she laid her hands gently on his injured wings. A beautiful, gentle blue light began to emanate from her palms and enveloped the wounded wings in a tranquil aura. I could see where the feathers had been ripped away, yet before my eyes, it repaired itself like a broken vase being glued back together, one piece at a time. The wounds closed, but the regrowth of lost feathers would take time.
“He’s going to be okay,” she said, more to herself than me, but the tremor in her voice did nothing to settle the agony in my heart. Even if she managed to seal every wound, if it didn’t heal properly, he’d likely never fly again.
And Kol, without his wings, would be absolute hell to live with.
Worry kept me from laughing at my internal joke. If he couldn’t fly, Kol would become a shell again. He’d only started opening up after what happened to Jules. His wings were his escape, his sanctuary like the greenhouse was mine. If he needed time to think, he’d take to the skies. I didn’t know what it felt like to feel the wind in my face, but I knew it was his safe place.
“Save him,” I said under my breath. Fern nodded, mindlessly combing the tattered feathers and cleaning the dried blood that spotted the sickly grey feathers.
Knowing I would be nothing short of useless to Kol and a bother to Fern as she worked, I glimmered to the Wilde Hunt’s camp. The moment I stepped out of my web of shadows, Phylix met me with a stern expression.
“What’s happened?” He’d always been able to read me, even before we’d become friends.
“We need backup in Oread. Someone lit it on fire and set hounds loose. Phyre is there now. But Kol—”
Phylix nodded, his curling horns catching the wind. “Go. I’ll send what few I can spare to help. How bad is the damage?”
Catastrophic, I wanted to say. “The entire living quarters are a pile of rubble. The rest remains untouched.”
He inclined his head thoughtfully, and I could see his mind working on a solution. His eyes focused on me with a mixture of sadness and determination. “It’ll take at least a month to rebuild homes.”
I caught his meaning. “Where will they live in the meantime?”
Phylix bowed his head, horns curling gracefully as he contemplated our options. “You could bring them all here, but it’s cramped as is. Perhaps it’s time to send the girl.”
Throwing my hands up in the air, I dissented. She wasn’t ready. She’d only just recently begun to trust the fey herself. Asking her to storm into human lands and try to convince others to put aside years’ worth of hatred for our kind? Impossible.
“No. She’s not ready.”
Phylix’s shoulders sagged, and he let out an audible sigh. He then reached out with his left hand and placed it on my shoulder in a comforting gesture.
“I respected you from day one because of your status as prince. Even allowed the girl to stay with you for training. Now I’m asking, no, telling you it’s time for you to respect me as your leader.”
His words took me by surprise; I stumbled back, instinctively raising my hands in a defensive motion. His arm dropped to his side.
“I do respect you, General.”
“Then I suggest you learn to follow orders. Rhen Hubert was named human advisor. She’s spent a month in your care. Both my sister and Kol have given me updates about her progress, yet you always fail to provide any information. It’s time to stop playing house, and realize we are on the brink of war.”
I couldn’t argue. He was right about most of it, though it boiled my guts to admit it. Rhen wasn’t a child meant to be stored away in my fortress. She was a warrior in training, a woman hand selected by not only my father, but the Seers themselves as the key to ending the war before it began.
“I know that sir.”
He winked. “Good. Now, get back to her, fill her in, and get some rest. I will take care of Oread until you return.”
I nodded once more before slipping into shadows. Phylix was a tough male, tall and bulky. Really rough around the edges, but everything he did and said was for good reason. If he said it was time, it was time.
He’d allowed me so many faults. Allowed me to live outside of the Hunt in Edelweiss simply because I was the prince. It didn’t matter that I’d forsaken the title; he still saw me as royalty. And as such, I had pull with everyone in Dullahan.
But when it came down to it, he was the General. And I knew he had the whole of Etherean’s — humans included — well-being at heart.
When I emerged from the glimmer, the first thing I noticed was Phyre’s arms tightly entwined around Rhen. The next was her screams, piercingly loud and full of distress. My stomach sank as I surveyed the scene in front of me.
“How fucking dare he?”
Phyre reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know,” she said soothingly. “I know.”
“He—he killed—” Rhen’s sobs continued, and I wanted so badly to cradle her in my arms, but something stopped me.
“Shh. It’s okay,” Phyre shushed her, wiping away the tears as they fell. How I ached to be the one to comfort her, but it was obvious that she found solace in Phyre’s embrace.
But it was clear from the tears and snot pouring down her face that it wasn’t okay. Phyre tilted her forehead toward me, silently beckoning me to take over. The sight of Rhen’s distress tore at my heartstrings, pushing a wave of anger and sorrow through me all at once.
“What happened?”
Phy squeezed Rhen’s shoulders, forcing her to look up. When those chocolate irises met mine, my heart shattered. And I knew I’d kill whoever or whatever had made her look at me like that.
“What. Happened?” I asked again, not taking my eyes off of the broken girl with raven hair.
“He did this,” Rhen pouted between sobs. I faced Phyre, hoping for an explanation for the nonsense she was spouting.
“Seems your brother was the one that started the fire. One of the townsfolk saw him just before everything went up in flames. He was with her. She set a half dozen hounds loose on the people, forced them into their homes. And watched while the prince lit a match.”
“He killed him! He fucking killed him, and I—I stepped on him. That poor baby. What have I done?”
Phyre’s face contorted with pain. She’d never shown much emotion around us, but she was an entirely different creature where Rhen was concerned. She looked at her like a younger sibling. Like it was her responsibility to take care of her. And the expression of true anguish on her face sent us both spiraling.
I moved toward Rhen, but she didn’t want me to catch her. Her hands twisted into balls and flung them at my chest, but there was no true desire to hurt me. Only the need to release the pain.
So, I let her.
I let her punch and kick and scream until her arms flung around me, and she sobbed into my half-burnt shirt. I caught her and knew at that moment that I’d do anything for her.
Even if that meant killing my own flesh and blood. After what he’d done, the tears he’d caused her to shed, he wasn’t the same Bastian I’d shared a womb with. For all his other sins, the tattling, the lying, and even kidnapping my friend—that could all be forgiven. But he’d mistakenly aligned himself with the enemy. And beyond that, he’d devastated the person he claimed he loved.
That was a mistake he would never walk away from.
Baz
Black.
That’s all I knew when I regained consciousness. The absence of color, just like my soul I’d sold to her—Xandrea. She’d seen me wandering back from the mountains and appeared to me like a floating angel surrounded by scarlet wings.
Red.
The color of rust, apples, and blood.
Oh, gods. My hands were drenched in wet, sticky blood. My father’s heart thumped in the palm of my hand as she whispered in my ear.
“Crush it. Crush it, and you’ll be free.”
Liar. Every word that came from her mouth had been a lie, and I’d been a fool to trust her. Yet, with all the surrounding darkness, I couldn’t think of a way out.
Light.
I reached out a hand toward the bright speckle of hope in the black hole I’d created, but it was too far. So I ran, pumping my arms at my sides, hoping to touch the light before it fizzled. It grew larger with every step, and when I finally wrapped my fingers around it —
I blinked, unsure where I was before an unbearable pain cracked in my skull. Dropping to my knees, my hands flew to the top of my head, trying to contain the stabbing ache rippling from my skull. And I felt the prick of something sharp on the bend of my index fingers.
I ripped my hands away and realized I was soaked to the bone. Slowly, I brought my fingers back up to the crown of my head, and I couldn’t believe it.
Horns.
I was growing horns.
But I wasn’t a Common Fey. Most of those with animal characteristics were born that way. I’d never heard of it developing so late in life.
Someone clasped my shoulder and squeezed. “Stand up.”
Despite the crippling pain, my body did as she said. I rose to my feet, standing silently beside her in the orange glow. My eyes scanned the area, looking for signs that would tell me where we were, but the only sign seemed to be damp rocks. Then I remembered being drug under water by the kelpie.
She’d brought us to Hell.
I whipped my head toward her, meaning to ask what we were doing there, but she smiled at something in the distance. Following her gaze, I saw the small boat materialize from the orange haze and float through the murky water towards us.
Drea cleared her throat, lowered her voice, and said, “Do not speak a word. The Princes of Hell demand respect. Even a single wrong facial expression might send them into a fit of rage. And that,” Her fingers slid under my chin, and I felt her stiletto nails dig into skin as she brought my face down level to hers. “Is not something either of us wants.”
And just like she’d stuffed a magickal sock in my mouth, I couldn’t speak even as the boat drew nearer and paused at the edge of the water.
I watched as a figure draped in a deep green cloak stepped—no, not stepped, hovered—toward us. Drea elbowed me in the ribs, and bowed her head slightly, so I did the same.
“Keron,” she bellowed beside me. “It’s lovely to see you, old friend.”
My eyes darted between the two of them. Drea wore a disgustingly terrible smile, but the man in the robed garb did not return it. Instead, he held out a hand made of nothing but bone.
Drea clicked her tongue, digging through her pockets until she pulled out a tiny golden coin. “Oh, of course! Could you please take us to see Athan? He’s expecting us.”
The round object floated toward Keron and slipped into his robe, but I found myself more focused on Drea. Her word choice toward the man seemed odd. Never once had she said please to anyone that I knew of, so what made him different? Come to think of it, she seemed nervous —her taut muscles, over the top grin, and flitting eyes confirmed it.
But it didn’t make sense for a goddess to be afraid of daemoni. Even the Princes themselves didn’t have a fraction of the power a god did. So why was she acting so strange?
I didn’t get to dwell on it too long as we were whisked into the boat like a wave. One second, we were on solid rock, the next we were teetering inside the boat. I peered over the edge of the wooden frame, but something hard slapped against my chest.
Keron pressed the ball shaped head of his staff harder, the top of the robe shaking from side to side.
“If you fall into the water, it will claim your soul. Keron has enough mess to deal with on a daily basis to have to worry about retrieving your carcass from the river.”
I met her gaze just before she peered into the eerie, gray pool under our feet. Transparent figures floated through the current, and if you listened close enough, you could hear their cries for help.
But I could do nothing for them now. For whatever reason, their souls were trapped in Hell, and no one could rescue them once their fate was sealed.
It made me curious. If a goddess were to, say, tumble off the side of the boat, would she die, too? Or did you have to have a soul for that to work? What had she said about our magick not working here? It meant she was vulnerable in Hell. Either way, my body wouldn’t move, so I couldn’t test that theory. Besides, if it worked, who’s saying Keron wouldn’t toss me in the eternal soup as a garnish after her?
The river of souls pulled the boat along slowly toward the now apparent fire realm of hell. I listened to Xandrea explain the history of how the four brothers divided Hell into quadrants. I didn’t care to learn about the politics of Hell, yet the way she spoke about it told me I needed to pay attention. Maybe, if I was lucky, she would reveal a detail about how I could escape her.
When the boat drifted to a stop, I noticed the metallic water solidified, creating a clear demarcation where the fire realm began. The boat rocked, then slid to a stop.
Drea’s smile slipped, but only briefly, as he nodded her thanks to Keron, who teleported us to solid ground just on the other side of the magma. She licked her lips, turning back toward the land of fire where a figure perched upon a crystal throne.
“Bow,” she whispered into my shoulder, then tilted her head. My body responded to her command without question, and I did the same.
“Approach,” said a figure dressed in a long coat. I could only assume he was Athan.
As we trekked across the rocky terrain, I realized how tall the man was. Even from a distance, he was gargantuan, probably not under 8 foot tall. Though the closer we came, the more his features changed. By the time we reached the footsteps of the throne, he was not much larger than me, though he appeared to be slightly older.
He clicked his tongue disapprovingly toward the goddess. His playful tone seemed to mock her as she forced me to bow again before the Prince of Hell. “How utterly rude of you, Drea. I did not mean for you to bring the King of Fey here.”
King.
The words clanged through my bones. It was true, even if no one else in my kingdom knew it. But it stood to reason that Daemoni would know the truth.
“Forgive me, Lord Athan.” Drea said, bowing her head low. “This is Bastian Thistlebriar. He plays a vital role in my plan. I brought him with me so you can see how close I am to becoming the new Mother goddess.”
Athan glimmered next to us, cocking his head to the side to study her. The black hooded robe glistened like the night sky as he pinched the goddess’ face between his painted fingers.
“I know exactly why you’ve come, Xandrea. And the answer is no. I will not help you. So, you can take your little dog and get out of my kingdom.”
“Please, Athan.”
He shook his head, jaw pointed up to the sky, and released her cheeks from his grasp. “If you are as powerful as you say, then you do not need my help.”
“I have the Spear. I will have the Cauldron in my possession soon. Once I do, I can raise an army of the dead. I do not need your help, but I am asking for it. Asking for permission to release these trapped spirits for my cause.”
Athan glowered at her, black eyes flicking between us, considering. “How does your cause affect us down here?”
“You will no longer be subjected to these ruins. With me in power, I will allow you to live amongst us on Earth.”
He spat, cruel laughter bubbling from his lips. “Ha! Allow us? My brothers and I would never bow to a cowardly bitch like you.”
My eyes went wide with shock, but somehow Drea kept her cool despite the deepening red beneath her cheeks.
“All I want is to be recognized, my Lord. For far too many years, we have been forgotten, cast aside by Gaia and the other lesser goddesses. Don’t you want recognition, love, for all that you’ve done? I do not ask for you to bend your knees to me. Only that you join me on my mission to break their long reign. You could be worshiped. Praised by fey and human alike.”
The Prince of Darkness considered this, stroking his sharp chin with finger and thumb. “And what do you want in return?”
“I used the Spear to open one entrance to Hell. A few daemons have escaped, but it isn’t enough. I need more of them to cause fear and chaos on Earth. Open all the Gates. Release them all, and I promise you will never have to live in this wasteland again.”
“Interesting.”
I absorbed all the information I could. She’d forced a random nymph to wield the Spear in her stead, and it had killed her. Burned her to a crisp.
What would mean for me and all of Etherean if she were successful in her mission? Daemons running amuck would be disastrous for everyone, but especially for humans. They were mischievous spirits with a deep-rooted desire to feel again. The only way to do that was to possess a mortal body. Even the strongest willed humans couldn’t survive a full day under their control before their skin began to rot.
I thought of Rhen. What would happen if she were possessed. The thought of an undead creature living inside her enraged me to the point of nausea. No way I would let that happen. If I couldn’t have her—
“Do you know the Cauldron’s whereabouts?”
She nodded, and I swear I saw her flinch as he stretched out his hand to her.
“I will confer with my brothers. See if they are willing to open the Gates. For now, you have my permission to use the Cauldron to release the restless spirits. But I remind you, a bargain made in Hell does not so easily fracture.”
As she slipped her hand into his, fire licked up her forearm, binding them together for a moment before receding back down to the Prince’s palm.
“It is done.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
He waved a hand, turning his back on us. “Now, get out of my face.”
I blinked, and the broken soil of Hell was now a fresh, green forest.