by Meg Anne
“What happens if it breaks completely?” Ronan asked.
“What do you think happens when the Lord of Death walks the realm of the living?”
Effie stirred in his arms. Tightening his hold on her, Lucian tuned out the sound of the others. “Effie?”
“Lucian,” she whispered, her blue eyes with their flecks of sapphire moving over his face. “You’re never going to believe what I just Saw.” Wonder filled her voice, but before she continued, she frowned. “Why are you holding me?”
“Effie? Are you alright?” Helena asked.
“What did you See?” Ronan added.
Lucian inwardly sighed. “This is why. I was trying to spare you.”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, answering their question before demanding, “Set me down.”
He raised a brow. “You sure?”
She dipped her chin. “They’re not going to let up until they hear what I Saw.”
Lucian was tempted to sit with her in his lap, but it would only serve to be a distraction he could ill afford. He gently placed her back in her chair and took his seat beside her.
Effie glanced around the room. “I feel as though I missed something. How long was I out?”
“Not long,” Kael assured her.
“Do you remember speaking?” Lucian asked.
Effie’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“We’re never going to get anywhere if we have to keep stopping to go back and repeat things,” Ronan growled.
Lucian’s temper flared and a soft roll of thunder sounded in the room. Everyone assumed it was the Triumvirates’ displeasure and turned uneasy gazes on the three robed figures.
Effie took his hand beneath the table and gave it a squeeze, a silent reminder to rein it in. Lucian knew it was only concern for Reyna that had Ronan so riled. He was intimately familiar with the coiled impatience that settled deep inside of him as a result of being unable to do anything to help Effie. It’d been living inside him for the better part of two weeks.
“We all want to get to the bottom of this,” he forced himself to say.
Helena shot Ronan a warning look and then nodded her agreement. “Clearly whatever Effie Saw is related to the Night Stalker’s tale. We need to hear one in order to understand and appreciate the warning in the other. It might also help if we understood what triggered the vision in the first place.”
Lucian’s brows furrowed as he thought back to what had happened immediately preceding Effie’s vision. A low snarl escaped as it came back to him. In the resulting chaos, he’d forgotten about Kieran.
Ronan’s thoughts seemed to be traveling in the same direction. “You’d mentioned your guest had left some belongings behind. Could you bring them here?”
Trinity nodded, the composure he’d noted during their prior interactions notably lacking. She was clearly shaken by everything that had happened. “I’ll be right back.” She all but ran from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.
Lucian’s hands flexed, itching for a weapon. Somehow Kieran was connected to all of this. An innocent man wouldn’t be on the run, and Lucian intended to get to the bottom of it.
There was nowhere Kieran could run that would keep him safe. Not from Lucian. Certainly not once he began the hunt.
Effie shot him a curious glance, likely picking up on the simmering anger inside of him.
“Later,” he told her, not wanting to derail the conversation further by giving voice to his realization.
“Alright. While we wait for her to get back, Effie, why don’t you tell us what you Saw.”
Effie pressed her lips together, her eyes shifting to Lucian for a second before she obliged. He’d seen her do something similar before. Whenever she was buying time. She’s not going to tell them, he realized. At least not everything. It looked like Lucian wasn’t the only one keeping things to himself for the moment.
“My grandmother appeared to me,” she began.
Lucian wasn’t sure if he only sensed the lie because he was waiting for it. No one else seemed to have any trouble believing her story.
“She told me that the Chosen had not heeded the warnings. That the Keepers couldn’t fully comprehend the Mother’s voice through the veil of their mortality and that we were running out of time.”
This sounded true. No one could fake that sort of quaver in their voice.
“What warning?” Helena asked.
“The Shadow Years. They are very much real, but they were never about the Mother’s judgment.”
The way she emphasized the word Mother gave Lucian pause. “If it’s not the Mother, then why is it happening? Who’s causing this?”
Effie bit her lip and gave a little shake of her head. “I didn’t get a name exactly, but I think . . . I got the impression that the Mother did not create the Chosen on her own?” She glanced at Helena. “Is that even possible?”
Helena shrugged. “I’ve never heard any Chosen creation story refer to anyone but the Mother. If there is another god out there, it’s news to me.” She looked to the Triumvirate as if waiting for one of them to contradict her.
“The Chosen have the Mother, but the Forsaken . . . they have the Father.” Reyna’s voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “We just know him by another name. Tul Mort Jateh, the Lord of Death. But there was a time when he was known as the Father of Dreams.”
Chapter 25
Effie could tell by the troubled looks on everyone’s faces she was the only one who didn’t fully understand what was going on. Before Reyna could elaborate, the door flew open and Trinity sprinted in, dropping a leather-bound book onto the table.
Lucian reached out, his hand hovering above the cover.
“Is that . . .” Kael started to ask.
Lucian nodded. “From the archives. Yes.”
“How did this Kieran manage to sneak a book out of the archives without the Triumvirate or their Guardians knowing?” Helena asked. There was no censure in the question, but the Guardians visibly tensed.
“It shouldn’t have been possible,” Kael answered as Lucian opened the ancient book.
“May I?” Trinity asked, still hovering by Lucian’s shoulder.
He gave a terse nod, and she reached out, flipping through quickly before stopping on a dog-eared page with notations scrawled in the margins. “Here. This is where it was when we found it.”
Everyone moved around the table to get a closer look. Effie recognized the passage immediately, although she’d never seen this book before. It was the same one Smoke had shared with her when they’d connected the massacre in the jungle to another marker.
“TMJ prophecy? What’s that?” Von asked, looking to the Triumvirate for answers.
Lucian was very still beside her, his jaw clenched. Whatever it meant, he was familiar with the reference.
“The Mother’s Judgment?” Helena offered.
It was a smart guess. Given what they’d been told of the Shadow Years, it certainly fit.
“No,” one of the Triumvirate answered. “It’s a much older prophecy.”
“Obscure and long forgotten.”
“Named, it was believed, for the one who Saw it.”
“Do you think you could manage to recall it?” Von asked. Despite being phrased as a question, it was clearly not a request.
Lucian bristled, but no one save Effie was looking at him. Everyone else was staring hard at the three robed figures. It was hard for her to remember to carry on with the charade when she knew who was actually speaking.
The silence in the room stretched, and Effie was starting to think the Guardians wouldn’t—or possibly couldn’t—respond. But they did, their spectral voices harmonizing as they answered as one.
“The slumbering one comes. The spell that holds him suspended no match for the depth of his wrath. None will be safe when his lies return to the realm of the living. The shackles will break, a sign to mark each passing. When the last is broken, he will walk the world once more.”
Goosebum
ps rose along her skin and Effie’s heart began to race. It was too similar to what the Mother had shared with her to be a coincidence. “These marks refer to the markers we’ve attributed to the Shadow Years,” she said, her voice low but steady.
Lucian looked grim as he nodded his agreement.
“Your prophecy wasn’t named for its bearer,” Reyna said with a harsh laugh. She leaned across the table and slammed her finger down to point at the notation. “TMJ: Tul Mort Jateh. None of your Keepers recognized it because they weren’t familiar with the title. This prophecy is about the Lord of Death. He’s coming for us all.”
“Why are you so sure it’s about him?” Lucian asked.
“Besides the initials? Every element points to him. The sleeping, the shackles, being trapped between worlds . . .” Reyna trailed off. “The Night Stalkers recognize the Mother, but we do not consider ourselves Her children. We are born of night, as are the gifts we are blessed with. Who do you think my people served before he was bound and we were freed? We were his assassins. His spies. His slaves.”
“So why serve him at all?” Helena asked.
Reyna scoffed. “We were not given a choice. He is our creator. The Night Stalkers would not exist if not for the Father of Dreams. But he was not a kind Father. Legend has it that the Night Stalkers were created out of a jealous bid for attention. When the Mother’s focus shifted from him to Her Chosen, he lashed out. Began destroying them just to hurt Her, as She had hurt him. We were the instruments of that destruction. Why else do you think we were banished alongside him? The first of the Forsaken tribes.”
The mingled gasps of their indrawn breath was the only noise in the room. This was not the history the Chosen had been raised with. Not even close. Even the people of the Vale looked shocked by Reyna’s tale.
“If you belong to him, why are you afraid of his return?” Kael asked.
“How do you think he was captured? Bound? It was with our help that he was trapped in the dream world, the place that joins the realm of the living to the land of the dead. If he returns, my people will be punished for that treachery even though any wrongdoing happened many lifetimes ago. The Mother cast Her spell with our help, trapping him in between worlds so he could no longer torture Her favorite children. Not that it stopped the Father of Dreams. In the end, he is the lord of that domain. Even bound he was able to reach out; to find someone who could set the necessary events in motion.”
“Time means nothing to an immortal,” Lucian murmured.
“Exactly so. All beings were immortal before the Lord of Death,” Reyna said with a small shrug. “Once he brought death into the world, mortality was inevitable. He might be trapped, but that is a gift that can never be taken back.”
“As dire as this sounds, it doesn’t really change anything . . .” Effie said slowly.
“How can you say that?” Reyna asked, looking stricken. “If he is freed, death as you know it would be a mercy compared to what he will do to you—to us all.”
“We already knew that the Shadow Years meant the destruction of the Chosen. All that’s different now is that we know it’s not some vague notion, but an actual being. Beings can be fought and defeated. And either way, Shadow Years or your Lord of Death, if we can find a way to stop the final markers from coming to pass, then we’re in the clear, right? He’ll still be trapped, and we get to keep living.”
The room fell silent once more but some of the tension ebbed. It was not much as far as plans go, but it provided something they’d been sorely lacking only seconds prior . . . hope.
Kael scrubbed a hand over his head before leaning forward on the table. “Easier said than done, unfortunately. There’s one, maybe two markers left if we’re lucky, and that’s assuming there aren’t any out there we don’t already know about.”
“I think there has to be at least one more—otherwise my vision would have said he’s here, not he’s coming . . .”
“Fair point,” Lucian murmured.
“Well, there are still any number of events that could be markers, most I should add, that we have no way to predict,” Kael said.
Instinct had Effie turning to Reyna. “Do your legends say anything about what the final marker could be?”
Reyna shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. That is as much of a mystery to us as it is to you.”
“Without knowing what else to watch for, our best and only option is still to go after the Shadows,” Lucian said. “Any remaining marker is likely tied to them.”
“Alright, so that’s our next move,” Helena declared.
“Where do you suggest we start looking?” Effie asked.
Helena looked thoughtful. “I still think we need to go back to the citadel. There may be something there that points us in the right direction.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” the Councilman asked.
Helena turned her aqua eyes on him. “Are there any other spells that you know of that might help us cleanse and repair the land? We’ll likely need to split our resources in the days to come, so anything that gives more of us the ability to counter the effects of the corruption would be welcome.”
“I already provided the Guardians with the main spell, but I will have the Council search through all our records. Perhaps there is something we overlooked.”
“Thank you, Councilman. As always, our best chance of survival lies in working together.”
“Agreed, Kiri. When do you leave?”
“At first light,” Von replied. “We’ll take the night to prepare and travel by Kaelpas stone in the morning.”
Just that easily the plan was set. Suddenly there didn’t seem to be much else to say. The mood shifted from heated debate to quiet contemplation. Depending on what they discovered at the citadel, all of this could be over in a matter of days . . . maybe even hours now that Helena was with them once more.
For the first time in months, Effie felt optimistic about the outcome of this war. Between her newly acquired Guardian abilities, Lucian’s steady presence, and Helena’s return, they were as ready as they could ever be for the battles to come.
There was little doubt in her mind that’s where they were heading—into battle.
After all, this was still a war . . . and the stakes had never been higher.
Kieran’s eyes danced beneath his eyelids as he dreamed. His sleep was restless, the dreams far from peaceful. Even now his fingers twitched as if staving off invisible foes.
After days of digging for fragments of the gate, his search was more trickle than flood, and it was weighing on him. There was no escape from his failure. Not even in sleep.
A man’s voice sounded in his mind. Cruel yet undeniably sensual. No matter where he cast his eyes, Kieran could manage to make out no more than a towering shape concealed by shadows.
The man was speaking, and yet it was not to him. There was another here. A woman. She was kneeling in the center of some sort of cathedral, the light of the moon surrounding her with its milky glow through a massive circular window high in the wall behind what could only be an altar.
She was wearing a hood, her face shrouded, and yet Kieran knew the timbre of her voice. It was melodic, in the way that things born of the wild were melodic. He could easily picture the rustle of leaves, and the dappled play of light filtering down into an ancient forest. She was a child of the woods, a daughter of night, a huntress.
“You should not be here,” she said, steel lacing the words.
Kieran’s heart began to race. Did she speak to him? Could she see him? But no . . . it was the other one she spoke to.
“It is not for you to decide,” the man replied, thunder rolling through his voice.
Kieran felt an answering tremor work its way through him. He may not be able to see the man, but he was not immune to his considerable power.
“This world is not your own. You are an intruder.”
The mysterious man’s voice cracked like a whip. “This and every world is mine for the taking
. I own everything.”
“Claiming ownership does not mean you actually possess anything. Some things can never truly be owned. Have you learned nothing these past years?”
If Kieran had a physical body his knees would have been weak. How was it this woman showed absolutely no fear?
“Perhaps the real issue is that you have forgotten,” he said, the anger in his voice unmistakable.
“My people never forget.”
“Oh? Then how is it we find ourselves here?”
Her answer was immediate. “Wounded pride and an inability to admit defeat.”
“Yes,” the man crooned, and the shadows trembled. “Never has there been anything more delicious than breaking one down to the basest of human instincts. Mortals are so predictable when you know which strings to play.”
The darkness rippled once more, and when the voice next spoke, Kieran knew it was speaking directly to him.
“I have one last job for you. In order for us to complete what we’ve started, you need to return to the place where it all began.”
Fear surged through Kieran, closing his throat and making it impossible to voice the questions racing within his mind.
“Bring me that which I seek, and this will all be nothing more than a dream. Fail, and well . . . trust me when I say, you really don’t want to find out what happens if you fail.”
Finally, the shadows shifted, peeling away to reveal the last face he ever expected to find.
His own.
Chapter 26
Effie closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a low groan.
“You okay?” Lucian asked, looking up from the boots he was in the middle of untying.
She nodded, giving him a tired smile.
“Side effects of your vision?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Effie said slowly, making her way over to their bed. “The vision was only mildly disorienting. For once it didn’t feel like my head was about to explode. I wonder if that has anything to do with being a Guardian now,” she mused, turning back to face him when he didn’t immediately weigh in on the idea.