by Jaci Miller
“What’s Fa’delhan?” Stevie asked breaking the tension as she wiped the blood from her dirt-stained face.
“It’s the language of the Keltie. An olden language, spoken long before the elven/fae war. A dead language. Fa’delhan had not been spoken for centuries even before our time. I know of its existence because my brother had an interest in the history of our realms.”
Rafe looked at Killenn who nodded in agreement.
“One thing seems certain, Marlee’s birthright did not come from the Athir tribe but from one much more primordial.”
Kai sensed there was something more ominous. “These Kelties, what do you know of them?”
“Killenn can speak to their race better than I,” Rafe said. “Dragon Gypsies are much more familiar with the primordial races of Thanissia.”
When Killenn spoke the tone of his voice turned somber, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. “The Keltie was the first of their kind. The birth of their race. Pureborns. They existed on the plane between the ether and Thanissia for centuries before many of our races even existed. Unique from the fae that in time would evolve on Athir, the Kelties were bloodthirsty, vindictive, and evil. They wanted for nothing and cared for no one. In the Keltie culture weakness was a trait relevant to other species and punishment for it in theirs was severe. They would clip the wings of the feeble, grounding them.”
“I was unaware the fae ever had wings,” Brannon said.
Killenn shrugged. “It has been a very long time since any did. By the time the war broke out the pureborns had died off leaving a new generation of wingless fae. The race had adapted to their new conditions and over time, thrived. Although they lost their ability to fly and the power to glamour they still morphed into a formidable race. They found other ways to gain respect without drawing blood.”
“Glamour?!” Kai said. “There was nothing glamorous about those creatures.”
“It is not a physical trait but a mental one. To glamour, is to manipulate the mind of another.” Rafe said. “To make one see what is not there. To bend one’s will to your own desires. It was this power that made the Keltie so malicious.”
Killenn agreed. “Yes, the Keltie did not fight in the war. They had all but disappeared by that time. Unlike the familial line, the Athir fae did not prescribe to violence, nor were they skilled in warfare like their ancestors. Although quick with a knife and bow, they did not spend much time perfecting fighting tactics. They evolved into tricksters; cunning in their deceptive techniques and masters of illusion, which is why the vicious bloodshed during the war nearly wiped them out. If the Keltie still existed, the elvish kind would never have started a war, of that I am sure.”
“I think Tauria is correct,” Rafe said. “The sun will be up soon. We must go to the gateway and see what we are up against. If the Keltie fae is still in existence, we can be sure they will not care about the ancient darks return nor what it could mean for your world or ours. They will only care about what they desire. Make no mistake, they will not be allies in this battle.”
As the others followed Tauria and Killenn toward the vineyards Brannon pulled Rafe aside. “If the Keltie have come back to this plane, the prophecy could be in jeopardy.”
Rafe clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Then we must hope Gabriella can find Dane without issue. The powers of all six races are more vital to our success now than ever before.”
“And Marlee.”
“We must find a way to reason with her. To make her understand what is at stake. She needs to return to the mortal world with us. It is the only way to stop the ancient dark’s rise.”
“And if we can’t make her see reason. If she refuses to come willingly?”
“Then we take her by force.”
Chapter 11
The sky shimmered a perfect shade of lilac as Gabriella walked toward the Hall of Elders. Etheriem pulsed with energy, the Druidstone once again providing her homeland with its unique magic, an essence long absent from these lands.
Her boot heels echoed down the hallowed halls as she hurried toward the courtyard. Her skin pricked as she emerged into the quiet sanctuary—something was different.
Silence greeted her. The beacon no longer beckoned to another plane of existence within the ether. Its call had been answered.
White weeping trees shook as she entered, their long flowery foliage sweeping back and forth across the ground. The scent of jasmine filled the air but underneath its sweet fragrance the essence of something unusual throbbed.
She sniffed, her eyes shifting toward the shadows near the far side of the courtyard. The presence she sensed was ancient, formidable energy that no longer belonged in this realm, yet one she was very familiar with.
Walking into the murk she felt a familiar pull, a ghost from her past. Black wings stretched out behind her in defiance as she moved, feathers ruffling in the breeze.
He stood in a dim corner of the courtyard, waiting. Iridescent eyes penetrated her own and an all too familiar feeling of inferiority washed over her as his steely stare assessed her. He didn’t speak, but his jaw clenched as she moved. Determined not to surrender to past insecurities she straightened to her full height.
“Gabriel,” she said, saying his name more like a statement than a greeting.
Massive wings shuddered as he stepped from the shadows, his gray armor glinting as it caught the light.
His continued silence intimidated her, and she groaned inwardly at her weakness as she waited for him to speak.
Finally, his face relaxed. “It is good to see you again Gabriella.”
Unaccustomed to any sort of familiarity from her twin, she shifted uncomfortably. There was a time long before their stations had been established in the celestial hierarchy when they had been close. He had taught her to fight and trained her in the precision and dedication required of the sentinels. He was also the reason she rose to lead the sentinel army. But as his responsibilities and stature as a Seraph increased, their relationship fractured. His importance in their ethos outweighed the familial connection. Seraphs were marked from birth, making them exceptional and distinct from other celestials—including a twin and therefore their destinies would never be equal.
“I apologize for activating the beacon,” she said, choosing to ignore his comment. “I would have understood if you did not heed the call.”
“I know you would not activate the beacon without just cause.”
Gabby’s eyes flashed as she searched his face looking for something that would make his statement less hollow, but his gaze stayed steady.
“The ancient dark is back,” she blurted out.
A shadow crossed his handsome face, but he didn’t seem surprised by her statement. “And the prophecy? Has it come to pass?”
Confused by his apathy but unwilling to show her frustration she answered. “Those prophesied as the ancestors of Thanissia have all been found and three have already accepted their birthright. The remaining two are currently in Athir, their destinies imminent.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What is troubling you?”
She winced. Regardless of the distance between them, she could never hide anything from her brother. “Dane, the daughter of Seri and ancestor of Claaven Callathian seems to be missing.”
“And this is a problem?”
“Very much so. She is the key to the prophecy. The cornerstone. Without her powers, the others will not be able to defeat the ancient dark. The new world will fall to the same fate as ours.”
Her voice cracked as her frustration built.
“And this is the reason you ignited the beacon?”
Gabby glared at him. “No, this problem has just transpired. I signaled to inform you of the others, ancient immortals trapped between time and space, but her disappearance has incited concern.”
The haunting silence of Etheriem pressed in aroun
d her as she waited.
“These immortals you speak of our known to us. The gatekeeper, in light stasis who the Guardian tasked with guarding the portal and the Dywen warrior protecting the Book of Realms.”
“Their names are Sebastian and Rafe and while both have joined us in this quest, there are others.”
Gabriel’s head tilted with interest, but he stayed silent allowing her to continue.
She had his attention now.
“The realms were not abandoned by all when the time of the immortals ended. The Warlician warrior destined to protect the Book of Realms was not the only one left behind when our worlds fell into stasis.”
“How many?” Gabriel inquired, his voice even.
“Four. Another Warlician, a female witch, and two Dragon Gypsies.”
“Dragon Gypsies?”
Gabby nodded. “One is a royal. He calls himself Drow.”
A shadow crossed Gabriel’s features as he digested the information.
“This is an interesting turn of events. The prophecy did not foretell of ancient beings crossing through the fabric of time.”
He paused briefly his brow furrowing in thought.
“Including yourself and the two Warlician warriors tasked by the Guardian, there are in total seven immortal purebloods who have transcended into this time?”
“Correct.”
He began to pace; his long leather coat and the tips of his folded wings swept the top of the grass. Unseen energy stirred in the courtyard, ancient magic responding to his sudden movement. Magic swirled around Gabriel, enticing yet dangerous—an essence only the Seraph’s invoked—raw, intimidating power infused with a specific primordial energy. It was disarming.
As her brother paced, Gabriella sensed a shift in his essence. He was troubled.
Moments passed in silence until finally, he stopped. “This is worrisome,” he said more to himself than her. “While it stands to reason the powers of immortals may well help in the battle to come, the possibility of a significant ripple in time initiated by their presence cannot be ignored. It could cause the prophecy to be disrupted in ways we are unable to foresee.”
His wings, still perfectly folded behind him, lifted. A gloved hand tightened around the grip of the massive sword hanging at his side, and he proceeded to pace once again.
Gabriella took a deep breath, shaking off the unwanted anxiousness rising within her. “There is something else.”
Gabriel ceased pacing and turned toward her; his steely gaze fixed.
Averting her eyes, she said. “The last Druid has reached out from the All Souls.”
This time her words provoked a reaction. His stoic expression cracked as a dark shadow slipped over his features. “Adaridge.”
It wasn’t a question, so she remained silent.
Suddenly, she felt his magic surge as his eyes filled with the fury of a thousand storms. Gabriella took a step back. She knew of their tumultuous history but had not anticipated this type of reaction. Her brother never lost his composure.
“How do you know this?” His face contorted as he fought to gain control.
“He has been in contact with the ancestor of Claaven communicating with her through the ether.”
A calmness surrounded him as Gabriel gained back control and the apathetic Seraph once again stood before her.
Iridescent eyes met her own. “If this is the truth and the last Druid is making his presence known, then there is something about the prophecy we do not understand, something relevant to its outcome. For the Druid’s spirit to risk leaving the All Souls, the need must be dire.”
Gabby shuddered in anticipation knowing he was correct. “The others are heading to the Galenvale Grove. They are hoping they will find answers within the Druid sanctuary.”
“That is the most reasonable place to start but the answers they seek may very well be those they do not want.”
Shivers crept over her skin at her brother’s words, their double meaning not lost on her.
“And what of the one who is missing?”
“Her name is Dane.” There was a coolness in her voice, and she flinched.
Gabriel did not react, but she noticed the slight twitch in the tips of his wings. Her insubordination was beginning to try his patience. Before the Great War, she frequently found herself caught between the hierarchy of her world and the twin brother she longed to be closer too. As a Seraph, Gabriel demanded respect from the sentinels beneath him, including her. At times, she found it difficult to remember her place which often caused tension between them. And like now his silence was more of a scolding than his ire.
Ignoring the flash of disappointment in his eyes she continued. “I am heading back to the new world to search for Dane. Every moment the ancient dark grows stronger and it will not be long before its powers can manifest on earth. Once that happens, it will break free of its prison. Its rise will be upon us soon.”
Gabriel nodded. “I must return to the ether to tell the others what you have learned.”
There was a hint of sadness in his words that left Gabby with an ache in her heart.
“Will I see you again?” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she cringed at how needy she sounded.
He diverted his eyes from her gaze. “I came because you called, but I was also instructed to deliver a message. The Guardian of Deities has forbidden the Seraphs from interfering. The mortal world can never know of our existence, there is too much at stake. If this world is to survive, we must allow those whose destinies are tied to it be the ones to save it.”
“But what of those who belong to our time and are here now? Should they not fight? Should I not?” As her anger swelled, she glared at her brother. “This world is born from ours. Is it not our destiny, our responsibility to protect it?”
His face softened as he backed into the gloom. “I am sorry Gabriella, but we will not intervene. If this world is fated to perish, then that is the way it must be.”
The Guardian of Deities was abandoning them to their fate and her brother to hers.
As she entered the armory, anger seethed under her skin, not because the Guardian and Seraphs had deserted them but because her brother was right. There was too much at risk. While the Seraphs power would be an asset in the battle to come, it would entail showing their existence to mortals. A mortal seeing a Seraph would trigger fear but witnessing their battle magic would be utter chaos.
Gabby shuddered at the thought.
The power wielded by a Seraph is unlike anything other immortals possess. Awe-inspiring in its strength yet terrifying in its violence. It is a sight that would surely change the way mortals viewed their strange religious beliefs. A Seraph’s magic and the carnage it inflicts would certainly shift the world’s thinking into an unhealthy population of nonbelievers.
Mortals needed to trust in something and find hope in something bigger than themselves. It was in their nature to believe. They created an entire doctrine based on the unknown—God, angels, heaven, and hell. For them faith provided a sense of security, guiding them through turbulent times, and answering the questions they themselves cannot. By showing them the harsh reality hiding behind their perceptions it would surely be the beginning of their end. Mortals were a fragile species, easily led astray and easily broken.
While she may not like it, she understood the Guardian’s reasoning, but it did not leave her feeling any less resentful, empty, or abandoned.
Brushing aside her anger, she hurriedly filled two sacks with the weapons that remained on Etheriem and left the armory.
Exiting onto the balcony of the highest tower of the Hall of Elders, she gazed across the Leylands. The perfect lilac sky rippled with silver threads as the ether funneled its magic to the other realms. Static flowed through the air igniting a slight prickle on her skin.
From this van
tage point, Gabby could see to the far horizon. She thought back to a time before the ancient dark invaded her home, before she fell to earth, and before her life as a celestial ended.
A sadness clenched her heart as she gazed across the lands of her beloved home knowing this may be the last time, she saw Etheriem again.
Making her way back to the portal her fingers caressed the white stone walls of the sacred halls but as she stepped through, leaving the past behind, she knew what she had to do—find Dane.
Her time in this world may be ending but the new world still breathed of life and hope. She would not let their world perish as hers had.
The ancient dark would not win again.
Chapter 12
It didn’t take them long to reach the vineyards; a maze of wooden slats from which hung brown, fruitless, shriveled vines feasted on by fat, slimy, white slugs. The air reeked with an earthy acidic smell, like the tart odor of a good wine gone bad combined with the suffocating stench of decomposing vegetation.
“Which way?” Tauria inquired.
“To the center,” Rafe said. “The vineyard surrounds the well.”
“A well? The gateway to the fabled fairy plane is a well?”
“Not just any well,” Brannon said, nudging her playfully. “This one you have to see to believe.”
Rafe and Brannon took the lead, guiding them through the acres of rotten vines. Occasionally, Diego scampered ahead, scouting the area for anything lurking.
After an hour they reached the center of the vineyard, a vast open area with flat stones covering the ground. Each one was placed in a precise pattern, spiraling toward the base of a massive stone structure at the center.
The well towered before them rising skyward sixty or so feet. Its circumference tapered toward the peak. The well was not your typical well but an ancient tower of stone and moss, dead flowers, and mud.
“Not as I remembered it,” Brannon said frowning.
“You expected something different in these cursed lands?” Tauria teased.