by Jana LaPelle
(Ashlinn)
I’ve never been so tired in all my life. The last year and a half are crashing down on me all at once, and I’m beginning to feel the weight of what has just transpired and all that I have learned. Jasmine sidles up next to me and pulls me into a tight embrace as Lexie and Neamhain begin to organize everyone. I practically fall into her arms and whisper, “I’m so tired, Jaz. I just want this to all be done.”
“I know, Ash. You’re almost there. Then you can rest. We all can.” She holds me close and I clasp her tightly to me, needing her reassurance.
“Thank you for being my friend, my amazing super ninja Tinkerbell.” I smile into her neck as I hold her close.
Her tinkling laughter rings out around me and she says, “By the goddess, I love you too, Ash. Come on, we have work to do yet, before we can rest.”
Pulling back, I nod, “You’re right, we must seal the rift and then we must work on the accords, not just within this realm but The Mortal Realm as well. Let’s do this. I want to get out of this armor and get home to my children. I want to put what happened here today behind me.” Brave words for someone who just realized how very broken hearted I am at all that was disclosed this day and all that transpired on these once beautiful fields.
Alaric is by my side in an instant, he pulls me close and I struggle to keep my tears at bay. I pull away and say, “We have work to do. Only once that is done can we mourn and begin to heal.”
“Then, let’s do this. Your despair is almost more than I can bear, mo grá.”
“I’m sorry, Alaric, I’ll try to mute -”
“Don’t you even dare. Never again, we will always be open to one another. Always. Promise.”
I smile through my tears, “Always, Elf-Man.”
I have a few moments to take stock of all that remain here on these tattered fields. I look again for several factions and they are nowhere to be seen. Daerok and his followers have disappeared as well as Tarron’s father and his troops. Damn, we really should have paid more attention to both of them. My gaze drifts to the west and I see a curious sight. Four horsemen sit astride different color horses, a white horse, a red horse, a black horse, and a pale horse. The riders are cloaked in shadows. They are backlit by the setting sun, but they appear to be assessing everything before them before they turn to walk away from the battle that we fought here today. Who are they? Their appearance here today cannot be some random act. If I have learned anything since my awakening, it’s that nothing is random, and everything has a meaning.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to contemplate their appearance as we have organized a huge following to trace to the Isle of Tears in the Sea of Hope. We must fix the rift, as best we can and so we will. Turning to Alaric and the rest of my Guardians, I say, “We’ve got this. I want you to take Tolin’s body back to Glenndale Loch for a proper farewell. Please, do this for us so that we can focus on fixing the rift between The Realms. Hopefully, we will be there shortly.” As the words leave my mouth, I choke back sobs as the loss I feel for Tolin ricochets through me. I step forward to Torin and reach for his hand and whisper, “I’m so sorry, Torin.” He pulls me into an almost unbearably tight hug before releasing me. Stepping back, he nods and walks back to where Tolin’s body lies. He morphs into his berserker form and hefts his brother into his arms before winking out of sight.
Everyone else nods sadly and moves to do my bidding, all except Alaric who comes to pull me into a fierce hug, and for one moment I melt into his embrace, before pulling back, “We need to do this. I’m okay, for now.”
“I know you are. Let’s finish this.” Alaric kisses my forehead and we trace to the Isle of Tears to fix what Morríganna wrecked.
Just like before, the island looks tranquil, but flashes of red lights are pulsating from below. I can tell that the rift has grown exponentially and is about to break through the confines of the underground crypt. It’s time to work our majic on this place. We need to put things right. Looking around I see that there are plenty of majic wielders, we have witches, Druids, and those that appear to be wizards or mages, gods and goddesses of Faerie, and a multitude of light and dark fae. All here for the same reason. To fix the rift.
Turning to Luc, Alaric says, “This is where we must part ways, my friend. You and your Underworlders must return to The Underworld before we can continue. Thank you for coming to our aid this day. Your deeds here this day will not go unnoticed.”
Luc smirks, “Why, Alaric… I’m flattered that you think of me as a friend.”
Alaric shakes his head, its barely perceptible, before saying, “Don’t…”
Luc throws his blond capped head back and laughs a hearty laugh, “Honestly, I do like you, Alaric. We will meet again. I expect an invitation to the meeting of The Realms. The accords should be rather interesting. Don’t be a stranger.”
Alaric, grasps Luc’s outstretched hand and leans in, “Take care, Luc. Know this, I will take the utmost care of Pipperton.”
“I know you will.” Luc turns away and rallies his remaining Underworlders and they make their way to the rift. He ushers his demons and drakes through the pulsating red glow before turning back and smirking. He shifts to his demon form, making the last image of the prince of Hell a rather intimidating one. What with the pulsating crimson glow behind him and his impressive horns, not to mention his talon clawed hands, and his reptilian-like wings spread wide for everyone to see, turning he snaps his wings shut and falls backward into the abyss, disappearing from view.
Almost at the same moment, another shimmering rift opens to our left, and at the very same instance a vivacious red head walks through the opening from The Mortal Realm. She looks oddly familiar and I look to Lexie. Her hair is streaked with grey, but otherwise her auburn tresses are a riotous curly mess, and she is smiling from ear to ear. Then it clicks. She looks like what I would imagine Lexie looking like in her fifties. Even with the tiny lines on her face she appears youthful and full of personality.
She looks around, assessing before smiling at both Lexie and me, “I’ve been waiting for this, for almost my entire life. Come on girls, surely you know who I am by now. Let’s fix this, and then we can catch up. I can’t wait to get to know you both and learn more about my ancestors home realm.”
Looking to Lexie, we both just nod as we realize who we are staring at. It’s her great, aunt Nessa. She smiles broadly and we both just nod, words failing us before Lexie says, “You’re powerful. How is that? I thought that your line had no majic.”
“That’s a long story, I think we have some work to do before we can catch up. Let’s get to it then. If I’m right, there is a sacrifice that must be made.”
Neamhain is quick to answer, “Yes, everyone, gather around the entrance to the crypt. Lainn, I suggest you say your goodbyes. This must be done quickly. Everyone, take your positions.”
Cú Chulainn joins his father and the two men stand together, quietly talking to one another before embracing. Lugh holds his son close in a tight bearhug. I can hear him say into Lainn’s ear, “I’m so very proud of you. You did well, my son. I’m going to miss you. I have missed you so very much. I just wish we had more time together.”
Pulling back Cú Chulainn says, “Then come with me, we can catch up.” He looks so uncertain, almost boyish.
Lugh takes his son’s face in his hands and says, “All in due time. I will be with you soon enough. My place is here for now, but the time of the many gods and goddesses in this realm is drawing nigh. Many of us have become obsolete. I will embrace what is left of the time I have here and welcome my ascension to The Overworld when my time comes. We will meet again, my son. I love you. God’s speed.”
Cú Chulainn pulls away and looks down at the weapon in his hand and holds it out to his father. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Before I go, this is yours. It has always been yours. What will you do with it now?”
Lugh grasps the spe
ar in his hands and the spear flares to life and for a moment he appears to be younger than his days, as if we are seeing him in his prime. He smiles, and imparts, “It will need to be hidden away once more before I can follow you home.”
Cú Chulainn nods and whispers, “I’m ready. I think.”
Stepping forward, I say, “Alaric and I will escort him personally, Lugh. Cú Chulainn’s soul will be well cared for.”
Lugh smiles at me sadly, “Thank you, Ashlinn.” Turning back to Cú Chulainn, he asks, “Are you ready?”
“Yes, father,” he nods and hesitantly walks toward the gaping hole in the ground.
The red pulsating light appears to be growing and swallowing up more of the chamber below. Neamhain signals that they are ready. Everyone has circled around the crypt opening and all have begun to chant in an old forgotten language of Faerie and the majical folk of this land. Cú Chulainn stands before us as their majic builds. Lexie’s eyes have become the opaque milky white that still freaks me out and I can sense that they are almost ready for the sacrifice, I walk over to Lainn and smile, “I’ll be with you the whole time until your soul has transitioned to The Overworld.”
“I know, Keeper of Souls. Forgive me for not heeding your words sooner, for I could not understand.”
“Shhh, it’s okay.” I can’t help but wonder who is going to take his life.
Before I can ponder on the problem at hand for too long, Alaric thrusts his flaming sword into Lainn’s torso, using the heavenly weapon to do the deed. He catches his form as he crumples to the ground. A look of peace comes over his face and in a few short moments his heart stutters to a stop once more. Lainn’s soul emerges from his limp form and the chanting begins to crescendo and the air is alight with majical energy. As his soul rises, so does his physical form. It drifts over the open chasm and begins to gently descend into the red depths below, back to the crypt that his body once occupied. All the while his soul soars higher.
I rise up to meet Lain and smile in my spiritual form. Reaching out for Lainn I pull him with me as we begin to soar upwards to The Overworld. Alaric my tether. Always protecting my physical and spiritual form. Smiling I watch his spectral form circle around the golden wisps of his soul soaring in its freedom. He is literally glowing. In the distance I can see the gateway to heaven, its alight with a multitude of color, a bridge between our world and the next, and I say, “Go, she’s waiting for you. Go… Be happy. You deserve it.” I watch as his ghostly form races upward toward the bridge to wink out of sight.
It is done.
I race back to my physical form, just in time to hear a loud blast ricochet across the meadow of the Isle of Tears. The sonic boom echoes in everyone’s ears as we all stagger backward to see the red light below recede. Alaric and I trace down to the bottom of the crypt to see that it looks as if it has been untouched all this time. Not a rock or stone out of place.
Lugh is quick to follow, he drops to his knees, and bows his head, “It is done.”
Chapter 41
(Alaric)
We always knew that sacrifices would be made, but somehow, I had convinced myself that all of us would make it through to the end. I was wrong. Somehow, along the way, Garrik became an important member of my hand-picked Guardians for Ashlinn, and we lost him to Morríganna’s need for revenge. We were still reeling from his loss when we marched to battle.
The battle at Lár Domhain brought us another loss, one that I can hardly bear. Tolin. There were so many more that died that day and we have since honored them all. But was it enough? I have questioned myself and my actions in battle that day, every day since. How did I get so far from Ash? So quickly? If I had of stayed closer to them would things be different? My last image of Tolin is one of utter contentment. As if he had fulfilled a life-long goal. From across the battlefield, I watched the light leave his eyes as Ashlinn clutched him to her. The image haunts me nightly, in my dreams.
Two months have passed since that day and peace around Faerie is being celebrated by all, and yet those who fought the fight still struggle to put it behind us. Ashlinn and I both suffer from nightmares of that day. Thank the Creator that we have one another, and we can find comfort in each other’s arms.
During this time, Ashlinn and Lexie have found solace in Nessa. She is a powerful witch and Lexie’s great aunt, she has made her home here with us, and they are thick as thieves. Nessa is mischievous and fun loving. She and Neamhain have forged an unbreakable friendship and the five of them, including Jasmine, are all but inseparable. I’m happy for them.
The Guardians, on the other hand are struggling to put our losses behind us. Especially Torin. He has not been the same since his brother’s death. Who could blame him? We have all vowed to give him time, and we will.
I on the other hand, I am thankful for my children and Ashlinn. They have helped immensely during this time of mourning. By the creator, I love them so.
Chapter 42
(Ashlinn)
The Accords
It is the beginning of change for The Mortal Realm. Five months after the veil between our realms began to falter, and humans around the globe bore witness to our world, we are set to meet on neutral ground for the very first time in just mere moments. Since our battle with the Morrígna, the battlefield on which we fought has been transformed into a beautiful monument for all those that died here that day, for those who fought to keep all The Realms safe from certain annihilation. It is now our new meeting place for The Accords between The Realms. It’s an outdoor colosseum of sorts, except that it is open to embrace the beauty of the land around the newly constructed stone circle. The marble gleams under the attention of the setting sun, and majical faerie lights begin to illuminate the center of the amphitheater, drawing everyone’s eye to where The Dagda sits with his Chosen mate to his right, and my mother, Danu to his left with my father and their newborn son. They look every bit the god and goddess, the High King and Queen of The Otherworld, their regal demeanor befitting their stations as they sit with their chosen mates. Behind them there are five intricately carved columns that soar upward high above us, spaced at least four feet apart from one another with a beautiful marble topper that sits atop all the pillars. The flags that represent the four main territories of Faerie hang between the columns and are gently swaying in the breeze. Their colors range from red and gold representing the Southern Territories, to midnight blue and silver for the Northern Territories, to green and blue, the East, and last but not least, black with a combination of silver and gold for the West. That now represents The Horde as well, by default.
Alaric and I are seated just below and to the left of my mother and father, each of us are holding one of our twins. Their fox companions sitting at our feet who are now fully grown. Tarron is to our right further down the dais and has been granted the privilege of representing The Horde and the West. He is seated just below and to the right of Dagda and Sasha, Looking a bit uncomfortable on his own. I can’t help but smile when he hooks his finger under his collar and moves his head from side to side looking infinitely uncomfortable. Looking out over the masses, I can safely say that just about every race in Faerie is represented here tonight for the first of many meetings between us and the mortals. Honestly, we are all anxiously awaiting their arrival. Lexie and Declan are sitting close to us with a squirming Sammy. He’s trying to get to Jaz who is sitting behind them teasing him, her face bright with mischief. Cameron is shaking his head at their antics while Declan turns a fierce look in Jasmine’s direction, his frustration clearly written all over his face.
Smiling, I look down at Lachlan who is watching them intently. He’s getting to be so big. He looks back up at me pleadingly, and I shake my head and whisper, “It’s almost time. You three can play later, my little Elf-Man.” He pouts but sits perfectly still while continuing to watch Jasmine. My attention is drawn to the sky as the sun appears to kiss the western horizon. It sits perched in all
its glory teasing the night sky in their everlasting struggle for dominance over the heavens. The sky above us begins to light up in a multitude of colors just before Dray and several of his Drakon guardians wink into sight, carrying the mortal’s contingent. While we were making things right here in The Otherworld, The Mortal Realm has been at war with one another. A little over five years has passed on Earth and in that time the world leaders have all but lost control of their planet. They are beginning to see that government as they knew it will have to evolve. That is not sitting well with all the different countries battling to be heard, all of whom are wanting entrance into Faerie. The ambassadors arriving here tonight have been hand-picked by a new governing order that is beginning to emerge, the United World Governing Council.
The Drakon Dragons gracefully land in the distance. Their riders dismount with a look of utter disorientation, mingled with a look of pure astonishment as they look around their surroundings. The young woman in their midst looks utterly enchanted. She smiles as she makes her way toward us with several following in her wake. We all stand in greeting as she climbs the few steps to reach the raised platform where we are seated. At that moment, a mighty warm breeze brushes over us and the hanging banners for Faerie’s territories whip wildly in the gust. Their flapping in the wind gains everyone’s attention.
An older, rather distinguished looking man from The Mortal Realm steps forward with a scowl and announces, “I see that we have no representation here.”
Dagda is the first to speak up, his tone is friendly, but booming none the less, “That is not necessarily true, my friend, there are several amongst us here that have advised us on the ways of your world. That is until we were able to arrange this meeting.”
“There is no one here that has any right to speak for us! To speak for our world!”
The young woman steps forward and lays a gentle hand on the man’s arm, “Father, please, this is not the way. Let’s hear them out.”