Echoes from the Veil

by Colleen Halverson

  “Elizabeth, wake up.”

  Finn shook my shoulder, and my eyes snapped open, sensing a note of unsteadiness in his voice.

  “What is it?” I asked, suddenly alert and searching through the darkness for his face. I reached out, the stubble on his jaw rough against my hand.

  “I don’t know. There’s something in the sky,” he said in a halting voice. “You need to come see it.”

  “Something in the sky?” I grabbed my clothes and threw them on.

  “It’s—” He paused, lingering in the door. “Just hurry.”

  I followed him through the caves, and a rush of tension flooded me as soon as I entered the commons. Fae milled about, distressed looks on their faces, quieting when they saw me. I gritted my teeth as Finn led me outside where a large crowd stood, staring up at the sky, cupped hands shielding their eyes. Finn pointed in the air, but as soon as I looked up, it was difficult to miss. A dark purple cloud had formed, mottled like a bruise. Inside it, strands of lightning flashed as the cloud gyrated like a tornado. In the middle of the maelstrom was a perfect black circle, tiny, as if someone had poked a hole in the sky, and beyond it—nothing. An unsettling sense of déjà vu passed over me, my skin prickling, my vision momentarily falling out of focus.

  “What is it?” I breathed, shielding my eyes and staring into the abyss.

  Eamonn appeared at my side, blinking and running his hands through his shaggy hair.

  “Eamonn?” I pressed.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, it looks like a rift.”

  “A…rift?”

  “A black hole. Dark matter. A break in space and time.”

  Gasps and cries of despair echoed through the crowd, and I glanced around, tilting my head at Finn before taking hold of Eamonn’s arm.

  “Not here,” I uttered, teleporting us back into his laboratory. The sudden quiet in the caves made us pause, and Eamonn locked eyes with me, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

  He blinked, smoothing his robes. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm anyone.”

  We stood in the silent room, the walls drawing in on us. Grainne sat in a corner, her face as white as a sheet.

  “This is bad,” she said.

  Eamonn gestured to the table where the device lay. “I think it has something to do with the bomb. I was writing up my notes early this morning when the thing began humming. I looked over, and it had…changed.”

  “Changed?” I lunged toward the table and let out a gasp. Before the strange wires had been twisted into the symbol of the Fae—a great oak tree with branches and roots intertwining in a perfect circle. That had disappeared, and three diagonal lines pointed to three small dots at the top of the circle. I shook my head; the symbol from the dream, the markings on Bel’s hand, they were the same. The lights shone a faint purple color like amethyst.

  “How is that possible?” I whispered, shaking my head. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s a Doomsday device,” Eamonn said. “So perhaps we’ve entered a new stage. Instead of locusts and plagues, we have…”—he waved up to the ceiling of the cave toward the broken sky beyond—“a black hole?”

  “I thought you said you had stabilized it,” I hissed, my hands tightening into fists.

  “I thought I had. I—” The Druid slumped against the wall, his eyes clouding with fear and confusion. “There’s some other force controlling it. I can’t explain it. There’s an imbalance in the universe. Things are falling apart.”

  Things fall apart.

  I cleared my throat, straightening my shoulders and glancing at Finn, who stood stock still, his mouth stretched in a grim line. I used to make fun of his stoicism, his almost robotic actions, but in this moment, I finally understood. With the sky literally falling down around our ears, it would serve no one to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. I had to be the eye of the storm. Even with all the questions racing through my head, I had to keep myself steady.

  I gestured to the device. “Are you familiar with this symbol? Is it a clue?”

  Eamonn shrugged. “It looks to me like the Awen symbol.”

  “Awen? What’s that?” I said, staring into the strange purplish light emanating from the object.

  Eamonn ran his finger above the three lines. “These markings symbolize the different planes of existence. They are like beams of light radiating to these three dots. They say these dots symbolize the reign of female and male energy.”

  “Female and male?” I said. “But there are three dots.”

  Eamonn nodded. “Yes, it’s…” He trailed off, sighing, scrubbing his tired eyes with his palms. “That is, without getting into it too much, the ancients say the universe is held together by the love of the female goddess Danu and the male god Bel.”

  I nodded. Danu was the goddess the Fae worshipped. Bel was the Druids’ god. I thought of what Finn had said last night, about Danu pining for her lost lover, Bel. How could love bring the universe together? I shook my head, my gaze returning to the tiny, glowing device.

  “So, what’s the third dot then?” I said.

  “The Morrígan,” Finn said in a low voice.

  My blood turned cold, and our eyes locked.

  Eamonn raised his hand. “No, not the Morrígan. Not necessarily. It’s chaos. It’s the unknown. The Morrígan holds that power, but it’s tenuous, unpredictable. With the Awen symbol and the black hole appearing, I believe it’s connected. The blood in this device, in the weapons the Fir Bolgs use, it can only mean one thing.”

  Grainne sat up, folding her hands in her lap. “She’s here, isn’t she? She walks the earth again, and she’s gaining power.”

  Eamonn nodded, and everyone in the room grew silent.

  “What?” My focus whipped between the three of them. “What does this mean?”

  Grainne cleared her throat. “She’s the Goddess of War, the Goddess of Violence. We prayed to her, drew from her strength in battle. But”—Grainne rose and wandered toward Eamonn, linking her arm with his—“the last time she walked the earth, a great battle raged between the gods, and it nearly tore the universe apart.”

  My hands trembled, and I shoved them in my pockets. As Finn intimated last night, only a great sacrifice had restored the balance once again, and I couldn’t help but feel I was at the center of that sacrifice, that history was repeating itself. But surely that was nonsense, right? Just a legend. Just a story.

  Finn strode over to the device, peering down at it, the black silk strands of his hair covering half his face. “They say the sky tore in half, fire raining down onto the fields.”

  “Until Danu and Bel trapped the Morrígan and banished her to the Underworld,” Grainne continued. “But at a great price.”

  “What price?” My voice wavered, echoing small and broken throughout the cavern. I knew the answer.

  “Exile,” Eamonn whispered. “For Bel. Cursed to wander the world as a spirit. To guard us lest the Morrígan escape.”

  I spluttered, pointing up to the ceiling of the cave and the sky beyond. “So you think this black hole means the Morrígan is back?” If that were true, she would come for Finn. He had taken an oath to her, the most sacred oath a Fianna could make, but I wouldn’t give him up. I refused to sacrifice him.

  Eamonn shook his head. “I don’t know what any of this means.”

  Finn and I locked eyes for the first time, and I nearly staggered backward to see a flicker of something like panic in his eyes, the same fears running through his head as clear as a ticker tape.

  “We need to see Morven,” Finn said. “Now. He’s older than anyone. He’ll know what to do and how to destroy this thing.”

  I snatched the device, shoving it in my pocket, and then turned to Grainne, taking her hand. “Try to keep the peace while we’re gone. Use the black hole as a rallying point. Tell everyone the
Fir Bolgs brought this nightmare upon us, and now we’re going to undo it. That sort of thing.”

  She nodded, her jaw set.

  “And we need weapons. Sparkly weapons. We know there’s a cache of weapons at Cnoc Fírinne. Round up a force of rebels and raid it.”

  Eamonn sat up. “Why Grainne?”

  “Because when it comes to raiding, I’m the best, you eejit.” She kissed his forehead and flashed him a wide grin. “You go and keep the universe from ripping apart, and I’ll be back before dinner.”

  He grabbed her tunic and pulled her close, pressing his mouth to hers. Grainne leaned into the kiss, fisting her hands in his hair, her shoulders trembling. She cut off suddenly and gave him a meaningful glance, then marched out of the room, her hand clutched tight on the pommel of her sword, ever at her side.

  I let out a deep exhale, my hand wandering to the device in my pocket. The slight vibration of magical energy had disappeared, but what remained was a dark, magnetic pull as ominous as the black hole emerging in the sky.

  Were we already too late? Could the Morrígan be stopped? The darkness flowed from my fingertips, traveled up my arm, through my chest, and curled up deep in my abdomen. We needed this thing destroyed. Now. Because regardless of who won the battle ahead, the very fabric of the universe was about to tear apart.

  I glanced at Finn and Eamonn. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Five

  The Faerie market of London hummed with magic. Malachy had explained to me once how these markets existed all over the world, all manner of Fae going about their lives just under the noses of humans. The Fae used spells and enchantments to disguise themselves and their enclaves from attack, and despite the occasional wayward dearg-dubh or hobgoblin making spectacles of themselves, they existed peacefully in the shadows, unbeknownst to humans.

  I zipped us right in the middle of the market, a cavalcade of sound immediately invading my ears. Swirling colors and dazzling lights flashed in the catacombs as all manner of supernatural creatures hawked their baubles, potions, books, and secret concoctions in a whirling bustle of movement. Despite the busy atmosphere, a pall of tension hung over the crowd, and I heard whispers of a dark cloud in the sky. The black hole had appeared in the mortal world, it would seem. The mortal realm and Tír na nÓg existed on other ends of the galaxy even though they were connected as parallel worlds. Now we had something else that connected us—an ever-expanding abyss of dark matter.

  Joy.

  Eamonn pointed out Morven’s plain-looking burlap tent in a shadowy corner of the market, and we edged through the throng. No one paid notice to our weapons or Eamonn’s long Druid robes, and, for a moment, I basked in the anonymity.

  The problem with being a Faerie princess leading a rebellion was that every move you made was under a microscope. Everything you wore. Even the way you did your hair. With my hood up, the world of the Fae slipped past me: dearg-dubh, leprechauns, púcas, goblins all in the same steampunk uniform of leather and studs. As the Irish people had immigrated to England during the Potato Famine in the nineteenth century, the Fae sort of, kind of followed in their wake. The Fae fashion remained in that century, all corsets, leather, monocles, and top hats. A sea of steampunk splendor.

  I had once tried to form an alliance with the leader of the Fae Underground, but he wanted no part in our crusade. The man may have been small-minded (and a total asshole, to be quite honest), but I still felt responsible for the Dickensian figures shrugging past me as they made their way through the crowd. What would happen to them if the Fir Bolgs succeeded? Without the source of magic to sustain them, would they all wither away? The burden of their existence weighed heavy on my shoulders, and it seemed impossible that only a year or so ago, I never knew such worlds existed. But there I was, the sparkly device heavy in a pouch around my neck, the entire magical universe hanging in the balance.

  Finn’s eyes scanned the mass of supernatural bodies, his muscles tense as he strode beside me, ever vigilant and alert. With a sweeping motion, he glanced inside Morven’s tent, double-checking for secret ninjas or Fir Bolgs, and then he nodded, gesturing for us to enter.

  Morven’s tent stood barely eight feet by eight feet on the outside, but on the inside, we were greeted by a long room with high ceilings, rows of shelves containing crumbling volumes, bottles and vials of various sickly shades of green on every surface, and skulls of all shapes and sizes lining the walls. Candles illuminated the spelled chamber, wax dripping to the floor in bulbous yellow waves.

  Shouting at the other end of the room signaled Morven’s presence, and I spied a flash of red robes through the haze. He paced, arguing with a diminutive figure about three feet tall with large pointy ears and a twinge of green at its temples, soft and veiny like the lines on a leaf. Morven’s own scarred face was flushed, the runes across his cheekbones scarlet as if they had been drawn in blood. Both of them spoke in a strange, guttural language, their shouting growing louder.

  Morven whirled around. “We’re closed, dammit!” His eyes widened when he spotted us. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered beneath his breath. He raised his hand toward the elf-like creature and said something in a low voice. The tiny figure shook his head and vanished in a wisp of what I would describe as…Faerie dust.

  “Who was that?” Finn said.

  “What was that?” I blinked, studying the drifting sprinkle of light in its wake.

  Morven sighed. “A very old friend.”

  “He didn’t look very friendly,” I remarked.

  Morven nodded at me. “Neither do you.” He peeked around my shoulder. “Nice spear.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “I like it more than that pistol you gave me.”

  Morven swallowed hard, the scar on his jaw rippling. “I suppose you’re here about the black hole?”

  “We’re here to hopefully find some answers,” I replied. I eyed the ceilings and the flap of the door behind us. “Is this place secure?”

  Morven snorted, but he raised his hand, the electricity of his deep magic hitting me deep in the chest. He had warded his tent. “What is it, Princess?” he asked.

  I reached into the pouch and pulled out the sparkly. “What can you tell us about this?”

  The Druid swept across the floor, squinting at the luminescent device in my hand.

  “May I?” he asked, and I placed it in his palm.

  He shot toward his desk, his robes a bright flash of red as he grabbed an eyepiece and studied it.

  “The Fir Bolgs had it,” Eamonn said in a wavering voice, his hands clutching his robes nervously. “Our intel says they plan to use it to break off their own dimension, to sever Tír na nÓg from this universe.”

  “Oh, aye,” Morven said in a low voice. “This will do it.” He glanced up from his eyepiece and stared down his nose at Eamonn. “Did you do this protective spell around it?”

  Eamonn nodded, his eyes widening.

  “Nice work,” Morven said in a gruff voice.

  A flaming blush crept up Eamonn’s face, his features relaxing and breaking into a small smile.

  I cleared my throat. “Eamonn said the thing began to glow and hum last night. It had a Tree of Life symbol on it, but now it’s transformed to the Aw…Aw…?”

  “Awen,” Eamonn piped up.

  “Yes,” I said. “The Awen symbol. Like it’s entered a new stage or something. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Morven nodded slowly, gazing up at the ceiling. “The power of the Morrígan has been unleashed. The universe is out of balance.” He held up the device. The glowing had stopped, the wires plain metal and dull. “The very presence of this object in our dimension has disturbed the order.”

  “Can you dismantle the thing?” Finn asked, edging beside me. “If it’s so dangerous, we need to destroy it. Immediately.”

  Morven let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Ther
e’s ancient magic in this, Fianna. The likes I have not seen in an age.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Morven placed the sparkly back into my hands and waved over at the fireplace, inviting us to sit. “Let’s talk about it over some tea.”

  I bit my lip with impatience. We didn’t have time for tea or storytelling. We had a black hole threatening to tear apart the sky and suck us all into a vacuum. With a small sigh, I dropped into a creased leather chair and stared into the peat fire smoldering in the garret. Morven brought over a teapot and four cups and poured, taking his time, his face a mask of stony concentration. Grasping his tea with both hands, he studied me for a moment, his dark eyes endless and heavy with an emotion that almost looked like worry.

  “So what can you tell us about the bomb,” I pressed, uncrossing my legs and leaning forward.

  Morven paused, taking a long sip of tea. “It combines Druid, Fae, and Fianna energy, which is a powerful trinity, to be sure.” He glanced toward the smoldering fire, and setting his cup down, he stoked it with a poker. “When we created the Veil centuries ago, we combined our magic to create that barrier. That was the last time I saw the Fianna magic drawn into the magical trifecta. It is a dangerous energy. Wild.”

  “Is that because it derives from the Morrígan?” Eamonn asked.

  Morven nodded. “The creator of that device layered Bel’s manna, Fae enchantments, and Fianna energy. That alone could be powerful, but it’s—”

  “The blood!” Eamonn blurted. His face grew an even brighter shade of red as Morven gave him a pointed stare. “Sorry. I mean, I’ve been studying the Fir Bolgs’ weapons, and it’s the blood that gives it its power. That is, I think that’s it.”

  “What is the significance of the blood?” I asked.

  Morven paused for a moment. “Two reasons. One, because the last time the Morrígan had a physical presence in this world or in the Fae world was during the time of the Táin Bó Cúailnge.”