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Three of the four keys to the demon-god Duwar’s realm had been destroyed, forever closing off our world from his. But the problem was, Duwar wasn’t there like everyone believed. The demon-god was here, in our world, in Wychwood, a stone’s throw away from Berrow itself.

Duwar was Duncan, or Duncan was Duwar. I didn’t know which way round things were. And deep down I believed Erix held answers as to how this transfer between man and demon had happened. Until he was prepared to share, I would deal with this alone. Now was not the time to bring up our last argument when so many others were listening in.

But his inability to be honest with me had led to me grasping at straws. Letters sent to Rafaela went unanswered, books I scoured through for stories on the demon-god who’d seemingly been wiped from our history told me nothing.

“Goodbye, Erix,” I said again, turning my back on him for the last time.

“Wait!” Erix shouted, drawing the attention of the full street of people.

I released a sigh of relief, convincing myself the truth was finally about to come out, that this burden no longer had to be mine to bear alone. But Erix didn’t say anything further before extending a cream envelope with a red-gold wax seal. “This came for you this morning. I was going to give it to Eroan for your next briefing, but I thought I’d do it now. I think it’s the most recent developments from Cassial about his planned celebration.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the envelope from him, brushing my fingers against his hand. He was so warm, just as I remembered. Against the chill of the street, the falling snow and brisk winds, I craved nothing more than the warmth he could offer – the comfort. “Now, is that all you have to say?”

He withdrew his hand, putting it at his side and flexing his fingers in regret. Or was it disgust? “It is.”

Erix turned and left me. The turmoil inside my body seeped out into the world, encouraging the winter weather to intensify. By the time Maren escorted me to the apothecary, I could hardly see an inch in front of my face. The vendors had closed down their stalls and raced back home to see out the storm of my making.

All the while, the storm I raged within would never calm. Not now, not tomorrow – not whilst I secretly harboured a demon-god of destruction and chaos in my bed, in the body of the man I loved.

This was the life we got after we saved the world from a demon-god. A lie. Where captured fey returned to the Icethorn Court, reclaimed their homes and rebuilt lives in the dawn of a new world – all without knowing that it would come tumbling down if I didn’t find a solution.

I wished, with every fibre of my being, that I could join them. But my world, my life, was left in tatters in my wake. My secrets threatened this very town, court, world – both human and fey.

I collected the bag of dried Gardineum flower, visited the library to find no new tomes had been found or donated about Wychwood’s history, no new stories that could help me understand Duwar. Then I left Berrow, my list of errands barely touched.

Maren did as she was asked, leaving me at the border, not following me any closer to Imeria Castle. Although, from a distance, I certainly felt her eyes trailing me.

Pulling on the reins, I guided Silvia toward my castle’s stables, which had recently been rebuilt outside the half-ruined castle of Imeria. It was a project Eroan kept me informed on, alongside the other rapid changes in the Icethorn Court. He was the only person I allowed to visit me in the ruins of Imeria Castle. He came once a week, with scrolls full of news. Without him, I wouldn’t have known what was happening in the outside world. How the other fey courts were coping after the death of Aldrick – the Hand – and the destruction of Duwar’s gate.

Eroan kept me in touch with reality, while mine was crumbling around me like the ruins of the castle I inhabited.

I hadn’t left the confines of Imeria in almost two months, but today had been different. Eroan had visited me earlier that morning and made mention of a camp of Hunters that had been found on the eastern edge of Icethorn land. I’d sat and listened, fighting to keep my face neutral of my horror as he told me about how the Hunters had claimed an old fey settlement, setting up a base for themselves.

The Hand may’ve been dead, but the poison he left behind would take time to suffocate and shrivel. The Nephilim in Durmain were helping with that, but still more Hunters kept popping up like weeds.

Eroan had been pleased when he confirmed the Hunters been dealt with, the followers of the Hand carted off to Lockinge to await trial by the Nephilim. But that didn’t settle me. Knowledge that they would be punished was not the pleasing news I wanted to hear.

It was what Erix’s –mysoldiers – found and collected that had me climbing onto Silvia’s back and heading into the town.

Iron. But returning to Imeria empty handed was terrible. Each inch closer to my horror, and I had to think of more ways to get iron.

I needed it, but I had to be careful with how clear I made that need to others. I couldn’t tell Eroan why without inciting more questions. If that meant I would have to go looking for more iron myself, I would do that. No matter the threat, considering the one I dealt with was more real and dangerous in my eyes.

Iron to keep Duncan powerless.

Gardineum to force him into a sleeping state, all to keep him safe from himself.

I stood before Imeria castle, wishing I could turn away. Run away. All around me, life bloomed. The parts of the castle that had fallen during the Draeic’s attack had been engulfed in life – vines, bright flowers of verdant, purple and yellow – creeping over the ruins.

“This is what my power can offer you,”Duncan had said when we returned to Imeria, attempting to trick me into trusting the demon inside of him. But no matter how weak I’d become, I wouldn’t listen. But that didn’t mean Duncan’s words didn’t echo in my mind every time I saw what Duwar’s power did to my castle. The life it offered, before I wrapped his body in iron and poisoned his mind with Gardineum.

“Believe me, Robin.” Duncan had pleaded as I wrapped his body in chains.“You need to listen to me.”

My reply repeated in my mind. “No. This is a trick. You’re playing with me, Duwar. This has nothing to do with listening to Duncan, but listening to you. But I won’t fall for it. Not like Aldrick did. I know what you’re doing, and I refuse to play.”

“Then I will die,” Duncan had cried. “You’ll kill me, is that what you want?”

There was nothing I could’ve said back to him. Because Duncanwasdying. I saw him deteriorate every day. Slowly, as Duwar poisoned him, and there was nothing I could do to save him. Except there was something. I could accept Duwar’s continuous offer. Something that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.