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Chest and back throbbing, Hel slowly dropped forward onto one knee and thought about staying down for a moment but with a few deep breaths, he rose. Only a single piece of his uncle’s black hair was out of place, dangling on his forehead. War stared at Hel, silently asking him to keep his mouth shut. War always was better at following orders, and he truly respected his father. The god who took Hel in and raised him when he was otherwise left unwanted.

“Synick is dead.”

Hel clenched his hands at his sides and stood silently in shock. His uncle—though not by blood but that’s what they called him—a god, one of the original seven, immortal, and the head of the council. “That’s not possible.”

“I assure you it is. I’ve seen his body myself. He was stabbed through the heart with an immortal weapon.”

War and Hel met eyes. It couldn’t be… why would she kill Synick? There was no reason for Valeen to have any qualms with him other than she was Drivaar, and he was Primevar.

“There are only two weapons capable, and we have both.”

“Soulender is safe, but the Sword of Truth went missing. Synick was the last to possess it.”

So, he believed that Soulender was still in the vault. Hel’s replica was better than he thought. “That’s unfortunate.”

His uncle began to pace, heavy boots echoed in the chamber with each step. “It must be one of the Drivaar, an act of war.”

“What if it was personal? Someone with a grudge against him,” War asked. “It’s not as if he doesn’t have enemies. We shouldn’t go to battle with the Drivaar until we know. We will lose thousands.”

“I need you two to find out. Every god and goddess came to the party a fortnight ago.” He stopped and turned to face both of them. A spark of light lit within his blue-green eyes. “Even the goddess of night. No one from her house has attended our parties for over a thousand years. And she left before I could speak to her. Go there and find out everything you can about why she came to our party. Tread carefully. From what I hear she’s dangerous.”

“None of the Primevar are allowed there,” War said, rubbing his smooth chin. “She doesn’t allow anyone from other houses in her territory.”

“I’m well aware,” Balneir stated. “Do what you must. One of the primordials is dead and we want to know why. And if the Sword of Truth is missing then the assassin may have it.”

Hel and War hurried out of the great hall and down the back steps into the warm balmy air. Hel flicked his wrist and threw a silencing sphere around them. “Damn it all to the underrealm,” Hel cursed.

War glared at him. “This is your fault. You gave it to her, and now the Sword of Truth is missing as well. If she has both weapons…”

“Fuck,” Hel cursed. Both weapons in the hands of the rival clan. “You know, technically she stole Soulender from me.”

Neither War nor Hel cared for Synick. He was a pompous ass who enslaved other races. They weren’t paid for their work, often beaten and starved, and murdered. He believed every other race was below the gods and could be treated like animals—worse than animals. He treated his dogs better than those who worked in his territory. He was the god of elements, but Hel often called him the god of greed. And although Hel acknowledged the gods were superior, it made them beholden to be leaders, not to abuse the status they’d been given.

“We won’t be able to teleport into the House of Night. There are wards there. Stronger than the ones Soulender had.”

War chuckled. “You’ve tried before, haven’t you?”

“My territory touches hers. Of course I have.” He’d taken the land from one of the lesser gods four hundred years before. It now belonged to the House of Magic.

“So how are we going to get in?”

He smiled. “I’ve never tried simply walking across the border.”

“That would be too easy,” War said, and then they both vanished.

* * *

Hel touchedthe veil that separated his land from Valeen’s. It hummed with a current and was neither solid nor liquid. It reflected like a hazy mirror making it impossible to see inside. He watched his distorted reflection approach and with only a moment’s hesitation, he pressed his hand against it, indenting the shield but not piercing through. Pulling his hand back made the magical ward bounce into place like a bubble.

Gliding away, War dragged his hand along it, pressing here and there testing it for weaknesses. He pulled the ax from the holster on his back, taking it in both hands and turned to Hel with a sly smile.

“This should be good,” Hel murmured.

War swung his ax and with blurred speed crushed the sharp edge into the ward. It sparked with the hit and sent him flying back fifty feet until he crashed into a large oak. The tree shuddered, dropping leaves all around him, and new serrated leaves promptly grew in their place. Hel laughed and shook his head. “I could have told you that would happen.”

War shook his head like a dog and strode back toward him, sliding his ax back into place. “My ax has broken through magical shields before.”

“Imagine if the entire wall had come down. She’d think she was under attack and then where would we be?”