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“But?”

“But I think we need groups policing the cities, safe houses on the borders,” she says. “And Rovers—volunteer vigilantes that travel through the regions who are willing to place themselves between Variant’s brutes and innocent fae.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you need the vehicles?” I continue. “One of the sentries said the scouts found some vehicles, but they need magic to do the repairs.” I clear my throat. “I was asked to deliver that message to you… Lady Fulthain.”

A smile appears on her face and we speed back to the stronghold. Eilish jumps from the saddle before the horse comes to a stop. I guide it into the stables and hand the horse over before chasing after her.

She runs to the dungeon beneath the barracks, where Morrigan’s artificer hunches over a desk, sketching out what look like pans. The walls of the cell are covered in other drawings and diagrams of strange contraptions.

“What is this, Eilish?” I ask.

***

BARON

Mount Dolgum

I want to punch him in the face again, but Pyre stops me. Theren’s sarcasm knows no end and I’m tired of listening to him dance around our questions. Pyre may be able to see things from Theren’s soul, but he’s oath-bound as a necromancer not to give premature knowledge or reveal the true meanings of the prophecy. Which means he’s just as big a pain in my ass as Theren at the moment. No matter what I ask, Pyre and the Unseelie bastard rebuff my efforts.

“How the hell are we supposed to take him back to the stronghold if we can’t even trust him?” I insist.

“You don’t have to trust him, Baron. You just have to trustme,” Pyre says.

“This cryptic routine of yours is pissing me off,” I say and head back over to Dragan and Theren. The gargoyle straightens and scowls down at the Unseelie with nothing more thanannoyance in his gaze. Eilish must have talked to him already, or he’d be just as furious as I am.

I grab Theren by the front of his blood-soaked shirt and haul him upright. Pyre has healed the majority of his injuries, but Theren’s not altogether healed—just enough that we can make it down this godforsaken mountain.

“What now, vampire?” Theren insists and Dragan watches me with a suspicious gaze. “Beating me will do nothing. I already told you. Those like Pyre and I are bound by forces much greater than you will ever comprehend. Even the gods who declared our practices forbidden don’t know the full truth.”

“The full truth about what?” Dragan asks.

“We have oaths,” Theren responds, as if that makes any sort of fucking sense.

“Yeah, well, I took an oath once, too, and that got me killed. So don’t try to feed me some bullshit about honor-bound promises and destiny, just tell me what the fucking hag has planned.”

Theren’s jaw ticks and he looks at Pyre for several minutes before replying. It’s as though they’re speaking telepathically or through expressions alone.

“There’s a prophecy,” Theren starts. “Not the one Morrigan is following, but the one she’s trying to avoid.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.

He glares at me and continues. “In the Midnight Queen’s time, magic as we know it didn’t exist. She and her coven were the first to discover magic. And they kept it secret. Morrigan, however, got greedy.”

“Glad to hear not much has changed,” Dragan says.

“Not greedy for power, but greedy for love,” Theren continues. “She fell hard for Abedon and he gave her what she needed to unlock her potential. It wasn’t long before she discovered the prophecy that would be her undoing... that wouldbe the undoing for all the gods and those who fought for power,” Theren mutters through bruised lips.

“What prophecy?” Dragan asks.

“A prophecy that said six warriors, three of darkness and three of light, would pledge their love and loyalty to a new goddess who would rise in the aftermath of a cleansing shadow.”

“And then what? The end of days?” Dragan asks.

“No,” he hisses. “A new beginning for all!”