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“You’ve managed to call on your powers during a vision and have crossed the veil as you would when moving a soul. Welcome to the Otherworld, Bryn.” Mr. Rafferty’s voice spilled into the night as the man himself stepped out of the darkness.

The silver wolf growled as it stood back up and moved to stand between Bryn and Mr. Rafferty.

The governor she’d grown up with was the same aside from small differences as he walked from the darkness toward her.

His hair was pure silver and his eyes black with no whites. He wore a cloak that looked like living shadows made up the black garment. She hoped the shadows kept up the work covering the man’s body.

Some things could not be unseen.

The blue markings she had on her arms were all across the exposed areas of his skin up to his neck, and surprise, surprise, his ears were pointed too. Like the books she’d read about fae.

Mr. Rafferty was fae.

Kianwas fae.

“Mr. Rafferty,” she greeted, swallowing her panic. She couldfeelhis power as it wrapped around her, invisible, but then the steady thrum of it was soothing her soul like a mother’s heartbeat would a child.

“Arawn will do just fine now that we are aware of one another’s souls once again.”

Nope. Too weird. He would always be Mr. Rafferty.

The silver wolf pushed into her side as several hounds left the trees, coming in behind Arawn but not moving into the cemetery. They were huge beasts, with bloodred eyes, black coats, and yet they made no move to attack.

The pitch-black wolf turned and sat on its haunches next to her.

“Was there ever a Mr. Rafferty?” she asked.

Arawn walked to a headstone, wiping off some dirt from the top before leaning against it. The silver wolf next to her curled its lips but did nothing else. The crow, not Cyerra, landed on a cross nearby but remained silent as well.

“There was. He left town as a young man and died out in the desert sands. I took over his identity, the face I wear is his, but I can change as needed. Taking on his face and identity, I returned to Ifreann after gathering all of you up, having been tasked by Danu with overseeing your care.”

“You rounded us up? I came with my father—”

“At the suggestion of his good friend, Aaron Rafferty, who promised that his daughter would be seen to and cared for in Ifreann.”

He had played quite a long game, she’d give him that.

“Declan?” she asked, her voice wavering a bit. She might have made things incredibly awkward between them, but she still cared for him.

“He was orphaned during one of the plagues in Osgar. I took him and called him my own as I led your families in. He is my son, Bryn, in all but blood. I do care for him.”

“Even if you’ve lied to him all this time?” she asked. Arawn shook his head as his hounds growled and started moving back and forth along the fence.

“The lie was to protect you all, and so I am not sorry for it.”

“Yet you knew this whole city worshipped our greatest enemy?” The wolves at her side growled louder at her statement.

Arawn, Mr. Rafferty, whomever he was, tilted his head.

“Every time he found you after you’d been reborn, he killed you and always made sure to burn your bodies so we couldn’t bring you back. Then his son created a city to follow his religion, the one he created in honor of his father. A place where to worship nature was witchcraft and where he burned all the bodies of those who died as a sacrifice. We knew the best place to hide you all was right under his nose.” Arawn shrugged, such a human gesture. “And it worked.”

That explained much more about why the church did what it did.

“The king is Balor’s son. . .,” she started, and Arawn nodded. “And he is planning to bring Balor back, but to do so, he needed to keep his father’s power tethered here through worship, which he did, and sacrifices to Balor.”

Sacrifices. Like the ones at the gate.

Arawn nodded again at her words.