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My eyes linger on Theren, Son of Elioth, as he pelts the Midnight Queen with a spell that nearly severs her head from her shoulders.

His power has grown greatly, despite Morrigan’s influences, and a spark of pride for the young boy I knew in his youth begins to flourish within me.

Theren is not a child anymore, but a king who has had his kingdom stolen.

I understand him most of all. The Hall of The Gods was once my kingdom as much as it was to the others.

And that was how it all started, was it not? The times indeed are repeating. I recall a specific day with absolute clarity, a day when I changed from a mere spirit of the forest to a god among mortals. Three stood before the Throne of The Gods, three with their destinies entwined.

Morrigan was denied the ascension, for her heart had never been pure nor her intentions impartial. Abedon was also denied, as he did not possess the neutrality required of an ineffable being.

It was I who was chosen to join the rest among the stars.

It was I who helped to create worlds and govern them, punishing those who were unworthy.

Blessings were abundant, yet the greed of Abedon had been consuming to all the realms. Morrigan had come to me in fear, begging for my help as she suspected Abedon would do something terrible.

And terrible things were exactly what Abedon was particularly good at.

So, I went to him. I, a god, was nearly defeated by one who had been deemed undeserving of my rank.

We battled in the way that Morrigan and Theren battle now, and I see the same potential for overshadowing darkness within Theren that I saw that day in my old companion.

Even so, Theren will soon learn the significance of his suffering, and I will have little part to play.

Eilish is the destiny that awaits me. Even now, as she climbs fearlessly to the top of the mountain, there is a vulnerability inside her that will stay her hand against even the most formidable opponents.

Eilish’s weakness is her bleeding heart, her compassion.

She will believe herself stronger for it, believe it makes her different from her enemies.

What she seeks upon that mountaintop is not a father, but proof she is more than the others say.

Many months have passed since I last spoke to Eilish.

Her memories have mostly returned, and yet I hesitate to approach her.

Has she grown to hate me for my part in her destiny?

I know not, but I climb the mountain with ease.

I move swiftly, past those who seek to come to her aid.

Dragan, King of Shadow, climbs beside the necromancer and the vampire.

I know him more than the others. Gargoyles are creatures that thrive in darkness and yet are not naturally dark creatures.

There is a difference. They are guardians, protectors that watch over the realms beneath the light of the moon. At least… that was what they once were.

Our paths will cross again, but not until more hardship tears the world asunder. These men are more important to the realms than they believe.

Ahead, I see Eilish. She reaches up with one hand, dangling over the edge of the overhang, and claws her nails into the frozen stone for purchase.

When she catches on something, Eilish hoists herself up onto the ledge and crawls on her hands and knees.

Worry more potent than it should be starts to boil up inside me.

The sound of her pattering footsteps echoes through the cave as she approaches the entrance to her father’s lair.

***

EILISH

Delendren Glade

Fingers numb and trembling, I step into the shadows without fear. Though my arms are aching and my lungs burn from the thin mountain air, nothing could keep me from pushing forward. And I feel strong—stronger than I have in a very long time.

I owe that strength to Cambion. In joining with him, there was something that happened to me—yes, my hair returned to its natural white, but there was more. Much more. I don’t feel that horrid hungering anymore. I feel satiated, complete, for the first time in my recent memory.

The blinding, white light that encompassed us as soon as I felt Cambion’s erection inside me seemed to have pulled any pollution from within me. I feel clearer, stronger, more capable of doing what I need to do.

I lift my hand and summon a ball of light to guide me as I move deeper into the cavern.

Large claw marks mar the stone along the edges of the tunnel, as though an enormous creature has been dragged through the opening against its will.

I reach out to touch the marks, to feel the depth of the claws that gouged the stone.

I step inside, moving slowly through the tunnel, feeling along the walls with my hands.

Ripe, musty air fills my lungs and causes my chest to ache as I delve deeper.

A cliff with a sudden drop beyond appears before me.

Turning back isn’t an option, not when I’ve come this far.

But the hole is too wide for me to jump.

And I can’t fly across—the tunnel is too narrow to accommodate my wingspan.

With an exasperated sigh, I drop the ball of light and watch as it falls into an endless chasm of shadow.

No going back. No going forward. The only way to go is down.

I jump, spreading my wings as far as I can to slow the momentum of my fall.

I can still see the light below me but it’s difficult to focus on as I drift downward.

I hit a film of grease that covers the surface of dirty water.

I gasp loudly and suck in a mouthful of air that smells like decaying flesh.

Slicing my arms through the water, I swim toward the opposite wall, then grip the stone and lift myself out of the water.

Bones and bloated bodies wearing armor from many different kingdoms float on the surface of the water, each of them in various stages of rot.

I gag and then retch until there’s nothing left but acid in the pit of my stomach.

The light hovers above the water, and I summon it to me.

A few feet above my head is another tunnel.

The freezing temperature of the water that clings to me causes my teeth to chatter and stiffens my joints.

Thankfully, the armor I wear was crafted with care of the elements, or I’d get ill from the cold.

I scale the stone wall, sliding my fingers in between slimy cracks until I can steady my grip and pull myself up.

By the time I reach the tunnel, I’m winded, but there’s light up ahead.

I creep along the walls until I come to a stop just outside what looks like a central chamber.

Dozens of tunnels pepper the dome-like walls.

Pillars tower overhead, breaking up the light that shines through a crack in the ceiling.

The ground is dark and moist with an unknown sludge that sticks to my boots as I tiptoe out of the tunnel.

Approaching, I see that the pillars are carved with ancient runes and pictures of battles won and lost, beautiful and faded around the edges over time.

I keep moving, counting my steps and noting the direction in case I get lost.

A growl, low and menacing, bellows through the tunnel, and I follow the sound to what looks like a dragon’s horde.

Piles of gold and jewels reach the ceiling.

In the corner is a large figure, swathed in tattered cloth.

Six great horns protrude from his brow, arching upward like the branches of trees.

Though he appears broken and scarred, he stands to his full height, nearly reaching the top of the pillars.

Black eyes stare at me as he doubles over once again, dropping down on his hands.

I hear the sound of bones popping and cracking, reforming themselves until he’s only a foot or so taller than Pyre.

He stands up. The creature before me is now a man, with skin as pale as the snow atop the mountain, features sharp enough to cut diamonds, black hair that brushes the floor as he walks, and a body that ripples with tight muscle.

He’s stunning.

He lifts his head in a way that speaks of imperial blood.

“Who... are... you?” he rumbles, voice harsh as though he hasn’t used it in some time. I stand tall, not willing to cower before this stranger even as darkness permeates off him in waves. “Answer me…”

“My name is Eilish.”

“I know... no Eilish.”

“No, you never knew me,” I say. “But I’m known as Lady Eilish Inoa Fulthain, daughter of Gildlorthoine, the Lost King of The Succubae…

” I pause but he doesn’t appear to recognize his name.

I take a deep breath and continue. “And daughter of Maeline Fulthain, Healing Light of The Angels. I’m the leader of the Rebel Lords of The Vindication. ”

My mouth feels dry with fear, my tongue thick as he walks toward me. For a moment, there’s softness in his eyes.

“Maeline…”

“My mother.”

“She is gone,” he groans. “Taken from me.”

“By the Cockatrice—”

The words barely leave my lips as Gildlorthoine, my father, barrels toward me with a murderous look in his eyes. I dodge him, climbing up the pillar as he engages in some internal struggle. He drops to his knees beneath me and lowers his head in his hands.

“Years of waiting for answers… years of fighting whatever army sought to enslave the Incubus King...” he says and his voice trails into silence.

His thoughtful expression blanches and he faces me with anger.

“I thought you had died with them, or the Cockatrice had killed you to spite me,” he cries.

Then he grows quiet again before a suspicious expression overcomes his face.

His eyes grow wide with the delirium of insanity.

“You are not Maeline’s daughter! You are not mine!”