Page 9

MORRIGAN

Jadyrar Sea

My pale fingers claw across the citrine sands of the beach. Baron was right in that the Jadyrar Sea looks like molten pearl swept along the shore. I hear it crashing on the jagged stone off to the east, but I’m unable to lift my head high enough to see its true beauty.

Tingles prickle my skin as I feel the spray of the sea, causing chill bumps to rise all over my arms and legs. Slowly, I crawl into the small cave along the coast and somehow manage to prop myself up against the wall. Something prowls along the beach, trying to sniff me out, but my scent is masked well beneath the aromatic fungi that clings to the cave walls.

Pressing myself into the deepest corner, I close my eyes. Hiding from Eilish and the others is much easier than avoiding the creatures of this world. I look down and gently peel back my makeshift bandage. Escaping the cottage during the battle was more difficult than I’d anticipated, for I had not expected to be ambushed by seven demons...

Now, there’s not enough strength left in my body to build a fire. The truth hits me with clear precision: I can’t stay here, or I will die.

The faint simmer of magic at the core of my soul is my only hope. I shut my eyes and reach for it, allowing it to engulf me in a faint light as I summon an astral manifestation of myself to the Castle in the Sky. Taking a vessel is dangerous if the match is incompatible. While feeders like vampires and succubae are able to absorb souls and magic, I possess the ability to sever my soul from my body and take possession of another body, a vessel.

As I creep through the thin membrane between the astral plane and reality, I search for a body to inhabit. I look for someone whose magical fingerprint is strong and similar to my own, someone with undiscovered potential. My search leads me to a Seelie woman. She’s beautiful and carries within her the ability to birth a child of magic, even if she doesn’t know it just yet. Perfect . Mothers are natural vessels.

I reach out with the last ribbons of my power and latch onto her. The soul within her body fights me and, in my weakened state, I nearly lose the battle. One forceful push isn’t enough. Bracing my hand at the center of her chest, I finally push through. The woman gasps and grits her teeth, a contorted expression twisting her face. My hand squeezes her soul until it writhes in pain and submits to my will.

The further her soul submits, the more of my astral form seeps into her body. I test my control over her by wiggling her fingers, and when her body complies, I realize I’ve been successful. With my other hand, I punch her soul from her body completely, slotting myself into the vessel like dipping my feet into a warm bath. I feel myself adjust to the Seelie woman’s body as I watch her soul turn grey and seep into the Veil.

I feel renewed. Invigorated. Discorporation always puts a little spring in my step.

I walk through the halls of Variant’s castle in search of my pitiful lackey. The door to the throne room is open, and I step inside the space where so much history has been shaped. Being here in physical form is much different in a body that isn’t my own.

When I enter the room, Variant lifts his head from where it was resting against his palm. He rakes his gaze over my new body and stands up from his throne.

Even now, I find him desirable.

“Morrigan?” he whispers in disbelief. “How is it possible?”

“I used what magic I still had left,” I respond in a voice that isn’t my own.

“So, you’re a mortal, then?”

“Perhaps,” I retort dryly, not appreciating the comparison but I suppose it’s a fitting one.

“And you’ve come here why?”

“Because we need to begin,” I bark in response. His question is stupid. “The others are already plotting what they’ll do next.”

“The others?”

I nod. “They will not be defeated easily, Variant,” I say. “But, they aren’t our problem at the moment.”

“And what is?”

“I need the talisman, I need my magic restored to me or everything we’ve set in motion will be for naught.”

Variant nods and circles me like a vulture. “How long until your mortal vessel cracks?”

“Perhaps four months, if I don’t abuse the flesh.”

“Then we have time to have a bit of fun.” He chuckles suggestively.

“We don’t have time for fun.”

“I can see the desire in your eyes, Morrigan. I hunger for the same.”

“Is sex all you think about?” I demand as I step away from him, placing some distance between us. Though I’m the one who bespelled him, Variant seems to have a hold on me that I can’t quite escape. If not for the attraction between us, I would have suspected foul play or some form of magic. “We need to get the talisman and figure out what the others have planned,” I insist. “And that is the only subject on my mind.” I take a breath when he doesn’t respond. “The easiest way to kill the others is to isolate them individually and pick them off one by one. I trust you can do this?”

Variant approaches me and wraps his fingers around my throat. It’s not a threat of death or violence, but a promise of sexual fulfillment.

“What’s the rush, pet? Why not put this new form of yours to good use?” Then he glances down at my now corporeal form and nods, his gaze filling with undisguised lust. “You chose well, Morrigan. I like my women with fair hair, blue eyes and large busts.” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Your body reminds me of the angel.” He traces his tongue along the curve of my jaw before biting my lower lip so hard, I can taste blood.

“Get away from me,” I start, angry that my form reminds him of her .

He pulls away from me. “Guards!” he yells and immediately the doors to the throne room open and two guards appear. Variant takes a few steps away from me so he can fully face them.

“Take this woman to my bedchamber. I have plans for her.”

***

EILISH

Mercenary Stronghold

The sun rises on another day, and Kolvar looks up at the sky with a smile on his face. I follow his gaze, but I see nothing aside from the holes that pepper the rockface that looms above us.

“We’re here,” Kolvar announces, leading us around the side of the immense boulder to a large crack in the canyon wall. I squeeze between my companions and when I step out on the other side, I can’t help the way my jaw drops.

Kolvar was right—we’ve arrived… somewhere. Large walls encircle an enormous kingdom of polished terracotta. A kingdom that appears out of nowhere, a mirage in this endless desert of sand.

Kolvar shouts for someone to open the gate and two men with scarves over their faces obey without hesitation. Vibrant red streamers hang between the stalls of a bustling marketplace at the heart of the stronghold. Elves, demons, ogres, gnomes, trolls, golems, satyrs, pixies, nymphs, and other creatures fill the streets. It’s been many years since I’ve seen this many species existing in apparent harmony.

Sirens sit high on a balcony, singing to those below as halflings and sprites dance a happy jig. My eyes are hungry as I try to take in each little detail. I look back and notice the way Dragan takes everything in and smiles, causing my heart to stutter for a moment. It’s very rare that he smiles, but when he does, it’s devastating in its beauty. And he hasn’t smiled at me for a while, not since our last conversation when he learned about Pyre, Baron and me. Truth be told, Dragan’s been avoiding me.

Kolvar weaves through the throng of creatures, pushing toward the north end of the stronghold.

“The east belongs to the Banefire Horde, Adamante, and Mournblades. The West belongs to the two noble clans, and the king and his family take the north. Everythin’ else belongs to those under the king’s protection,” the satyr shouts above the activity in the streets. I notice how the streamers, banners, and shutters of the buildings change colors to pay tribute to whichever clan they belong to.

There are guilds and trade shops everywhere, surrounded by homes that reach toward a bright blue sky and are carved from the same terracotta that shapes the walls. Green ivy and fragrant flowers add splashes of emerald among the shades of orange, red, yellow, gold, sapphire, and purple. We walk up a large staircase that leads to an oasis garden of tropical and desert plants. Two enormous doors carved from soapstone open as Kolvar gives the signal.

“This is the Hall of Clans. As a chieftain, I’m tasked with representing my people here at the gatherings.”

“You have a fully operational government here,” I say in awe. I don’t know what I was expecting before arriving here, but it wasn’t this.

Kolvar nods. “Despite what people think of mercenaries, we have just as many politics as any other civilization, we just aren’t as civilized.” Then he snorts.

The Hall of Clans is a large room with wood-paneled walls. Tribal rugs cover the natural floors and a firepit rests at the center. The ceiling is open to let the smoke out, and the scent of roasting meats permeates the air. My stomach rumbles and I look over at Dragan, only to find him already studying me. As soon as our eyes meet, he looks away.

The sound of hooves catches my attention, and curtains open to allow a centaur into the room. He’s nearly a head taller than Pyre and he’s wider than even Kolvar. The expansion of his chest alone seems to take up the entirety of the room.

Silken tresses fall naturally in golden waves around his face and shoulders, and a bronze circlet rests on his brow with a ruby at the center. The color brings out the unique shade of violet in his eyes. Kolvar takes a knee, and Dragan and I follow suit. It’s unusual for the gargoyle to bow to anyone, which speaks volumes of the centaur’s commanding aura.

“Stand, please,” he says in a pleasantly clear voice. “Any friend of Kolvar’s is a friend of mine.”

“This is,” Kolvar starts but the centaur interrupts him with a smile.

“I am Galmer, King of The Mercenaries.”

“My name is Eilish,” I offer with my own smile as I stand and turn to face Dragan. “And this is Dragan.”

“Welcome.” The king gestures to two seats beside his throne at a long table in the center of the room. “Will you have a seat?”

Dragan and I obey the kind request. As soon as we do, Galmer settles his attention on me. He doesn’t say anything right away, but studies me with kind eyes.

“You are quite beautiful, Eilish,” he finally says before he looks at Dragan. “The gargoyle is a lucky man. Any man brave enough to take on a succubus is greatly rewarded.”

I look to Dragan and notice he simply nods at Galmer, but his lips are tight and his jaw is even tighter. I can’t help but wish I’d never told him the truth about Baron, Pyre and me. Things would have been much better if I hadn’t.

“How did you know what I am?” I ask Galmer.

“When you live as long as I have, Eilish, there is very little that remains a mystery.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I say and then wince as the words leave my mouth. I don’t mean to offend him but I most likely have. I can’t help it—Dragan has me on edge and that edge has put me into a foul mood.

“Wrong?” Galmer asks.

“I’m not all succubus,” I answer. “I’m also half angel.”

Luckily, the conversation only sparks a bout of laughter from the unusual king. “I like your fire, Eilish.”

His compliment makes me smile. It’s not every day that someone treats me like an equal only seconds after learning what I am. I find King Galmer refreshing. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries,” he says as his smile drops slowly. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

I take a big breath. “Morrigan, the Midnight Queen, and Variant, the King of Light, are holding fae creatures captive in a place known as the Threst . These fae are tortured and drained of their life forces so Variant can twist their energies to serve Morrigan’s purpose. We seek to liberate them.”

“These people deserve to be free,” Dragan adds.

“And bringing this atrocity to light may turn the tides in our fight against Morrigan and those who follow her,” I continue.

King Galmer nods solemnly. “And what do you wish from me?”

“Men,” I reply. “Reinforcements. Soldiers.”

“Ah,” he answers with a nod and doesn’t appear to be surprised. “How many?”

“As many as you can spare,” Dragan responds.

“And perhaps a place where our resistance may flourish. Perhaps we could join forces—” I start.

“As I said, I like your spirit. But I can’t give you what you seek. At least, not yet.”

“Why?” I ask, shaking my head as disappointment courses through me.

“Even though I hold the title of King, I make no decisions without consulting the clan leaders.”