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Torin's gaze locked onto the cloud as it lengthened, the dark shadows coalescing into a solid black form reminiscent of a large man. The black werewolf stepped sideways, directly in front of the undulating mass. From his vantage point, Torin noticed Kilian's eyes narrow as he, too, watched the huge monster who'd captured Gwyn earlier.

The power emanating from the behemoth was potent...and somehow familiar. For whatever reason, he smelled different from the others. Torin drew a deep breath, trying to place the scent, which, surprisingly, was not offensive. It almost reminded him of Irish fields in summer.

"You will stand down," the monster growled. "My master's plan is already set in motion, and nothing you do will stop it."

Torin frowned. He recognized that voice, but from where? Long forgotten memories flooded his mind—running through the chilly stream behind their small village, he and his friends laughing and playing in the warm summer sun.

His younger brother and best friend, Kellan, turned, his long black hair whipping around his face as he laughed back at him, lying in the water where he'd fallen. They had done everything together until the night Torin had been captured by Fer-Diorich.

Eyes wide, Torin stepped forward but stopped when the black beast raised his giant paw, the iron-tipped claws glistening in the torchlight from the wall sconce beside them.

"Come no closer, traitor."

Now Torin saw the person behind the voice. "Kellan?" He shook his head. "Is that you? I thought you were dead."

"The Kellan you knew is dead." The black werewolf stretched out his arms, thrusting his barreled chest forward. "This is who I am now."

He lowered his massive paws to his sides. "As I lay dying—where you left me—the Dark Fae granted me one last wish. After all these years, I finally get the vengeance I’ve dreamed of. For leaving me behind to die alone. For allowing him to do this to me, I will make sure you and your new family die."

Torin tried to take another step forward but couldn’t, his gaze dropping to the black paw stopping him from moving any further. He frowned at the restraint but didn't push Makari's paw away.

What he's saying isn't true, Torin. The tone of doubt is in his voice as if he's been coerced into believing the lie. None of us think for one minute you would leave anyone behind, especially your brother. You would offer yourself to save us all.

Torin turned a stricken gaze on Makari. Your belief in me is overwhelming and humbling. Thank you, my brother. Swallowing his pain, he turned back to the last blood relative he had. "Kellan, I didn't leave you behind. Our family was killed in the Dark Fae's last raid."

He raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug and held out his hands, palms up. "I thought you stayed with our sisters, Kellan. It was your job to watch them that night..." He dropped his hands back down to his sides. "I thought you died with them."

The beast's black lips spread in an evil grin. "I guess I failed at that too. Failure to do what we're supposed to seems to run deep in our family, big brother."

Torin's face crumbled, and his gaze fell to the floor. "If I'd known...I am so sorry, Kellan."

The beast roared, his body crouching as if to launch at him. "Your apology comes too late! You cannot defeat the Fae, so why try?"

The black mist dropped and hovered beside the werewolf's head, one furry ear tilting toward it as if Kellan listened to something no one else heard. "As my faithful pet said," Fer-Diorich's raspy, bodiless voice said, "I cannot be stopped."

There was a pause, and the mist coalesced again into the shape of a large man. His head slightly turned toward Rhona and Gwyn, who stood together with Colette behind them. His glowing red eyes held everyone in the room still—evil eyes. Possessed eyes.

"And you, Rhona,” Fer-Diorich said, the heavy sneer of disdain in his voice. "A guardian without her Hallow is supposed to make me quiver with fear? I have spent long enough putting up with those idiots in the Unseelie Court. Now is my time. I will drink the descendants' blood as they lay dying and be freed from this hellish place. I will kill Morrigan once and for all for meddling in my affairs. Dagda has no idea what's in store. I am coming for him. Both courts will be mine to control."

"I beg to differ," Fáelán replied, his voice soft and lilting as he stepped closer to Torin and Makari. "None of us here are the people you once manipulated and tortured. We are no longer simpering and weak humans, and we can thank you for that."

"I should have killed all of you when I had the chance," the shadow beast hissed, his fiery eyes burning brighter.

The shadows of Fer-Diorich’s upper body merged to form huge arms. Raising them outward, his bones popped and cracked as he transformed into something never seen before. This new form reminded Torin of a professional bodybuilder combined with the wild, red-eyed expression of a drug addict.

Forcing his own body to remain still, Torin willed away the growing fear for those he loved but failed as it blossomed into terror. As casually as he could, he tightened his paw around the handle of his serpentine knife, the silver injectors now their only hope. He could never overpower this giant undulating in front of them, even if the Fae had yet to coalesce a flesh and bone body.

"What in the hell are you?" Fáelán whispered, a mask of disgust on his face. Torin couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

Fer-Diorich's arrogant gaze turned from Rhona back to Fáelán, letting Torin rest a little easier. With the Fae focused on them, his attention was no longer on Gwyn.

"I had to experiment a while to get the combination right, but I'm quite satisfied with these results," the Fae bragged. "The trick was the amount of blood and the correct spell. Fae blood can be so tricky, you know. I also added an extraordinary ingredient—something I've been saving for a long time." He turned his burning gaze again to Rhona, as if waiting for her to guess.

It didn't take her long. "You are a hybrid. You've mixed your Fae blood with werewolf and demon. The stench of sulfur follows everywhere you go."

He clapped the pads of his paws together a couple of times. "Ever the smart one, aren't you? I used Immortal blood, drained from the dead, to calm the primordial lusts and cravings of a transformed demon. One summoned by a human is usually best, although it doesn't bode well for the human."

"That happened a long time ago, and I buried those feelings alongside the family you killed." Rhona’s voice remained calm and quiet, drawing everyone who listened to her like a beacon of light.

During the centuries Torin had known her, the only family Rhona had ever mentioned was her great-grandfather. He had been the guardian of the Claiomh Solais , the sword of Nuada, and one of the Fae's Hallows.

Torin's gaze fell to the sword gripped in Colette's white-knuckled fist. The intricate gold-infused etchings along the blade and precious metals twined together, each flaring out on either side of the handle as the protective cross guard.

How had he not guessed? The young girl was also a guardian. But how she obtained the sword instead of Rhona would be a question for later. Guardianship was passed within families, and as far as he knew, Colette wasn't any relation to the older female.

"Do you ever truly put tragedy such as that behind you?” Fer-Diorich continued taunting Rhona. "Do you ever really get over losing your entire family? They were pathetic, you know. Weak humans pleading for their son's life. Silly, really—mortals. Sentiment and love got them nowhere. I bled dry the boy first. Such pureness. He was both untried and innocent. I couldn't let such a delicacy go to waste. It was the boy's blood and soul that converted Kellan."

The black werewolf standing beside the Fae grinned, his red eyes sparkling as he turned his glare on Torin, but his head whipped back around as the shadow beast leaned over and whispered something to him again.

The Ironclaw pushed back his shoulders and nodded, but Torin noticed the slight widening of his brother's red eyes and caught the glint of fear in their depths. "I kept my promise. You do not need them."

Fer-Diorich held out his smoky hands in front of him, and two babies appeared, floating in mid-air. Startled cries filled the room as their small arms tried to reach for one another. "Since you haven't been able to find the other twin, let's see if one of yours will evoke the countercurse, shall we?" his raspy, disembodied voice said, each syllable cut into Torin's ears like a knife.

Torin stared in horror as Kellan's muzzle opened wide in a snarl and launched himself at the children, but Fer-Diorich was quicker. A silver blade appeared out of nowhere. Torin blinked and could have sworn one of the babes, a little girl in the tattered, stain-covered pink dress, threw herself between the knife and the wriggling body of the boy's smaller form. The knife struck her chest, and the werewolf's body jerked back as if he, too, had been attacked, a pain-filled wail coming from his muzzle.

Torin lunged forward as the second babe fell, but Gwyn beat him, catching the baby and pulling him against her. Hitting the hard-packed earth with a thud , she lay on her side for a second before rolling toward the wall and trying to escape the toxic cloud. The room erupted as more Ironclaws poured down the stairwell.

Rhona and Colette ducked as one dropped almost on top of them. The older guardian nodded at Colette, who took aim and launched the sword, impaling the beast. A few seconds later, the weapon disappeared.

Torin filed his questions away and forced his way through the fighting as he tried to reach Gwyn. Someone shoved him from behind, throwing him into the black Ironclaw, who turned his wild-eyed gaze on Torin. "Stay out of his—the blackhearted Fae is mine!"

With a howl of rage, the Ironclaw leaped toward the Fae, his claws extended as he raked one hand through the rolling apparition. A fiery red symbol appeared, outlined in what looked like molten gold. It blazed, filling the room with white light.

The Fae's high-pitched scream of pain echoed through the room, and everyone stopped fighting to cover their ears. The remaining Ironclaws cried out, turning and jumping over one another to escape up the stairs. With blood trickling from their ears, Makari and Kilian raced after them.

Torin's gaze returned to his brother, whose colossal body twitched several times. His head dropped to his shoulder, and his tongue lolled from his open mouth. Torin did the first thing that came to mind. He launched himself and tackled Kellan, driving him to the ground.

Scrambling over the hard-packed earth, Torin pulled his brother to him and cradled his head in his arms. Blood ran from every orifice, and each breath Kellan drew was labored.

Kellan grabbed Torin's forearm, but his grip was weak. "I'm sorry for what I said, brother. If Fer-Diorich even had a doubt I escaped his mind control..." He coughed as blood foamed in the corners of his muzzle. "He would have killed them both. Protect Lucas, Torin. Promise me you will guard my son like he is your own."

Torin frowned. "Your son... And the girl?"

Kellan closed his pain-filled eyes. "Lia. My daughter. Fer-Diorich killed their mother—my true mate—after they were born and has kept them in stasis, not growing or changing until Morrigan's offspring were of age to be sacrificed. He used their lives as a threat to keep me under his control." He choked, blood gurgling in his throat.

Torin propped him up higher, but Kellan shook his head. "It was hard after I was first captured. The Fae would taunt me, tell me you abandoned me, sacrificing my life for yours. I never believed him. The brother I idolized and loved would never have done that." Cough, cough. "Protect my son..."

Rhona dropped beside the large black wolf with an etched bowl cradled between her hands. A dark liquid sloshed in the bottom of the hammered copper. "Drink, Kellan. Drink to live so you can protect Lucas yourself."

Kellan shook his head. "You have my eternal thanks, Guardian, but I cannot. Fer-Diorich has a hold on me I cannot...break. As long as I live, you are all in danger."

His brother's face blurred as tears filled Torin's eyes. "I promise, Kellan. Lucas will be treasured by us all and raised knowing what you and his sister did so he could live. He will grow up loved, this I vow."

Kellan's grip on Torin's arm tightened, and then his paw slid to the ground. "You and…other Immortals...Morrigan's descendants...still in danger. This isn't over, Torin—hell is coming." Kellan gasped, and the light faded from his eyes. "Hell is..."

Torin clutched the large wolf against his chest, holding his little brother to him as he rocked back and forth, his shoulders rising and falling in silent grief.

* * *

Gwyn stood behind the group, wanting to throw up, her fear and Torin's sorrow beating at her until she felt bruised and battered. Everything she'd just heard was heartbreaking. How much more pain could the Immortals go through?

To lose everyone they loved because of one man's twisted machinations and lust for power. The longer she thought about the utter ridiculousness of the situation, the angrier she got. More than anything, she wanted her sister.

I love you, Gwyn. Morgan's voice was faint, sounding miles away.

Morgan? Where are you? Why aren't you here with us?

I'm sorry, little sister. I just wasn't fast enough...

Morgan! Gwyn screamed along with her tiny twins as Morgan's spirit faded. Gripping the baby to her, she dropped to her knees, her legs no longer able to hold her up.

She opened her mind, scanning the surrounding ruins, but her twin's spirit, which had always been deep within her, was gone. Like a chasm inside her chest, the remaining emptiness spread.

"Fáelán!" Torin turned to the Immortal. "Find Rafael and tell him to look for Morgan—she may be injured. Severely."

The hair on Gwyn's neck rose. She froze as a dark, oily feeling moved over her. Holding her breath, she glanced on either side of her but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She cradled Kellan's son with one hand, his tiny head tucked into the crook of her shoulder and used the other to push herself off the floor.

Before she could move closer to Torin, something grabbed her neck. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together to keep from screaming. She twisted her body and tried to squirm out of the grasp, but whoever had her was too strong.

She felt a trickling warmth and glanced down, seeing several bright red streams of blood as it ran down between her breasts. She held her breath, remembering the precious baby in her arms. Just as she settled, she thought she heard the ghost of her sister's voice reminding her to think about her babies. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows bunching together until the furrowed skin between them ached.

Something stirred, a flutter of life, then faded, and Gwyn was again alone. She raised her tear-filled gaze and saw Rafael staring at her from the top of the landing. She immediately noticed his eyes—streaks of black colored the eerie silver in his gaze. The minute shake of his head doused her newfound hope as he turned his gaze on whoever held her.

"We will not allow you to have either of them, Fae," he snarled the last word as if he were talking about the trash. "I am going to send you back to rot in your self-made hell if it's the last thing I do."

"It will be, Immortal." The Dark Fae's raspy voice sounded behind Gwyn's ear. Whatever he held her with moved deeper underneath the tender skin of her neck.

Muttering something under his breath, words Gwyn couldn't understand, her body weakened, as if her life force drained away. She felt so tired, and without Morgan, she didn't want to fight anymore.

I love you, Torin.

Fight, Gwyn! You can't leave me... Be strong for our children. Fight for them! he begged. Fight for the babe in your arms. He needs you...please fight, mon coeur, he commanded . Fight!

A loud thunderclap shook the walls, sending decades of dust on top of them. Gwyn breathed in, smelling the crisp morning air of early fall and newly baked homemade cookies.

Her abdomen burned—her precious twins reminding her of all she had to live for. Gwyn struggled but stopped as a familiar power grew into a burning flame inside her heart. Morrigan was with her, feeding her the immense power of the Fae.

It's okay, Mama. We're saving you.

Her babies' voices filled her with wonder and strengthened the growing light of power, blinding her and the others in the room. The light poured out of her and filled the small dungeon. The Dark Fae’s muttering stopped, and he shoved her away with a gasp.

The shadow figure shrank to the size of a small child and seemed to be shaking and blowing on his hand as if burned. Growling, he reached for her again and pierced her stomach.

Torin screamed her name and threw himself forward, trying to reach her as she and the baby fell to the ground.

* * *

" Supplant !" Colette yelled, and a golden light flashed in front of him. Instead of his sword, he held the legendary Claimh Solais —the sword of the Celtic god Nuada Airgeadlámh. Orgham runes decorated both sides of the golden blade, and the heavy grip warmed under his hand as the artistic filigree decorating the guard glowed. The sword was magnificent.

"I choose you, Guardian , to wield the sword of power," Colette yelled from across the room.

"You must pierce the center of his breastplate—only then will you send Fer-Diorich back to the Unseelie Court," Rhona whispered behind him. "He must also be touching Gwyn. Hurry, Torin! If he kills her..."

Torin lunged forward, his only thought for Gwyn. The shadow beast tripled in size in the short time since he received the sword. Torin glanced down at Gwyn's limp body, blood trickling from her abdomen, her arm still wrapped around Kellan's son.

Forcing his gaze to Fer-Diorich's, he shoved Rafael out of the way as the beast's claws narrowly missed the Spaniard's chest. "This is my fight, Rafael!"

The shadow beast snarled, hitting Torin across the shoulder and chest with his heavy paw. Torin's arm went numb, and four fiery lines from the Fae’s shadow burned across his chest.

He cursed, slashing with the giant sword and cutting through the mist like butter. The Fae howled in pain but somehow scooped up Gwyn. At the same time, Rafael grabbed Lucas and handed him to Rhona.

With Gwyn dangling at the Fae's side, Torin knew they were in trouble. As the Dark Fae's shadowy form faded and his one chance began to fade, Torin lunged forward. With a battle cry that would have made his forefathers proud, he shoved the blade through the center of the mist-shrouded ribcage.

For a few moments, Fer-Diorich solidified, and the sword was jerked from Torin's hand as the Fae fell to his knees. Gwyn lay on the ground next to him, unmoving. The monster stared down at the sword in his chest, then raised his confused gaze to Torin's.

"Nuada's sword was lost..." Fer-Diorich gasped, his breath sounding like a wheezy rattle as he struggled to breathe.

Even with the Fae hunched over on his knees, Rhona had to look up at him. "No, the Claiomh Solais was never lost but merely protected through the centuries by its chosen guardian." She raised her hands above her head. "I command you, Fer-Diorich, the Dark Fae, to return to the Unseelie Court."

Clapping loudly two times, her brown eyes blazed indigo as ancient Fae magic poured from her. "Tá tú ag dhíbir! You are banished!" She cried out, the echoing voices of those guardians who passed before her blended with hers.

A loud grumbling shook the earth, and the stones in the wall behind the evil Fae swirled together, disappearing into a growing emptiness. Black tendrils, like fingers, curled over the remaining wall as if holding it open. With a growling snarl, the shadow beast tried to lunge forward, his claws slicing through the air only inches from Rhona's face.

Without so much as a blink, she reached forward and grabbed the sword, pulling it free. He jerked, arms outstretched and head thrown back, as the blackness sucked the Fae's misty form into its swirling maw. The Veil closed with a loud thwap as the last droplets passed through the rift.

Torin rushed over to Gwyn and pulled her off the floor. He cradled her in his arms, not knowing what to do for her or the babies. Her skin looked too pale, as if no blood remained in her veins. Dark purple bruises circled her neck with four holes on one side where claws had cut into her skin. Her wrists were also bruised and covered with welts from the shackles.

Fáelán dropped down beside him and raised the hemline of her shirt. The bloody wound was on her side, just above the baby bump. The clean-cut skin gaped open and looked terrible, but her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. "She and the babes are lucky, my friend. The laceration will need to be sutured, but the Fae's claws only sliced through the outer layers of her skin."

Fáelán raised Gwyn's head as Rhona poured a small amount of liquid from what Torin now recognized as Dagda's cauldron. Torin brushed the hair off her face and pulled her to his chest, rocking his mate with his shaking body.

"Thank the gods. Thank the gods,” he breathed the words into her messy curls and closed his tear-filled eyes, uncaring about anything but the precious woman in his arms.