Seven
S EVEN
ESTRELLA
As darkness fell over the prison, the firelights gleaming at the top of the cave ceiling dimmed slowly, recreating the setting of the sun aboveground. I couldn’t be sure if we were on the same cycle as Caldris would be, if he was in a place where he could appreciate such privileges.
I doubted Mab would have taken kindly to his rebellion, even if she had tried to kill him. The glimpses I’d had into the bizarre vulnerabilities she possessed were somehow even more horrifying than the brutality she exhibited.
She truly believed herself to be the victim of her story, as if her violence was warranted because her husband had been mated to another and had an affair because of it.
She saw the affair as a betrayal. If we’d been human, I might have even agreed with her. But now that I had a more full understanding of the mate bond and how all-consuming it could be, I fully appreci ated the way the Fae cast all relationships aside the moment a bond snapped into place.
Nothing could compare to the love of fated mates.
Nemain stopped, snapping her gaze toward the cave ceiling and glancing at the fading cyclones of fire. They dimmed alongside the ones overhead, casting shadows that grew as we watched.
“Come with us. Quickly,” Badb said, reaching out to take my hand suddenly. She guided me to the wall in the ruins, the boundary that seemed to surround this part of the prison. I wondered about the double gates, if there were other ways to get past the boundary surrounding what I had to believe was the heart of Tartarus, or if all who entered here were forced to endure the gate itself.
“What are we doing?” I asked, following as she brought me to an alcove in the stone. It was a small hollow, not big enough to allow us all to fit within it but too small for large predators to make their way in.
We stopped at the entrance, watching in awe as the prison darkened. Until all traces of light vanished, and we were plunged into the kind of darkness that could only be replicated by a moonless and starless night.
The thought immediately made me think of all those nights I’d gone wandering in the woods in the dark, of the danger I’d risked just to feel a few moments of freedom.
“We must stop here for the night. The creatures that roam the darkness of Tartarus are not for the likes of you,” Macha warned, the three of them pressing me into the wall. They didn’t force me into the alcove that was only big enough for me just yet. “We will begin with the first of your trials tomorrow. You must make it to the first river alive, without your magic to assist you. This place has a way of pushing you into danger, using your weaknesses against you. You should make sure you rest well tonight, Child of Fate. You’ll need to keep your wits about you to survive.”
“I’m not really positive I have my wits about me on a good day, let alone after sleeping in a cave with the threat of death looming over me,” I muttered, looking out past where the Morrigan watched me.
The Cwn Annwn were only visible because of the white of their fur, frolicking through the darkness in a way I hadn’t seen before. They were only ever so light with Caldris, when they tackled him after missing him for weeks.
Watching them play was somehow wholesome, even knowing they were creatures of death and darkness, destined to hunt the Fae and humans who escaped punishment and deliver them to Tartarus after their trial.
Realization dawned on me so sharply it stole the breath from my lungs. “If Mab has the Wild Hunt hunting down human mates, who is delivering criminals to their punishment?” I asked, quirking a brow as Badb met my curious gaze.
“No one. We’ve not had a new prisoner sent to Tartarus in centuries, outside of those summoned here by the Primordials themselves,” she said, gazing out into the darkness. The last of the flames flickered nearby, the cyclones barely a hint of light.
“What happens to the souls who deserve to be brought to Tartarus and die before they can be delivered?” I asked, thinking of all those who had escaped punishment during Mab’s reign.
“They linger in the Void, becoming something twisted and monstrous. They cannot move on to the afterlife, not when they are not worthy of The Father or The Mother’s embrace. The ferryman keeps them trapped within the river, so that they cannot harm the souls who deserve peace.”
“The thing with spinning teeth,” I said, more to myself than to her, thinking of the creature that had tried to eat me during my dream—when the ferryman revealed himself to be the father I remembered.
But also not.
Nemain nodded as she stepped closer, trailing a hand over the light clothes covering me. It was the same gauzy, half-transparent dress Mab had chosen for me to wear. The golden paint lines on my body were partially smeared now from my altercation, the water of the cove having made them run and bleed.
She waved a hand over it, her hand blurring with the shadow of a raven wing, the black feathers brushed over my chest, the magic within them sliding over my skin. “This will do nothing to protect you in this place.”
The fabric molded, shifting higher up until it wrapped around the base of my throat. The black shimmering fabric hardened, forming individual scales like that of a snake. They shimmered with the faintest green glimmer, a raised golden snake on the breastplate that stood out from the scaled armor covering my chest and torso. It slithered down my arms, stopping only when it covered the backs of my hands with the shape of a V where it came to a point in the center of my hand.
The skirts disappeared, tightening around my legs into scaled, almost leatherlike pants. They were harder than that, firmer on the outside even though they stretched and moved with me. My dress slippers shifted to boots, curving up my calves and shins and covering me further. The soles hardened, giving me a firmer footing as Macha stepped up in front of me. Her sister, Nemain, backed away, the gift of my armor completed as Macha held out her palms.
Molding the darkness and nothingness itself, I watched in rapt fixation as two gleaming swords formed. They were shorter than the ones I’d been forced to train with out of necessity and lack of options in Mistfell, a sword designed for a man with a bigger body and different center of balance.
The form of a snake curved around the hilt, carved into the metal itself. Each sword had been marked with it, the blade itself shimmering like golden starlight. It wasn’t the same silver-toned metal I’d grown up seeing, but a speckled deep midnight blue blade.
I reached out with trembling hands, taking a hilt in each hand. They were lighter than I’d thought possible, fitting in my smaller grip as if they’d been molded to my hands.
“I thought you couldn’t offer me any aid in the trials,” I said, raising my eyes to Macha as I took the blades from her. I wouldn’t give them back, wouldn’t part with the things that I felt as keenly as I felt my magic, lingering in that lightened circle of my hand.
All a part of me. With my magic just out of reach, I’d take what I could get.
“You cannot enter the trials with anything that does not already belong to you,” Badb answered, gesturing toward the gifts they’d given me as the last of the fires winked out. “These were made for you long ago. We are merely delivering you your birthright,” she said.
Macha’s hand came down on my shoulder, pressing me into the tiny stone alcove. “In you go. Get some sleep. You’ll need it in the morning,” she said.
Her words were accentuated by the howl of the Cwn Annwn in the distance as the sound of them shifted from joy to hunger.
These were the hours of beasts and prey, and in this place?
I was the latter.
Sleep , a deep growl seemed to say in my head as I moved into the cave and lay down upon the stone. I tried to get settled and comfortable, the words in my head an odd comfort, surrounding me like thick fur on a cool night.
So I did.