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“There are Gates within my world that open into other worlds. For fifteen thousand years, they’ve mostly opened into Hel. Well, the Northern Rift opens directly into Hel, but …”
“There’s a prophecy in my world about my sword and a missing knife. That when they’re reunited, so will the Fae of Midgard be.”
The history they spun was that they were … liberators. Enlighteners. According to them, they found Midgard little more than a backwater planet occupied by non-magical humans and animals. The Asteri chose it as the place to begin creating a perfect empire, and creatures and races from other worlds soon flocked to it through a giant rip between worlds called the Northern Rift. Which now only opens
“In the official version of this story, another world, Hel, tried to invade Midgard. To destroy the fledgling empire—and everyone living in it. But the Asteri unified all these new people under one banner and pushed Hel back to its own realm. In the process, the Northern Rift was fixed with its destination permanently on Hel. After that, it remained mostly closed. A massive wall was erected around it to keep any Hel-born stragglers from getting through the cracks, and the Asteri built a glorious empire meant to last for eternity. Or so we’re all ordered to believe.”
“The Asteri are ancient, immortal beings who feed on the power of others—they harvest the magic of a people, a world, and then eat it. We call it firstlight. It fuels our entire world, but mostly them. We’re required to hand it over upon reaching immortality—well, as close to immortality as we can get. We seize our full, mature power through a ritual called the Drop, and in the process, some of our power is siphoned off and given over to the firstlight stores for the Asteri. It’s like a tax on our magic.”
“Midgard is only the latest in a long line of worlds invaded by the Asteri. They have an entire archive of different planets they’ve either conquered or tried to conquer. I saw it right before I came here. And, as far as I know, there were only three planets that were able to kick them out—to fight back and defeat them. Hel, a planet called Iphraxia, and … a world occupied by the Fae. The original, Starborn Fae.” She nodded to the dagger at Azriel’s side, which had flared with dark light in the presence of the Starsword. “You know my sword by a different name, but you recognize what it is.”
“It seems connected to that dagger somehow. It was forged here, became part of your history, then vanished … right? You haven’t seen it in fifteen thousand years, or spoken this language in nearly as long—which lines up perfectly with the timeline of the Starborn Fae arriving in Midgard.”
“But the Asteri were not known by that name. Here, they were called the Daglan.”
The Asteri had been here—under a different name, but they’d been here. The ancestors of these Fae had defeated them. And Urd had sent her here—here, not Hel. Here, where she’d instantly encountered a dagger that made the Starsword sing. Like it had been the lodestone that had drawn her to this world, to that riverbank. Could it really be the knife from the prophecy?
how the male had long ago been Prime Apparent until his sister, Sabine, had challenged him and won. Ithan had thought she’d killed him, but she’d apparently sent Sigrid’s father off into exile instead, where Sigrid had been born. Anything other than that was a complete mystery. Part of Ithan didn’t want to know what circumstances had been so dire as to make a Fendyr sell his heir—sell an Alpha—to the Astronomer.
leopard shifter
It was Sigrid who said, “So what now?” Only two days out of the tank and she was already assuming the mantle of leader, whether she knew it or not. A true Alpha, expecting to be answered … and obeyed. “We keep trying to find out what’s going on,” Declan said with a one-shouldered shrug. Flynn blew out an exasperated breath and plopped onto his chair again. “We’re no closer than we were two days ago: Ruhn and Athalar are being held as traitors. That’s all we know.” That was all Marc’s inside source at the Eternal City had been able to glean. Nothing else.
“We have to break them out,” Flynn said, crossing his muscled arms. Rithi, on his left shoulder, made an identical gesture.
None of them had seen or heard from the mer male since he’d left for Pangera. But they’d learned of his whereabouts thanks to a neon-green piece of paper taped to a lamppost, advertising an upcoming match in the Viper Queen’s fighting pit with Tharion as the main event. It was clear enough what had happened: the male had defected from the Blue Court and run straight here.
Ithan shrugged. He had no one left to warn. Would anyone even miss him if he were gone? His duty was to protect the wolf at the stall across the way. Out of some stupid hope that she might … He had no idea. Challenge and defeat Sabine? Correct the dangerous path Sabine was leading the wolves down? Fill the void that Danika had left?
As shifters, their senses were sharper than those of the Fae.
Even the herbs were familiar—had the Fae of this world introduced them to Midgard? Or were plants like thyme and rosemary somehow universal? Strewn across space?
But inside him, beyond that sea of pain and despair, Bryce was the entirety of his world. His mate. His wife. His princess.
What was this but another Fallen rebellion? On a smaller scale, yes, but the stakes had been so much higher this time.
Like Baxian, the Hawk hailed from two peoples: angels, who had granted him his white wings, and hawk shifters, who’d granted him his ability to transform into a bird of prey. Those were about all the similarities between the two males. For starters, Baxian had a soul. The Hawk … The Hawk’s gaze lingered on Hunt. Nothing of life, of joy, lay in those eyes.
withered humanoid form, veiled and dressed in gray robes, the material gauzy enough to reveal the bony body beneath, stood at the massive desk at the entrance of the room. The Mistress of the Mystics. If she had a name, Lidia had never heard it uttered.
Every constellation and galaxy the mystics now searched for Bryce Quinlan. How many corners of the universe remained?
The Sprite Queen was perhaps no bigger than Lidia’s hand, yet even in repose, she had a presence. Like she was the small sun around which this place orbited. It was close to the truth, Lidia supposed.
Nothing but calculation and resentment shone on her face—an uncommonly plain face, considering the usual beauty of her kind.
Rigelus had said the star reacted to people—those loyal to her, her chosen knights or whatever. He’d also said that Theia herself had borne this star on her chest. And in this world, this home planet of Theia and the Starborn … Bryce had no choice but to trust that star. “That way, then,” she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. But
Ruhn had called her a queen before she left. And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.
“Before Sabine showed up to kill Sigrid, we were just getting to the part where I convinced everyone to come free you from this shithole so we could get onto the Depth Charger and save Ruhn and Athalar.”
“We have people who can talk to shadows. They told us you went through the grate.”
Bryce tucked away that kernel of knowledge—the place she’d been kept was called the Hewn City.
“We’re trapped down here. We might as well see what lies ahead.”
Lidia offered up silent thanks to Luna that her hands didn’t shake as she reached for the handle, the gold-and-ruby ring on her finger shimmering in Irithys’s light.
“My mother was a witch-queen. Plenty of people knew her.” “Ah, but I knew her—flew in her unit in our fighting days.” Lidia angled her head. “Before or after you sold your soul to Flame and Shadow?” “I swore allegiance to Flame and Shadow because of your mother. Because she was weak and spineless and had no taste for punishment.”
“Better than that disgrace of a sister who now calls herself queen.” “Hypaxia is half Flame and Shadow—she should have your allegiance on both fronts.”
“Your mother was a fool to give you away,” Hilde grumbled. Lidia arched a brow. “Is that a compliment?” “Take it as you will.” The hag flashed her rotting teeth in a nightmare of a smile. “You’re a born killer—like any true witch. That girl on the throne is as softhearted as your mother. She’ll bring down the entire Valbaran witch-dynasty.”
“Yes, Hilde. We all know how skilled you are. Athalar himself can thank you for his first halo. But let’s talk about why you chose to betray us.”
“Hilde is a traitor to the Republic—” “These are lies,” Hilde interrupted. “Your pity is wasted on her,” Lidia went on. “It is not pity,” Irithys said, ruby flame darkening to a color like rich wine. “It is honor. There is none in attacking a person who cannot fight back, enemy or no.”
the tunnel widened into a large chamber, its ceiling so high even Bryce’s starlight didn’t reach it. And in the center of it … the path dropped away on either side, leaving only a sliver of a rocky bridge over what seemed to be an endless chasm.
“I haven’t lived long enough to know every horror in this world, but I can tell you that dark places tend to breed dark things. Especially ones as old and forgotten as this.”
The sword pulsed, as if all the air around it had vanished. It was like the Starsword, somehow. A sword, but more. Just as Nesta was Fae but more. “What is your sword—” “Hurry,” Nesta repeated, stalking across the rest of the bridge.
An enormous worm, gleaming with water and mud.
“A Middengard Wyrm.” “Middengard?” Bryce started at the word. “Like—Midgard? Did they come from my world originally?”
But I’ve seen my sister’s paintings of the one she defeated.
“What manner of power is it that you possess? What sort of light is this?” Bryce slowly shook her head. “Light. Just … light.” Strange, terrible light from another world, she’d once been told. From this world. Nesta’s eyes glimmered. “What court did your ancestors hail from?” “I don’t know. The Fae ancestor whose powers I bear, Theia—she was Starborn. Like me.” “That term means nothing here.” Nesta pulled Bryce to her feet with ease. “But Amren told me what you said of Theia, the queen who went to your world from ours.” Bryce brushed the dust and rock off her back, her ass. Her ego. “My
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“What you were born to do—to accomplish the task for which your father brought you into existence,” Apollion said before fading into nothing, leaving Aidas standing alone before the prisoners. Shock reared up in Hunt, dampened by the weight of an old, unbidden hurt. “I have no father.” Aidas’s expression was sad as he stepped out of the shadows. “You spent too long asking the wrong questions.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Aidas shook his head. “The black crown once again circling your brow is not a new torment from the Asteri. It has existed for millennia.”
“Her name was Silene.”
It was fire but not fire. It was like ice turned into flame.
The Asteri had once given the humans to the Vanir to have someone to rule over, to keep them from thinking about how they were hardly better off, all of them slaves to the Asteri. It continued on Midgard today, this false sense of superiority and ownership. And it seemed it existed in this world as well.
Showing a masked queen, a crown upon her head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd. Behind her, a great mountaintop palace rose toward the sky, winged horses soaring among the clouds. No doubt some religious iconography of her divine right to rule. Beyond the mountaintop palace, a lush archipelago spread into the distance, rendered with remarkable detail and skill.
The last carving before the river had been one of transition: a Fae King and Queen seated on thrones, a mountain—different from the one with the palace atop it—behind them with three stars rising above it. A different kingdom, then. Some ancient High Lord and Lady, Nesta had suggested before approaching the river.
Even in Avallen, there am I. A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori.
