“Explain it to me then,” Lara demanded. “What exactly happens at The Shattered Crown?”
Mor inclined her head. “We’ll need to reach the stone circle by Gateway, when the moon is full. Moonlight is essential for the weaving. Spirits will be gathered there … and they’ll try to stop us.” She held up a hand, ticking off each point. “You’ll stand on the southwestern edge of the circle as the anchor. The Half-blood will kneel at the center stone … he must be close to the earth to form the bridge between us. I’ll take position on the southeastern side.”
“And then?”
“I’ll sing, weaving moonlight into a net … a wind that will push the wraiths in the vicinity of The Shattered Crown back into The Threshold.” Mor’s gaze remained steady.
“What about me?” Lara asked.
“You hold your position. TheOrd-ree sealwill flare to life as it connects with the tear. It will grow hot … it may even burn. The sensations will likely be intense, but you must endure them. You’re the anchor, keeping us grounded while I work.” Mor paused. “Once the spirits have been shoved through the gap, you cast the ring into it. TheOrd-ree sealis what has been keeping the tear stable and open for so long. When you throw it through, you sever that connection. The ring created by fire-wielderblood must be returned by fire-wielder blood. Only your bloodline can release its hold on the veil.”
Lara’s mind raced, trying to envision it all. “I won’t have to wield fire?”
“No,” Mor said. “Your presence and your blood are what matter … the connection to those who made the ring. Not the fire itself.”
“And Alar?” Lara forced the name out. “What does he actually do?”
“His presence, as someone who bears both Shee and Marav blood, completes the binding. The third point of the triangle. He simply needs to be there, kneeling on the center stone.”
Lara’s gaze narrowed as she scrutinized Mor’s face. “You said the ritual of old required sacrifice … why doesn’t this one? Surely, Alar must bleed?”
Mor gave a soft snort. “No. We’re not asking a favor from The Threshold or summoning anything. We’re putting things back the way they should be … restoring balance. Closing what should never have been opened. There’s no debt to pay for that.”
Mor’s explanation sounded reasonable. Logical, even. Lara wanted to catch her out, but it tracked with what she knew of druidic magic.
It was a pity Alar wouldn’t need to suffer though.
“How long will this take?” she asked.
“I cannot say for certain.”
“And what if someone interferes? What if the spirits attack us during the ritual?”
“They will try … but no one else can enter the circle during the binding,” Mor answered, her gaze unwavering. “It will break the ritual if they do. Our companions will need to hold the perimeter … keep the wraiths at bay outside the stones.” She paused. “Once I’ve started the weaving, everyone must take cover. The wind will be violent. It will push every spirit nearby into the rift … you don’t want to end up going with them.”
Beside Lara, Bree made a noise in the back of her throat. Mor’s gaze sliced sideways, focusing on her for the first time. Moments passed as the two of them stared at each other. And then the Raven Queen’s face froze.
Lara’s breathing quickened. She’d recognized her.
Marshaling herself, Mor shifted her attention back to Lara. “This won’t be easy. The first obstacle will be getting the Half-blood to join us, obviously. After that, we’ll need to survive the journey north. The spirit world knows where its weakness lies, and it guards The Shattered Crown heavily these days. When they realize we’re making for Darkmere, they’ll try to stop us.” She halted, swallowing. “But together, the three of us could put things right.”
Lara took a step back, her pulse racing now. “No.”
Mor frowned. “Your ancestors caused this mess, Lara. You shoulder some responsibility.”
Lara’s temper splintered. “Don’t you dare lay the blame at my feet. I had nothing to do with any of it,” she snarled. “This plan suits you, doesn’t it? It’s the perfect way for you to rid yourself of two enemies with one swipe of the blade. I’m not falling for it.”
Mor’s lips pursed. “It’s not trickery. Believe me, there are easier ways to rid myself of rivals.”
Lara gave her a long, hard look.
The Raven Queen folded her arms across her chest. “You will believe me soon enough. When the Slew hunt every night, and the sky swarms with them. When wraiths outnumber theliving. Aye, you fight some of them off with your fire … but you can't protect everyone, everywhere.” Mor broke off there, her gaze sharpening. “When you’re forced to hide away in your broch, even during the day, while spirits stalk the wynds of Duncrag bringing death and destruction, you’ll wish you’d listened to me … and agreed to help. But then, it’ll be too late.”
“My Queen?”
Lara blinked, rousing herself. She’d been leagues away just then, instead of listening to her council. “What’s that, Ruari?”
“You did well to refuse Mor.” Ruari was watching her strangely, as were the others gathered in the meeting tent. Straight after her encounter with the Shee, Lara had stalked back to camp and summoned the rest of her advisors. “She cannot be trusted.”
