“A map etched across worlds.”
He hummed in agreement.“Only… ours have been silent for centuries. Sealed. Until your king figured out how to open them up again.”
Elara's pulse thudded in her temples.“Have you seen him with a dagger? One that looks like…” The words faltered as she struggled to describe it. “Like… light.Sunlight?”
A muscled feathered down his neck.“Yes. A relic from another age. Epona’s, if I had to bet. Only something a goddess forged could rip through the realms that easily.”
Elara’s mind reeled. The dagger belonged to Epona? Her breath hitched as Dominic’s voice, from all those weeks ago, flooded back.“They say Aine appeared because of him, but that's a stretch. More likely, he stumbled on something powerful, something that could make a goddess take notice.”
Holy gods.
Osin held the power of a goddess in his hands—a relic so powerful it had forced Anie’s hand, granting him ether. Granting himher. But something still didn’t add up. Aine would’ve demanded the blade in exchange for such a gift, wouldn’t she? So how could Osin still have it? She shook her head, horror building as the pieces shifted and began to fit. He must have used the dagger to open the gate, wielding it like a compass. It had to be how he navigated the Void’s currents and found his way toTír na nÓg.
And through that opening, he’d stolen the Sidhe, one by one.
But Thane had said the bladewasthe door—and she was the key.
She couldn’t make sense of the memory he’d shared with her, but the dread simmering in her gut sank deeper. Even if she and the Hunter finalized the indicator and reactor spells, even if they perfected everything, it might not be enough.
Her fingers dug into the iron bars, her knuckles bleaching. Maybe they could find Thane—maybe that part would work—but the Sidhe? Her chest constricted, her breaths growing tighter. They wouldn’t reachTír na nÓg.
Not with Osin still holding that blade.
Chapter 50
It began slowly, like sinking into dark water.
The world reeled, its shapes wavering as though seen through smoke and glass. Elara’s back came to rest against wood, smooth and cold beneath her skin.
Then the shadows gave way.
The Grand Hall loomed above her, its height swallowed by darkness. The table beneath her gleamed with a sickly sheen, its polished length stretching on as though it had no end. The air was thick with the scent of wine, tainted by something metallic—blood-close—too faint to name, but enough to curdle her breath.
Her muscles strained, yet she remained immobile, every limb locked as though weights pinned her in place. Panic sparked beneath her skin, but she couldn’t even wrench her hands free as the hold around her wrists and ankles constricted.
Cold slid over her skin. Laughter followed—soft at first, distant and wrong—then swelling, filling the hall.
And then she saw him.
Osin sat at the head of the table, his pale face caught in the flicker of candlelight. Beside him, the High Council watched, eyes bright in the gloom, smiles stretched unnaturally wide.
Her heart thundered, a wild, frantic beat as they reached for her—fingers brushing her skin with a softness that felt wrong. Almost tender. But then it shifted. The hands warped, turning sharp, and in the next breath, claws.
Pain exploded, a white-hot blaze that tore through her. A scream ripped from her throat, as her body arched against the onslaught, writhing as flesh and muscle gave way under their hands. Heat spilled over her skin—thick, wet, and her thoughts splintered, grasping for reason, for relief, but there was no escape. Just the ripping, the breaking.
Nothing else.
Blood slicked their lips and fingers, dripping down their chins, and pooling on the dark wood of the table, seeping into the cracks. Osin’s smile widened as he watched her body convulse, as the pain twisted her screams into broken sobs.
Then—through the agony, through the sound of her shrieks—she heard him.
The Hunter. Calling her name.
She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t turn. Couldn’t reach. But the desperation in his voice wrapped around her like a lifeline, hauling her toward something beyond the pain.
Elara,it’s a dream.
It’s just a dream.
