Page 85 of Broken

The pack let out a collective howl. Thanatos raised his hand, and they went silent.

The Bright Fae Council looked distinctly nervous now. “Son of the Mountain,” the High One said. “You haven’t changed. As before, you bring war to those who only revere life, and peace.”

“Is that what I’ve done?” Thanatos said. “I have no desire to begin a war with those who call themselves Bright Fae. Release the sorceress Illyria, who you have unlawfully kept captive these many years, and I and my people will go.”

The High One laughed shrilly. “Do you think we are fools? Once you have what you want, you will kill us all!”

He made a gesture, and the Bright Fae all attacked at once.

Thanatos didn’t move. DB waved his hand, and a magical forcefield rose up between their group and the Bright Fae spells—and another sprang up to protect the wolves.

“Do your worst, you coward!” Bathiaz shouted. “The Council of Bright Fae will defeat you!”

The ground beneath them started to shake and ripple. A crack appeared in the earth in front of Bathiaz.

Thanatos made a tiny motion to the red dragons.

They Changed to dragon form, opened their mouths—and began to sing.

It was a song like no other Ireland had ever heard. It shook the Valley, resonated into the deepest places of her wolf soul.

The ground stopped rumbling.

The dragons sang to the heart of the earth, molten lava and cooling rock, speaking of mountains that thrust themselves into the sky just to feel the sun on their shoulders.

Collecting a skin of earth and trees and moss, cracking and shifting under growing things.

Yet, holding in their hearts a hidden beauty—underground rivers, veins of gold and silver and copper, sparkling gemstones, creatures that belonged to the earth and darkness, whose power was as old as the earth itself.

The song spoke to the mountain with love and respect, and the whole valley vibrated with its beauty, deep voices blending in harmonies that sounded like a full choir.

Then they turned to face the Door, and the song changed—it grew softer, coaxing, asking everything before it to change, to open up. Asking the mountain itself to move.

The door didn’t open. But as the song went on, Ireland suddenly realized what they were doing.

The entire rock face was moving.

The mountainside stretched like a live thing, molding itself like clay, moving to the sides so that a cleft appeared in the rock face. The carved pillars were swallowed up, bits of Fae magic sparkling and disappearing as the ancient power of the Valley released it.

As the cleft grew deeper, the rock around its sides began shaping itself, as if being sculpted by giant hands. Figure after figure appeared.

Dark Fae. Giants and ogres, trolls and vampires, gargoyles and dragons, every creature the Bright Fae had repudiated, had claimed to be above. Pixies. Goblins. Gnomes.

The mountain continued to open, to sculpt itself. And then more voices joined in the song. Wolves.

Ireland whirled around. While everyone was staring at the mountain, the Outlaw Ridge pack had come down off the cliff, all Changed to wolf form. Now they were adding their voices to the song. And Ireland and Cole sang with them.

The mountain continued to open, bit by bit, but now there were more figures added to the massive sculpture.

Shifters.

Wolves and panthers, lions and leopards and cheetahs, eagles and owls, bears and lynxes. Ireland even saw a panda, and in between the paws of one of the wolves she could swear she saw a rabbit.

The song swelled. The mountain opened wider, a v-shaped tunnel leading into its heart—and suddenly, a light burst out.

They’d reached the cavern. Illyria’s prison was open.

The Bright Fae Council looked like they were about to have a collective aneurism. But there was nothing they could do—DB was using all the power of the greatest Draken sorcerer in a thousand years to do one single thing—encircle them in shields.