If you're wondering where Heart of the Forest and Eyes of Fire are, I'm here to tell you they've been taken down for publishing.

Heart of the Forest is available on pretty much every place ebooks are purchased and Eyes of Fire will be available on November 15th.

Thanks for reading!

Samhain

Autumn 1358

      It had stormed for days, the ground was so boggy in Gors’difywyd that the Sages and Dyn Hysbys decided to cancel their observances. There’d be no Wicker Man burning criminals in offering to Gwyn ap Nudd, and no sacrifices on his holy day as the wind howled, thunder rolled and lightning cracked the sky. Tonight was said to be the night when Gwyn ap Nudd leaves Annwn—the otherworld—to begin his ride across Ersland with the Wild Hunt. Supposedly, he’d gather up the wayward souls of the dead as the ruddy nosed Dormarth leads at the head of his host.

      To some it might have seemed like some sort of fancy, but I knew for a fact the Wild Hunt did roam. I had heard the hunting horn’s howl and seen the massive horde of dark riders. Some might have been disturbed by the fact that such a thing existed but I wasn’t. There was some part of me that was comforted by the thought of Gwyn ap Nudd’s existence and not in a way like most were. To the elves around me he was a god, the other half of Arwn which brought balance to their existence. But to me and my tiny little Vanotta self, Gwyn ap Nudd was someone of whom I had a deep connection, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.

      I was convinced he was warning me directly whenever I heard that cadence of hoof beats in my head. For some reason I was special to him, perhaps it was because I was family. I was Arwn’s Gift, after all. a descendant of Arwn and the only person in this plane of existence with power from Annwn—aside from the Swynwr.

      Just thinking of that power which paraded around in my Aneurin’s body made me frown. I missed him more now than I did before I saw those prophetic paintings in the cave which foretold of his death. Slumping forward I pressed my forehead to the warped old glass of the window and stared out at the chilly stormy dark. Was Aneurin looking out at the same terrible sky? I sighed and pulled my hair over my shoulder. I was being a silly, sentimental sot. Sucking my teeth, I turned my attention away from the cool pane of glass to the gathered gaggle of elves seated at the nearby table playing dice.

      One glance and you could tell that Myrddin and Yorwrath were brothers, their features were similar. They both had that same milky pallor and regal height, with near to the same jaws and expressions. Though admittedly Yorwrath scowled most of the time so it was rare to see anything other than the half snarl that usually graced his face but while sleeping they both had a boyish quality about them one that their other brother Aneurin also shared.

      All three of Aeon’s sons were gifted with beauty and tremendous power. The more I learned about their lineage the less it seemed surprising that Aneurin was a King foretold in legend and Myrddin supposedly the most gifted magician and advisor ever born—though I had yet to see it. Yorwrath’s position as leader of the infamously blood thirsty and merciless Redcaps and his new found power over fire even made sense.

      And for some odd reason, the three of them loved me. It was as though they were drawn to me like bees to a pretty flower. Apparently it was considered an honor when brothers choose the same wife. It’s something their clan had done on and off since elves were still in Annwn in a time only remembered on dusty faded parchment on books that barely had bindings. And they chose me.

      The last however many months in Gors’difywyd had forged a bond between Myrddin, Yorwrath and I that I hadn’t thought possible to have with anyone, let alone two or three people. They had become a part of me almost, which made Aneurin’s absence that much more obvious to me.

      “Why the fuck won’t the Gweledydd see us!” I huffed crossing my arms as Yorwrath rolled the six dice across the table.

      “Because he’s a stupid, Dy’ne plowing, sadistic cunt,” Yorwrath clipped out as he slumped against the back of the chair, clearly he didn’t roll what he was hoping for. I could stare at Yorwrath for hours, there was something about the feral elf that brought a smile to my lips even when he was at his worst. He had hard, gaunt features and a delectable mouth which would be so much more if only he didn’t frown so much—but then he wouldn’t be Yorwrath. His eyes which had once been a deep red brown now burned like molten embers in that hard face. In spite of his coarseness, the passion between us burned like the hottest of flames, all consuming and ever unpredictable. We were like a wild fire started in brush that had the ability to consume a whole forest. He fed the most untamed parts of me, the parts that others didn’t understand. It was a bit of understanding we had just between us that I didn’t have with either Aneurin or Myrddin.

      “Gweledydd do everything at their pace, and the older they get the worse it is. So we might be here a while longer still so we should make the best of it,” Myrddin offered with a small smile flashed in my direction before rolling his dice. He was slightly shorter than his brother and ghostly pale, with dark hair which was shaved to nothingness on the sides of his head. There on his scalp were two tattoos in blue ink of ornate and barren trees—the symbol of Gwyn ap Nudd. And climbing up half of his impressive torso was a black tattoo of a similar design. His eyes were milky grayish white. Initially I had thought he had no pupil, but it was there to a degree, a slightly darker shade of almost cloud grey barely discernable through the pure white pattern that danced over where there was once the deepest blue iris. The white eyes marked him as a Dyn Hysbys of great power. Since arriving in Gors’difywyd I had learned that meant he was something like a male witch and Wise Man. He was also a Sage, an expert on all things elven and magic—which was why he wore a thick mantle of raven feathers on his black cloak. He seemed to be good at everything, but unfortunately it wouldn’t last forever. Myrddin ap Aeon was destined to lose his mind if the forty or so books his mentor had were correct. Part of me was thankful I’d be long dead by the time that happened. Myrddin and I had the most in common out of…anyone I had ever met. One might even say that our love was drowning deep. And it would break my heart possibly beyond repair to see him lose himself and know there was nothing that could be done about it.

      “There’s a war going on, we don’t have the luxury of time.” Islwyn’s words made me blink at him.

      Islwyn was the spitting imagine of elven beauty. He was all glossy blonde curls, sparkling blue eyes and creamy pale flesh with the face that matched every painting of male elven beauty ever. He was who bards wrote songs about when they spoke of elven heroes and lovers—if only he wasn’t such a self-important, self-centered, jealous sheepfucker I might have been inclined towards him. But that’s who he was, he was an ass who cost me my one shot at getting my Aneurin back, and for that… though I had spoken words of forgiveness to him I wasn’t entirely certain I actually meant them. I didn’t hate him like I once did, but I still didn’t trust him completely. Admittedly from time to time he was more than tolerable, but I could never forget what he had done. Never.

      “I’m sure he’s aware of the war even more so than we are. Things like this take time,” Caoilfionn added his two cents as he glanced up from that mammoth tome that Gwyn ap Nudd had given me in the Crypt of the Swynwr.

       Caoilfionn was such a curious creature. His hair was white, not blonde and it wasn’t from old age. He was a Unicorn so he had two natural forms, the form that everyone was most familiar with the milk white horse with a gleaming silver horn and the lesser known elf like form which seemed to place him directly between the sexes to my human eye. Though I knew for a fact he was all male under the robes he wore, his long hair and delicate features made him seem almost absolutely feminine or like an exceedingly pretty youth. His irises, however, were utterly remarkable. They were an ever changing hue never staying one color for too long. And in the center of his forehead was a small slender silver horn. I felt a little bad for him, we no longer trusted him as we once did and he knew it.

      My attention fixed on Yorwrath and Myrddin in tandem as they continued their game. I had been invited to join them but I had things to do—other than waiting for the rain to abate. In the few months we had been in Gors’difywyd I slipped back into my role as Cunning Woman. Though I didn’t have a shop of my own, I still walked through the line of tents set up in the shelter of the mountains treating any who needed care. With the books in the Sage’s home I was able to learn much more about elven anatomy and how they healed. I was almost an expert now.

      “Welp, the rain’s let up. I’m going to check in on the trader’s boy.” I pulled my pack over my shoulder and drew the hood over my head.

      “Take your sword,” Yorwrath called to me without even looking up from his dice.

      “What? Why? I’m going to treat a child with a broken leg.”

      “Yes, the cripple is why I’m worried.” Yorwrath rolled his eyes, snorting.  “Here I thought you were smart, Beastie?” he glanced up at me, I stared at him for a time. I remembered when his eyes were merely a deep mahogany, it seemed so long ago to me. Now those irises were molten gold, dragon eyes. In reality they marked him as a breaker of dragons. That thought brought me to what should have been that was not, he was supposed to become a dragon. It was prophesied by myself though I told few of it at the time. Yorwrath, being ever defiant chose his own path and became something not seen in our world in centuries and something so supremely him.

       Oh, there were no dragons for him to bend to his bidding, but his command of fire was both terrifying and awe inspiring. At first I had thought the idea of Yorwrath as a creature who could only be slain by weapons no one carried anymore was terrifying. Yorwrath as the massive black dragon I had seen in my fever dream would have brought an age of fear and terror like humans had never known before. But as a draigg’dewin he would one day become immune to all but mithril as well, the only thing I saved Ersland from was him flying in and torching cities because he wanted to hear the screams. I loved Yorwrath, but I knew exactly who he was and I had zero pretenses of what he was capable.

      “Smarter than you, elf,” I teased. In response that long lithe form of his unfolded as he stood. Without another word he walked to the corner of the room and retrieved my sword. He held it out to me but said nothing. Lurking in those molten orbs was concern. Something was bothering Yorwrath, something he hadn’t shared with the rest of us. My gaze fell on Myrddin who had set his dice on the table and stood as well.

      “I’ll go with her,” Myrddin chimed in retrieving his sword harness with those two swords dangling from it.

      “No, she’ll be fine.”

      “If she won’t take the sword I’m going.”

      “You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Yorwrath snapped at his brother.

      “I completely understand the situation. Do you?”

      “I was the one who told you about it.” As the brothers argued I slipped out into the rain. I didn’t have time for their bickering. I’d be fine I was going to tend some wounds and if anyone gave me trouble I’d use my powers. I could bring someone to fatigue easily enough now.

      Under the noise of the storm soft happy flute music filled the air, clearly people were still celebrating Samhain in spite of the muck and mud that covered the ground. Smiling a little I continued on my way. The trader’s boy wasn’t really a boy at all, in fact he was older than I was by several years. Still the elves all called him a boy, though he had fought with his King during the Siege of Malbrok and almost lost his leg for it.

      When I stepped into his family’s small tent they seemed happy enough to receive me as I walked over to the maimed body of their son. He was probably a little younger than Aneurin, he looked like a mature elf to me, but whereas he was old enough to die a warriors death he wasn’t old enough to do anything else that came with being an adult. His name was Gerallt, his father named him after that fallen king because they were of the same clan and he believed that their clan would regain through trade what they lost in battle some five hundred years before. Clearly, this Gerallt had different ideas.

      He’d live. No, his wounds weren’t bad enough to claim his life. But as I sat beside his body on the cot all I could think of was Aneurin. It had been weeks since I had dwelled so hard upon thoughts of him.

      “Oh it’s you again.” My ungrateful patient grumbled sneering in my direction.

      “No shit.” I had long since given up any sort of bed side manner with him. He treated me like a captive enemy. Sometimes I wondered how many others viewed me as such, but this was not one of those times. I soaked the bandage across his belly in warm water to loosen it. “Good, the wound is healing well.”

      “Why wouldn’t it, Dy’ne? I’m an elf. We heal faster than your fragile kind.” Mustn’t hurt the boy while his father’s in the room

      “You’re lucky your father had the money to hire a cart to bring you here.” You ungrateful shit. “Most with your wounds probably died on the field several days after battle, with carrion birds pecking at their eyes and other soft flesh.” I was worried about what would happen if Aneurin were injured. Yes, they had healers and he would have first priority as their King but the thought still bothered me greatly.

      “I highly doubt that, they’d have been seen by competent elven healers. Not some random, Dy’ne slut.” I could strangle him, it would take so little effort to snuff out his life… so little. Instead I dabbed at the wound with the wet cloth and then smeared ointment over it. I was the only healer who would see anyone here. The other healer was a Dyn Hysbys who refused to treat who he called trespassers.

      There were others including Myrddin who could have treated the boy but here Myrddin was viewed as something no one else felt they had the right to bother. The best of everything was left at the Sages door step every morning in offering to Myrddin who they viewed as their link to Gwyn ap Nudd. I should have asked how he felt about ignoring such a holy day, but I was certain he’d worship in his own way later.

      Myrddin aside, the others simply didn’t feel like being bothered with the trivial nature of setting bones and treating burns. It was almost as though they considered such rudimentary things beneath them. They focused most of their energies on sacrificing admittedly.

      “Stop staring into space like the simple slut you are and cover my wound! The ache’s starting to set in again, Dy’ne.” Mustn’t kill the boy with his parents in the room. I took a deep breath. I was used to being called names. Granted most elves weren’t so impolite as to call me them to my face.

      “I take it you want to be a Redcap someday.” I assessed as I finished bandaging the mangled leg.

      “One day, if they’ll have me.”

      “Do you know where they are right now?”

      “Terrorizing Ersland, putting dy’ne bitches like you in your place.”

      “They’re defending Lyr, and the humans, elves and half elves that live there.”

      “Bullshit, Yorwrath ap Aeon would have their heads before allowing them to disgrace themselves.”

      “Yorwrath ap Aeon gave the order.”

      “How would you know?”

      “Because I was there when he gave the orders to Grwn and Gwyn.” I almost started laughing, I was going to introduce him to Yorwrath and then I wasn’t going to stop him when he put the little shit in his place.

      “Yeah right. You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about. Some goatfucker probably told you he was Yorwrath just to get you into bed.”

      “Aneurin was the only one who ever lied to me about who he was, and it was only for about a year or so.”

      “You have a very active imagination, Dy’ne.”

      “Nope, not particularly.” I finished checking his leg and dropped a few pouches of herbs on the little table beside the bed. I was done with him. The better he got the harder he was to be around. Part of me was starting to wish I had smothered him when they first brought me to see him almost a month ago. Taking a deep breath to steel myself against the urge to give him something that would make him sick, I left the tent, tugging up my hood in the process as I stepped out into the violent storm.

      The wind and rain battered me, stinging my face and smacking my cheeks with the sides of my hood. Though it all I still heard that sound that made my stomach sink like a stone. The Wild Hunt is said to be an ill omen, for me it was always a warning. Something bad was going to happen, as I stood in the muck and glanced around the tent city in that clearing I could see the burning canvas and bloodied ground super imposed over what was already there. Aside from that eerie howl and the hiss of the rain it was quiet, everyone was put up inside as best as they could. Squinting in the distance I could make out a hooded figure leaving Awst’s hut. I had expected it to be Myrddin, but I was wrong.

      Yorwrath gained on me in no time with my sword and harness clutched in his hand. It was rare that he wore his hood pulled up, hiding that red bloodied bandana. After dealing with that little shit in the tent I didn’t have the patience to deal with him if he was in a mood. Oddly enough he had changed in the few months we had spent here, dare I say he had grown more affectionate. Under the soft, casual touches was a certain nervousness that I hadn’t picked up on before. If I didn’t know any better I’d have said Yorwrath was afraid of history repeating itself.

      In typical Yorwrath fashion, he said nothing and held out the sword harness to me as our gazes met. My lips twitched into a smirk as I took my sword from him by those straps of oiled leather. Slipping the harness on under my cloak Yorwrath righted the hilt so it peeked out of the slit in thick fabric.

      “Happy?”

      “Hmph,” he grunted with a bit of a nod as I stepped closer sheltering in the warmth his hard body provided.

      “You were worried about me. Admit it.”

      He didn’t answer, instead he wrapped his arm around me pulling me closer. In the storm there was just us, I could forget who he was and how similar he was to that sheepfucker who lay on the cot in the tent just behind me. Taking a deep breath I reveled in that scent that was so perfectly him with its notes of spices and heat.

      “I need to get inside or I’ll catch my death,” I breathed against his chest.

      “Any more patients?”

      “N—” a shiver ran down my spine taking the word from my lips with a soft gasp. Over head the sky lit up with a massive bolt of lightning and that image of burning tents grew so real to me I could almost feel the heat.

      Yorwrath drew his sword and stepped away from me. At first I was confused, then I saw the well armored soldiers step from the mouth of the cave. From where I stood I could just make out the sigil on their badges and shields. The white lily over a golden rising sun meant that they were Knights of the Morning Lily and higher ranking ones at that. I drew my sword and Yorwrath glanced back at me nodding with a little smirk.

      In the distance Myrddin emerged from the hut with the others behind him. There was something about his gait that almost frightened me. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, a certain sureness and arrogance that lurked in the way he walked and held his chin high. In spite of the cold chill of the rain his chest was bare save for the strap of his sword harness. This day was as much his as Gwyn ap Nudd’s and it showed. I didn’t know much about magic but from what little I had learned I could tell that he had to be empowered by something. He felt…more to me. I couldn’t describe it really, but it simply felt as though he had more substance to him than he did before.

      The Knights seemed to pour out of the mouth of the cave, fanning out through the make shift camp as they hacked their way through any resistance they encountered. I had never feared for Yorwrath’s life before. But as I watched those men in their silver armor cut through every man woman and child that crossed their path I had a moment of cowardice. That line of Soldiers seemed to be never ending, and we were trapped between the sea and the mountain.

      While I was distracted Yorwrath pulled me against his chest, seizing my mouth in a deep, hard kiss that made the rest of the world bleed away. For a moment there was just us, no soldiers, no impending death, just his lips and heat. Still that moment seemed all too brief as he released me.

      “Don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed, Dy’ne.”

      “I don’t plan on it, Elf.”

      He smirked at me before stepping away completely and starting towards the approaching line of soldiers as the scent of smoke seemed to fill the air. Yorwrath was a marvel to watch in battle. That power over fire was now like his sword, a mere extension of himself that he wielded with deadly accuracy boiling men alive in their armor.

      “Make for the Gweledydd’s hut,” Myrddin called as he approached with Caoilfionn and Islwyn. “Take Islwyn with you.”

      “What? No good bye?” I lofted a brow and Myrddin quickly closed the space between us. When he reached me he placed a series of kisses upon my throat that seemed to drown out the sounds of the battle entirely.

      “No, because we don’t need to say good bye. If everyone else falls here today, we’ll survive. Go protect the Gweledydd. Don’t forget you have more than just steel to protect you.” He kissed my forehead.

      “Myrddin—” he silence me with a look. “Fine,” I huffed rolling my eyes. Oh, I knew it wasn’t exactly the best time to protest, that was why I gave in so quickly.

      “It’s not because you can’t handle yourself, Valentina. It’s the opposite of that, someone needs to protect him.”

      “Alright, just…”

      “I’ll be as safe as I can.” He kissed the top of my hair. “Islwyn, go with her,” Myrddin commanded as Caoilfionn opened his mouth in protest.  The Unicorn received no answer, Myrddin simply glared in that white creature’s direction and he crumpled to the mud with a gasp. “I’ve no time for your pointless protests,” Myrddin’s voice was oddly cold as he addressed Caoilfionn merely glancing in his direction. I had never seen this side of Myrddin before and frankly, it frightened me. To my surprise Caoilfionn followed Myrddin into the thick of battle without any more protest leaving Islwyn and I isolated as darkness seemed to press in around us.

      “Come on, there’s only so much that can be done.”

      “Shouldn’t someone gather the women and children?” I inquired glancing at the tents that had yet to be hit by the soldiers.

      “If we had warning, yes. There’s hardly time for this conversation, you’re more than welcome to stay here but I’m going to do as Myrddin asked.”

      Grumbling I followed Islwyn with my sword in hand up the path that led to the great hut of the Gweledydd. It had been months since I had climbed the trail or pushed open those heavy wooden doors. Before it had been the sound of celebration that surrounded me as I entered that darkened hut, now it was the sound of battle. The contrast of those two nights wasn’t lost on me as I closed the door and dropped the ancient bar into place. That’s not going to hold.  I mused as I pushed against the wood and felt it give from my slight weight. Fuck.

      “So much death,” the Gweleddyd’s hoarse voice seemed to echo from all around us. “So many lost.”

      “Get him some water, I’ll watch the door,” I barked to Islwyn as I dragged a wooden chair across the room to sit in front of the door. With my back to them I couldn’t see if he did or not but I did hear the sounds of water being poured. The chaos of the battle beyond the doors grew louder and I tightened my grip on my sword. It seemed like no time at all before the first thud pounded against the old door.

      Drawing a deep breath, I did as I had countless times in the handful of months we had been in Gors’difywyd, I centered myself and felt out that connection I had to all living things. I could feel those bright vibrant threads of life all around me.  Everything seemed brighter than usual and I had that same thought I had in that vision from long ago. I could end them all right now. The only problem was that beyond the great hut everything seemed a jumbled mess of lights. I couldn’t yet completely differentiate between friend or foe. Aside from Myrddin; he was a different color to me, even Yorwrath was still that bright green, but Myrddin was a dim violet in comparison.

      Standing I kicked the chair behind me as the door leaped again and that pathetic little bar cracked. Behind me Islwyn drew his sword as the Gweledydd began to hum as that sound of hoof beats became almost deafening, it was so loud and so real I could have even sworn that I heard that ominous hunting horn sound as the planks finally gave away.

      The rush of soldiers took me by surprise and for a moment I admittedly stood there like a startled doe—but it was only a moment. I held the door as best I could against the knights, but they were well trained. I had to rely almost completely on my power, my swordsmanship was pretty good, but they were simply better. The only time I could ever beat them without my magic was when I fought dirty, gouging out eyes with my dagger or going for the soft padding that gapped between the armor plates.

      The fight for the door seemed to go on forever, and there never seemed to be a lull. Before long my muscles ached and my movements were sluggish. I missed a block and screamed as the blade cut into my arm. I was able to dodge the worst of it but the damage had been done. The knight disarmed me, and then swiftly slapped me hard enough to send me to my knees.

      “Traitor bitch,” he snarled at me. “A quick death is too good for you,” he continued as he picked me up by my throat. I was dazed from exhaustion and blood loss. I kicked as best as I could and struggled as the soldiers filed passed. For a moment I wanted to give up. I was just so tired, so utterly spent. My hands stopped resisting as I felt my lungs start to burn as he choked me. Someone somewhere was calling my name but it seemed so far away, everything seemed so distant as darkness started to close in around me. Thoughts of Aneurin, Yorwrath and Myrddin flit through my mind. Aneurin would probably end up lost for decades to the Swynwr, Myrddin would probably lose his mind all the quicker and Ersland would burn in Yorwrath’s wake without me there to temper him. “That’s it, give in ya’ traitorous slut.”

      Once again I started to struggle a little, but with a moment of clarity I no longer flailed futilely. Grabbing at the soldier’s hand was pointless. I reached for his helmet as he laughed at me the eye slits were too narrow for my fingers but helmets were never too secure.  He squeezed my neck harder as I pushed the helm from his head. It took all of the energy I had left to gouge out his eyes with my thumbs. He squealed and dropped me on to the blood soaked ground as he crumpled to his knees holding the empty sockets where his eyes once were. I couldn’t make out what was going on in the room, but I knew I had one mission—kill the Sheepfucker who had choked me. Growling I grabbed my dagger from the ground and pulled myself to my knees.

      “Fuck you,” I hissed as I stabbed the knight in throat.

      The great hut came into focus in bits and pieces. At the door a growl sounded as that massive white wolf crossed the threshold covered in blood. It was Dormarth, it was too big to be anything else. He looked at me with familiarity and whimpered before walking over and licking my face. I couldn’t move, the effort it took to breath worried me more than anything. Was this what it felt like to die? Tears brimmed in my eyes obfuscating my vision almost entirely.

      “You can end this,” a foreign voice whispered in my mind. Dormarth laid beside me and howled. “Only you can end this now.” I knew who that voice was before he even came into view. Gwyn ap Nudd stood before me with his sword in hand dripping with so much red as the sound of battle continued. 

      I drew a breath and felt out the tendrils all around me. They seemed so much clearer as I laid there in that pool of blood surrounded by death. With the exhale I severed every connection that seemed dimmer than those around it. I guessed those were the humans.

      “Have…” I started wincing against the pain of speaking.

      “No, I haven’t come for you,” he whispered to my mind again before pulling off his helmet and kneeling beside me. Frowning deeply, he stroked my hair tenderly as I lay on the boards fighting for breath. I was vaguely aware of the whispered song being sung in the elven tongue. The faint melody was near to swallowed whole by the crackling of the fire and the storm which still raged on—not to mention my labored breathing.

      Gwyn ap Nudd stood and pulled that black tempered helm back over his regal features, obscuring those eyes the exact same color violet as mine. He clicked his teeth and Dormarth stood after nosing me once more.

      “Should you have need of me, seek Baba Yaga or Spring Heeled Jack.” That voice whispered in my mind once more. He lingered as he sheathed that mammoth black blade pausing to turn back towards me. “Be careful, Little One. You are walking a path to break ancient words. Some will try to stop you, many more will try to destroy you or control you because of what and who you are.” Again he paused as though he wished to say more, but like the times before he turned and left leaving that heaviness lingering as I pulled myself from the soggy bloodied floorboards.

      Islwyn was leaning over the Gweledydd in the center of a circle of human corpses. The wizen elf lay on his back with his dark robes soaked in blood and those violet eyes gazing wildly at the ceiling. He was dying, I could feel him slipping away. Unfortunately, I was too tired to do anything about it. I was afraid if I helped him that he would drag me down into the pit of death with him. Behind me I heard Gwyn ap Nudd blow that ominous hunting horn. That terrible noise made me shiver as I felt something move through me.

      “You were meant…to…to be here,” the Gweledydd breathed hoarsely, pressing his large hand to Islwyn’s blood soaked chest. The pretty blonde elf was covered in gore so much that those pretty pale curls of his were matted red. “Meant to…receive my gift.” He slid a bloodied hand against Islwyn’s cheek and sighed as his white brows furrowed.

      With that last breath I could feel the power that swirled about Islwyn like a vortex as I felt the life fade from the ancient elf. The hand dropped from Islwyn’s cheek, lifelessly falling to into the puddle of viscous crimson with a deafening thud. Islwyn closed the old elf’s eyes and pulled himself to standing glancing around the great hut.

      “There was nothing you could do.” Islwyn’s voice made me jump. No, shit. I glared at him for a moment before I realize he had said it more for his benefit than my own. I took a step towards him and my body swayed, I was unable to recover as the weakness and fatigue hit me all at once. Islwyn caught me, pulling me up to standing with a hand about my waist to steady me. He stared at me and our gazes caught. It was like he had never seen me before—which was odd considering that we had laid together. His pretty mouth set in a hard grim line making him seem as he was—closer to Yorwrath’s age than Aneurin’s. All of the youthfulness washed from his features as he took me in and those golden brows furrowed. His mouth opened to say more but Yorwrath bolted through the door covered from head to toe in blood and thicker things as he barreled toward me. Without even acknowledging the dead Gweledydd or Islwyn he snatched me from the blonde’s arms clinging to me fiercer than he ever had before.

      Myrddin wasn’t too far behind Yorwrath, but unlike his brother after he joined in the embrace he paused as he spied the body of the Gweledydd. After inspecting the corpse, he glanced up at Islwyn and canted his head from side to side as if taking the measure of the druid.

      “Welcome to the Knowing, Derwydd,” Myrddin sneered. “Anointed in blood and given the gift all in one night, but bereft of any and all information that would be helpful to us. You should be the one lying dead in that puddle! Not him!”

      “Now’s not the plowing time for this. Deal with the goatfucker later, we have bigger problems right now,” Yorwrath snapped at his brother as he inspected my still seeping wound.

      “Like what?”

      “Valentina’s gone cold, idiot.” Yorwrath held me close, crushing me against his chest. In truth I could feel it, I had lost a lot of blood. Mostly it had gone unnoticed because I was covered in so much of it. Yorwrath’s words however softened Myrddin’s face as he rushed to my side, cupping my face in his hands.

      “Fuck,” he cursed softly under his breath. He pulled back my lips and I hadn’t the energy to fight him as he checked my gums. I halfheartedly nipped at his fingertips, but even that took entirely too much effort. My eyelids were starting to grow heavy as the chill deep within me started to grow. “Valentina?” There was panic in Myrddin’s voice as he called my name. My eyes blinked slowly.

      “Beastie, stay with us.” Yorwrath shook me and my lids raised my gaze lazily turning to look up at him before slipping closed once again. “Valentina!” he screamed my name, before slapping me hard across the mouth. I could taste the blood but the sensation seemed so far away. I wanted nothing more than to shelter in his nude heat to rest entwined with him. I settled for leaning my head against his chest as the darkness pulled me down into the freezing pit as my body went slack. 

      Everything was smoke, shadows and whispers. A seemingly endless barren forest stretched out before me as far as I could see. Gnarled branches clacked against one another as a breeze blew through the limbs. Drawing a slow breath, I caught the scent of the sea through the dense earthy smell of the sterile wood. That chorus of whispers that surrounded me continued to grow as shadows moved and fog began to swirl around me. I wasn’t afraid, I probably should have been but I didn’t feel anything really.

      This wasn’t the nothingness that I had pulled Yorwrath from, this was clearly something else entirely but what I didn’t know. A sound that made absolutely zero sense was carried on the air, waves. My brows knit as that sound grew in intensity until it was as though I was standing on the shore at Gors’difywyd during a storm. I turned around searching for the source of that terrible sound but found nothing.

      “Well, fuck.” I sighed tracing my tongue over my teeth before I picked a direction and started walking.

      Those whispers grew in clarity with every step as the sound of waves trailed me and the sky over head darkened into complete and perfect darkness. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face, walking became dangerous. With my luck I’d trip and break my neck. So I did the only thing I could do, I felt my way to a thicker tree; one with hard, sharp and ragged bark and took a seat at its base.

      “I bet the stupid Dy’ne thinks she’s dead. Her kind usually is the dimmest of the races.” Yorwrath’s voice sounded behind me.

      “Don’t say that. She’s not stupid,” Aneurin retorted.

      “She’s also not Dy’ne,” Myrddin’s voice cut through the rush of the waves that still surrounded me without source. Warmth and the aroma of burning wood bathed me, followed by the soft glow of firelight.

      Turning around I found Myrddin, Yorwrath, Aneurin and Islwyn gathered around a camp fire all were dressed for riding and seemingly road weary. I stared at Aneurin, he wasn’t how I remembered him. He had a fresh scar on his face that was still pink and raised. Luckily his eye was spared but his brow and cheek told the tale of how close he was to losing that perfectly green eye. He smiled at me, that boyish playful smile that made my heart ache. Aneurin looked only a little like his brothers, that was probably because he favored his mother—or so I had deduced since Yorwrath was the spitting image of Aeon supposedly.

      Aneurin still wore his hair long in the front and close cropped on the sides and back. It wasn’t a very kingly style and with all the time I had been amongst the elves I noticed that it was one that only the young seemed to wear. His irises still marked him as Swynwr, one bright and vivid green, the other an earthy reddish brown almost the same color as good soil. His lips were just as kissable as I remembered, plump and sweet. He had a mouth meant for a lover, the kind that simply looked as though it were made for the soul purpose of whispering sweet things. There was a soft quality to Aneurin that both of his brothers lacked; a quality I was worried he’d lose by the time I was able to free him.

      “You’re not really here,” I whispered, my lips turning to a frown. Oh, I wanted them to be, but there was no way.

      “You’re right, they’re not,” Aneurin answered as he stood and the others blew away like dust leaving Aneurin alone in front of the fire.

      “And you?” I inquired skeptically keening my eyes as I continued to appraise him.

      He pursed his lips and stood brushing the dust off of himself before approaching me. “I’m really here.”

      “But I’m not dead?”

      “No, you’re…” he sighed. “This is the land of the sleep.”

      “That means absolutely nothing to me.”

      “This is the land of those of us who are neither living nor dead but kept from consciousness—I believe you humans call it a coma.”

      “Why are you here?”

      “I got too…” he sighed and furrowed his brows. “The Swynwr discovered that I was gaining more control and they trapped me here…again.”

      “What do you mean again?”

      “When the Swynwr unlocked inside of me and took over my body after the awakening. You brought me out last time.”

      “So I’m stuck here?”

      He grinned a little, “I recall being trapped with you before. It wasn’t so bad then was it?”

      “That was different, Aneurin, and you know it.” I sighed and rubbed my temples. “If I’m here—where ever this is—they’re not going to try and find a way to free you. No, they’re going to sit here and wallow.”

      “Come, let me show you something to ease your mind. I doubt you’ll be here very long as it stands,” Aneurin reassured me with that little smile of his that had the disarming quality of melting away all of my fears no matter how valid.

      “Alright,” I followed him a few steps behind careful not to get too close. I was afraid to touch him, terrified that my fingertips would brush him and he’d fall away like so much sand as the others had. After walking for a bit we left the tree cover and in the distance was the light from a farm house. I paused as the house and the sole lonely tree in the middle of a barren field came into view. It was my home. Or rather what had once been my home for about a year before what now seemed like a lifetime ago.

      From a distance it all looked so peaceful. Had things gone differently I would have still been in that cottage with the garden we grew after the first time we made love. As we neared the house I heard the muted giggles and squeals of children playing. I knew what he had done, because I knew what I would have done were I in his shoes. I wondered how many nights he had created a version of myself out of sand to have a lazy morning with before waking the children.

      “What are their names?” I asked as we approached the door and Aneurin’s hand paused on the knob.

      “You’re not mad?”

      “No, I can hardly blame you. I think were our positions reversed I’d do the same or something similar.”

      “This is… this is what I wanted for us. What I still want for us in some way. I know we can’t have such a simple life together but…I’m never happier than I am when you’re near. Even now,” he laughed a bit and peered in the window. I drew nearer to him, so close that I could feel his warmth. Through the glass I could see three children playing. The oldest was a boy about five or six with a mess of copper tresses a top his head. His eyes were like mine, the color of lilacs and full of mirth. He looked very elven, but I expected that more or less. He was all long limbs and skin and bones as he rough housed with a violent little girl who sought to bite him at every turn. She was smaller than her brother and took greatly after me though her ears pointed, making her look like a pixie almost—which matched her ferocity as she took on her brother with gusto gnashing her little teeth on the fabric of his tunic. There was another boy off to the side a little bit younger than the girl, he was pale as death with huge luminous drowning blue eyes—Myrddin’s eyes.

      “One with each of you?” I glanced at Aneurin.

      “Mhm, Aeron is ours, Aisling is Yorwrath’s and Emrys is Myrddin’s.”

      “How did you do all of this?”

      “My powers and practice. I know it’s an illusion, but sometimes…like when I wake up in the morning and smell your hair it almost seems realer than what I’ve been through since we went to sleep the day after we made love. Everything since then has just been…” he self-consciously rubbed the scar on his face. “It doesn’t feel quite real to me, but then again I’ve been possessed by an ancient power and locked away here intermittently for the last few years.” He forced a bit of a smile and pushed open the door.

      “Famau!” Aeron exclaimed with delight freeing himself from the girls grasp to dart over to me. He wrapped his little arms around me and held me close.  As near as we were I could see that he had more than my eye color, he also had my petulant mouth that while full seemed a perpetual pouting frown. As I stared down into his little face tears welled up in my eyes blurring my vision. The girl slammed into my side as she clung to me fiercely. Emrys stayed seated where he was only briefly glancing up from his book with a small smile. Oddly, I expected no less from a child who was supposed to be Myrddin’s. Aneurin closed the door and I pulled him to us pressing my face to his chest to hide my tears.

      “Why cry?” Aisling asked in the sweetest high pitched little lilt. “Aeron’s fine, Famau. See!” she lifted up the rough tunic the boy wore to show the vicious little bite hadn’t broken the skin.

      “I’m just really happy to see you… all three of you. Sometimes you cry when you’re really happy.”

      She grunted, “Crying’s for babies.” Her cute little mouth turned into a little sneer and she backed away from the hug. I grabbed her by the back of her little tunic.

      “Do I look like a baby?”

      “No.” She looked off to the side. “Dada says bleiddiaid’daleithiog warriors never cry.”

      “Bleiddia-what?” I turned to Aneurin.

      “That’s our clan name. It means sovereign wolves or something close to that,” he answered glancing down at Aisling. “She’s a handful by the way, in such a way that only a girl born of you and Yorwrath could be.”

      “I can tell.” I smirked a little and ruffled Aeron’s hair. “Isn’t it a bit late?” I lofted a brow.

      “Dadi, said we could wait up for you.”

      “Well now you have! Off to bed with the lot of you.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned him towards the door to the back rooms. Aisling left without any urging, but Emrys lingered. He closed his book and slowly approached Aneurin and I staring with eyes far too wise for such a small child who could be no more than four at most. Without a word he held his arms up in the air, reaching for me. Snatching him up I placed the softest of kisses on the tip of his tiny pointed nose. The gesture of affection won me a tiny happy smile from the quiet little boy. But as I stared at him my thoughts grew dark. If he really came to be would he ever know his father before the madness took him?

      After putting the children to bed Aneurin and I retired to what was once my room. I had managed to keep my thoughts entirely to myself until that moment. As much as I enjoyed being there and the simple life that could have been, I knew it wasn’t real. I wanted the life this illusion offered as much as Aneurin did, but the difference was I knew that it was stopping him from fighting.

      Sitting on the feather bed I watched as Aneurin stripped down, revealing the various other scars that now covered his body. Yorwrath still beat him in the number and severity but unlike with Yorwrath I remember when the chest before me was more or less pristine and slightly softer. His body was as hard as his brother’s now, you could watch every muscle flex and shift in the dim candle light as he readied himself for bed.

      “Aneurin—”

      “Don’t.”

      “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

      “That the illusion I’ve created is pacifying me,” he whispered taking a seat beside me.

      “Don’t you want to fight? Don’t you want to really see me again? In the flesh and before your eyes.”

      “You know I do.”

      “Break the illusion.”

      “Without it there’s just nothing but that damned forest that stretches on and on for what seems to be forever. There are others here you know, but for some reason they can’t see me. So without this I’m stuck in nothingness, Valentina. The Swynwr has grown in power and I just…” he shook his head and I wrapped my arms around him. “I’ve been fighting so hard and whenever I get a foothold they rip it the fuck away.” He was crying now, his tears wet my short shift dampening my skin as we clung to each other.

      “Our love protects us, and strengthens us.” I kissed a tear from his cheek. “The bond we share is why the Swynwr couldn’t block us from each other. It’s also how we’re going to beat it. The power is yours Aneurin, you always had it inside of you. And when we’re together sharing those moments of bliss, we unleash powerful wild magic capable of doing the unimaginable. Those who came before you are jealous of our bond and of the strength I give you.”  I nuzzled against him combing my fingers back through his dark hair. “Fight for me, because I am fighting for you.”

      Our gazes met, drawing our lips together. The sensation of his lips against mine was intoxication pure and simple. It had been only a few months since we kissed last, but I had forgotten how amazing Aneurin was in that short time. There was more intensity to his kisses than there was before. They were the kisses of a desperate man—surprisingly, he was the one who stopped it. The moment the kiss broke the sound of churning ocean waves returned.

      “You’re right,” he panted pressing his forehead to mine. All around us the illusion started to fade until nothing remained of it but the bed we were seated on. He cupped my face in his hands staring deeply into my eyes for a handful of moments before releasing me.

      “It’s for the best.”

      He smiled weakly and nodded, “I know. I just hope I’m not too scarred for you to love me by the time I’m freed.”

      “I love you, no scar is going to change that. I kind of like it,” I reached up and traced the small pink line with my finger tip. “It makes you look more…Kingly.”

      “So you like it?” he perked up a little turning more to face me.

      “Mhm, it makes you look a little dangerous.”

      “Well, I’m an elf and you’re a human, I thought the points of my ears did that.” He teased pulling me into his lap.

      “Pfft, I like the points of your ears. And the colors of your eyes, the softness of your skin…the firmness of your body…the depth of your embrace.” We both shared a bit of a laugh.

      “And I love the tightness of yours.” He swallowed as we stared off into the darkness together. “I really wanted that life for us.”

      “Me too.” I sighed. “We both need to stop this wallowing in comfort. Gods know I’m just as guilty as you are.” A short rueful laugh breached my lips and I collapsed back against the feather mattress staring up at the swirling, jeweled darkness above us. The sky was not a sky but a mass of ever twisting shadows of the deepest darkest emerald, sapphire and amethyst. “The time for comfort, and ease has long since passed.” I spoke those words more to myself than to him.

      I knew what I had to do when I woke up, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. I was going to have to break from Yorwrath, Myrddin and the others. They had all been next to useless about what to do with the book. We had been waiting for the Gweledydd to speak to us, but he died before he could. Again we had reached a dead end to a degree. Or rather the others would think it a dead end. I was going to pay Baba Yaga a visit. Gwyn ap Nudd had offered his assistance to me, and I was going to take him up on the offer. He was the one who started the curse, surely he—a god—could lift it.

      “You look so serious,” Aneurin whispered as he lay beside me wrapping his arm around me.

      “I just realized what I have to do and I don’t think you’ll like it any better than the others.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      “I’m going to make Gwyn ap Nudd break the curse.”

      “Gwyn ap Nudd? The Winter King?” He raised a brow skeptically. “Don’t misunderstand me, if anyone could force a god to change their mind it would be you. But it’s…”

      “What or who is Spring Heeled Jack?” I interrupted him knitting my brows.

      “I take it we aren’t going to savor our time together?”

      “I’m savoring it, I’m merely contemplating my next move at the same time.”

      “Any decision made in desperation will most likely be a poor one.” He caressed my cheek before smoothing a stray fallen tendril behind my ear. “Think long and hard on your next move before you make it.”

      “Trust me I am. Which is why I am curious who or what Spring Heeled Jack is. He or it and Baba Yaga can reach out to Gwyn ap Nudd for me.”

      “He is… we call him y ellyll y coed. The fiend of the wood, he dwells in forest south of Jarlton, where he eats all those who cross his path. Elf, human, he cares litlle for more than the taste of flesh, I doubt he’d be of help.”

      “It’s him or Baba Yaga.”

      “I’m sure you’ll be fine if you take Yorwrath. For a time they thought Yowrath was Spring Heeled Jack.” A happy chuckled brought a smile to his lips that fell to a frown after a few moments. “I miss my brother, as much of a complete and utter pain in the ass as he is, I miss him. Myrddin too, the arrogant shit.”

      “They miss you too. But before you know it we’ll all be reuinted again and...” I didn’t say what I was thinking, I didn’t say And then we’ll just have that pesky war of extinction to worry about. It was pointless to worry him further. One step at a time. We’d free him and then we’d worry about everything else.

      “We’re just surrounded by a pile of problems aren’t we?”

      “Unfortunately.” Sighing I ran my fingers back through my hair.

      “We’ll pull through.”

      “So confident.”

      “Of some things—you mostly. I’ve never met anyone more determined in my entire life.”

      “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

      “As you should.” He kissed me deeply, claiming my mouth as that sound of crashing waves grew ever louder until they were almost deafening. Still I clung to Aneurin, clawing at his back as he pressed his body to mine urging his hips forward grinding against me as his tongue thrust into my mouth and those hissing phantom waves reached their crescendo. I closed my eyes and gasped as he playfully nipped at my neck... only to open them elsewhere.

      Myrddin murmured foreign words as he held his hand over my face, his fingers pressed against my forehead. I was submerged in water, the sound of the rolling waves swallowing up all save Myrddin’s voice as he chanted over and over again. He was nude as he held me a loft in the ocean. I was too sad to fully appreciate Myrddin’s wet nude form. I didn’t get to say good bye to Aneurin.

      After releasing me he wrapped his arms around me, crushing me against his wet chest.  I was able to glance up and catch the bruised flesh around his eyes. He had clearly been up for days. His skin was pruny and his lips were blue.

      “I thought I lost you,” he professed to my wet hair, squeezing me.

      “I’m still here.”

      “Most never return from the land of sleep. Especially not after the head trauma and blood loss you sustained at least. You have quite the will to live.”

      “Aneurin’s trapped there. The Swynwr finally caught on to how much strength Aneurin had gained against it and appearently they locked him away for it. I think he’s given up.” Even I was shocked by how sad my voice sounded. Myrddin soothed me, stroking my hair and rocking me back and forth.

      “Shhh.”

      “No, don’t... don’t do that. Don’t try and quiet me. I’m allowed to be sad over the fact that he’s more or less given up.” I struggled out of his arms and started wading towards the shore on sluggish limbs. “He was clinging to an illusion there, one of a simple life with the three of you sharing me. There were even children, Myrddin.”

      “I know.”

      I halted at his words glancing over my shoulder at him, “What do you mean, you know?”

      “I almost had you on the first night and then you entered Aneurin’s illusion. I had to slowly peel every last bit of it off to free you and as I did I got it all in bits and peices. The cottage, Aisling, Aeron, and Emrys all of it.” He started walking towards me. “You’re right to be worried. Fuck knows even I would struggle to want to leave that place for this.” He glanced around and I followed his eyes as he scanned the ruins of the grove. We had won, clearly because we were still there. But the cost was heavy, most of the tents had burned down and bodies wrapped in canvas laid in a pile by the half finished wicker man they had started to build before the storm set in. He scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the water.

      “We’re going to have to split up aren’t we?”

      “Yes, for a time.” He chuckled a bit and shook his head. “You are astounding did you know that?”

      “Mm, a very beautiful elf told me that once. Perhaps you know him, he had the deepest blue eye and the softest palest skin. And a body like a god.”

      “Oh, yes. Him. You could say I’ve heard of him.” He kissed my cheek. “We won’t be apart for long, but I think I can help Aneurin, or at least stop the Swynwr from overwhelming him.” I started shivering in the cool night air, out of the water everyting felt entirely too cold even pressed against Myrddin’s warm chest as I was. “Yorwrath has arranged for boats to come from Lyr, he’s proving to be quite the leader, then again he always was. Even at his most viscious he always does what’s right for us in his own way. It’s a pity that his prior misdeeds will forever stain him as a monster.”

      “Myrddin, you know I love Yorwarth dearly, but he is a monster. And I’m a bit of one too.”

      “You’re not a monster.”

      “I’ve caused the deaths of countless now, and I feel absolutely no remose for any of it.”

      “From what I’ve heard, your actions were all about your survival. Let me ask you this, if you had the option would you have spared the lives of those you cut down?”

      “Some, but some people need to die, and their deaths aren’t worth foregoing even if the option is there.”

      “Yorwrath would have just said no and then probably insulted me for insinuated that he would ever do things differently. So you see, you’re not a monster. But I don’t believe Yorwrath is either anymore. He wasn’t as a child, oh he was horrible brat with a temper but he was never without empathy. Aeon however, was the very definition of monster and Yorwrath was a good little shadow after his wife. But now he’s coming to show that there’s more to him than violence. His love for you has made him better in all ways. Though...admittedly, even I fear for Ersland if anything were to happen to you. Sometimes I think about what will cause my madness to set in. That’s one of my theories. You die and I have to put my brother down like a rabid dog.” He paused at the door a frown turning his lips as he exhaled sharply through his nose.