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As I glanced over at Shade, a warmth spread through my heart. I was finally beginning to understand the depth of connection that my sister had for her men, that Menolly had for Nerissa. I’d never really connected with anybody on that level before—not in a sexual, passionate manner, but now my feelings were waking up and I had begun to realize just how strong of a bond could form between two people. Or three . . . or four in the case of my sister. The feelings frightened me, to a degree, but I couldn’t deny them.
Vanzir drove us the five miles or so to the woods where Grandmother Coyote lived. A patch of woods on the outskirts of Belles-Faire had long stood empty, and gods knew who owned it, but no development had ever taken place, no buildings graced the site. The forest was thick here, cedar and fir, vine maple and fern and huckleberries. As we crossed the grassy strip that ran along the road to enter the woodland proper, spiders stretched their webs from branch to branch, the big fat striped argiopes that called this neck of the woods home.
Their webs shimmered in the blustery night, withstanding the gusts that whipped through the woodland. Camille led the way—she had been here too many times for comfort, visiting the Hag of Fate, and each time she’d come home more shaken than she wanted to let on.
Chase and Shade helped Sharah along, and we moved slowly, making sure she didn’t twist an ankle or fall. She was a trouper, never complaining, though I could tell it was hard going for her at this point in her pregnancy. I crossed my fingers she wouldn’t go into labor before we returned. Trillian and I took the back, keeping our eyes open for any possible threat.
We pushed through the wet bracken, the sound of leaves squishing under our feet along with the occasional crunch of a breaking twig. A few minutes later, the thick undergrowth gave way, opening into a small grove. Circular, cushioned with the moss that so often overtook grass, the lea was open to the sky and a deep sensation of magic pulsed through the air. Even I could feel it, and I wasn’t a witch.
A few barren oaks stood interspersed through the glade, and Camille headed toward one. She knew the way by heart now. We reentered the forest on the other side, and stopped at the base of a huge tree. A shimmering light around the trunk formed the outline of a door. Camille ignored it, but led us past, to the twin trees behind the giant cedar. There, between them, sparkled Grandmother Coyote’s portal. And waiting patiently beside it, stood the Hag of Fate herself.
“You know the way.” She hesitated as we approached her, then added, “Do your best to return safely. You are needed.” And with that cryptic note, she fell silent.
Camille dipped gracefully into a curtsey. Trillian bowed as we passed by her, and I raised my hand in greeting. Grandmother Coyote caught my gaze and I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—a warning, or a caution, but she motioned us through to the portal.
The portal crackled and snapped, the energy running between the trees like miniature lightning bolts.
Camille turned back to smile at us. “Here we go again. Let’s do this.” And with that, she stepped into the nexus and vanished.
Chase looked back at me. “Would you go with Sharah? I know she says it’s safe but—”
“Chase, I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m deaf.” She glared at him and he blushed, that scolded-puppy look on his face that I remembered all too well. After a minute, she laughed and shook her head. “Delilah, come on. Do as he asks, would you, so he doesn’t freak out.”
I stepped up, pushed Chase gently to the side with a snort, and took Sharah’s arm. We plunged through. Instantly, the crackle of energy surrounded us, ripping us to shreds as we went hurtling between the worlds. A moment later, dizzy and my ears ringing, I stumbled out of the portal, Sharah still holding my arm. She looked vaguely queasy.
“You all right?” I was worried it might have spurred on labor, but she sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slow.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Like I told you, going through portals won’t hurt you when you’re pregnant unless you’re sick or have some serious condition.”
Camille was standing there, her arms folded across her ample chest, tapping one fingernail against a stone wall near the portal. “What took you so long?” Just then, Trillian and Chase appeared, and right after them, Shade.
The portal, along with several others leading to other cities in Y’Elestrial, was located in a cave near the Barrow Mounds that guarded the outskirts of Elqaneve. Guards bordered the cave, keeping watch on who entered and exited the portals. They couldn’t prevent unsavory elements from traveling, but they could keep an eye on things if trouble appeared on their doorstep.
Trenyth was waiting for us. The advisor to Queen Asteria, the elf had been around almost as long as she had, and we all knew he was in love with her, but he would never admit it to himself, or to anyone else. Fiercely loyal, he would die for her, and it made me sad to think that he lived his life in a haze of unrequited love. But then again, perhaps she did love him. The elves were big on honor, as Sharah had said. Asteria probably couldn’t marry someone who wasn’t born to the throne—or at least born in the Court. I found myself musing that someday, when she was ready to step down, perhaps Trenyth could finally tell her how he felt. Maybe they had a future after all.
The Barrow Mounds had once been the home of an oracle. A seer, she walked in shadows, they said. Half elf, half Svartan, she was caught between worlds, both in lineage and in vision. But bandits had killed her during a raid. It was rumored that she had predicted her own demise. Now, her spirit haunted the mounds, and no grass grew over the dirt, nor plants of any kind. Stark, barren, the hill stood a solemn memorial to the unpredictable nature of life, and the oracle walked in the mists there, forever watching over her people.
Because of Sharah’s condition, Trenyth had a carriage waiting for us. We piled in, and I felt a weariness that crept through me every time we portal jumped. It might not be hard on the body, but it still took its toll.
Sharah was looking anxious. Chase wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. Camille and Trillian held hands, and I turned to Shade, who smiled and offered me his hand. I took it, leaning back in the carriage, staring at the open sky.
Here, it was autumn, like it was over Earthside. But it wasn’t raining . . . yet. The night was overcast and the scent of wood smoke filled the air. The noblas stedas—horses that were originally from Earthside but had been bred in a different direction once they were imported into Otherworld—clopped along, their hooves clogging a steady tattoo against the cobblestones.
We passed through the city square, where the vendors were closing down their stalls and trailing home for the night. Eye catchers lit the streets, glowing orbs of light that were formed from the very magic of the air itself. They existed everywhere in Otherworld, and we thought they might be related to the will-o’-the-wisps over Earthside. But unlike the volatile ES Fae, these orbs silently held vigil, appearing at dusk, summoned by witches and sorcerers, to light the way through the darkness.
We had been over Earthside long enough now that every time we returned home, it was like moving from one lifetime to another. Regardless of their common origin, the worlds had evolved vastly different paths since their genesis brought about by the Great Divide.
At one time, the worlds had been united. There had been no Otherworld, merely Earthside with all the realms merging together. But as the demonic force rose from the Subterranean Realms, the great Fae Lords made a decision to divide the worlds and seal off the Sub-Realms. They created the spirit seal, an incredibly powerful artifact. And with their combined magic, the worlds began to fracture and split. A massive civil war broke out between the Fae who did not want this and those who did.
Known as the Great Divide, the fighting and the magic burrowed through the land like a juggernaut, severing realm from realm as it ripped through space and time to calve off Otherworld and the Sub-Realms. The upheaval created floods and set off volcanoes, and basically tore the psychic structure of the Earth apart. On the physical level, Earthside didn’t look much different, except for the damage caused by the quakes, flooding, and volcanoes, but its very essence had shifted, and the world would never be the same.
Some of the Fae and elves chose to stay Earthside, while a majority moved to Y’Eírialastar, our name for Otherworld. Once the move had taken place, a vast array of city-states began to rise out of the wild lands.
From the icy Northlands to the sands of the Southern Wastes, from the rolling waves of the southwestern Mirami Ocean to the northwestern shores of the chill Wyvern Ocean, Y’Eírialiastar formed a macrocosm. And within that macrocosm, microcosms arose, containing every environment from desert to swampland to waving plains of grass to boreal forests.
Once the worlds had fully separated, the great lords broke the seal into nine pieces and entrusted each one to an Elemental Lord. Nine gems that—as long as they were kept hidden and isolated—would prevent the worlds from merging. It was an unnatural division, bridged only by the portals, and those were kept heavily guarded and closed. But through the millennia, the seals were lost and forgotten. They stayed hidden and safe, until the Otherworld Intelligence Agency decided to open up some of the portals on a limited basis.
Shortly after that, the spirit seals started working their way to the surface, seeking to reunite. Like twin souls hunting each other down through the world, they did their best to reunite.
