“Good. Come closer. Your time is running out.”
A stark hall of marble and granite replaced the vast nothingness. He stepped out of the portal Minerva had erected. The moment his feet touched the floor, a pathway lined with flickering candles appeared. It led to another circle of green grass. He closed the distance, eager to leave the heavens. Although a god, he wasn’t welcome within the clouds of purity. He’d been banned from the goodness and light it offered.
Not banned. Chosen. The Triad whispered the words in Arawn’s head.
Resentment rose and mixed with the anger tensing his muscles. No matter what the Triad claimed, Arawn had been sacrificed when he’d taken the role as Lord of the Underworld. It appeared as if he would be turned into the Triad’s sacrificial lamb again.
He stepped into the second portal. Arms outstretched and head tipped back, he took the same position he had the last time he’d been in the Triad’s presence.
The day he’d been chosen.
A laugh threatened to erupt. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop it.
“I ask for the privilege to walk amongst the humans. I wish to create an army of demigods capable of traversing both the human realm and Hell. My children will become my Huntsmen and will act as my hand in the greatest battle of all time.”
The Wild Hunt.
“Such beings have the potential to be more powerful than any god, including you.”
Capable of harnessing the power of Hell and unleashing it onto the mortal realm, they would be. Arawn guarded the Well of Chaos, along with the Sins. He was within his right to use all as he saw fit. He rarely did. No weapon could be wielded without consequence.
“And the fact you understand that is why you were chosen as the guardian of the Underworld.”
The Triad’s words should’ve pleased him. They didn’t. All he felt was the obligation that came with his role. “My Hunters will learn humanity from their human families and discipline from me. They will embrace their role as I have.”
“Choosing duty over love?”
The question caught him off guard, and unease settled over him. He couldn’t help but think any answer he gave would be the wrong one. He settled on the response he’d given Minerva.
“Yes. I chose love once. Because of my actions, the fairies have unleashed the horrors of Hell upon the world, and the humans have suffered. That is unacceptable.”
“A noble response. You wish to avenge the wronged. Is that correct?”
Arawn inclined his head. “Yes.”
“Why did it take you a century to reach this conclusion?”
His shoulders slumped. Guilt weighed heavy on his soul. He’d known all along what he would need to do. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to make the choice, knowing the pain it would cause his mate. Minerva’s hurt and anger in the face of his decision proved his worry correct. Was it so wrong to want to be a male worthy of her?
“And allowing humans to suffer or her handmaidens to be violated makes you worthy?”
More remorse choked him. He raised his chin. “I have a responsibility to oversee the Underworld. It was imperative to reinforce the barriers of Hell.”
“And it took you a century to do that?”
Arawn stepped forward. “Can you change the past? Do so, and I will avert disaster.”
The ground beneath Arawn’s feet shifted, and the deity’s anger washed over Arawn, choking him. Arawn locked his knees, refusing to crumple under the onslaught of power.
“What are you willing to sacrifice to create your army?” the Triad asked, redirecting their conversation to the reason Arawn had entered the heavens. The diversion also reaffirmed Arawn’s guess that the god either couldn’t alter the past or wouldn’t.
Unwilling to let the issue go, Arawn took another step. “Well? Send me back in time. I will—”
“Answer the question. What will you sacrifice to create your army?”
It all came down to a sacrifice. Another wave of resentment gripped him.
Do you know why a sacrifice is required? The Triad’s whispered question teased Arawn’s senses.
Arawn considered his response. Several thoughts surfaced. Only one made sense. “Because of free will.”
“Yes, and because one choice can set a dangerous game into motion.” A game that must be won at all costs.
Arawn frowned. “What game?”
“The greatest of all, of course.” The Triad chuckled but no humor accompanied the sound. “The one that will determine the fate of the world.”
Tension tightened Arawn’s shoulders. “And who are the players in this game?”
“What are you willing to sacrifice to create your army?” The Triad repeated its question a third time.
“And who are the players in this game?” Arawn pressed.
“Answer the question or leave the heavens.”
Arawn breathed deeply and pushed back his frustration. It wouldn’t help him. His path was set. “The comfort my mate bestows upon me.”
“That’s not enough. You lived without her love well enough. Doing so again will not be a worthy sacrifice.”
Arawn balled his fists. The Triad’s answer was the one he’d expected, but caution stopped him from offering another blindly. “What price do you demand?”
“What are you willing to lose?”
He flexed his hands before linking them behind him.
“I’m not sure. Lead me into the response you want.” The Triad would anyway.
“Minerva has not conceived a child by you.”
He sighed. “Because I was meant to create my army.”
Only. The word slipped through Arawn’s mind.
A vise squeezed his chest, and sadness swamped him. Minerva had fantasized for years about what it’d be like to hold her child. He hated taking the right from her, but life as a god had nothing to do with fairness. The truth was harsh. Reality was often cruel, however.
“I will give up my ability to have more children after my Hunters take their rightful places, and—”
“So be it.” The Triad’s response cut him off.
A glowing ball formed several feet away. Gold, red, and silver strands wove themselves into a tight mesh, encasing the pure energy of the heavens.
The realization of what would happen settled over him. His heart beat harder, and his muscles tensed. The
