Flames burst from the orb’s center, and then it flew forward, hitting him and knocking him to the ground.
The roar of his screams blended with those he lived with constantly. Utter agony gripped every fiber of his being.
He convulsed and writhed for what could’ve been an eternity, but finally the torment ended. His breath rushed out. He pushed to his feet, then staggered to the edge of the ring.
A shadowy figure took shape in front of him. “You have been granted mortality for one year and one day in order to build your Teulu.”
His family of warriors bound to each other through him.
He dipped his head. “Thank you.”
“What will you sacrifice in order to return to your godly position?”
Checkmate.
The Triad had led him into a corner. Trapped in a human body, he had no recourse.
“You do have another option.” The ethereal entity responded to Arawn’s thought, then stepped closer. “Choose one of the females you will lay with and live out your life with her. If you are lucky, you will form the bond with the human that your goddess is no longer able to create. Then Minerva will cry for you.”
He breathed heavily. Hatred took root in his heart. He fought it, knowing to give in to it would destroy him. Desperate to conquer it, he conjured Minerva’s image. Peace spread through him. So did love. He felt her touch and knew in his soul she’d taken away the debilitating animosity he held for the Triad.
Her lips brushed his. Be at ease, my dark lord. We both have been played, but our love is strong. I might not forgive you easily, but we will survive.
Minerva, love you. He opened for her kiss, but she vanished on a puff of rain-scented air. Leaving him alone.
No! Not after the hope she’d offered him; he’d be able to earn her absolution.
“What will you sacrifice to return to your godly position?” the Triad repeated.
Arawn dropped to his knees. “Anything. Everything. I offer it all.”
“Your children?”
Protective instincts flared. “My children have not yet been conceived. They are innocent.”
“If you do not return to your rightful role, your innocent children will destroy the world. They need you.”
His breaths quickened into pants. “Then why demand anything?”
“Nothing is gained without sacrifice. You know this.” The ethereal figure grew in size. Sparks flashed within its murky form. “Last chance. Will you sacrifice your children?”
“Their lives? Their souls? What? You must be specific.”
“Their pain. Their suffering.”
Arawn frowned. “I do not understand.”
“For a century, the fairy king has caused pain and suffering because you were weak and couldn’t make the choice required of you. You must pay for each scream the humans have uttered.”
“Then punish me, not my children.”
“Pain means nothing to you. We both know this.”
It was true. The only anguish he experienced came from knowing innocents had to bear it.
“Exactly, which is why helplessly watching your offspring suffer will be your punishment, and their screams will pay the debt you accrued over the past century.” The Triad leaned closer. “Tenfold. They will suffer tenfold. Only then will they get the chance to right your wrong and stop Dagda.”
A millennium of pain and suffering—that was the price his children would pay.
“And while they do, the humans will continue to suffer!”
“Then they must do their best to reduce the threat before they are imprisoned. The wild race to take out the members of the Unseelie Court will test your Hunters’ worth and determine whether they deserve to find their heaven.”
A growl crawled up Arawn’s throat, and his body vibrated. Had he still been able to wield his powers, he would have lashed out at the Triad. He wanted to deny the price the Triad demanded. The memory of what the humans had experienced in the years the fairies and their creatures roamed the earth stopped him. So too did the one truth he knew about being a god, even a demigod—why have eternal life if you weren’t willing to shed it for the good of the weak?
“They will live?” Arawn asked to be sure.
“After the correct sacrifice has been made and they have paid their price in blood and tears, they will be released from their prison of suffering.”
Image upon image flashed before him. Each and every death the fairies or their abhorrent creations had caused was his fault. He’d failed in his duty.
Because he chose love.
Arawn closed his eyes. They burned. “I agree to your conditions.”
“So be it.” The Triad sighed.
The sound chilled Arawn’s blood, and a sense of foreboding gripped him. He’d made the wrong choice. “Wait—”
“Your request is granted”—the Triad’s booming voice cut him off—“but there is one more thing necessary to carry out our deal.”
A murky cloud surrounded Arawn, and the rhythmic chant of a curse echoed within his head. He listened to the words, and their meaning became clear. The trepidation he’d felt moments ago seized him, stronger than ever. He opened his mouth—a denial on his tongue. He changed his mind. The price was too great.
No words would form.
Too late, Arawn, Father of the Damned. It is too late.
The smoke dissipated, revealing a dagger. The runes etched onto the surface glowed. Power emanated from it. Arawn recognized its source—fairy magic, the same living force that made up the fairy realm, the one he’d used to reinforce the barriers of Hell. Hungry, evil, and unending, it would feed upon those cursed…for an eternity, not merely a millennium.
No! He screamed the word. No sound escaped his lips. Instead, his cry echoed within his head.
His hands lifted of their own violation, and the dagger dropped onto his open palms. He fought the movement, but his fingers met the cold handle, then curled around it, slicing him open. Tingles spread up his arm before the blade melted into his flesh. The curse he had delivered onto the fairies settled within him, ready to be passed on to his children.
Tears fell freely from his eyes.
He’d made a mistake,
