A grin spread as the truth became clear. He truly was her hero, and he had unleashed her from her tainted heritage. She hadn’t turned Unseelie. Her love for Calan had prevented it. Chained in his cell, she never would. She’d forever remain on the brink.
She dropped her head against the smooth wall at her back and waited, knowing what would come next. Her heartrate kicked up, fear gripping her, then the first shards of pain slithered through her.
She whimpered, a sound she hated but couldn’t stop. It was time to die again. With the thought came another realization. Remorse gripped her, not for herself but for the Huntsmen. Every day of their confinement, they’d faced the same fate—never-ending death. Yet not one of them had to accept it. They could’ve escaped the agony through madness. Pain couldn’t touch them when they retreated into their own minds. But they’d struggled to hold on to their sanity so that the world would remain safe from the horrors of Hell and the Unseelie Court. Without their willingness to pay the curse’s price, both depravities would’ve claimed the earth.
Her respect and love for them grew. She wanted to gather them close and reward them for their endurance. More than that, she wanted to heal them. They were broken, each and every one of them—teetering on the brink between Hell and madness—and too powerful to fall into either.
They needed to find their balance. Their heaven. As I have found mine. She would never experience it again, but the memory of her short time with Calan would sustain her. She smiled, knowing she was right, even if she couldn’t explain why she was so certain of it.
Maybe my angel told me. It wouldn’t surprise her, but before she could ponder the source of her knowledge, white-hot pokers seared her skin. The agony seized her, squeezing her lungs and demanding her screams.
A man reached out to her, not her beloved Calan but his brother Rhys. He fed her the knowledge. “Share the curse with me. I will bear it too.”
A woman, Tegan, wrapped Harley in her mental arms. “As will I.”
More voices, more gentle hands caressed her. Harley shook her head and pushed against their comforting embrace. “No. It’s not meant for the Huntsmen.”
“Nor is it meant for you.”
The voice came, not from inside her head but from in front of her. She cracked her eyelids open, the best she could do with the burgeoning pain building in her chest. The fuzzy, glowing shape of a man stood several feet away. He had no face, no body, yet she knew him or should she say—it.
The Triad, the triple-faceted god that ruled over all.
It waved its arm. The pain choking her faded. “Why have you condemned yourself?”
Why? She had so many reasons. She wanted to spare Calan, free his siblings, ensure Hell didn’t spill over into the world. Yet she knew her motive was simpler.
“For love.”
“Love, not duty?”
She frowned. “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”
“How so?”
How could she explain it? “When you love deeply, you make choices and sacrifices for the good of the person you care about.”
The shadowy figure stepped closer. “How is that different than duty?”
She was being tested. The deity would know the difference. So be it. She’d play its game. “Choices and actions based on duty lack passion. You do something because it’s expected, not because you want what’s best for the person or people you love.” Harley worried her bottom lip and tried to put her thoughts into words. “There’s no sacrifice.”
The Triad spun in a slow circle. “And Arawn’s damned children, is love your reason for helping her?”
Murmurs of agreement resounded in her head.
The Triad tilted its head. “You do not know her.”
“Calan does,” Tegan answered. “My brother loves her.”
“So we do. She’s family, part of our Teulu,” Rhys added.
The Triad glanced over its shoulder to stare at a spot along the wall. “Calan severed his bond to her. She is no longer connected to you.”
“The Huntsmen, the humans, the gods, and everyone in between are all connected. None of us can exist without the others. We all have a role to play.” Rhys lowered his voice. “Don’t we?”
The Triad dipped its head. “And a game to win.”
“What game?” Tegan asked.
“The greatest of all.” The deity floated toward Harley, and its light blinded her. She glanced at the ground, but it tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet its gaze. Mesmerized by the myriad colors in its shimmering form, she couldn’t look away. “And Harley has made the first move. The Huntsmen will be released.”
She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
“Do not be thankful yet.” The Triad turned its back on her and stretched out its arms. “Arawn’s beloved children, listen and take heed. The fate of the world rests upon you once more. You too will be required to make a choice, but be warned. You only get one move. Select it wisely. If you pick poorly, you will return here, and the deterioration of the barrier will resume.”
The deity faced her. She squinted but kept her attention on its face. It laid a hand over her heart. “Harley Callahan, mate to Calan and daughter of Minerva’s beloved maiden, you have one more life to give. Die well.”
A bolt of energy shot through her body. The god disappeared. Her back arched, but the chains held her in place. She couldn’t escape. The pain grew, and she shrieked. The sound turned into a bellowed roar shared by all the Huntsmen.
Power rushed up her legs. Energy crackled, and bolts of pure white light pierced her. The pressure in the air around her collapsed her lungs. Her cry of agony cut off abruptly, yet her mouth hung open on an endless scream.
On and on, the agony consumed
