Having already stopped at his estates, Fuiseog stood then on the precipice of the star-struck lands. The ground, still loose, occasionally broke off the edge and spiraled down into the abyss. Wooden stairs, long dilapidated, spiraled down until they too disappeared into the darkness. The way was treacherous with any one stair as likely to snap as hold one’s weight. Fuiseog himself had never seen the bottom. He knew no one who had. Fae legend said the star that had created the leviathan crater had been the same that gave them their powers; though, fae had long since given up the pilgrimage to the site. Once, they had come from far away to brave the descent in the hopes of squeezing some hidden reserve of magic out. Few ever returned, and those that did seemed in some way drained of life, going on to live as shadows of their former selves and dying young.

  In any case, Fuiseog’s own curiosity about the contents had been sufficiently tamped down by his mother. Of the many things she had forbidden, few had carried the same weight of certain death. Even the air, which rose from the abyss in sputtering zephyrs like some great beast respirating, made his skin crawl. It was malodorous and rank as if each rotting fae carcass was still festering at the bottom waiting to be reclaimed. Keir beside him once again a hound bristled as the foul winds washed over them.

  “Is she…down there?” they growled.

  Fuiseog shook his head and hiked a thumb behind him to the trailhead that led further towards the coast. “About a half-mile out still, I think. I feel some strong pull from that direction.”

  “I guess we’ll smell the smoke, though if they’re only a half-mile away we should at least see it, no?”

  “We should.”

  Keir pawed at the dirt. Regardless, the hound went on in the direction Fuiseog had indicated. Though moss-grown, the area was otherwise barren. The forest had been obliterated in the impact, and had kept its distance ever since. The flowers too had avoided growing, the birds detoured so as not to fly over, and the rabbits did not nibble in the crater’s fields. No living thing, save fae and the pale-pink lichen, dared approach. That unseen force kept Fuiseog’s eyes on the pit, a poignant unheard song that entranced his being, and he was

  rooted to that spot overlooking the abyss swirling below. It took a great shove from Keir to break the spell.

  “Are we going or what?”

  “Yeah…let’s go.”

  He fought to avoid a parting glance before following the black hound towards the path. By his own estimates, if the empress did in fact have an army of five hundred at her back, there was only one place they could have set camp within a half dozen leagues. The woods rarely left space for anything that refused to coexist. On point, they spotted the first sentries just outside the clearing.

  As reports had said, the soldiers both wore odd masks shaped vaguely like screaming faces and armor of overlapping golden-bronze plate. Each carried a long pike twice their height. They made no sound, not even to breath, just standing at the side of the path to watch Fuiseog and Keir pass. The camp itself filled the clearing. Along the wooded edges, large stakewalls had been erected, and every other inch save a central path through was carpeted with low-strung beige tents, no room even for cooking fires or gatherings of soldiers to take time off between marching. It was bleak by Fuiseog’s own standards. Fae camps were often large and extravagant, with retinues that trailed behind and set up just outside for those with more uncouth tastes. Fuiseog had let it continue in the hopes of keeping morals high on his crusade.

  The rest of the empress’s soldiers crowded together in the center of the whole thing, shoulder to shoulder in countless ranks leaving only enough room for Fuieog to pass through with Keir on his heels to the large wagons that stood like cathedrals among all the tents. He stopped a few feet away and looked up at Kerres va Kosh. The lord was a small pale thing, slender but lacking the sharp angles of many fae. Her hair was as long as she was, a blush of red like a garden of hibiscus and intricately braided so it formed a crown of sorts before spiraling down behind her. Her eyes were a pallid blue without pupils as if she were blind, but she stared directly at Fuiseog. He inclined his head slightly.

  “Lord Kerres va Kosh, empress of the lands across the endless seas and commander of the silent legion. I hope I’m not too late.”

  “Perfectly on time, as expected.” Her voice was simultaneously quiet and unbreakably commanding. “You have brought yourself and your loyal hound, but I wonder what knowledge you yet carry. Come.”

  She rose silently and padded into the center wagon. It was the largest of the five, an astonishing work of art carved from oak and leafed with golden spirals, and the redolence of the wood was still palpable even on Fuiseog’s tongue; oak specifically evoked a memory in his mind of the first time he’d met Keir, a memory he’d thought lost. The very same story the knight had recounted in the library, of dragging them into the mess of playing children, of accompanying them to a table just below the queen so they could satisfy the intense growling of their stomach, of heaping the food on their plate to the scowls of the other fae. Fuiseog placed his boot on the first step of the wagon.

  The flood hit. Keir watching with sad eyes as Fuiseog was whisked away by his mother and made to sit beside her. Keir, much older, sitting astride a silver-dapple stallion as Fuiseog stepped into the light of the fae sun once again and ascended to his palanquin, and the knight confidently keeping pace beside him as they descended towards the festival below. Fuiseog feeling the weight of his crown and the mantle around his shoulders, sweating profusely under the sun reflected through a thousand pieces of painted glass in the throne room atrium as Keir kneeled before him and swore themselves to his service and protection. Keir’s face in so many shadows as Fuiseog went through the town below the palace, watching for trouble. The candle Keir cradled as they cracked the door to Fuiseog’s bedchamber and ushered in Oisín. The look of grief on the knight’s face when they bid goodbye to the betrothed prince and his new consort. All three of their hands now intertwined, him and Oisín and Keir swearing to meet again once the shapeshifter had learned what they could from their own people. The three of them together as an unstoppable force, with Fuiseog as the brains and Oisín as the reason and Keir as the blade. Then he saw the mist that crept through the palace grounds in the wake of Keir’s death, curling so delicately around him and Oisín in their bed, slowly erasing all memory of them.

  He tripped, slamming his knees into the next step of the wagon. Keir’s arm was the only thing that stopped his face from impacting next. That strong grip was all that reminded him where they were at that moment. A flood of anger crashed in his heart, washing away the sudden grief and shock. It took the pressure of the knight helping him back to his feet, and every ounce of willpower he could muster to swallow the rage and pack it away to be released later. They still had a mission.

  He took the third and fourth step shakily, but found himself finally on the main platform of the wagon staring at the curtain Lord va Kosh had disappeared into. Keir stepped forward to part the fabric, taking a quick glance before ushering their liege through. The empress sat upon a single pillow arranged with three others in a diamond shape. She made no gesture for them to sit, but Fuiseog plopped down on the opposite cushion regardless. Keir took another.

  “We’ve come. I would know what help you offer, Lord va Kosh, before I make any deals.”

  “A moment,” she whispered. The air became charged, raising the hair of Fuiseog’s arms, and the shadows separated from the walls. They swirled and grew and coalesced finally into the vague shape of a man behind the empress. The figure that took their place was like none he’d ever encountered. The man, or thing really, was tall and thin to the point of seeing the very bones of their fingers under leathery gray skin, one of the only parts that showed through the thick cotton bandages that wrapped them head to toe. The only other part that struck him were piercing red eyes, only visible by their haunting glow in the dimness of the wagon’s interior. A smell of rot and of water-soaked parchment filled the king’s senses.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “Ten, my closest advisor,” the empress said with a small wave over her shoulder. “Now we can begin, King Fuiseog.”

  “What are your terms, Lord va Kosh?”

  “No terms. We will help you in your war against your uncle, the Duke Cailey, so long as you ask. We will give you the tools you still lack.”

  “In exchange for what exactly? Forgive my skepticism, but I don’t know any person of power to help for nothing.”

  “And yet…”

  “We must,” Ten said in a voice like a cat’s hiss. “We must help as much as you must succeed.”

  “And then what?”

  The empress smiled finally and giggled. “And then you die.”

  “What?”

  Keir placed a hand on their sword handle.

  Ten spoke up again. “The fates have already been written. Our empire has arrived at the exact moment we are needed, at the exact moment you are set to cast down the duke. You will kill him, and then we will take what is ours.”

  “Which is…? I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”

  “These lands are mine by right. I am the lost empress, who has rebuilt herself across the waves. Who descended from the people you no longer remember. From the line of Aeglinn who begot Rhiannon.”

  “Bullshit,” he growled, the rage still bubbling away.

  “We are…wait, what?” The empress recoiled slightly.

  “Bullshit. I don’t believe you. You’re no more from the line of Aeglinn than I am. I read the histories as much as anyone. Rhiannon killed every member of her family, that’s why they called her the mad queen. She made sure no one would ever be able to challenge her right to rule.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean—”

  “I don’t believe you for a second. Or your shadowy advisor, talking of the fates. You think he knows the future more than the rest of us?”

  “I know he knows the future. All he has said has come to pass.”

  Fuiseog rose to his feet slowly and brushed himself off. “Because he managed to predict a couple things? Anyone with a decent education can make guesses at the future and occasionally be right.”

  “Then you will not ask?”

  The king smiled. “Lord Kerres va Kosh, I formally ask as king of these lands and their people, aid me in my war against my uncle, Duke Cailey. I would be a fool to refuse any advantage, but if you think I will simply keel over when it ends, your advisor is blowing smoke up your ass.”

  Kerres shrugged and smiled back. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, King Fuiseog macFódla.”

  “What do I need to do?”

  Ten moved forwards, and pointed to Keir. “Finish what was started. Your companion has never finished their journey. Even in death, duty binds them to you. Finish it, go to the lands beyond the Mist, and learn the secrets of the Púca.”

  Keir rose as well but remained silent as they glanced at Fuiseog’s dark expression. The empress did not rise, she simply waved them out of the wagon. Ten glared from the shadows, the glow of his eyes imprinting themself in Fuiseog’s mind. The rage seethed stronger at the reminder. The king was silent on the hike back to his estates, Keir loping behind him sniffing at the air. They tried to nuzzle his hand, to ask if everything was alright, but Fuiseog ignored them. The rage he felt still boiled under the surface, threatening to spill over if he thought about it. Thought about her. He kept his entire focus on putting one foot in front of the other and pushing his rage down. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, explode before they were away from the empress. He made it to the field overlooking the crater before even his own will couldn’t control it.

  “FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” He punched the ground as hard as he could, hearing the satisfying crack of both his own knuckles and the stone underneath. He punched again, and again, and again. He punched until his entire hand ached and his hands were more blood than flesh. Not enough. He screamed over and over, to the heavens to the ground to the roiling abyss at the bottom of the crater, whatever would listen. Keir perched far across the plain, keeping well clear of their liege. Fuiseog didn’t care to look at them then, didn’t care to see their very being tremble as he let his magic run wild, splintering the ground and igniting the lichen so it burned in a ring around him. The clouds overhead came together and a hard wind arose. Lightning rolled across the horizon as thunder blitzed their ears. The rains returned in force, no longer a gentle wash, but a torrential downpour, extinguishing the flames and soaking Fuiseog to the bones in seconds. It filled in the craters left by his outburst and blew leaves off the trees in bursts. It was only when Fuiseog finally collapsed into a heap that the storm eased, and Keir came running.

  Fuiseog’s mind was a torrent of activity. Everything everything everything came back to his mother. His childhood taken from him and his life as a human tainted by her influence, forcing him and Oisín to push themselves to get stronger, for trying to send Keir away. For erasing the memory of his most loyal knight from his mind, and countless other memories he’d had to dig up over the years. For lying about Cailey, for constantly making excuses. It was her fault Oisín was dead. If they’d known Keir was still out there, if Fódla had let them confront her brother, if they hadn’t had to grow stronger so fast. He felt Keir’s cold nose brush against his cheek, and it started to overwhelm him. Where the rain stopped and tears began, he couldn’t tell, but he cried. Then Keir’s arms were around his shoulders, cradling him close. He wished it was Oisín.

  “What happened out there, Fuiseog? You took one step on the wagon and almost face-planted. And now you’re curled up in a thunderstorm.”

  He tried to find the words to explain, to tell Keir that it was his mother that had separated them, but none came. Keir just rubbed his back as he sobbed.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I know that face. You’re hurting, and even if I don’t know why, I’m here.”

  “You’re dead,” Fuiseog croaked.

  “Not yet. You heard that freaky shadow thing. My duty isn’t done.”

  “And what about after that? After Cailey is gone? When you’re free…”

  “Bite me.”

  Fuiseog snorted. “What?”

  “You heard me. Bite me. You think I’m going to let something stupid like that send me onto the afterlife? I’m flesh and blood, I’m alive again. I haven’t felt this good in a long time. So no, I”m not leaving you just because you kill Cailey.”

  “Don’t you…have to?” Fuiseog wiped his nose on his sleeve, looking up into Keir’s face blankly.

  “Nah. Gods are stupid. They probably don’t even realize I’m still down here. And, technically, Cailey declared I’m at your service. So as long as you still need me once he’s gone, I can’t right well go anywhere, yeah?”

  Fuiseog laughed. “Yeah, I guess not.”

  “So what’s going on? Why are you so….destructive today?”

  “I remembered. I remembered everything about you. And she—my mother—she lied the whole time and kept you locked away in my fucking head. Something in the wagon reminded me, and it broke the seal. Even after her death, I’m still dealing with her goddamn mistakes.”

  “Oh, well that’s….I mean, exactly like her, but still shitty.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s my life.”

  “I bet. But hey, you’re not dealing with it alone, you know? I’m still here.”

  “You are.”

  “It hurts to see you in pain. I don’t want you to have to deal with your pain alone anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “Plus now you’ve pretty much destroyed one of your hands. Can you, like, heal that, or no?”

  The king shook his head. “I can do a bit, but this is beyond me. It’s just going to have to heal on its own.”

  “There’s no other healers in this whole goddamn land?”

  Fuiseog shrugged. “Never thought we’d need them. Fae don’t usually get injured. They either live or they die.”

  “Gods, you people suck.”

  “Whatever. At least I don’t have to eat.”

  “You don’t seem to care about warmth either, my lord.” They shivered. “Cause I’m freezing to death in this rain.”

  Fuiseog sniffled and smiled. “Well, let’s get you home then, puppy.”

  Keir growled. “Don’t fucking call me that, or I’ll tear up your other hand.”

  “Whatever you say, puppy.”

  Fuiseog dodged the first lunge with a chuckle as Keir shifted back to their hound form, and he took off running across the pock-marked field with them on his heels towards his estates.