“The bonding ritual isn’t working,” the druid announces.
“What do you mean, it’s not working? It always works.” Titania, the ancient queen we despise, attempts to wriggle her power into our hive’s collective soul, but we have changed much since she first put us in chains.
All she can do now is force us to bow beneath her command. It won’t last.
Together, we are infinite.
The Keepers of the Cauldron surround us. Their druidic chant bleeds into our ears, adding to the power of her quelling spell.
“Kneel.” Her command vibrates through our being, bouncing around to consume every sense of ownership in our blood. Our legs fold. Our knees crack against the rocky, moss-ridden surface. Our necks lower until our noses are mere inches from the ground, and yet we hold our resistance, trembling under our primal urge to be free of this suffering.
“Bow to my will,” she demands.
Never.
We fight. Thrash. Gnash. Our hive stands united. We are not six. We are not Legion, Bodin, Emrys, Varen, Fox, and Styx. We are one mind, one soul, one hunger split into six bodies. And we are not the monsters she once enslaved. We have tasted a drop of precious life from the other side of death, and now we hunger for more.
Our hive stands united.
“Why are they acting like this?” Titania asks the druids. “Why do they speak with one voice?”
The archdruid turns pages in his book but won’t find the answer. His masked, hooded face shakes in disbelief. “It is a fresh development. Perhaps another trait they’ve taken from a different queen.”
The invisible collar around our neck hisses, cutting our skin with the strength of the sun. We burn. We agonize. We wish upon wishes that we weren’t wrong. That freedom is still held in the stars for us, waiting to shine upon our faces from the dark.
“Where is it?” Titania demands, pacing around us as the chanting drones on. “Where is the Wild Hunt?”
“Somewhere you will never find,” we answer in unison.
Eye-watering pain lashes through our minds. A part of us relishes it. Some of us feed on it. We pray for more to build a wall around our secrets and protect the star whose existence has given us hope.
Through the chanting, a male druid’s harsh voice grates our nerves. “This is not the same as before. The link isn’t working.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Her footsteps circle us. “Our slumber was never meant to last for thousands of years. The world has changed. They have evolved, but one thing is for certain: they still require a queen to stop them from descending into the Morrigan’s chaotic clutches.”
“What is that blue, glowing teardrop beneath their left eye?” This female voice is lighter, musical. Not like the others. “What does it mean?”
The harsh male replies, “Are you an imbecile? It means the same bonding ritual won’t work.”
Silence. The weight of eyes scores into us in the dark. The drone of druids continues. Cut after cut of judgment leaves scars on our souls. We have been here before, on our knees, oppressed. We hear thoughts run circles in their mind.
Monsters.
Abominations.
They should be wiped out of existence.
The only difference is that this time around, we understand what those words mean, and we are wounded for it. We did not wish for this existence. We have wished for oblivion.
Until her.
A falling star born to be our queen and equal at once. The first and last of her kind. Our fated mate.
“The mark is a blessing,” the lyrical voice whispers reverently. “We all know it.”
Titania scoffs, “How can nightmares be blessed? The Morrigan does not play well with the other Cauldron deities. Why would she approve such a blessing? All she wants is domination and chaos.”
“As do her creatures,” the archdruid adds. “They are the same monstrous evil as before. They want us dead. What more proof do you need?”
“I just thought . . .” Her lyrical tone wilts.
“You are here because we lost Keepers during slumber. Do not presume to know what is needed. We need time to adjust, to come up with another solution, that is all.”
“The archdruid is correct,” Titania replies, a note of panic in her voice. “We cannot risk it. Oberon has arisen, too. He must not learn they have survived all these years. He must never learn.”
“On this, we agree. Always.”
It was only hours ago that our life’s dream became a nightmare. Only hours since our star realized her full potential, battled another slaver queen, and bled for us . . . scarred for us . . . but when she laid eyes on what she’d claimed, she called us monsters like so many before.
Our anguish is strong enough to pierce our hearts.
“Oh my,” Titania coos and slows her pacing to stare at us. “My my my . . .”
“Your Radiance?” the archdruid asks.
“This might be easier than we thought. All these years, under the guidance of weaker queens, these monsters finally dared to dream . . . now I glimpse the fault in their hearts. Now I know which walls to crumble so this collective state falls.” She strokes one of us on the jaw. “Show me her face.”
“NO,” we bellow as one, surging against our restraints. Our fated queen might not want us, but we would rather die than give her up.
The druidic chanting increases in intensity. The fire against our throats flares, but our defiance grows hotter, too. For her, for our true queen, we will enter oblivion. We will grow dark enough to swallow every other star, so she burns brighter.
As one, the hive strains against our leash. We each rise onto trembling feet and glimpse the terror in Titania’s face.
“Yes, you should be afraid,” we hiss, cackling with triumph. “Before, we did not know what we missed . . . but now . . . now we have tasted freedom, and she is magnificent.”
A bloody, fanged grin splits across each of our faces. Our skulls illuminate beneath our skin, flickering with the urge to release our wraith forms and consume their souls, but her power infuriatingly blocks us.
“Start!” Titania screeches, backing up. “Start the binding ritual.”
Robed and masked druids bustle around us, lighting candles, setting herbs on fire. They call on the feylines beneath the earth’s crust streaming directly from the Cauldron’s Wellspring.
They place a stone disc at the First's feet, sealing the door on his hive-mind space. With one door closed, we are no longer united. The hive is broken. We are thrown back into our individual bodies.
* * *
Fox
I am myself again. It takes a moment to acclimate, to acknowledge the skin I exist within—a tail lashes behind me. My tattered, taloned wings expand to fill the dark cave with increasing shadow. My mind gropes for the hive space, wanting to fling open the mental door and unite us once more. Together, we are invincible. Alone, we drift.
The hive space is just out of reach. If only I could grasp the doorknob and yank it open, we could break the seal blocking Legion from the rest of us. But he stands in our circle, confused. Dark, long hair falls from a widow’s peak, hiding his face. His wings are gone. His eyes have switched from wholly black to white with an iris and pupil.
A druid’s robe brushes my tail in passing. My taloned wing slices like a blade, aiming for the head. The queen’s collar restricts my range. I miss. A squeak behind the druidess’s wooden mask is satisfying. She almost drops her stone disc.
“Fox!” Varen’s voice punches into my mind. “Listen to me. We have but moments to plan before our minds are not our own.”
My gaze whips to the left. Beside me, inches of dark hair veil his eyes as he hunches. He hides something. I look harder and glimpse white, meaning he ransacks timelines of the future . . . searching for a path to freedom.
His slumped weight presses his neck into the invisible collar restraining him. Blood oozes from his throat, pooling on the ground. When he enters this state, he forsakes his well-being. I must protect him. I claw at my choker, heedless of pinpricks of metaphysical fire stabbing into my bones.
“I’m coming,” I send him, mind-to-mind. We, Sluagh of the Morrigan’s first hive, are almost impossible to kill, but we can grow weak. We can suffer, oh yes, we can suffer.
“One of us must retain the truth in order to catch our falling star,” he sends privately. “One who must hide in plain sight, take sustenance to feed the others, and protect our secrets until she arrives to complete her claim on us. To free us, once and for all.”
Bodin’s steady presence evaporates when another door slams closed in the hive-mind space. A blanket of normalcy hides his monstrous side. Long braids sway as he cranes to check where his wings have gone.
“Fox,” Varen urges. “We are almost out of time.”
With horror, I realize he intends for me to be the sole member of our hive to retain memory.
“Wait for her,” he urges. “Wait and prepare. She will come.”
“Our fated queen hates us,” I reply. “She called us monsters. What if Emrys is right, and she’s no better than the others?”
“She doesn’t know us.”
“But she rejected us.”
His face tilts a fraction and his eyes lock with mine. The soul-crushing hole in my heart grows deeper as a seal is placed at Emrys’s feet. His presence winks out. Oblivion nips at our heels.
“When she comes,” Varen murmurs into my mind. “When her heart opens to ours, we will walk in her light for eternity. For this, I make the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?”
Varen breaks eye contact to watch another seal being laid on the ground. Styx’s blue-pink skin pulls taut in fear. His long, curved horns slowly diminish. His tail and wings evaporate.
Dread knots in my stomach. His presence winks out, and his otherness disintegrates into the mundane.
“Your faith in me is misplaced,” I send to Varen, struggling against my restraints. “I am the Fifth. Give this responsibility to someone else. Make me the sacrifice.”
“Don’t let them see your true self,” he instructs. “Feed within the smoke. Keep the Wild Hunt hidden. Follow the rules, no matter how painful. And above all else, wait.”
“Why me?”
“You may be the Fifth, Fox, but you were the first to understand true freedom.” A smirk touches Varen’s lips as a seal is placed at his feet. “Catch our falling star, give her your heart, and she will guide us home.”
I am alone.
Druidic chanting rises to a crescendo. A stone seal lowers into my field of vision, and my death rattle rages. I don’t want this. It shouldn’t be me—the one who recklessly heads into danger, who acts first and thinks last. So I lash out—wings, tail, and stubby horns that never quite grew as long as Styx’s.
I clash with a nearby druid. It takes Titania by surprise. She fumbles. The final seal spills from her fingers and rolls left to thud against Varen’s disc. He frowns in confusion, fathomless eyes now human.
But the disc is right there. I lurch forward, reaching with taloned black fingertips. To my shock, my metaphysical leash gives, and I almost connect with the disc.
“Get the seal!” Titania shrieks, turning the full effect of her power back toward me, reining me in. Her magic smells familiar, yet foreign. I am yanked harshly back into place and forced to my knees. Dainty fingers with colorful nails place the final seal before my feet.
The chanting stops. Everyone holds their breath.
“Is it done?” someone dares to ask.
“Wait,” another snaps. “We must be sure.”
Wait . . . that is what Varen instructed.
Varen, whose disc now sits beneath my face, somehow mixed up during my attack. They believe I am sealed, yet he has been twice bound instead.
Don’t let them see your true self.
Yes, we have changed. Titania was our first queen, but we have had many since. We have taken on a magical trait from each. Before, we could only wear glamour. Now . . . I shift my monstrous parts into myself, hiding the truth from judgmental eyes. Horns, tail, wings, talons. It all melts beneath my skin.
Relief exhales around the cave.
“It is done,” Titania says with a sigh.
