“Arden!” Shay barked, pointing at the Mer nearest the door. An elderly male, already crawling to his feet, dripping black saliva as he went. “They’re possessed!”
“Possessed?” Arden shouted back.
“Fecking kill it!” Rainn replied, just as several more sleeping bodies seemed to stir. “And can someone get me a fecking sword?!”
They made a pyre away from the village and burned the bodies when it became apparent that those possessed by black tears did not turn to foam.
Night fell, but the light of the bonfire rose high. The smell of flesh melting had a way of turning the stomach.
None of the Nymphs would sleep that night. Every tent in the village was lit up from the inside by the glow of faelight.
The armory had been completely raided. The artifacts were hidden away as they prepared for another attack.
Liam Cruinn was the only survivor of those pulled from the water.
The strongest Nymphs took turns watching the sleeping Undine, waiting to see if the black tears had also affected him.
Shay, Rainn, and Arden met on the beach, their faces bathed in the flickering light of the torches.
It went without saying that Balor of the Deep had made another move.
“First the Sirens,” Shay rubbed his hand down his face, feeling his braids curl in frustration. “Now, the Mer.”
Arden eyed the water, his face impassive. “The fact that Balor is in possession of my mother grows more worrying every day. Nuada will not bend, but if Balor finds a way to harness her magic...” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“We can’t let that happen.” Rainn agreed, nodding fervently. “It's time we took this fight to Balor.”
“Will the Selkies fight?” Shay narrowed his eyes. “My creed cannot breathe water. I am days away from sending the Nymphs across the border. To Day and the Summer Court.”
Arden rolled his shoulders, and though his wings were hidden behind a glamour, Shay saw the edges of the golden appendages. “Do it.” He told Shay. “I have lost good Fae. Innocent younglings, because of Balor. Send your Nymphs as far from this shore as you can.”
Shay’s nostrils flared, and dozens of thoughts flitted through his mind. Most of all, Arden was right, and he had been putting off the inevitable.
Shay Mac Eoin was the last of the Mac Eoins. The only Nymph on the shores of the Twilight Lake that could breathethe water. His creed had formed trade agreements with the lake; they lived and fished on its shore. Their way of life was steeped in tradition and lore—of tales they told around the fire, of the gods and their magic.
“You are their chieftain—” Rainn put his hand on Shay’s shoulder.
Shay pulled away. “I am not.” He reminded him. “I will not take the title until I have beget a child to continue my bloodline.”
“The Nymphs will leave if you bid them to,” Arden said.
Shay knew he was right.
“Tormalugh is on his way here,” Rainn assured the group. “Balor killed Belisama with iron. Maeve—”
“Are youwaitingfor her?” Arden’s eyes darkened. “Is the reason we are standing around speaking of action but doing nothing because you arewaitingfor Belisama’s spawn?”
“Do not speak of her that way.” Rainn’s face cleared of all expression.
Shay held up his hands. “It does us no good to argue. Truth be told, I am frightened of confronting Balor.”
Rainn pulled his bottom lip between his sharp canine teeth. “Selkies are immune to most magics, but she can enchant. Beguile. Who’s to say that we storm Cruinn, and Balor twists our minds until we attack each other?”
“Not to mention the scores of Undine that don’t know her true nature. The Weavers, the Órán Sídhe, and the Troid Sídhe.” Shay rattled off on his fingers.
Arden growled in frustration. “Fear will not free the lake.”
A lone figure exited the meeting tent, racing to the sand. The beach was quiet enough to hear their ragged breath.
