The dirge had come to a stop as soon as the portal to Summerlands opened and the dead could finally rest. For those living, the scene of dead bodies rising to make the transition to the afterlife was a miracle, proof that the promise of the Summerlands was real and attainable. Even for those people who had lost those they loved, to see them cross over helped soothe the sense of loss they felt and began the healing process. The knowledge that they would one day meet again a balm to ease their heartache.

Of course, it was only a start. It would take time to heal completely. For the Sidhe that was even more true. Grief could not be rushed, and for people that had known each other for thousands of years, grief would require much more than a funeral dirge and proof that the Summerlands existed.

The Sidhe could be capricious, given to flights of fancy, but we loved deeply, perhaps more than any of the short-lived races. Even those couples that had formed bonds for political or practical reasons would grow fond of each other over so many years.

I withdrew my magic, intending to close the portal, only to find that my control had been usurped. My use of Caraid and his connection to the Hunt had thinned the veil between this world and the Summerlands, and the Sidhe would gain from that connection. The portal I had opened wavered, but the veil had been breached and the Summerland refused to give back what it had gained.

The dead would be able to transition and claim the peace that the Summerlands offered from this point forward. There would no longer by Sidhe trapped in limbo, tortured by the black emptiness of nothingness and expansive void.

If I accomplished nothing else while here, my actions today had gifted the Sidhe of this planet the Summerlands, and that was a feat to be proud of. It also gave me some comfort knowing that if I died attempting to stop Odin and Zeus, I would not suffer that same fate myself. Without a way to access the Summerlands, I would have been forced to risk the river of reincarnation. Anything was better than suffering the soul-devouring nature of limbo.

I had seen the void.

It beat against the tunnel of every portal I or any of the Sidhe created. It was relentless, all-consuming, and to escape its grasp was only possible because of the Divine mandate of the Tuatha de Danaan, [Fairy], the Wild Magic, and the stability of the Summerlands.

Mine was the magic that kindled and created the portal, but without the aid of the Divine and that combined [Power], passage would be impossible. The void would destroy the tunnels that formed, swallowing any traveler brave enough or stupid enough to chance that passage.

“Who are you?” Rhea asked me, once the last of the dead had faded, the passage to the Summerlands now passive but available.

The goblin as well as every other Sidhe in sight had gone down on one knee, eyes shedding tears, their focus now on Caraid and I. I knew this question would come up. This wasn’t the same as the question Lady Clarice had asked when she demanded my name. This was one of wonder, one of disbelief, and a request for explanation.

I had thought about hiding who I was, where I came from, and what my purpose was, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Not when I couldn’t lie. I could twist words as well as any Sidhe, but sometimes the power over language and truth was most affective when words were spoken plainly and directly.

It would also be so freeing to just say it.

“I am King Teigh Mac de Beleros y Cyronax. King of the Tuatha de Danaan faction from the planet of Talahm. My bloodline can be traced back to the Gods Beleros and Cyronax. I come from a different world, a different multi-verse to give guidance and aid to the Sidhe of this planet.

“My actions speak for themselves. I have opened the Summerlands. I have called the Wild Magic and invoked [Fairy]. I have the means to open a Sithern that can be used as a beacon for defense. And I will restore Yggdrasil, the world tree, to this world.

“With the return of [Fairy], the rebirth of the Demi-fey, I have returned to you your magic. I hope to have restored hope. These Demi-fey, these Dochas-Fey, may well be the hope that [Fairy] requires to grow.

“The tales of myth, the stories of the Summerlands and Gwyn ap Nudd are true. [Fairy] has been restored, and as these Dochas-fey spread and proliferate, [Fairy] will grow in strength. Magics long lost will be rekindled. And the Sidhe will be able to show the race of Man why their vendetta, wars, and pogroms are ill advised.

“I have introduced myself,” I said. “I am Teigh. As for anything else, I am a traveler tasked with aiding the Sidhe. As for more than that, I am a faithful son of the Tuatha de Danaan. Anything else I might be is secondary to my belief in the power of our Gods.”

Sometimes, the inability to lie could be a curse, but merging truth with an omission of facts made it possible to minimize that curse. I had managed to speak truth, without speaking the entire truth. I knew my words would spread. Perhaps even now the Oracles of this World were focused on this moment. I spoke of my goals for restoring the Sidhe. Hopefully, that would be enough to blind Odin and Zeus to my true intentions.

The return of [Fairy] was a seismic shift in the paradigm of power, and Zeus and Odin would be frantically searching to see what had triggered that event. And to invoke the Tuatha de Danaan on a world where they had never walked would only increase the reverberations that shift had created.

It was possible Odin had already turned his eye towards the events here and was watching as they happened. Realizing that was possible, I did something I should have done as soon as the battle ended yesterday, but I had been too engrossed in healing to think of.

Withdrawing a dagger from my spatial ring, I opened the vein in my wrist. Allowing the blood to flow freely, as I began the ritual to make a sacrifice to Danu, Beleros and Cyronax.

Blood called to blood. Blood that made the crops grow. Blood that bound every Sidhe to the Tuatha de Danaan. Blood that connected us to what was, what is, and what will be.

There was power in blood, and I was a child of Gods. The power in my blood was potent. My sacrifice would be accepted, even though the Tuatha de Danaan were in Sleep, even if they had never walked the fields or forests of this world. My blood would serve as the bridge to guide the Tuatha de Danaan to this lost world.

The divine spark that my blood held was released as it flowed, and as it ran the spark that connected me to Danu, Beleros, and Cyronax blazed across the Pantheon of Gods. My offering gaining their attention, and through them the attention of the entire Tuatha de Danaan. That connection, that proof that I was a descendant of our Gods was borne out and affirmed, and with the Divine blazing across the firmament of Heaven, I was removed from Zeus’s and Odin’s sight.

Just as the Tuatha de Danaan were constrained in Sleep, now the Gods of this Universe were constrained from monitoring my actions. That spark of the Divine, that proof of kinship, had elevated me, and proven my bonafides to the Universal Cosmic beings that maintained the Laws for this Universe.

On Talahm, where every Sidhe could trace their bloodlines to the Tuatha de Danaan, this offering would have been impossible. But here, I was unique, the only person to have ever spoken with the Goddess Danu herself, and that connection made my offering more relevant and potent.

I was acknowledged as the only Sidhe to have ever basked in the glory of the Divine, and that made me unique, a Demi-god here, if nowhere else. A bridge that the Tuatha de Danaan could use so that the Sidhe that were born, lived, and died here could enjoy the fullness of their Divinity.

Ritual had been made.

A sacrifice had been offered.

And the Tuatha de Danaan stirred, stretching muscles long frozen in Sleep to reach across the multi-verse and claim their rightful place as the stewards of these their lost children.