Gwyn ap Nudd controlled the illusion transforming its shape and substance into smoke and shadow. He made no motion, no gesture to signify his intent or will, but the illusion responded. A cloak of deepest black gathered around him, draping his shoulders and flowing down his back. A quick shrug of those shoulders and a cowl was formed obscuring his countenance.

Without the insubstantial nature of smoke and shadow, Gwyn ap Nudd would never have been able to shroud his visage, the cowl unable to be donned because of the majestic antlers he sported. But magic ignored the impossible and his face was obscured, only the blazing fiery visage of his eyes possible to detect.

Once clothed, the shadow continued to form. Two Nightmare steeds created and given life. They sported purple coats so dark they could be confused for the deepest night. Hooves and manes engulfed in flames, embers trailing as the mounts moved, the fire glamoured to appear to be running in rivulets from each hoof. The mane spewing cascading ash and fire.

Pinpricks of stars were embedded and sprinkled throughout the animal's coat, and as they pawed at the ground, sparks ignited each time hoof met the ground. Steam and flicks of foam streamed in fury from nose and mouth giving them an almost rabid seeming. But for all their apparent impatience, the two mounts were docile, waiting to be mounted. They stood, armored and fierce, Nightmares created as war-mounts for Gwyn ap Nudd and me.

Once mounted, the Nightmare steeds began running, their bodies and by extension ours, ignoring the bonds of gravity to ride the currents of air and magic. Even without solid firmament, each step released traces of fire, burning hoof-prints that slowly faded as the wind gently stirred the remnants of fire blowing the remnants of ash to return to earth.

The Summerlands responded to Gwyn ap Nudd's desire, opening the passage between. Our ride slowly fading from this world as we transitioned and traveled a path that only the Hunt could see or follow. The path betwixt and between allowed us to enter the faux world of Fairy, a realm that was now and forever aligned and accepted by the Summerlands as a true land. A world accepted as inhabited by the children of the Tuatha de Danaan, including those children that had passed beyond.

The transition between reality, riding the path of Summerlands, and the virtual world occurred without interruption. The Nightmare steeds created to ride the magical ether had no problems negotiating the transition from reality to the world that had been fabricated. I rode the animal, unable to detect any obstructions that might have delineated the barrier between worlds.

I had fulfilled my duty as Rider when I'd solved the mystery of a layered summons, but once a Host was formed, there was no escaping, no retreating until the inevitable conclusion of that ride faced the justice of the Hunt.

Gwyn ap Nudd called the legion, the Hunt formed in truth, I lost my individuality, my mind subsumed by the hive construct that made the Huntsmen so deadly. Gwyn gained a collective intellect that allowed him to direct our actions, shore up our defenses, and synchronize our attacks as needed. The collective worked to augment the intelligence of one person, even a person as formidable as Gwyn ap Nudd by pooling the resources each member of the Hunt offered and distilling those talents in the body of Gwyn.

Strength, agility, intellect, and will. All of the attributes that made an individual unique were added to a pool of purpose, able to be used and directed by Gwyn en mass. It was his will, his decision that decided how and where those resources were distributed.

A ride comprised of just the Huntsman and me would not have the same impact as a legion of riders, so I was not surprised when pools of shadow began joining the two of us. Nightmare Steed and Rider formed and adding to our numbers until we became a swarm of locusts. An unending and undying field of Huntsmen that would answer this young woman's call.

It might have seemed over-kill, the Huntsman himself capable enough to deal with this on, but it wouldn't have the same impact on the collective psyche of the people that inhabited this Universe. As part of the collective intellect that formed while the Ride began, we knew Gwyn ap Nudd's thoughts and plans.

He would deliver justice and do so on three fronts.

This ride would begin in the virtual world where the spirit of the woman inhabited a Sidhe avatar. Gwyn whipped his Steed into a lather as he raced to begin justice before the woman faded, her soul lost to the wheel of reincarnation. With her physical body dead, it was only a matter of time before she died in this virtual world. And when she did, her soul would be lost. The avatar that she inhabited would become nothing but a soulless NPC. Her individuality lost and controlled by a powerful AI.

The Summerlands would help, opening our passage not only through realms but through time. The Wild Magics that formed the Summerlands could not be controlled, but it could be guided, and the Huntsman was the only person in all of eternity that was given those permissions. He was the acknowledged caretaker and guardian of the Summerlands, and the Realm responded to his needs.

We broke through the barrier into the virtual world, coming upon a scene of war. Bodies littered a ground covered in blood and gore. This woman had been only one of the millions that were being sacrificed by the power brokers of her world, each slaughtered to increase the prestige and coffers of people that had become entrenched with authority for too long.

Hers was not the only soul that risked destruction, but she had been the only one learned enough to call the Hunt, to put faith in lore that this virtual world was predicated upon.

Weapons of destruction, along with spells that devastated entire sections of land and people were being released. The crumbling fortress that was the last bastion of protection for her, and those she would protect bearing the brunt of those attacks. Gwyn ap Nudd led the Hunt to act as a shield, interposing His Legion between the fortress and the army that would destroy it.

The fortress that had been in such peril, that had been about to fall to the forces of evil, was given a reprieve as Gwyn ap Nudd responded and brought justice. Tides of Riders responded now that the siege and attack against the fortress had paused, attacking those that answered to the call of the corrupt. No quarter was given to those ignorant or innocent.

Gwyn had judged them, and his verdict contained their doom. We responded without pause, those found guilty were slaughtered, their bodies ground into the mud beneath our Nightmare's hooves.

They stood no chance. Their use of magic and skills a pale reflection of what a force of nature that wielded magic and justice could unleash. No matter how they attacked or defended. No matter what magic, cold weapons, or weapons of mass destruction, the unleashed, we shrugged off those pale reflections of reality, and demonstrated to everyone present what it meant to be confronted by the forces of Fairy.

The Hunt was more than blood and sinew, we were supplicants of the Wild Magic when seeking justice. We could not and would not be turned from our course. Gwyn ap Nudd was incorruptible, and because he held us in his hand, we were incorruptible. That wasn't to say he was without emotion, he cared. But his compassion, his humanity took a back seat to his Oath.

We never spoke to the woman that had summoned us, never acknowledged that it was her voice that raised the Host. Once the armies of the corrupt had been destroyed to the last man, we continued our ride, following the flow of Karma that tied this woman to those that had ordered her death.

We moved from this virtual world to another. A world of spaceships and space battles. Of Mecha constructs, laser blasters, and neutron weapons. And as we did, we continued our slaughter. Destroying ships, armies, space stations, any and all assets that were owned and controlled by those with authority.

The war in this world that had lasted so long would be lost. There was no salvaging, no retreating from the destruction that we levied, until finally, when the last battlecruiser had been destroyed, our Nightmare Steeds danced across the void, following the Karmic ties to their source.

For the first time since the spark of the initial big bang, this Universe was witness to the primal power of the Hunt, as Gwyn ap Nudd spared no mercy to destroy those that would treat people as pawns, exchange the intrinsic value of life for a few shekels, and trivialize life for a bit of authority.

This Universe was witness to the death throes of the corrupt, and they watched in horror as Justice proved that no one or no-thing was beyond her reach. Justice was not blind, it was immutable.