“The prophecies began before our magic failed,” Lleu Llaw began. “They were vague, at first, only warning us that [Fairy] would die.

“We ignored them. Confident that the prophecies were nothing more than the rumblings of the insane or lies. But they proved to be accurate, and when our magic failed, when the last Demi-fey faded into oblivion, the rest of the prophecy seemed inevitable.

“The Oracles had said that the death of [Fairy] would be the death of the [Sidhe]. That we would fall beneath the armies of Man, and without our magic, we would be nothing more than forgotten dreams. Myths of a people that would serve as a warning to others.”

“You know [Prophecy] can never be trusted,” Morgan reminded him. Or would have if he was able to hear. Gwyn ap Nudd’s action to stay Lleu Llaw’s entrance to the Summerlands had detached him from reality.

He wouldn’t respond to Morgan because he couldn’t hear her. The five senses that served as a connection to the world around him had been severed. To Llaw Lleu, there was nothing but void. He existed at the exact point where the event horizon meets—the junction where that place betwixt and between joins.

He could answer my questions because Gwyn ap Nudd served as translator, allowing my questions to resound with the same resonance he exuded to control that point between life and death.

“But then [Fairy] began to weaken. The Demi-fey we took for granted faded or died. We had forgotten the truth, that the Demi-fey were the anchor, the spark that gave [Fairy] life. If they died, so did [Fairy].

“Zeus sent a messenger, once the Sidhe could no longer deny that our magic was weakening and that the [Prophecy] might be true.

“He wanted a meeting. And to make sure I would attend, he offered a solution, a way for the Sidhe to not fade into oblivion.”

“Why would you believe him?” I asked. “He treats those who worship him with disdain; why would he treat a people he knew to be cursed by [Prophecy] any better?”

“Because Odin was present. And unlike Zeus, Odin does not act on his emotions. He gave Zeus’ word legitimacy, and his presence pointed out hard truths. If they had joined to see the [Prophecy] fulfilled, then all might be truly lost. I reasoned that the joining of two Titan-ranked Gods would see the Sidhe defeated.

“The price they demanded so that Sidhe could survive seemed simple enough. The cost of two lives, Brigid and Cu Chulainn. The first High Queen and King of our people. They had grown tired over the years, especially since our retreat to this universe. They were close to allowing themselves to [Fade] when Odin demanded they be captured and gifted to him, so they might as well serve the Sidhe one final time.

“It seemed a fair trade. Two lives in exchange for the safety of the entire Sidhe people, so I agreed,” Llew Llaw said, the regret and pain of his decision doing nothing to change my opinion of him.

“And, of course, you took it upon yourself to make this agreement? You didn’t bother discussing it with others? You didn’t ask Brigid or Cu Chulainn if they were willing to sacrifice themselves for their people?” I sneered with disdain.

“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. I thought it best if the sin of my action would rest solely on my shoulders.”

“An action that elevated you to High King, coincidentally?” I pointed out.

“Yes, I wanted the position. I admit part of the reason I agreed was that it would see me recognized as High King.

“I was certain I could do more to save our people than a King and Queen that were tired and just wanted to rest could,” he responded.

“What happened after you provided Zeus and Odin the tribute they’d demanded,” I said, not allowing him to ignore or minimize the fact that he had betrayed his people. Even if his intentions had been for the good of all Sidhe, and they obviously hadn’t been, he was still guilty of betrayal.

“For thousands of years, nothing. The Fey continued to [Fade] or die until finally the last few sparks of [Fairy] were extinguished.

“It was only then that Odin contacted me again. With him this time was Duke Nelag. The son of Brigid, past High Queen of Sidhe, and Aphrodite the Olympian Goddess of Fertility.

“He had been born in Asgard but flawed. Odin had hoped he would be born a God, giving him and Asgard a way to claim the Sidhe inheritance. Instead, he had been empowered with the magics to cast Levinbolts and a shield he could use to protect himself with. His Sidhe gifts of illusion and glamour allowed him to hide his parentage and his abilities.”

“Sidhe inheritance? You mean the Summerlands?” I asked.

“Odin never said, and I didn’t make that connection. Until recently, most of us had thought the Summerlands and the Tuatha de Danann nothing but stories told by our ancestors.”

“How did he become Diarmuid’s consort?” I asked.

“I gave him a position as one of my advisers. Diarmuid fell in lust with him almost from the moment they met. He is the son of Aphrodite, and aside from the powers he had been blessed with, he also inherited her beauty and charm. An aura to entice that few people, even Sidhe, could resist.”

“When did she learn the truth?” I asked.

“It took centuries, maybe a thousand years,” Lleu Llaw replied. “It was only when she was unable to bring a child to term that she started to wonder why.

“They could conceive and did multiple times. But no child would survive, and each miscarriage made her more desperate and more determined to find a solution. After she conducted a [Fertility Ritual], the truth was revealed. To give life to a child combining their essence was impossible.

“Although [Fairy] was dead, there were certain protections built into the genetic makeup of all Sidhe. One of those protections was to abort any child that contained any of the Divine energies, not of our people.

“We didn’t understand why. The Sidhe could interbreed with humans easily enough. Still, the small spark of Asgardian divinity that Nelag carried was enough to make him infertile with anyone with even a drop of Sidhe blood.”

“A defense mechanism inserted into our DNA to ensure that no other Pantheon uses the Sidhe as a bridge to claim the Summerlands,” I informed him.

That method had been tried before. Multiple times. It didn’t matter how remote the connection was. If even a spark existed, then cross-breeding became impossible. The only exception was if a Sidhe and a God conceived, and the God was determined the child live by allowing it to grow and nurture in their realm.

The child would only survive if the fetus was bathed in Divine energies throughout the pregnancy—this was the method used to give life to Nelag. Their inability to conceive a proven

truth was that he wasn’t Sidhe. He was an Olympian. He had simply inherited the ability to use illusion.

When he died, his soul would enter Hades. He would never be offered entrance into the Summerlands. And without that connection between his soul and his destination in the afterlife, he had no way to bridge the relationship needed to claim those lands for the Asgardian or Olympian Pantheons.