Chapter Three

“H ere we are,” Grey says warmly as we enter a kitchen that has all the modern conveniences that he could possibly get his hands on.

That’s something that makes him similar to me, he may be able to use his magic to do most things, but he prefers to do it himself.

“Are you expecting guests?” I ask, looking around the kitchen and my eyes landing on the table full of delicious food.

“No, one was just leaving when you turned up,” he replies and then adds, “There is blood in the fridge, help yourselves to the food, and we can talk about what the fuck is going on.”

The guys all stay in the doorway, but I don’t bother hesitating. I’m fucking starving. Taking a seat at the table, I start to pile my plate high with food.

“Well, if it's good enough for Farren, it’s good enough for me,” Mayhem grins, taking a seat next to me and piling his plate high.

One by one they all join us, and Grey smiles, not in a cocky or arrogant way, but just enjoying having us all here. His reaction is curious because he doesn’t like many people or anyone for that matter.

I watch as Loki fills his glass with blood and then looks at Rival and asks, “Do you mind, mate?”

Rival smiles, and I watch as a stream of fire magic dances across the table and swirls around Loki’s glass of blood, warming it for him. “There you go, just how you like it.”

“Thanks,” Loki replies, taking a sip and sighing.

It turns out that we were all a lot hungrier than we thought, and we eat in silence for a while before Grey asks, “How did you get across the border?”

“How long have the Shadowlands been locked down for?” Storm asks, and when Grey simply raises his eyebrow, he sighs and adds, “I ask because I need to know where to start the explanation.”

Grey nods, “About five months.”

Huh, so it locked down not long after I had to leave because my father found out that I was actually alive.

“The Fae Realm has brought back the Warrior games,” Storm starts.

“Yes, I am aware,” Grey replies, leaning back in his chair and putting his foot up on his knee.

Rival pulls a confused face as he says, “But you just said that the border has been locked down for five months. Are you still getting communications through?”

“No.” Grey replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Then how?” Rival asks.

Grey just shrugs and looks back at Storm, “Continue, please?”

Sometimes, his mannerisms and the way he holds himself makes me think that he’s actually a lot older than the thirty-odd years he looks. He is a supernatural, so it’s highly possible.

Storm clears his throat, stopping Rival from further questioning Grey, “We have just finished our first task, and instead of getting transported back to the academy, we were sent straight to our second task.”

Grey’s eyes move to me, “Your uncle finally got you into the academy, then?”

“Yes, and my father is dead,” I reply with a smile.

His smile is sharp and proud, “Good, about time that poor excuse for a supe ended up in the afterlife where he can receive the punishment that he deserves.”

Zev

I sit back and observe, the thing that’s perplexing me the most about Grey is that I can’t see him, even when I try, and that has never happened to me. Not since my gift first properly started to develop. I don’t know why, and that’s bothering me more than it probably should. I knew that we were coming here, and I knew that Farren would bring us here, but Grey was a complete surprise; I thought that she was bringing us to her house. Grey didn’t show up at all, not even a hint of his existence, and I want to know why. The only thing that has come close to what I’m experiencing is my visions with the others. I still get them, but instead of being able to search for them specifically, I can't; I’m given very few visions that involve them. That’s also something that confuses me. I’m not used to being at a disadvantage.

Surprisingly, I have come to care for Farren, for all of them, and I don’t particularly appreciate that there’s something I don’t know. The only thing that is mildly reassuring me is that Farren trusts him, and I don’t need my magic to see that they have a bond that goes beyond just acquaintances.

“I assume that the Fae Realm is still providing the details of each task on a scroll?” Grey asks.

“Yes,” I reply, “I’d show you, but we have already learned from the last task that if anyone apart from the person it appears to, touches it, then it disintegrates.”

Grey nods, “Yes, that makes sense. So what do you know?”

Rival is the one to reply this time, “Not enough, unfortunately.”

“All it says is that dark magic has taken hold of the Shadowlands, that someone is trying to release a great evil on the Fae realm and using the Shadowlands to do it,” Mayhem explains.

“We need more information,” Farren starts, “what do you know?”

“Okay, I’ll start with some background information so that we’re all on the same page. I’m assuming Farren hasn’t told you much about this place?”

“No, nothing really,” Storm replies, giving Farren a raised eyebrow look that she just stares defiantly at.

“Alright, we’ll start at the beginning then,” Grey replies, sighing, “do you know that we have no ruling body here?” everyone nods, so he continues, “while that is true, we do have factions that run certain parts, people are still given a choice on whether they want to join or not, but most supes that live here ignore them and let them get on with it, they have no real power.”

Farren interrupts, “It was more that it was a few supernaturals that wanted the sense of belonging to something; they don’t really have any control over anything.”

“Until recently,” Grey interrupts.

Farren’s eyes widen, “Well, shit.”

“Exactly. Recently the different factions have gained power, they’ve gained followers and I know for a fact that some of the people who have joined would never do so under normal circumstances. Which makes it suspicious.”

“So you think that they’re being controlled somehow?” Reaper asks.

“Yes, that’s the theory at the moment. The problem with that is, as you know, only the strongest supernaturals live here, the strength of the dark magic that would need to be used to control them would need to be incredibly strong.”

Rival frowns, “Especially to control that many strong supernaturals. I assume that you’re talking about more than one person joining these factions?”

Grey nods, “Yes. That’s not all though. We’ve also had a lot more Wraith sightings. Worryingly enough, they’re high level, and they seem to be working together, which is practically unheard of.”

Killian frowns, “What are Wraiths?”

“I believe they’re known as Rogues in the fae realm.”

Understanding crosses all of our faces but I am curious why they call them Wraiths instead of Rogues, which is why I ask, “Why do you call them something different?”

Grey tilts his head as he studies me. Despite his slightly prickly attitude so far, I think he’s just trying to suss us all out. He clearly cares about Farren, I don’t need my Sight to be able to see that, and because he cares about her he feels protective of her. I’m not sure where their connection has come from, but there’s no denying that it’s strong. There’s something about Farren that makes you feel that way. You want to protect her even though you know that she’s strong enough to protect herself, but at the same time, you want her to know that she can rely on you to protect her too, to take away some of that burden that weighs on her so heavily. I’m not na?ve, I have nothing to offer her, my only magic being my sight, but I’ll be there for her regardless because there’s nowhere that I’d rather be. No one has ever said anything remotely close to what she said in the carriage on the way here, and I’m going to settle for being the best damn friend that I can be to her. I refocus as Grey speaks, unable to say exactly why my mind went down that path. I’m going to avoid that train of thinking for as long as I possibly can.

“We call them Wraiths because they haven’t gone rogue, they were triggered, most likely by a great loss, and they lost themselves. They became a shadow of themselves and who they used to be, hence why they were called Wraiths.”

I nod, “That makes sense. I think it suits them better than Rogues. That never quite sat right with me, although I couldn’t tell you why.”

Rival mutters his agreement, “Yeah, I agree. Although, there has been no documented evidence of Wraiths ever working together, occasionally, you’ll get two that have the same hunting grounds but they fight to the death over their kills. There’s no cooperation between them.”

“That’s true,” Grey replies with a smile. He clearly appreciates that Rival likes knowledge. “Which is why this is so concerning.”

“How often are they attacking?” Mayhem asks, sitting forward in his seat.

“Is there any pattern to their attacks?” Killian asks.

“No one has looked into it, but I can get you the information. Do you think they’re being controlled by the dark magic as well?” Grey asks.

“Yes, it would make sense,” Loki replies thoughtfully.

“I’m assuming that you want in?” Farren asks Grey with a small smile.

Grey nods, “Absolutely, anything to do with the Shadowlands is something that I want to be involved in.”

Storm nods, respect in his eyes, “We need as much information that we can get on the factions and the Wraith attacks.”

“I can get that for you. There are a couple of supes we can talk to as well that might be able to give us some information. There’s one final thing that you should know,” any lightheartedness that may have been in his expression disappears in an instant as his eyes land on Farren, “There are whisperings from reliable sources that are claiming the dark magic is being controlled by the Underworld.”

Farren

I instantly go cold at Grey’s words. “Fuck.”

Kill’s eyes narrow, “Farren, what is it?”

“Love, I can feel your panic. You’re going to need to fill us in before we fucking lose it,” Loki mutters, his eyes flashing red as his fangs lengthen.

As soon as I realise that Storm, Kill and Loki are all currently able to feel what I am, I shut the bonds down, stopping the flow of my emotions as I get up and start pacing, needing to move to think this through properly. I really wish Poca was with me right now; his presence calms me.

“Farren, they’re going to need to know this could become a serious threat to you, and I’m not willing to allow that,” Grey says firmly.

I know he’s right. He usually is in these situations. I just don’t particularly want to talk about it; I guess I can give them the cliff notes version, and then they know what they need to know, and I don’t need to go into too much detail.

“Farren?” Mayhem asks, his voice soft with understanding, and he gets up, stepping in my path. He bends slightly so his bright blue eyes connect with mine; they widen with realisation, “You’re scared. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you scared.”

“It’s not a great story,” I reply, allowing him to see me at my most vulnerable. Somehow, I feel safe with him. “But Grey is right. You need to know.”

My eyes meet Grey’s and he nods in encouragement, it’s not a good story for either of us.

“Do you want me to start?” Grey asks.

I smile, although it’s obviously strained, “No, you weren’t there at the beginning, and you can’t start a story from the middle, now can you?”

“I suppose not,” Grey replies, his gaze intense. He knows how hard this is going to be.

“Before I explain, have you got something . . .” I don’t finish my sentence before a glass of fae liquor appears in my hand, shocking the guys but making me smile, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles.

“That was . . .” Rival starts and then stops; Grey’s magic is immense, and it has clearly begun to recover enough that he’s getting more of it back. I don’t know what they did to him, to drain him so much, but it’s taken him years to recover, and it slowly trickles back.

“So, it started with a job for my father, an assassination,” I start, as they all silently watch me, “it went wrong, I’m not sure how but I got taken to the Underworld and tortured for two years. About a year and a half in, Grey got thrown into the cell opposite mine, and they hated him as much as they hated me. We built a camaraderie.”

“A bond,” Grey interrupts. “The worst and best time of my life.”

I smile. He was my only silver lining, “When the voice helped me escape, the same voice that told me what my gifts were, I took him with me.”

Grey takes over, “I brought her here, safe from her father, who by this point thought she was dead.”

“I stayed for a year before my father somehow found out that I was alive, and he started killing innocents. He put a bounty on my head, and I had to go back to protect the people here, people who were being murdered because they knew me. So, I went back, and then a while later, I ended up at the academy.”

“Fucking hell,” Loki curses, his voice more growl than anything else.

Glancing over at the others, I see that they’re all struggling. Rival’s hair has gone up in flames, his eyes sparking with anger; Reaper’s eyes have turned into Ryu’s, and his hands are leaving giant claw marks in the table as he tries to stop his shift. Storm is as still as a statue, a ball of fire sparking between his horns and his wings moving agitatedly behind him.

Killian jumps up, the same ball of fire growing rapidly between his horns, his tail moving behind him and occasionally stabbing the air like it’s killing the supes that hurt me. Grey’s eyes narrow slightly with interest as he watches Kill approach me, he picks me up, his tail wrapping around my waist as his arms bring me in close and his head buries into my neck.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds me as he practically vibrates with anger. When Grey clears his throat to say something else, Killian simply turns me around and then sits down so that we’re facing the room again. Grey raises his eyebrow, and I shrug in response.

“Since we weren’t exactly let go and some of the higher-ranking Hellier guards were sent to torture us, there is a chance that the same guards will be involved with this and if they come here, then Farren is in danger,” Grey adds, to my explanation, making the others tense.

“So are you,” I point out, and he just waves me off dismissively.

“We need to find out what they want, whether it’s just to take over, which wouldn’t make much sense considering they’ve got their whole realm or whether they’re searching for something specific,” Loki suggests.

“The thing is that the underworld isn’t evil. It’s supposed to be safe and where we go when we die. Unless of course you’re evil, and then you get sent there and get punished.” Rival adds.

“Yes, that’s true and while the majority of the inhabitants are dead supernaturals and humans, since the underworld is the afterlife for every realm, none of them would be able to cross back over into their original realms or any realm for that matter, or they risk having their souls unmade. While all of that is true, some creatures and supernaturals are born in the underworld and can travel between realms for various reasons. There’s also a prison, it’s where the worst of the worst get sent, and not all of them are dead.” Grey explains.

Storm sits up suddenly, “What?”

“You heard me while I was imprisoned there; I heard whisperings of unrest, of the supernaturals born there wanting to be able to leave, something to do with the princes,” Grey adds, an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“The princes?” Killian asks. “Where is Hades? Shouldn’t he be controlling them?”

Red and purple fire briefly flashes in his eyes so quickly that I’m not even sure that I really saw it.

“He hadn’t been seen for a while, and they weren’t sure what had happened to him. Some of the guards were actually really concerned about where he was because the princes were starting to change things for the worst, changes that would never get approved by Hades. I don’t know much about him, but I do know that he’s fair. He’s not evil, not like the humans like to pretend he is. But the princes, they’re power hungry, and would rather run the underworld under stricter rulings, allow the people born in the underworld free reign about whether they go to the other realms or not.” I try to explain what I picked up while I was there. Some days, on the days when Grey was being tortured, or he was in too bad of a shape to be conscious, I listened. The guards, or Hellier’s as they’re known in the Underworld, talked freely around the prisoners because there was no way that we were going to escape.

Grey tilts his head, “You picked up on a lot.”

“They talked around me because they knew I was going to die,” I reply with a shrug that makes the others growl in anger.