Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4), Gwen Rivers [read full novel .TXT] 📗

Into the Fire

The Unseelie CourtBook 4

Gwen Rivers

Copyright © 2020 by Elements Unleashed

Cover image designed by Covers by Christian

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

Contents

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

1. Dark Dreams

2. Burn it Down

3. Mind Games

4. Friends and Foes

5. Empty Promises

6. What’s Love Got to Do with It

7. Plans

8. Escape

9. Road Trip

10. Surprise

11. Generations of Pack

12. Guilt is the New Black

13. Evil Insight

14. Legends from the Mist

15. Salt of the Earth

16. Comeuppance

17. Game Plan

18. Parting Ways

19. Snag

20. Shattered

21. Becoming Human

22. Growing Pains

23. The Final Crossing

24. Animated

25. The Face in the Mirror

26. The One True Queen

Epilogue

It’s not my words that count…it’s yours!

Also by Gwen Rivers

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in Fire.

Some say in Ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor Fire.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction Ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Dark Dreams

The cave looms large in front of the woman, a forbidding mouth that will swallow all that is bright in the world. She doesn’t hesitate as she moves closer, her gait purposeful. Flanking her are two cloaked figures, their features obscured by the dark cowls. In front of her are the dead, a solid wall of corpses.

Bodies that stand at attention, hers to command.

She takes in their gruesome visages. Her hands come up and a golden light filters out of her palms. Her rune marks, the two symbols that allow them to walk long past the point when their souls have abandoned the tattered flesh.

But it’s their flesh she needs. The physical forms that are as unstoppable as they are repugnant.

Men, women, children all in different parts of decomposition. Faces half missing, wings shredded to gossamer strands of spider silk. They were fey once, forever young. Children of the goddess Freya. They schemed and fought, stole and laughed. Now they are the perfect army, never stopping to sleep or eat, a relentless wave of death.

And they obey only her.

At the smallest wave of her hand, they move apart as though pulled by giant magnets. She and her entourage continue down into the abyss.

The light is blotted out as they twist and turn down into the suffocating darkness.

A ball of light appears in the woman’s hand. Its glow illuminating her pale skin and midnight hair. Fey light—pulled from the elemental magic that all the fey possess. She is not one of the immortal fey, though her skin holds an ageless quality. She is tall, almost six feet in height with a voluptuous figure like that of a fertility goddess. But she is not a goddess either.

A shudder rumbles the cave walls. The trio pauses, but they do not speak. When the tremors subside, they continue on down into the darkness as if nothing happened. This place is a prison, one of the oldest in existence. It is fraught with traps to dissuade any from unleashing the soul condemned within its walls.

The company strides onward into the darkness. Their steps sure and purposeful. They don’t talk at all. Talk could give them away. No one must interfere with their purpose.

As they wend their way into the bowels of the world, a dim green light appears. It is their destination, built by the gods to cage one of their own.

His release will bring about the end of everything.

There are two people in the cave. The one standing is a petite blond woman. She is wearing a white sleeveless gown several centuries out of fashion. She hovers by the side of the prisoner. A man. He is naked and bound to the slab of rock. A man with hair the color of flame. Above the man’s head, a serpent is coiled around a stalactite. From its overlarge fangs, a sickly yellow-green venom drips down. The woman holds the bowl out and the poison is caught before it can splash on the bound man’s face. Old scars mar his features from where the venom found its target.

His eyes are a piercing green and are filled with madness.

The female traveler moves forward. Her voice is melodic as she speaks. “Greetings Loki, Lord of Chaos and all that burns.”

The woman in white starts, turning to face the newcomers. Those leaf green eyes lock on the newcomers. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he begins to laugh. It isn’t a pleasant sound.

“What are you doing here, Pharaildis?” The woman in white asks. “You know it is forbidden.”

The woman named Pharaildis lowers her hood. “Sigyn. Why the way I hear it, we are practically family. My daughter, your son.”

Loki cackles. “I met her you know. She came here, seeking her immortality. Tricksy Underhill, land of the fey that they all worship and revere. How many deaths have you brought about on your little quest?”

“You, my lord Loki, ought to know better than any that worship and freedom are not the same.”

His laughter cuts off abruptly and he stares at her with a burning intensity. “You don’t have the means to free me, Underhill.”

“Oh, but I do.” She gestures to the cloaked figure on the left. One hand reaches out and removes the cowl from the face within. “I and the ruler of the Shadow Throne. Together, we wield all the powers of the Unseelie Court. With Fire and Ice, he shall be freed.”

“Hello, Father.” The voice is feminine, with a soft Southern drawl. The round face belongs to a young woman, the eyes to an immortal beast.

Sigyn blanches and in a horrified whisper mutters a name. “Fenrir?”

Loki laughs even harder.

“Nothing is impossible,” Underhill bends down until her face is inches from his.