In her dream, she saw terror. Ze'ev held her by the arm, leading her through the underground cavern. He showed her the people who had vanished from their homes. He told her things. Things only the dead could know.

Always, that fair skinned, dark haired female was watching. She did not speak. She did not move. At least, not at first. Ze'ev paused beside a familiar female. Frightened tears dripped down her cheeks and matted red hair framed her dirt streaked face.

The High Lady of Autumn knelt beside her, as close as she could get. There were iron shackles around her ankles. The chains were embedded in the wall close by. She leaned closer, wiping tears from the female's face and saying something inaudible. The red haired female nodded and dried her tears, but continued to shiver.

The only male in the room approached them. The Prince of Winter wore no chains and seemed able to walk where he chose. He pulled off his long sleeved tunic and helped the female into it. She gave him a grateful smile, though fear lurked within the emerald depths of her eyes.

The Witch was moving now. A dark skinned female scrambled out of her path and cowered near a wall. The movement was unnatural. She never cowered. She never showed fear. But she was now doing both.

The High Lady glared up at the Witch, not a hint of fear in her eyes. She gripped the young mother's hand tightly, refusing to move. The Prince stood between them and the Witch.

The dark female's crimson lips curled into a smile. She tucked a finger beneath the male's chin, her body language portraying an air of condescension. He held her gaze, refusing to submit.

Fury flashed through cold black eyes. She slammed her fist into his gut. He doubled over, white hair tumbling over his shoulders. She drove her elbow into his back, knocking him to his knees. The Witch grabbed his face roughly, slivers of red dotting his skin beneath her talon-like nails.

She snarled something at him, pointing to the two females he protected. She grinned as the color drained from his already pale face. The Witch vanished from sight, leaving only pain and fear in her wake.

Ze'ev forced her to watch and she didn't struggle. For once, she wanted to see what the dream was showing her. She wanted to know what was happening in the lair they could not find. She only wished she could hear what was being said. She wished she could let the prisoners know that she was there, and help was coming.

Ze'ev whispered one last warning to her as the dream began to fade. "Her lips are stained for a reason, and she is not truly bloodless."

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Estelle stepped into her Illyrian leathers and secured all seven of her golden siphons in their proper places. She sheathed Znaniya at her thigh and Aesira between her wings. Mikael adjusted the straps on his white and gold Illyrian leathers. Estelle watched him from the corner of her eye as he ruffled his feathers and smoothed them again. She turned, running her fingers over their ivory softness. Mikael's throat bobbed and he lowered his head.

"Do you think they'll believe us?" He asked.

"Yes. They've all lost someone, whether or not they realize it." She bit her lip nervously. Tamlin was bound to find out about Venelia's disappearance, and when he learned that she was pregnant as well...

"Let's hope Drakon, Miryam, Vassa, or Jurian have some new information to give us," Mikael sighed.

"I had a dream last night," she blurted out. Mikael glanced at her in surprise. "I saw them. All of them. They're alive. I know they are."

"Did you see anything we could use to find them?"

Estelle massaged her temples wearily. "There were no defining landmarks or anything to give away their exact location. But I saw Wynter helping Ven. Melantha was there and it upset her. Wynter is the only one who is unchained, and the way she acted towards him..."

"What?" Mikael prompted.

"She attacked him, but left him with very few injuries. The ones he did have were minute. She wants him for something. Something that prevents her from badly hurting him." The shadows whispered their theories in her ears. "And Ze'ev told me Melantha's lips are stained red for a reason. She isn't actually bloodless. I'm not sure what that means, though."

"We'll figure it out." Mikael cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her. Briefly, he pressed their foreheads together. "We should head downstairs. They'll want to start soon, and they can't do that without us."

Estelle nodded, slipping her hand into his. They left the bedroom and headed down the stairs. Her chest tightened with anxiety, but she attempted to push the feeling aside. They reached the designated conference room just as Thesan and Ameer did. The High Lord and his mate entered, and Mikael and Estelle followed.

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Mikael didn't let go of Estelle's hand, even when they were seated at the vast round table. Her grip was deadly, but he didn't complain. The shadows swathed her features in darkness. Azriel sat beside her, shadows shrouding him as well.

Mikael wondered if it would ever be possible for him to look as lethal as any of the High Lords around the table. Nyx had already learned that unnerving skill apparently. He was rigid beside Rhysand. He looked...menacing. Completely unlike himself.

Eris sat with his arms crossed. Fire smoldered within his amber gaze, as it had since Evren disappeared. Beside him, Kallias was the epitome of winter. There wasn't a hint of warmth in his features. Only cold anger. Tamlin watched Nyx through narrowed eyes. Mikael wondered if he'd noticed Venelia's absence.

Tarquin's presence screamed of a tempestuous sea. Mikael could almost see billowing waves crashing together in his eyes. Helion seemed the calmest of the High Lords. He still wore a faint smile.

"Let's begin," Thesan said, in a voice Mikael rarely heard him use. A voice that commanded respect. The voice of a High Lord. "The disappearance of civilians and officials in the Courts has not gone unnoticed by those of us in Prythian."

"The disappearances were few and far between at first, but lately, the culprit has been taking more people and setting their sights on targets linked to us High Lords specifically. Among the reports of vanishing people, we've heard rumors of living corpses walking the land. The last time anything like that happened was during the War with Koschei."

"Is the Mask being used by someone to raise the dead?" Tarquin asked during a lull in Thesan's opening. He fixed his gaze on Drakon and Miryam.

"All pieces of the Dread Trove are contained," Drakon replied. "This isn't the work of the Mask."

"Yet Cretea alone is unaffected by everything happening here," Tamlin pointed out.

The feathers on all six of Drakon's wings ruffled. "Are you insinuating that I or my people are behind this?"

"Are you admitting to it?"

Mikael rolled his eyes with a frustrated huff. He braced his hands on the edge of the table and stood. "We haven't been talking for more than five minutes and already, you're arguing amongst yourselves like children." Tamlin glared at him. "If you would've let my father finish, you would know that we think we already know who is behind this."

Drakon leaned back in his seat, waiting for Mikael to continue. Tamlin and Tarquin remained silent as well. A few of Estelle's shadows squeezed Mikael's arms in encouragement. "Two years ago, rumors of walking corpses filled the Night Court," Mikael began. "And we soon discovered why."

The High Lords, Ladies, and their advisors were quiet while Mikael shared the account of the Blood Rite and Ze'ev's involvement in necromancy. From there, he spoke of Estelle's reinvestigation of Ze'ev's case, but left out any mention of the nightmares she suffered from. He told of his own research on necromancy, and how Wynter had agreed to help him.

He was uninterrupted as he told of the torture chamber and the bloodsoaked runes therein. He told of Amarantha's hidden archives and how he found them. He produced the black leather bound book and opened it to Melantha's story, letting the others pass it around while he recounted the tale. He explained their suspicions regarding the Bloodless Witch and her intentions.

Mikael sat when he finally finished. He loosed a heavy breath and sought Estelle's hand beneath the table. She clasped his tightly and tugged on the Bond. "We had wondered if you would know anything more about Melantha," Rhysand said to Drakon and Miryam.

Miryam traced her finger over the ancient pages of the black book. "I've heard of her before. She is as much a god as we are. Witch is a far more appropriate title for her."

"What do you know?" Helion urged. "In all my years of maintaining our knowledge and history, I've never found records of her."

"That is because most of them were destroyed," Miryam explained. "After the war against her ended, Melantha simply disappeared. She was never killed and to our knowledge, she never died. It's entirely possible for her to be hiding somewhere, waiting for her next chance to strike."

Kallias frowned, though interest glittered in his icy eyes. "Tell us what you know."

"I learned about Melantha when I still lived in the Black Land. That was where she was originally from. She didn't begin as an immortal High Fae. Melantha was Human. A slave, as all Mortals and Half Fae were."

Miryam fell silent and stared at her hands, which were folded atop the table. Drakon rested one of his own upon hers. After a moment, she shook her head and continued.

"Some stories say she was a healer. Others claim she was a witch. She used herbs and unnatural magic to care for the Humans and Half Fae held captive in the Black Land. When the Queen learned about her work, she ordered Melantha to be brought to her."

"She asked why Melantha would bother making life better for her fellow slaves when they would never do anything in return. Melantha claimed that her kindness warranted her more power over them than the Queen's cruelty. The Queen chose to test that theory, and did something that had never before occurred."

"She sentenced Melantha to three months of torture before execution. She vowed that if anyone, whether they be Human, Half Fae, or High Fae, would exchange their life for Melantha's before the execution date, she could leave the Black Lands as a free woman. No one volunteered and Melantha was dragged away."

"She was tortured, but had learned enough Black Magic to keep herself alive, no matter what they did. The Queen became curious and forced Melantha to practice many different forms of magic, studying the effects it had on her body. When the Queen realized how much she could withstand, despite being Mortal, she decided to use Melantha's abilities to her advantage."

"Somehow, she Made Melantha into High Fae. I speculate this Queen owned the Cauldron for a brief time and used it for this purpose. Melantha emerged immortal, High Fae, bloodthirsty, and more powerful than before."

"There were no records on how she escaped the Black Land. The stories say she just vanished and the Queen was left on her throne, bloodless and dead. Melantha's next appearance was here, in Prythian. She tried to conquer the land for herself, and we all know how that ended."

"That's a rather detailed account, seeing as few records of her remain," Tarquin said.

"The stories I heard were all oral, and oral stories only die when there are no souls left to share them," Miryam replied.

"Do these stories tell us where her hideouts are or how to defeat her?" Tamlin asked.

Miryam lowered her gaze. "Not that I've seen."

"Then how the hell is that information useful? We're just wasting our time listening to ancient history when we need to be doing something about all of this."

"If you have an idea, Tamlin, we'd all love to hear it," Rhysand drawled.

"Why don't you fuck the Witch and convince her to leave us alone? You're skilled in that area, I hear."

Cries of outrage erupted around the table and the hum of voices filled the air. Cassian and Mor grabbed Azriel's arms, dragging him back as he lunged for Tamlin. Feyre and Nyx were yelling an assortment of curses at the High Lord. Mikael stared at his companions in dismay. Beside him, Estelle was growing tense. Her frustration and anxiety drifted across the Bond.

She gripped the table, about to stand, but Eris beat her to it. "Quiet!" He snarled. Those closest to him paused. Gradually, the others fell silent as well. "My wife, my mate, my High Lady....The mother of my son, has been taken by this bitch. You sorry lot are my only chance at finding and rescuing her."

    "I'd like to be able to tell Castiel that his mama is coming home and that she did not leave him because he laughs too loud. So, if we could all shut the fuck up for a moment and let those of us who know what we're talking about speak, I think we might actually make some progress."

He sat back down, kicking his feet up on the table as though they were in the Forest House and he was sitting upon his throne. Mikael felt a flash of admiration for the male. Eris fixed his amber eyes on Amren. "You were studying runes, correct? Tell us, did you find anything useful?" Amren held his gaze and rose.