Sera tossed restlessly in her sleep.

Her fingers knotted in the white cotton sheets of her bed before relaxing once more. She rolled over to her shoulder, her arm flung out searchingly to the empty side of the bed. Her eyes flitted fervently under her eyelids as she drank in the nightmare laid out before her in the world of dreams.

Rayce descended on his fiery black steed from a swirling tempest of storm winds, aiming for a battlefield. He clutched at the reins desperately to keep them in hand, but they threatened to tear out of his control with each new lash of wind. A heavy black blindfold was tied around his eyes, and it contrasted sharply with the white splash of his hair.

Howling shadows surrounded him in the gale and nipped at his cloak hungrily, but he twisted and fought his way free until he could land among the bodies of the slain.

Parched fields were flattened and torn haphazardly by the passage of clawed feet, and dozens of Mundanes lay amidst the stalks waving lazily in the wind. A man who couldn't have been more than thirty years old was sprawled at Rayce's feet when the Faerie steed vanished. Sera's brow furrowed in her sleep as she saw the tiny girl buried in the man's arms. His flannel shirt was a splash of red that only partially disguised the horrible gouges that had brought his life to a violent end as he tried to protect his daughter from the monsters that had come in the night. The vision was so stunningly vivid that Sera put a hand to her head to steady herself and closed her eyes; wherever this was, it was going to happen soon. Not now, but soon.

When she looked up again, she found Rayce crouching down at the man's side, oblivious to the blindfold he wore. The Hunters around him laughed and taunted him from every side as he reached out toward the man's body. His fingers skimmed over the red flannel until he jerked his hands back from the razor wire he couldn't see, and blood welled up from the cuts.

One of the Hunters lunged forward to finally tear the blindfold away from Rayce's eyes, and Sera's heart sank when she saw the mixture of contempt and confusion in his gaze. The trampled crops had faded to allow the spectre of Alicante to loom up from a field of twisted trees with lush foliage. As Rayce watched, the shadows around him hissed under their breath and he saw the Glass City erupt into flames. The haunting forest shuddered and shed its leaves in shock from the expenditure, and understanding filled Rayce's eyes. The winding, snaking roots of the trees crept through the farmers' fields in search of new victims to replenish its energy, but Rayce whirled away from the fallen man and stomped his foot down to crush one trailer as it approached.

The Hunters shook their heads and muttered mutinously, but Rayce snarled and barked orders at them. Without a backward glance, he stormed away from the slaughter and left the shadows murmuring behind him. He didn't see the dark cloud coalesce over him to throw a swath of menacing darkness over his path that whispered of pain and suffering.

A deafening clang ripped across the dreamscape and Sera screamed, clapping her hands over her ears even as Rayce faded from view ahead of her. The discordant cacophony echoed thickly across the fields, sweeping up the Hunters like bugs under a broom, and Sera willed herself forward to be carried with them deeper into the nightmare.

In a flash, her vision changed and hurtled her deep underground to an unfamiliar, indistinct cavern. The rubble of a shattered stone table lay scattered across the floor carelessly where it had been broken in haste to reveal a faintly-glowing depression in the dark stone beneath. The Unseelie King sat heavily at the edge of the flickering light and breathed shallowly as a courtier waited patiently by his side. His attendant had dark green skin and hair, and yellow eyes glowed out of a face that scowled under a crown of branches.

Rayce stalked into the room haughtily, his cloak billowing out behind him in his haste, and the two Unseelie snapped their gazes up to take in the brash youth in front of them. The Shadowhunter's face was angry as he hurtled accusations at the King, and Sera shook her head in mute horror as Rayce's voice strangled to a whisper and his hands flew to his throat.

Grinning wickedly, the yellow-eyed Faerie drew what appeared to be a stone made of blood from within his rich robes. He cast it down onto the stone floor and a tree shot up crookedly, impossibly, from the rock.

Against his will, Rayce was dragged toward the trunk by an invisible force until the sorcerer could lash his wrists to a branch overhead as the prince struggled futilely. The cloak fell away from his shoulders and Sera felt her heart leap into her throat with hope, but it was quickly dashed as Rayce remained bound and the Faerie tore away the dark tunic that had lain under the great mantle.

A silver whip materialized in the courtier's hand and Sera cried out, running forward to throw herself across Rayce's body as the Unseelie King nodded wearily for his attendant to continue. The lash cracked down through Sera's incorporeal form and carved a bloody path across the pale back laid bare under her. She was powerless to stop it, but unwilling to let him suffer alone.

With tears sliding down her face, she slid around in front of him and cupped her hands around his neck, bending forward until their foreheads touched and she could reach up with her thumbs to stroke his cheeks under his tightly-clenched eyes. His body bucked under her hands as the whip came down once more and the Faerie paused, prompting Rayce with words Sera couldn't hear.

She watched her prince for a response, and saw his lips form the word 'two' with rage simmering across his features. Her chest heaved in panic as the lash came down again and she saw him mouth 'three' as his fingernails dug into the unnatural wood, but her terror only mounted further when she looked up to see a man dressed all in scarlet who was nearly identical to Rayce. He smiled darkly as the fourth bloody line opened across a once-smooth back. The man saw Sera watching and winked at her before turning around and unzipping the red jacket to slide it down and bare the pattern of weals across his own back as he looked over his shoulder at Sera. He grinned widely and then stepped toward Rayce, fading as he did so, until he vanished into the Shadowhunter.

Rayce's eyes widened in surprise at the intrusion and he gasped when he saw her staring at him, his mouth sagging open in disbelief. She tried to scream his name but she found herself mute, and she faded away even as she threw her head back to howl in frustration.

The dream blurred slightly, and when it cleared, Rayce was laying wrapped up in his cloak on the cavern floor, shivering. His right hand twitched as it curved around her mother's stele, holding on to it like it was a talisman against the darkness both within and without.

What?

Sera blinked, but the dream shut her out and dimmed, threatening to toss her back into the waking world entirely if she allowed herself to be so distracted again.

Her vision shifted and she was briefly disoriented before she found herself on a familiar underground boulevard in front of the window of a bookshop piled high with ancient tomes. Inside, Zeke and Cassius were banging their hands against the glass frantically and shouting at her as the entire Rift flickered in and out of existence.

Unable to hold on to such a tenuous grip, Sera's dream cast her out. The Land Under the Hill was a blind-spot for her, but the Rift lay neither within the realm of Man nor Fey, and so she was left uncertain of what was happening there.

She felt the inexorable pull of her world as she found herself untethered to a dream, and she floated upward through the layers of sleep until she felt her chest rise under the thin sheet when she drew in a deep breath of relief. In the last moment before sleep fled entirely, she heard a long scream and saw a parabatai rune wreathed in crackling flames.

Sera's eyes slipped open and broke the faint crust of dried tears that clung to her eyelashes.  Parabatai. Aspen... Sera tried to chase the afterimage of the rune on the back of her eyelids to look for more, but nothing came. Not enough.

A wave of guilt crashed through Sera as she remembered her promise to Clary. It felt like ages ago that she had seen those first flashes of the girl's future. She recalled Steven's warning about looking so hard for a way to free Rayce that she might be blinding herself to everything else going on around her. Sera glanced at the clock on her bedside table in the early morning light and sighed; she had to get moving, but she vowed to make a concerted effort to trace something, anything, about Aspen later that night when she got back.

After a quick shower and a few phone calls, Sera had shaken away some of the fear from her nightmare. She understood enough about reading her dreams to guess that Rayce was going to learn the truth about what had happened to Alicante, and he wasn't going to like it. He would unknowingly answer the Unseelie King's summons and then... Her hands shook as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. No. I can stop it.

Her mind drifted back to the sight of her mother's stele in Rayce's hand. How was it possible?  She pulled open her closet and rummaged around on the floor near the back for the battered pack that had come with her from the cottage in the woods all those years ago. Sure enough, the stele was still tucked into the side pocket. Sera pulled it out and sat back, rolling it between her fingers. It wasn't something she had ever needed, not with her gift, but Rayce... She stroked the smooth adamas and traced its curve thoughtfully. But he had his own stele, she thought to herself, her eyes flicking down to look at the faded scar of a Sleep rune on her forearm. Unless something's happened to it.

Puzzled, she decided to mull it over until she could understand how the pieces of the puzzle fit together. She had to find a way to warn him about the Unseelie King before it was too late.

But first, she sighed, as she wiggled into a pair of jean shorts and pulled a white tank top over her head. She laced up a pair of hiking boots and grabbed a Toronto Blue Jays hat from the back of her door before slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses.

A taxi honked outside and she slung her satchel over her shoulder, brushed on a quick glamour rune, then scooted out the door to catch a ride into the city.

One of the great things about Las Vegas was that there was no shortage of available charter helicopter rides to the Grand Canyon. It hadn't taken long to find a pilot and guide combo who were willing to fly her out to the coordinates on the map she had emailed herself from Mark Blackthorn's kitchen. Once they had started negotiating a price, she had gotten the distinct impression that there was going to be a very disappointed golden-years couple getting a cancellation phone call after she hung up.

The chopper was ready to go when she reached the landing pad, and a well-built, tanned guy in his twenties with spiked-up black hair hopped out to shake her hand and yell, "Mike!" in her ear as he helped her up into the seat behind the pilot. She slipped a pair of heavy earphones over her ears and adjusted the mic after strapping in to the harness.

They lifted off smoothly and were soon slicing eastward across the clear blue sky into the sunrise. When prompted by Mike, she fished her tablet out of the satchel and called up the map to hand over to him. He relayed the information to the pilot, received a thumbs-up, and then settled back to study her with his dark eyes while she pretended not to notice, distracting herself with the desert landscape below.

"So what all are you lookin' for out there, girlie?" Mike asked over the headset. She mentally kicked herself for not toning down her appearance more.

"There should be an unusual rock formation that looks like an eye somewhere around those co-ordinates. I need to get down to the canyon floor there to search for a cavern entrance." Sometimes the truth was good enough.

Mike whistled and grinned speculatively. "Sounds pretty out there, babe. Where'd you get an idea like this?"

From a tortured half-Faerie Shadowhunter with a bit of supernatural PTSD, thanks for asking, Sera thought sarcastically. "Extreme geo-caching," she lied. "I'm in a competition with a bunch of people." Maybe sometimes, lies were better.

"Wow, that's wild!" He kept the same shit-eating grin plastered across his face and Sera could honestly start to feel him mentally undressing her. She willed the helicopter to move faster. Maybe Mike needed to fall into a crevice. Accidentally.

Sera lost track of time, and was surprised when the pilot announced that they were over the north rim of the Canyon, and she had better start looking for what she was trying to find.

The helicopter swept out over the area and Sera scanned the cliffs carefully. She surreptitiously pressed a Far-Sight rune into her forearm and narrowed her eyes as her vision sharpened. She felt like a hawk searching for prey at this height, so she asked the pilot to go lower. He grumbled about laws that prohibited him from flying within 1,500ft of the rim, but he did his best to toe the line while they searched.

Sera was deeply annoyed when it was Mike who spotted a series of three pillars that, when seen from the right angle, lined up to form the shape of an eye from a distance. He unstrapped his harness and leaned forward over Sera to tap the pilot on the shoulder and point out his discovery.

The pilot nodded, but then twisted to look back at Sera while speaking into the headset, "Strictly speaking, I shouldn't land anywhere near there, sweetheart."

"Strictly speaking, I shouldn't triple your pay, but we all make our own choices, don't we?" Sera responded sweetly.

Mike clapped the pilot on the shoulder excitedly and they dipped downward. It was agreed that he would drop them off and then go land somewhere slightly more legal to wait for their return. Once they touched down, Mike tossed a bag of gear out the door and turned to help Sera out of her seat just as she slid past him and dropped lightly to the rocky ledge with dust swirling wildly around her in the vortex created by the helicopter's blades.

He jumped out as well and pulled her down toward the ground as the pilot lifted off again. Sera kept her eyes tightly closed as the grit lashed at them and then dissipated as the noise from the chopper retreated.

When the dust was settling once more, Mike stood up, taking his arm away from her shoulders just a little too slowly. "You ever climbed before, babe?"

"Yeah, a little," she replied coolly. Probably should have vetted my options for creep-factor, she commiserated silently.

He grinned again and then pulled out a climbing harness for her from his gear bag. She slipped her feet through the loops and hiked up the belt, but then Mike was there, his fingers moving confidently over the straps as he tightened them in place for her. The harness snugged over her hips comfortably as he completely filled her personal space bubble, his breath warming the side of her neck as he looked down to make one final adjustment and double-back on the buckles. God, he probably gets off on this.

As he began tying the first figure-eight knot, Sera focused on pleasant thoughts of breaking his fingers if he tried anything with her. She lost track of everything he was doing, and had to take his word on it when he pronounced them ready to belay down to the canyon floor. Speed was important; it would be a lot easier if they weren't spotted by any park rangers, and the chopper had already been a big red flag if anyone had been watching.

Once Mike was braced and gave her the all-clear nod, Sera took a deep breath and leaned back over the edge carefully as she let some rope through her guide hand and started walking backwards. Getting past the lip was always the worst part. Once over, she picked up speed and rappelled down smoothly, expertly avoiding patches of scrub and outcroppings.

Mike joined her minutes later after his own descent. High above them now, the eye formation was indistinguishable, but Sera had marked their position before dropping into the canyon. She took the lead and glided forward, unconsciously taking on the predatory stalk of a Shadowhunter on a mission.

The entrance to the underground cavern network was nearly hidden, cleverly concealed between a split in the rocks, but knowing where to look was a huge advantage in the vast expanse of the canyon, and this time Sera didn't need Mr.Eagle-Eye to spot it for her.

Cool air wafted up from the darkness within, and Mike stopped short, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "You're not seriously going in there, are you?"

Sera could feel a touch of the dread that had lain over the entrance to the Rift, and she understood what was holding him back, but she came from a lot better stock than he did, and she wasn't going to stop here.

"Yeah, but you can stay here, or wait back at the rope if you want." She saw his manly pride warring with his justifiable fear, and she decided to make it easier for him. "I don't know if I'll get disqualified from the competition if someone helps me get all the way to the cache, but I don't want to risk it after coming all this way, okay?"

He nodded gratefully and unslung a coil of rope from his shoulder to hand over. "Take this, just in case, okay?"

Sera accepted the bundle with good grace and took a pair of powerful glow-sticks from his gear bag to stuff into her back pockets. She'd just have to get back before they expired, which would be no trouble if each one lasted 12 hours as advertised. She definitely did not intend to be down here that long. Cracking the first one to bring it to life, she gave Mike a jaunty wave and turned to push through the first line of defense around an entrance to Faerie.

The yellow illumination pouring from the glow-stick in her hand washed over the rock walls around her as she passed and cast eerie shadows that skittered ahead of her to melt back into the darkness ahead. She thought back to the tunnels of Cadair Idris and wished that she could have Rayce at her side for just a minute. Those had been their last hours together before everything had fallen apart.

Despair crept in around the edges of her memories of him and she felt the weight of her search for answers begin to press down on her. She felt like she had come so far and achieved so little. How long could she keep running like this? How long would she have to chase each crumb of a clue? And if she could be very honest with herself in the quietest part of her heart, she wondered how long she had before she lost what made him Rayce. Whatever was happening to him in Faerie was hardening him into someone else, and she hated it.

A wave of sadness choked a surprised sob from her throat as she realized that tears were streaming freely down her cheeks. When did that happen? She looked around at the cavern where the walls bowed and twisted upward in fantastic patterns. The heaviness in her heart pulled down at her so that she could feel her grief as a nearly palpable sensation in the half-light, and she forced herself to stop moving forward and think.

The hair on the back of her neck started to lift and her eyes widened in fear as she looked down and saw goosebumps rising along her arms. Sera clenched her teeth and focused on breathing evenly while she summoned peaceful thoughts. Fear isn't the only defense this entrance has, she told herself. She was starting to wonder exactly just how powerful Veralysia might be, and if she might be the source of the bleakness in her thoughts. Sera bit her lip and considered turning back.

While she wrestled with the idea, a faint music drifted toward her from the far end of the cavern. The notes were hauntingly mournful and only just barely audible. Sera cocked her head to listen harder. Entrances to Faerie were sometimes marked by music; she could remember reading about it in her mother's old Codex. The tune dragged tiny hooks into her soul and pulled her forward inexorably step by step as she crept forward to hear it more clearly. Pulsing drums joined in under the soaring strains and she couldn't help but trace it deeper into the cavern complex.

After several more turns, the tunnel she was following opened up into a great, darkened chamber with luminescent green lichen veining upward along the walls. As Sera's light fell across the patches of growth, they seemed to throb and absorb the glow to strengthen their own inner light, and she watched in fascination as the outline of an obsidian throne took shape on the far end of the cavern. Faint tendrils of ley line power whispered across its surface and idly caressed the smooth, black stone in time to the music that seemed to come from the very walls. Sera's feet shuffled forward mechanically toward the empty throne as her heart pounded a wild tattoo in her chest that contrasted sharply with the enthralling theme, trying to snap her out of its spell.

The chorus drew to a crescendo as she reached the base of the throne and she knelt before it numbly to press her sweaty palms to the stone floor.

Silence flooded the chamber and Sera felt her ears pop softly as the siren call of the music abruptly ceased, leaving her panting shallowly. She lifted her eyes to look at where the mist of ley line magic was billowing softly around the obsidian seat.

The air crackled with menace and a woman's voice hissed out from the darkness around Sera, "Who dares to disturb She Who Waits?"

The glow from Sera's light shook in her hand and she felt her stomach knot with fear. She whipped her head left and right, searching for the speaker, but she couldn't see anyone. Shitshitshit.

A blast of wind howled through the cavern and her hat swirled away, lost. A second icy gust knifed through her, and her teeth chattered as she answered the disembodied voice, "One who would save the Hunter she loves from his fate!"

The wind vanished and Sera dared to look up at the throne again, then immediately wished she hadn't.

An ancient Faerie woman was flickering to life in the mix of green luminescence from the lichen and Sera's own yellow glow-stick, and the two combined to gave the figure a sickly cast as the light filtered through her. Long, brittle white hair fell in a thick tangle of tresses around a pale, wasted face. Her cheeks had sunken in, and the left side of her face gaped open to show the ghastly grin of teeth within. But it was her eyes that terrified Sera. Those dead black orbs stared with imperious disregard through the Shadowhunter cowering before the obsidian throne.

A rotted, tattered gown hung loosely on the Faerie's emaciated frame, its colours lost to the centuries, and its folds rustled softly as the woman rose slowly from her seat. Her fingers ended in broken nails that more closely resembled claws, and she stretched down one withered hand to lift Sera's chin with a single finger.

"No power on earth can bring back the dead, child." Veralysia's voice echoed almost as if two people were speaking just a fraction of a second off-sync. Sera swallowed thickly and tried not to think about how sharp one of those discoloured nails might be.

"He's not dead," she managed to whisper through lips parched by fear.

Veralysia's dark laughter rolled off the walls of the cavern and the back of Sera's neck prickled, sending a shiver down her spine at the unearthly sound.

"If he rides with the Hunt, half his soul is chained to Death's side of the veil. It is no longer his to reclaim." Her voice was bitter as it dropped. "You are wasting your time."

Sera drew in a shuddering breath and tried to throw off the aura of foreboding sorrow in the air. She had already come so far...

"You... loved... Lord Gwyn," she began haltingly. "I came to ask..." Her lungs constricted agonizingly to cut her off and she felt Veralysia's pain slam into her. She fell forward, gasping wordlessly for breath as centuries of grief pressed in suffocatingly.

Veralysia seethed down at her. "You came seeking answers, and callously wonder what lengths I went to in my desperation to be with him once more." Her image rippled and faded, and Sera felt some of the weight on her heart ease. She no longer had any idea where Veralysia was, but she rolled over weakly onto her back as she struggled to catch her breath. Sweat trickled down the sides of her neck as she whispered faintly into the emptiness, "Please..." She closed her eyes helplessly and felt tears well up to escape one by one.

Veralysia's voice reached out from all around her.

"Watch."

Sera felt the dry, papery touch of the Unseelie between her eyes, and then she was falling backwards through the centuries to another time.

Veralysia drew a brush through her long, silky black hair absently as her gaze looked past the empty bedroom where she still waited. Gwyn had not yet returned. He had never failed to send word if he was delayed by his duties as First Prince of the Unseelie Court. Fear teased at the edges of her mind and whispered that perhaps today was the day he had gone out to defend his people and would not return.

She nervously fingered the delicate gold locket at her throat. She didn't know what she would do without him; her love, her heart. Her anxiety continued to build as the hours passed and still he did not return.

When she could bear it no longer, she rose and pulled on a robe over her dressing gown. He would never do this to her. Someone had to know what had happened.

No sooner had she tied the sash at her waist than the door of the apartments they shared opened softly. Familiar, broad shoulders slipped through, his back to her, and she felt a wave of relief crash through her.

Veralysia closed the distance between them in a moment and reached up to turn him to face her so that she could press a kiss to his lips, but he resisted her touch and held his head turned away from her.

"Why do you turn from me, my love, when I have worried so for you?" She asked.

He kept his face averted, looking down and over his other shoulder as her hands slid up his arm questioningly. "I cannot stay, Veralysia." His voice trembled and she could feel him shaking with the effort of controlling himself. "We can be together no longer."

His words stunned her. They had been pledged for years uncounted. The Fey did not take matters of the heart lightly. This couldn't be happening. She ceased trying to turn him and instead darted around to his other side to cup his face in her hands, then gasped in shock.

Gwyn's right eye had changed to a pale blue that contrasted sharply with the black of his left. But it was what was behind those mismatched eyes that took her breath away, though; an Otherness. A stranger peered out from his soul now.

He looked back at her in anguish as he read the horror in her face and closed his eyes hurriedly to hide what lay within, turning away from her once more. "I cannot stay," he repeated.

"Gwyn...." she whispered uncomprehendingly.

His story tumbled out in a rush as he tried to explain what had been done to him and why. She could only shake her head mutely, unable to speak as he pleaded with her to understand. But how could she?

"Please, Veralysia. Let me go. Forget me," he begged at last. "You will find happiness with another, one who is whole."

Her eyes narrowed. "No. I will speak to your father. He had no right to demand this sacrifice of you. There must be a way to restore you to the way you were."

"It cannot be undone," he answered gently, taking her small hands in own massive grasp. "I chose this."

She tore her hands away from his. "I did not."

Veralysia spun around and wrenched open the door, leaving the prince behind as he buried his face in his hands and wept for what he had lost.

The vision twisted and Sera watched as the memories shifted to another place.

Veralysia stalked furiously into the King's private apartments and slammed the door behind her in a rage when she found him reclining in a shallow basin of ley magic to replenish his strength from the dark ritual that had stripped her love from her.

"What have you done?" She hurled at him, not caring for a moment about propriety. If her life had followed the path she had been on, she would have ruled as Queen of the Unseelie Court at Gwyn's side when his father faded from this world.

"You overstep, Veralysia," he warned her. "What is done will not be reversed."

"Choose another," she countered heatedly. "Give this burden to any other but him."

The King shook his head in denial and rose from the basin. "The choice has been made. Who better than Gwyn to shoulder the responsibility of saving our people?"

"Anyone but him," she pleaded once more.

The King reached out and closed his hands around her shoulders, and for a moment, she thought he meant to draw her forward into a comforting embrace, but instead she gasped as he tightened his grip painfully. His black eyes bored into her and she felt an aura of menace radiate from the bronze crown upon his brow.

"We will not speak of this again," he said firmly in a dark voice. "Do you understand?"

She felt the threat in his words and her eyes widened. To cause harm to another of the gentry was a great crime in the Courts, save where it was punishment for breaking their laws. The King risked much on this.

Her eyes lowered and she bowed her head slightly. He released his hold on her and she backed away swiftly, not daring to look at him. If she was going to find a way to save Gwyn, she needed to stay alive.

Sera felt an ache in her chest as Veralysia's iron determination to be reunited with her love overlapped with her own to save Rayce. In that moment between visions, she understood the other woman in a way that no other could.

Time passed, and Veralysia's despair grew.

Gwyn had left to hunt down his escaped brother, Matias, many weeks ago and had not yet returned. She had finally managed to speak with one of the five sorcerers who had assisted the King in Turning his son. The other four had all died or faded recently, and Veralysia wondered darkly at the coincidence.

The aged Faerie had been of no help to her though, only confirming what the King and Gwyn had told her. 'No power on earth can bring back the dead, child,' he had told her gently.

The King had been working on some sort of cloak in secret, though the few who knew of his efforts did not know its purpose. Veralysia was secretly happy that he was so distracted; if he had noticed her tracking down his co-conspirators, surely he would have put a stop to it, and her.

The memories skipped ahead over a short period and Sera struggled to hang on to herself as the weight of the Unseelie's past threatened to consume her.

Veralysia hid in the shadows and waited quietly. He would pass this way soon.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she dared to hope for a chance to get him back, even if she couldn't restore him to the way he had been. Matias walked among them once more, and the rumours said that he, too, bore the polychrome eyes of a Gatherer now. He could take his brother's place, and then Gwyn would be free to escape from the Courts with her. They could live in the world above, far from his father's games and safely out of his reach.

A silhouette appeared in the tunnel and she saw her love's tall, broad frame striding toward her unknowingly. An unfamiliar mantle lay across his shoulders, and the cloak swirled around his legs as he hurried to leave the Court once more to continue his grim work.

Her hands shot out as he passed and she pulled him into the darkness of the alcove where she had hidden herself.

"Is it true?" She demanded. "Is Matias like you now?"

Gwyn quickly recovered from the surprise of her ambush and shook off her hands roughly. "I no longer ride alone." His voice was distant, unfeeling, and it felt like a slap across her face.

"Then let him serve in your place," she begged. "Come away with me before it's too late."

One great hand reached up to touch the cloak's clasp at his throat. "It's already too late, Veralysia. I asked you once before to let me go. If you will not cease your pursuit, I will not return to the Court." In the darkness, she could not see the pain in his eyes. She could only hear the coldness in his voice. How could she know that he was pushing her away to save her? She would not take another unless he could convince her that he would never again stand at her side.

He left her shaking in the alcove without another word, and she felt the light in her heart die as he walked away.

In time, true to his word, he no longer came to the Courts. The King would, instead, send those who would have been sentenced to death to a cavern in the world above. The stories swirled through the flourishing Court about a Wild Hunt and its Lord as its ranks grew. The Unseelie grew strong again as the years passed and the Eternal Forest was nurtured with the blood of the fallen by those who stood with one foot in the next world.

Without a word to anyone, Veralysia slipped away from the Unseelie Court for good. A kind of madness had laced itself tightly into her grief, and she toyed with a notion that finally made her feel something after all these years. If Gwyn would not love her in this world, then she would find him in the next.

She settled into a deep cavern under a great canyon that carved a scar across the face of the world above and waited. The years passed slowly at first until she learned to see through them, and then the decades began to speed by. Her once-lush black hair began to go grey, and then white as the colour leeched away. She watched for any sign that Gwyn might return to her sooner, but nothing changed, and so she continued to wait as the years took their toll on her.

As her flesh withered through the centuries, she started to feel a new weakness creep into her wasted body, and at last, Veralysia began to fade.

The first moment that she was able to step into the night lands was filled with terrifying ecstasy, but she pulled herself back almost immediately. Her throne of obsidian waited for her patiently.

She no longer even felt the passing of time as she experimented to find just the right connection to the ley magic of the earth that would suspend her on the very edge of fading completely. Once she achieved the balance, her body freely shifted between wraith and woman, and she searched beyond the veil for the other half of Gwyn's soul amidst the thousands of shining stars in the endless night sky.

What she was doing was madness, abomination, but her people had forgotten her long ago, and there was no one to tell her to turn back, and nor would she once she had her first taste of success.

In that place beyond the veil, Veralysia found her love and wept ethereal tears into eternity as she embraced him. He was only a shadow of the man she had loved, but after centuries of waiting, it was more than she had ever thought to recover. Finding him was difficult each time, and sometimes she would drift aimlessly without connecting. Months would pass in the Mortal world as the ley magic trickled into her and preserved her shattered life while she sought after him, but she no longer cared; she had as much of him back as she was ever going to get.

And so, sometimes, when the stars were especially bright and the air was cold in the north of the world above, the night sky would be just right. Gwyn would look up at the darkness to mark the shining stars, eyes searching, heart reaching for the wonder he had glimpsed on the other side of the water. That was when he would exhale softly and allow himself to whisper her name.

Veralysia.

Veralysia lifted her finger from Sera's forehead and the Shadowhunter gasped as her eyes opened back into the mixed green and yellow light of the cavern. The touch of death was heavy on her and she scrambled to her feet breathlessly to shake it off, feeling dangerously close to a world she wasn't yet ready to cross into.

"As I said," Veralysia rasped. "You are wasting your time. You do not have centuries to wait as I once did. You are mortal. Your pain will only last a few short years before you pass from this world."

Sera backed away from the Faerie. "Then I'll have to work quickly," she said in a shaking voice.

Veralysia laughed. It was a ghastly sound that was made all the more horrific by the ruin of her smile through her rotted cheek. "Gwyn will not release him."

Sera's mind took a nose-dive. Jesus, she thought, she doesn't know that Gwyn's dead, yet. Given the definite instability of the Unseelie wraith, Sera decided not to change that. Let her find out in her own time; she seemed to have a lot of it on her hands.

"Aut invenium viam aut faciam," she whispered fiercely.

The spectre before Sera shimmered again and vanished, letting dark laughter echo through the cavern and the haunting music seeped upward once more. The dismissal was clear.

Sera had no idea how she managed to find her way back to Mike and the rope that led up the canyon wall. When he saw her ashen face, he pushed himself up to his feet and out of the patch of shade where he had been sitting.

"Christ almighty, Sera. What the fuck happened to you?" All of his former swagger had been wiped away by her long absence. The sun had crossed the sky and hours had passed unmarked. The parallel to Veralysia's suspended animation was too much, too soon.

"Found it," she said weakly, hoping that her voice was steady. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

"Amen," he agreed.

Once they managed to get a hold of the pilot and summon the chopper back for a pick up, Sera settled into her seat once more and stared out the window as she processed everything she had seen. Her dreams from that morning tugged at her and she turned her head away from where Mike was no longer checking her out. She felt utterly overwhelmed by everything she still had to do, and a pair of tears slipped out silently.

Rayce.

Everett stepped through the Portal into the Las Vegas Institute with his long-time supporter, Jay Ravenkey, and they were promptly met by its Head, Gina Something-or-other. He didn't remember or care what her name was.

"Consul," she greeted him respectfully.

He waved off the formality when he caught sight of the folded sheet of paper in her hand. They had finally gotten a message to him about his request to look in to any credible sources claiming to see the future. In Las Vegas, one never knew what they would get, but the letter had been quite clear that they had a solid lead.

"Show me," he ordered while straightening the cuffs of his white dress shirt under a navy jacket that concealed his favorite brace of knives.

Gina had the wisdom to mask the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face as she handed over the note. Everett unfolded it impatiently and found an address written carefully on the page. His lips curled up as he looked sideways at Jay and nodded once, already brushing past the girl.

"Will you be needing an escort, Consul...?" she asked, jogging forward as he gave her no choice but to scamper after him or be left behind.

"No ,that won't be necessary. Just the use of one of your vehicles will suffice," he answered.

Minutes later, Jay was following the inexplicably German-accented GPS directions as he drove them toward their destination. Dark sunglasses protected his pale blue eyes from the glare of the early morning sun as it glinted off his short blond hair. He had known Everett for years, and he knew when to keep silent. His old friend was simmering with a quiet intensity as they drew nearer to their prize, and he didn't want to interrupt whatever thoughts were going through the Consul's mind.

Everett tapped his fingers absently against his leg as they drove, lost in thought. The Drake brothers had finished their work last night and he had helped them test it immediately. He couldn't conceal his grin as he remembered the satisfaction of seeing the intended effects. There was always a way. The cage was ready, now he just needed to fill it.

More messages from Wrangel Island had been laying on his desk this morning when he had gone in to his office, disguising the one from Las Vegas, but he had dealt with them swiftly. Breaches had been detected in multiple places across the globe, but they were near useless, flyspeck Mundane towns. He had relayed cautions to the closest Institutes and advised them that he was dispatching Centurions to deal with any trouble in the area. Most of the teams would need hours to reach their destinations; it was ridiculous to waste resources on this, but he had to be seen doing something after the twin disasters in Buenos Aires and Cairo.

His lips compressed as he thought of the report he had received from one of the Shadowhunters in Buenos Aires. Jace Herondale and Alec Lightwood had surfaced with their pet warlock and taken control of the defense of the city. No wonder it had been such mess. Herondale had punched out Everett's contact, otherwise the Clave may have been notified in time to prevent their foolish attempt at rebellion. They had vanished after the attack, and Everett hadn't heard anything more recent about their current location. His hand tightened into a fist as he thought about his rival working behind his back to keep control of the Clave. Idiot. I'll make sure you get a cell right next to sweet Sera until you're Stripped and executed.

The car glided to halt in front of a small bungalow in a slightly run-down neighbourhood outside the city. A beat-up old minivan was parked in the narrow driveway, its green paint quietly rusting away around the wheel wells. The street was deserted as Everett and Jay slipped out of the car, and the Consul waited at the front door while his partner completed a quick loop around the property to ensure that there would be no surprises.

Everett's heart was racing inside his chest with the thrill of the hunt, and he waited eagerly for Jay to reappear and give the all-clear signal. He drew his stele from the inside pocket of his jacket and watched the corner of the house.

Jay's blond head poked around the corner and he nodded, silently holding up one finger to point toward the rear of the house and indicate that there was only a single occupant in the home right now, and then he vanished back the way he had come. Everett sketched a quick Opening rune into the cracked paint over the doorknob and then leaned back to kick it in with a crash.

He surged forward into the home, eyes flickering past the untidy interior, and he heard Jay breaking in through the back door at the same time. A startled yell rose from the kitchen as both men burst in. Jay's arms locked around the lone figure as one half of a toasted whole-wheat bagel landed Nutella-side down on the cheap linoleum.

"Hey, holy shit! Everyone just be cool, okay?" The pale, skinny young man tried to twist in Jay's grip, but he had a snowball's chance in Hell of breaking free. "There's some cash in the bedroom, but I don't even have a T.V guys," he said, blinking his milky white eyes for emphasis. Panic made his voice rise higher as they remained silent. "Just take whatever you want, okay?"

Everett looked at him curiously. How did a runt like this know his Sera? Did he?

"This will be less about me taking, and more about you giving if you're smart. And don't bother with the 'blind guy' line - I think we both know that you see more than the average human, Mr. Mostly-Mundane," Everett finished in a hiss.

Steven's mouth went dry. These guys were serious. I should have gone with 'Mysterio', copyright be damned, he thought wildly. Then at least I'd just have some nice, friendly nerd fans smashing in to join me for breakfast.

"What do you want?" He asked tremulously.

The Consul's face split into a grin. It was so easy to terrify Mundanes into cooperating. How could Raziel have ever thought that a Shadowhunter life was worth throwing away to save one of these weaklings? "I want you to tell me exactly where our lovely, mutual friend lives."

Holy shit, Sera. You weren't kidding about these Clave guys. He knew a little about the Shadowhunters, but Sera hadn't wanted to share too much. All he really knew was that she kept up her glamours to stay hidden from the Clave; probably to avoid a situation exactly like this. His hands started to sweat where the guy behind him had his arms in a death-grip, but he decided to try for the bluff.

"I'm not gonna lie, man, but you don't sound like the kind of guy who has friends, let alone lovely ones."

Everett lunged forward while simultaneously drawing one of his knives from inside his jacket. In an instant, he had the tip pressed against Steven's cheekbone, just below one of his sightless eyes. His voice was low and dangerous, but controlled as he brought his face level with the boy's. "I'm going to make this very simple for you, Steven."

He traced the edge of the blade down slowly, pressing almost hard enough to draw blood as he continued patiently, "I will give you the chance to tell me where Sera lives. If you don't tell me, I'll assume that you don't need your tongue."

Steven's chin quivered as the knife played down across his lips, but Everett whispered in the inches of space between them, "Then I will give you the chance to write down her address. If you don't give it to me, I'll assume that you don't need your fingers."

The knife slid up under his jaw line and Steven felt tears leak down his cheek as he clenched his eyes closed in fear while Everett casually worked his way back up to the opposite cheekbone. Steven drew in a shuddering breath and prayed that this was a nightmare, but Everett's voice was unrelenting. "Then I will give you one last chance to lead me to her home. If you don't show me, I'll assume that you don't need your feet."

Steven sagged backwards against the bigger Shadowhunter as his knees buckled, but the man held him firmly and didn't let him fall. Everett withdrew his blade and took the boy's jaw in his hand instead. "Have I made myself very clear?"

This isn't happening, Steven thought. This isn't real. Sera's smiling face flashed in his mind and he saw her as he always did, without ever having seen her before he lost his sight. She had the face of an angel and was back-lit by sunshine and the glow of Heaven itself. So beautiful.

His entire body was trembling. Her face sparked the memory of the dream he had warned her about and his heart sank as he watched her get caught again in a trap she couldn't see. He drew in another quavering breath and exhaled.

"Bad...ju-ju..."

**Author's note:  Sorry for the long delay!  I still haven't had a day off yet since returning from the camping trip.  Apparently, it wasn't the moose I had to worry about (although we did wake up to one across the water from our campsite, lol, Canada, eh?), it was the gorydamn bugs.  Razzziiieeeel.  The bites were insane. Thanks for bearing with me.  I have one whole day off on Tuesday, and will aim to get Chapter 9 up then before I get swallowed up by another swath of work.  Urrrgh!

Small consolation: This is the longest chapter to date.  What a monster.  And I was deliberately holding myself back at the end.  Oyyy.

Why the Raines of Castamere?  This was the music playing Veralysia's lair....

... and in my headphones.... for like... 16 hours while I built this chapter.  😂😂  Still not even close to being sick of it!