Emery stood firm, feet steady, no longer afraid. Charlie was with her, and no matter how big and horrifying those things were, she had his protection. The beams of darkness had evaporated, and she was a ghostly vision in her bloodied white dress against the blue and black of the temple, whose stones shone with their searing ogham markings. But the moment her senses returned to her, the moment she looked like nothing more than a girl standing atop an altar, the Fomorians awoke from their stupor.

Mug Ruith was first to move, attempting to reach for her ankle, but he could not touch her. His fingers were turned aside before they came even within inches of her skin, and Bres drew a sword, but that, too, was deflected before it could come close enough to be a threat. There was a shield around her, a glistening emanation that limned her body in a barrier of dark glitter. With such protection, Emery sat upon the ledge of the altar and slipped off of it, pushing all of them out of her way without even having to try. She could see the temple clearly, now, standing in the middle of it, and her eyes searched for what she knew was nearby . . . but he was not there, she sensed. They wouldn't have brought him inside.

Leaving the Fomorians in a state of frenzy as they searched their dark magic for understanding and guidance, Emery stepped across the temple and slipped through its stones, entering the dead meadow, and there she found what she sought.

Cullen lay on the ground, turned on his side, his body surrounded by colorless withered flowers, a large crow perched on his shoulder. Emery shooed the bird away as she approached, and it squawked and grudgingly flapped aside. Then, breathing deeply, trying to hold back emotion, the girl knelt beside him, turned his face to the charcoal sky, and cradled his head in her white arms. She stroked his auburn hair, his smooth cheek, and kissed his bluish lips. Her tears dropped onto his skin, but this was no fairytale. He wouldn't awaken purely because of her love. Would he awaken at all? Charlie had said he wasn't dead, but he'd also said she'd know what to do . . . and she didn't. She hadn't any idea what to do.

"I'm so sorry," Emery said aloud at last, laying her head upon his breast, "for all the time I wasted, and for not believing you, and for hurting you." A change entered her heart--a change so subtle she hardly noticed, and yet it was borne of the memories she'd had, of coming to discover the woman she'd been before becoming the girl she was now. Lifting her head, Emery was unsurprised to find another mourning her love--their love--across from her. It was Emer, and she gazed at Emery with their eyes, and Emery gazed back. The two of them thought synchronously I'll die with him. I can't live without him. And then they reached for one another, linked hands, dipped their heads in mourning, and begged Death for the release to join their love.

The bluey-white fae lights that had hovered at the edges of the meadow, always too far to reach, began to twinkle closer, to alight upon the figures on the ground, to gather together into one, to coat Cullen and Emery and Emer in a blanket of light, so that when an approaching sound of chaos startled them and they looked up and heard the giants drawing near, neither party could see the other clearly through the light.

Suddenly, around the body of the fallen warrior, the earth was broken with roots that became saplings that became trunks that wove upward toward the sky in a tower of entwining limbs, separating those inside its chamber from those who wished them harm. Emery found they were in the sanctuary of a yew tree, encircled by light, and as she and Emer simultaneously rose and became one, she knew instinctively what she must do. Throwing out her arms, she drew the light toward herself, and using all of the strength from Charlie as well as the newfound strength within, she thought, Bring me the Dagda's Cauldron, and suddenly, there it was, right next to them, the Spear of Lugh tip-down inside of it.

Quickly, Emery removed the spear and stuck it's shaft into the earth so that its reignited tip licked the air, and then, begging for just a little more help, she managed to raise Cullen's body, which had become light as child, and lower him into the expanding cauldron. Instantaneously, the iron basin erupted with an aqua light, which shot up through the center of the yew column and into the dark cosmos beyond. The engraved face on the side of the cauldron gleamed and sparkled, opened its mouth and laughed an incongruous jolly laugh, and then fell silent as the massive beam vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

Having fallen back from the force of the cauldron's blast, Emery regained her breath but all at once found it taken from her again, for there, in the receding twinkles of faelight, was Cullen, alive, no doubt wondering why he was standing in the middle of the iron pot.

Without a word, Emery rushed to throw her arms around him, and he, marveling, returned the embrace. And as he stepped out of the Dagda's Cauldron, he could only ask "Emer?" as if knowing she was more than Emery, more than one or the other, that she was both, or more that they were one. She was, at last, herself, with all the knowledge and experience of two worlds and two lives in one.

Nodding eagerly, Emery was quick to sense that the magic Charlie had given her was fading. The yew tree around them was protective, but they couldn't stay in it forever. They'd have to face what was beyond. "The Fomorians, they're out there." She placed a hand on Cullen's breastplate, recalling where Bres's sword had gone. "Are you all right? Can you fight?"

"You're aglow, Lady," Cullen noted, taking a lock of her hair and studying the faint blue emanating from it. "It's the God in you."

"And you as well," she remarked. "We both of us seem to be a bit immortal."

He smiled at her. "Then we can face them," he avowed.

Emery inhaled sharply, said, "I want Great Fury, and I want Little Fury," and as soon as she'd spoken, the sword was at her back, and the dagger was in a hilt at her side. She still wore her ugly white dress, but that didn't matter. Opening her hand, she called the Spear of Lugh to herself, and the haft zipped into her palm as she closed her fingers around it.

The copper shone in Cullen's eyes while he watched, impressed and proud, and then he checked his own weapons, and taking one another's hand, they turned to face the yew, willing it to open.

As the trunks rolled aside like parting curtains, the chattering heads of the goat men immediately forced their way into the chamber, but they were quick work: Cullen decapitated one with Claíomh Solais, and Emery stabbed the other with Lugh's Spear, causing its body to erupt into inextinguishable blue flames and send it running headlong into the meadow.

Stepping over the headless goat man, the two of them surveyed the rest of the area, seeing nothing more of interest beyond the temple, which was a short distance ahead of them and was now emitting a reddish light between its stones. Emery and Cullen looked to one another, knowing they'd have to enter the temple, but as they did so, a footfall behind caused them to separate and spin, and had they not done so, Elatha's sword would've surely killed one of them. Cullen charged at the older man--Bres's father--swinging his Sword of Light overhead, and Emery watched for a moment when she could throw her spear. But the two men moved so quickly that she was fearful of accidentally hitting Cullen, so, drawing Great Fury, Emery went at Elatha from behind, better able to wield the weapon, now that she recalled the training she'd had in her past. The Fomorian was skilled, but Cullen was stronger and more agile, and with Emery dividing his attention, Elatha quickly fell under Cullen's sword, succumbing to a fatal wound to the throat.

"Look!" Emery pointed to the grasses around them, which were dead and crisp; they were beginning to glow. The yew behind was taking on a hot-poker hue as well, the way the trees had the night Emery had ridden the Pooka. She knew what it meant. "Evil's here. We have to hurry, or he'll turn us against each other."

Cullen, breathing heavily from his fight with Elatha, caressed Emery's cheek. "Never. It's not possible, now."

She tried to agree with him but found it difficult, recalling what she'd seen Evil do to the Red Branch, knowing he'd even turned Cathbad. They set off toward the temple, unsure what they'd find there, but the moment they reached the stones, a powerful blast shot from between them, as if something were being irradiated on the altar, and they had to stand back-to-columns while the red light blew out. When the danger seemed to have passed, Emery and Cullen rounded the stones into the temple and found, to Emery's surprised, the wizened old man--the one who'd looked practically dead, with his claw hands and yards-long beard--standing in the center, near the altar. He'd gained in height, straight-backed as he was now, and his horrible bulging eyes were focused on her.

Emery immediately raised Lugh's Spear, but another powerful blast of red light shot from the mouth of the skull, which the old man still held in his talons, blowing her back against one of the glowing pillars, and once she was against it, some shadowy black ropes began to wind their ways around her, binding her to the hot stone. Cullen tried to lunge at the old man, but the wizard's power was too strong. Throwing weapons wouldn't work, either. It was as if he controlled a torrential wind that would keep anything and everything back. "Get these off of me!" Emery yelled against the roar, and Cullen knew she meant the ropes. Pressed against her as the blast continued to come at them, Cullen managed to use his sword to slice the binding, and then he turned aside. Emery turned a hand palm-out, and what was left of Charlie's aid shot out of her, black and glittering, a beam of nothingness. It hit the old man in his chest, sending him tottering back over the altar, and when he rose again, leaping up onto the stone table as if prepared to have another go, Claíomh Solais sliced him right through the middle.

As the two halves of the old man tumbled to the ground, Emery turned her shaking hand and looked at it. "That's it, now. That's all I had. Charlie's gone."

Not asking questions, Cullen retrieved his thrown sword, and then their attention was suddenly drawn by a terrifying mechanical, rushing sound, as if cogs were turning and jarring against one another, and the two looked up to see, beyond the other side of the temple, a massive horizontal wooden wheel rising above the stones and up into the sky. Beneath it was a thick rod, spiny oars sticking out at odds with one another, and feet planted firmly on those oars was Mug Ruith. The huge druid held onto that middle rod as the wheel spun round and round above him, lifting him higher and higher into the dark sky, and Emery realized that he wasn't going to attack them--he was running away.

Cullen reached for Gáe Bulg, but Emery stopped him. "Save it for the ones still here. He doesn't matter."

The stones around them were glowing brighter still, blindingly, and they were beginning to put out black smoke. The grass beneath their feet was darker, but it, too, was beginning to smolder. Only the altar remained gray and cold. Emery shuddered to look at it in their brief moment of respite, but her and Cullen's attentions were turned, suddenly, when a shadowy figure stepped from the stones across the way.

"I thought I killed you," Bres said, his white-blond hair and one red eye standing out on his otherwise dark form.

Cullen said nothing, only stepped slightly in front of Emery as if to guard her. But she laced her fingers through his and drew level with him. In her left hand, she held at an angle Lugh's Spear as it dripped the blood of the goat man and Lugaid continuously into the grass, wisps of sizzling steam rising wherever the drops fell.

"It's refreshing, you know, your lack of manners. I always believed it was my mother's bloodline that had forced this proprietary nature upon me. It seems I can't help but be a gentleman. But you--you share that little gift of the Tuatha Dé as well as I, and your courtesy is entirely lacking." He continued to step toward them, his features revealing themselves more prominently in the reddish-orange effulgence. The eye Emery had stabbed was empty and dripping, and he was missing his cow-horned helmet, but otherwise, he looked his unphased evil self.

Emery raised Lugh's Spear but was too quick to throw it; Bres was ready and turned it aside with his sword. The spear ended up embedding itself in the ground near the stones on the far end, and the dead grass around it flared up in blue flames.

Bres's affect shifted from mocking to enraged in a split second, and he practically screamed at Emery, "Perfidious whore! You dare betray me--your defiler? You are mine. I own you, now, and you will come with me." He made a fist with his free hand.

Cullen made to move toward him, but Emery suddenly collapsed, crying out in pain.

"I'm flowing through her veins, now. Kill me, and you kill her," Bres laughed.

The glowing stones, which had been emitting black smoke, began to crackle as orange fire licked across their surfaces, the ogham writing white underneath, and the soft but certain blue fire of Lugh's spear continued to spread across the ground; soon it would be at their feet.

"Don't listen!" Emery cried between clenched teeth, unsure how to rid herself of whatever pain Bres had given her. It was as if he held her pumping heart in his hand and was squeezing it. "Just--kill him!"

Cullen was at a loss--he wanted nothing more than to kill Bres, who was grinning maniacally, but he couldn't risk hurting Emery.

And then, amidst all of the confusion, above the stones at the opposite end of the temple, the giant body of the great ogre rose, pale and yellow against the dark sky, growing, becoming more massive, towering over them all. Emery managed to look up and see, as something like lightning flashed behind him, the huge antlers now at the sides of his head, and she knew--he was Evil. Whatever other features his face had previously exhibited, they were dwarfed now by his eye, which was no longer covered by the blindfold but blazed redder than a cherry, the veins inflamed and spreading like cracks across the entire ball. The very center was a torrid inferno, oxidizing brighter than a midday sun, inflating and expanding so it blotted out the universe beyond, so that it was all they saw above them, threatening to consume them in its conflagration.

Cullen threw himself before Emery in effort to protect her from the blaze, but she had to stop the pain Bres gave her, and while Cullen was uncertain, she was not. Willing the Spear of Lugh to return to her, she hurled it right back at Bres the moment it reached her hand, and though it was difficult to see anything against the blue and crimson and white and gold of everything burning around them, she was sure she hit her mark when a cry met her ears and the pressure in her chest vanished. Simultaneously, her whole body seared with a burning pain, her veins throbbing as they had whenever Charlie would get too far away from her.

The grass around them tore from the earth; the hot-iron stones of the temple ripped from the ground and were flung far and wide; the altar turned to lava right in front of them, and Cullen and Emery huddled against the torrential nearness of the massive eye. Lightning bolts darted around them the closer the eye came, until it was so large and so close that it would surely absorb them into its flames. But in the chaos of that moment, as Cullen, crouched over his wife, turned up toward Balor of the Evil Eye, he saw his chance, and with just enough room to reach over his shoulder, he grabbed hold of Gáe Bulg and jammed it upward, piercing the very pupil, sending the spear's thirty separate barbs traveling throughout the massive orb, which began to pour in melting rivers around them.