Storm, two hours earlier

There’s only about twenty demons guarding the Gate within the castle ruin and we dispatch them with ease. We’re a practised team: Arc freezes a bunch of demons with his mind, my brother drowns them, I round up the others with gusts of wind to get the same treatment. Brutal, but effective. We don’t have time to play nice today.

The Gate in front of us looks very different from the ones in the Winter Realm. Rather than the typical two standing stones covered by a large third stone slab, this one is a doorway that’s part of the castle structure. It’s a clever way to keep it from the attention of humans. Not that they can see the shimmer of magic covering the doorway like a spider’s web, but standing stones attract tourists. Just look at Stonehenge, that Gate hasn’t been used for a long time because it’s been taken over by humans.

Frost wipes his bloody hands on his shirt.

“I hate demon blood,” he complains. “It leaves stains.”

“Have ye suddenly turned into Crisp?” Arc teases and Frost gives him an indignant glare.

“Stop the banter, we’ve got work to do,” I admonish them and stride towards the Gate, leaving a pile of demon corpses behind. They follow and together, we step into the Morrigan’s domain.

I’ve been in the Demon Realm before, many times, but this part of it seems unfamiliar. We’re in a large cavern, illuminated by a glowing mould or moss covering the walls. There’s nobody here. Strange. I had expected guards.

Slowly, we make our way through the cave, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. The sound of our breathing echoes in the empty space, far too loud for my liking. The dark entrance to a tunnel looms up ahead and I point towards it, letting the others know our destination. The tunnel is completely dark, no glowing moss here to help us see what’s waiting for us.

I extend my magic, looking for disturbances in the air. Someone is breathing not far from us, maybe fifty feet away. Only one though. Carefully, I wrap a wind lasso around them, and with a strong yank, pull them towards me. A demon flies through the air, landing heavily on the ground in front of me. It’s a higher demon with four arms and a gaping maw. Surprisingly, it’s not making a sound. Good for us, it means it won’t alert any of its fellow demons.

Darkness swirls around him, its tendrils reaching out for us.

Before his magic can touch us, Frost slams a spear of ice into the demon’s chest. He sinks back to the ground, twitching, before his body goes limp.

“That was too easy,” Frost whispers, echoing my thoughts. Either the demons here have grown complacent, or this is a trap. I hope for the first. Maybe the Morrigan isn’t here to keep them doing her bidding. She’s enslaved them, so there’s always the hope that they’re fighting for her unwillingly. That would give us an advantage.

A trap is unlikely. Nobody knew we were coming here, except for Wyn, Gwain and Flora. I trust Gwain with my life, Flora has nothing to gain by betraying us, and Wyn… well, she’s our Wyn. Enough said.

We make our way through the tunnel, with me checking for air disturbances every few minutes. There are no signs of life.

The tunnel never seems to end. It’s too narrow for us to extend our wings, so we have to walk. Most demons can fly, so why wouldn’t they have a better access route to the Gate? Maybe it was never intended as a Gate to be used for anything but an escape route. Maybe only the Morrigan uses it, who can teleport there in a flash.

We’ve been monitoring the other demon Gates, but we don’t stop the demons from leaving or entering. That would be too much of a waste of resources. All we do is watch to see if larger groups of demons leave that might mean trouble. And more recently, our scouts have been looking out for the Morrigan and her allies. Not that they ever saw her – of course not, she has her own Gate in the middle of nowhere.

It takes us half an hour to reach the end of the tunnel.

“Finally,” Arc whispers as a shimmer of light beckons in the distance. We increase our pace, glad to get out of this endless tunnel.

Just before we reach the end, I make them stop and extend my senses once again.

“Twenty demons up ahead,” I say quietly. “Two of them are very large.”

Arc cracks his knuckles and takes a large sword from his back.

“Let’s have some fun,” he roars before jumping out in the open, ready to hack at the demons waiting for us.

Frost grins and me and runs out as well, icicles flying from his hands, right into the chests of several demons. I join the fray, wrapping ropes of wind around the waists of two demons and ramming them into each other.

Blood paints the ground red as we kill the demons as quickly as possible. It only takes a minute to dispatch all of the demons, even the two big ones that are about twice my height.

We’re good at killing; it’s what we were made for.

“Where the fuck are we?” my brother asks, and I finally take in our surroundings. We’re in another cavern, but this one is so large that I can’t see where it ends. It could be several miles long, for all I know. The ceiling is so high that you could easily fit in some of the tallest towers of the Royal Palace.

More of the strange glowing moss is covering the walls, giving enough light to illuminate the massive fortress up ahead.

While the Palace in the Winter Realm is imposing and beautiful, this fortress feels threatening. The black stone shimmers unnaturally in the darkness and its jagged turrets seem to almost scratch the ceiling of the cavern. There are almost no windows, instead, small arrow slits are dotted around the walls. Two large ones above the main gate look like eyes staring into the distance, watching for intruders.

Basically, it's how most people would imagine a demon castle to look like.

"What are we going ta do, walk in through the front entrance?" Arc asks, looking at the fortress in disgust.

"Let's have a look around", Frost says, but I stop him.

"I have the darkest wings, let me."

His turquoise and Arc's copper wings would stand out too much, even in this darkness. My own are a dark blue, but in this light, they look black.

I jump into the air and fly towards the fortress, keeping close to the shadows. The closer I get, the more demons are down below. It seems like there are settlements at the foot of the castle, housing hundreds of demons. That definitely won't be the route we'll take.

Luckily, nobody spots me as I circle above them, looking for a way into the fortress. The back of the castle is built into the rock of the cavern, leaving three walls to search for an entrance.

Once, I get too close to a demon and he's about to cry out, but a quick burst of wind through his mouth and into his lungs stops him. He collapses, his lungs exploded.

I fly higher, hoping that there won't be barriers preventing us from flying into the fortress from above - but sadly, there are. Damn it. The bloody demons actually prepared for intruders. Maybe it's back from the times demons fought each other. I don't suppose they still do, now that they're all ruled by the Morrigan.

The wall closest to the tunnel we came through hasn't got a single door, neither does the one with the large gate. I'm starting to lose hope that we'll find an easy entrance, but then I spot a small crack in the third wall. I fly closer, curious.

The crack turns out to be a thin stone door that hasn't been closed properly. It's just around the corner from the large gate, a perfect way to surprise attacking forces and stop them from taking the gate. Right now, we're the invading force though, and this door will finally bring us closer to our goal.

I fly back to the others, killing three more demons on the way.

"There's a door," I tell them once I've landed, "but it's quite far from here. If we walk there, we'd have to get through several hordes of demons. Arc, if we fly, can you shield us from view?"

He nods. "Aye, but we need ta hurry, I dinnae want to use up too much energy."

"Good. I'll take you on the most direct route. If we get in trouble, you two fly to the door, I'll keep them off you."

They both nod grimly and extend their wings. I've always been a tad jealous of my brother's beautiful colours, but today, my darker ones are more practical.

I lead them to the door and surprisingly, we get there without incident. Arc's shielding seems to work. He once said that influencing demons' minds was much easier than manipulating humans or Guardians.

"Are you going to fit through there?" Frost asks Arc, the biggest of us.

"With a wee squeeze, aye," the Scot grumbles and takes the lead.

We sneak inside, progressing slowly through a maze of corridors. I dispatch of demons in our ways with my wind, while the other two are searching the rooms we pass for anything that could be useful. Our priority right now is to find weak spots in this fortress, and hopefully Wyn's father. As long as we don't encounter the Morrigan, we should be alright. These demons are easy prey, too surprised by our presence to resist much.

"Wait," Arc suddenly whispers. "There's a human below us."

He's been scanning our surroundings with his mind magic to give us some warning of any non-demons that may be lingering here.

"Is it her father?" I ask quickly and Arc closes his eyes in concentration.

"I dinnae ken, he's deeply unconscious. Or she, cannae even tell the gender."

"Okay, let's find a way down. There must be a staircase somewhere."

No, there isn't. After several rounds along the same corridors, it's clear that there are no stairs leading up or down from this floor.

"There has to be an exit besides the door we came through," my brother mutters. "It doesn't make sense."

"It has ta be concealed by magic," Arc suggests. "Maybe there's a draught of wind ye can feel, Storm?"

I sigh. "Let's walk around once more, I'll let you know if I notice something out of the ordinary."

We're almost back where we started when I finally feel a waft of air from my right, apparently coming from a solid wall. I stretch out a hand and touch the wall - except that there isn't one.

"Found it," I say drily and walk through the wall-that-isn't-a-wall.

We're in a circular staircase with stairs leading both up and down. We descend, ignoring several pathways leading away from the stairs until Arc tells us that we're on the floor he can sense the human on.

It's the dungeons. What a surprise. Rows of cells stretch out far into the darkness, their metal bars hiding things I don't want to see. It reeks of death and despair in here.

We walk along the corridor, Arc telling us all we need to know.

"Dead... dead.... dead... dead..."

He saves us from having to look into the cells. Some smell so strongly of decay that bodies must be rotting in there.

"... dead... alive!"

Arc breaks into a run, leading us to a cell no different from all the others.

Frost lays his fingers on the lock and freezes the metal until the door pops open.

As if the metal bars were an actual solid door, a terrible scent assails us as soon as we step into the cell. More rot and decay.

Two shapes are lying on the ground.

"Only the left one is alive," Arc mutters, his hands pressed over his mouth and nose to avoid breathing in the stench.

I summon a ball of light, making sure it only shines on the person on the left. I've seen my share of dead bodies, but I try not to if I can avoid it. Especially if the corpse is who I think it is.

I kneel by his side, rolling the man over to look at his face. Despite his shaggy beard, I recognise him. Wyn's father. There's a whole lot of dried blood on his temples and hairline, maybe that's why he's unconscious. I gently shake him, but he doesn't move at all.

"We need to carry him," I tell the others. "Frost, get him to the door and wait there for us. Arc and I will explore the upper floors. If we're not back in the next fifteen minutes, take him and pass through the Gate." My brother nods sharply. I expected him to argue, but in this moment, we're all professionals, not squabbling brothers.

Frost gently lifts up the man into his arms and we all leave the cells, glad to be away from the stench and the dead.

It's an absolute waste of time. There is nothing in the rooms we explore that would give us an advantage. No documents, no plans, no maps. The fortress seems empty, almost unused, as if it's only one of many places the Morrigan occupies. She probably has her personal domicile further into the Demon Realm, where it's safer. She can teleport, so it doesn't matter how far away from the Gate she lives. Maybe this place is only used for keeping prisoners and as an oversized watchtower.

Disappointed, we make our way back to the door through which we entered the fortress.

"Stop," Arc says suddenly when we're only two corridors away. "Someone's there, with Frost."

Ignoring the fear slowly spreading in my chest, I send out my wind magic, exploring what's happening in the distance. Arc is right, there are several people by the door. Ten, at least.

"Ready?" I ask Arc and he nods grimly. "Let's take them down."

The demons waiting for us don't know what hit them as they crumple to the ground, crushed by the wind I conjured. Arc is sprinting ahead, letting me deal with the demons that are suddenly coming from all sides. There's definitely more than ten. It's like they've waited for us in the shadows, setting a trap we walked right into. Well, we didn't have a choice.

I can hear my brother scream at the other end of the corridor and I increase my pace, slashing into demons with my sword while killing others with my magic. It's slow progress, but I'm hoping that Arc has reached Frost by now.

Suddenly, a cackle fills the room, overpowering all the noise of fighting and demon wails.

I know that voice.

The Morrigan is here.

Fuck.

I create two whirlwinds, anchoring them to the walls, not letting anyone pass as I run towards her laughter. She's with Frost.

While I'm running, I conjure more wind, keeping the magic close to my chest, ready to throw it at my target.

The Morrigan is bent over my brother who's curled up on the floor. He's moving though, but he's too weak to escape her as her fingers trail over his shoulder.

"Get away from him!" I shout, flinging all the pent-up wind at her. She's thrown against one wall, her pretty face contorting in pain. Using more wind, I throw her down the corridor, away from us. I know I have no chance beating her, so keeping her off our backs is the only way we'll get out of here.

I let myself fall on my knees by my brother's side, gently touching his arm.

“Can you stand?” I ask him but he weakly shakes his head. I look down at his body and cringe at the unusual angle his legs are spread out. It must be fucking painful, I’m surprised he’s not screaming.

Next to him lies the prone body of Wyn’s dad, still unconscious.

“Arc!” I shout. “You carry the father, I carry Frost!”

I reach around Frost’s shoulders, trying not to touch his legs too much. He groans when I lift him up, pain contorting his face.

“It’ll be alright,” I tell him, not quite believing it myself. “We’ll get you to a healer as soon as we’re out of here.”

“Not so fast,” the Morrigan cackles, suddenly back in front of us, appearing out of thin air. Why did Beira give that Goddess so many powers? It’s making it very hard to fight her, let alone flee from her.

She stretches out her arms, fire circling around her wrists. Usually, Frost would be the one to protect us from fire, but he doesn’t look like he’s well enough to even notice what’s going on.

I prepare some wind to throw at her in defence, but without warning, something strange happens. The magic inside of me vibrates, as if it’s resonating to a sound from far, far away. I gasp as a warm feeling spreads through my body. It’s a feeling of hope and love, something that reminds me of Wyn.

The Morrigan has stopped laughing and is swaying on her feet, her eyes unfocused. Frost must have seen the same thing because a second later, a large icicle is stuck in the Morrigan’s chest. I stare at him in surprise; I didn’t think he still had the energy for magic like that.

It’s just in time to see his eyes flutter closed and his body go limp. Damn him, playing the hero. Now we have two unconscious men to carry.

Arc grabs Wyn’s father and slings him over his shoulder, before we both start running, through the door into the open. Flying with Frost in my arms is hard; I’m having trouble keeping out of reach of the demons below. We’re racing towards the Gate, hoping the Morrigan won’t be able to catch up before we reach it.

Demons are shouting from beneath us, pointing up. Arc doesn’t have the energy to both shield us from their view and carry Wyn’s father. Hopefully, none of them will take to the air and pursue us.

Far too quickly, we need to land to enter the tunnel. I’m running as fast as I can, but I’m getting more tired with every step. There are a few bleeding wounds on my legs that I didn’t even notice while the adrenaline of the fight was running through my veins, but now, they’re making running painful.

It takes forever to reach the final cavern, and even longer to reach the Gate at its end. My legs are heavy and Frost keeps slipping from my grip. Arc isn’t faring much better; he’s breathing hard and cursing every few steps.

We stagger through the Gate, more falling than walking. I land on the wet ground, Frost still in my arms.

I sit up, expecting there to be demons, but the castle is deserted. Thank the Gods, we’re not in the best shape to fight demons right now.

Suddenly, in a flash of light, figures appear all around us. Not demons though. Guardians. How the…

“Frost!” a very familiar voice shouts and a moment later, my brother is lifted from my arms. I’m too surprised to even protest.

I sit up and look around. Ten Guardians are standing around us in a circle, protectively facing out. We’re safe.

Crispin is bent over my brother’s body, his hands moving in complicated patterns. How did the healer get here? Thank the Gods that he is, though. My brother will be alright now, Crispin will fix his legs. I turn to search for Arc, who must have landed just behind me.

He’s no longer holding his charge either. Wyn is.

Our Wyn.

She’s cradling her father in her arms, her hands making the same movements that Crispin does when he’s healing someone. Since when can she do that? Crisp showed her the mechanics of it all, but so far, she hasn’t managed to heal even a tiny cut. Now it looks like she’s mending her father’s wounds.

“Wyn?” I ask hesitantly, and she looks up at me.

Her eyes are glowing bright blue, her features are sharper somehow and I’m sure that the hair on her head is her own and not a wig.

What the fuck happened to my Wyn?