“We are here,” announced the witch in a creaky, singsong voice. “You have arrived in the Deep Wyld, without having to go through Summer, Winter, Iron, or the wyldwood. Have a lovely time, and say hello to the big dog if you find him. Now, if you would please leave my cottage as soon as you are able, I must be going. I sense something on the wind, and the rumors circulating through Faery have not been pleasant of late.”
We had started to leave the tiny room, but Meghan paused, glancing back at the witch with a frown. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What kinds of rumors?”
“Ominous rumors.” The witch shook her head. “Frightening ones. Rumors of End Times, sightings that point to the twilight of all living things. Shadow creatures clawing at the very fabric of Faery, wanting in. The Nevernever is not going to be safe much longer. I am taking my home, and we are fleeing into the Deep Wyld, as far as we can go. Maybe, if we are lucky, we will reach the End of the World, though I fear even that will not be far enough.”
I felt a chill crawl up my back. I hadn’t ever fought the Bone Witch directly, but I knew what she could do. Legends of her and her unique house still existed in the mortal realm, making the witch extremely powerful in her own right. If even she feared what was coming, things were serious indeed.
And by the look on Meghan’s face, I knew she was thinking the same.
“So, farewell, all of you,” the witch said, gesturing us toward the door again. “The house enjoyed having you here, but it is time for you to go.” She looked at Grimalkin, still sitting in her chair, and her nose wrinkled. “Cait sith, we are done. Your favor has been repaid, and our business is now complete. I do not think you will see me again for a very long time. Now get out of my house.”
Grimalkin yawned, stretched, and sauntered out the door without speaking. The rest of us followed, ducking crow’s feet and dried rat heads as we headed across the floor.
“Son of Mab.” The witch’s voice stopped me at the doorframe. I turned back to find her watching me, pointed fingers steepled under her chin. “You have changed,” she observed. “When last I saw you, you were a pure Unseelie fey, drowning in grief and rage. A Winter prince driven by anger and violence. You are different now.”
“I earned my soul,” I said simply. “I have a family. They are the most important things in my life now. That Unseelie prince is gone.”
“He is still there,” the witch countered. “Different, perhaps. Given new purpose. But he will always be a part of you.” She raised a withered finger. “I extend this warning, son of Mab. Now that you have much more to lose, be cautious that you are not consumed trying to protect it.”
Witches and oracles, I’d found, loved extending cryptic warnings. It was a waste of time to argue, or to try to get more information out of them, so I simply nodded and left the cottage, joining the others outside. Meghan cocked her head at me as I walked down the steps, her gaze curious.
“Everything all right?” she asked. “Did the witch say anything to you?”
“Nothing important,” I replied, feeling a glow of possessive determination from within as I met her gaze. Something was out there, coming closer to our world, something even the witch feared, but I would protect my family. For Meghan and Keirran, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep them safe.
With a deafening creak, the house stood up, shedding dirt and leaves everywhere, and began striding away on long chicken legs. It crashed into the trees, snapping branches and splitting limbs, and stomped back into the deep forest. In moments, it had vanished into the dark.
I gazed around. The Deep Wyld surrounded us, untamed and overgrown. Unlike the endless twilight of the wyldwood, night reigned supreme here. The sun never rose, and the shadows held eternal dominion over everything. The trees surrounding us were ancient, gnarled giants covered in moss and glowing vines, and the ground was covered with a thick, spongy carpet that left luminescent footprints when stepped on. In the forest, branches rustled, creatures chirped or screamed or cried, and I could feel eyes on us from every angle.
The Deep Wyld hadn’t changed. It was still ominous, unfriendly, and extremely dangerous. I only hoped that the most dangerous predator of all still roamed somewhere nearby. I did not want to journey across the Deep Wyld a second time.
A faint exhalation of breath drew my attention to Keirran. He stood a few yards away, gazing up at the massive trees with an almost pained look on his face. Tiny lights danced in the air before him, and against the backdrop of the Deep Wyld, he appeared more fey than before—pointed ears, sharp cheekbones, and pale hair a stark contrast in the gloom.
“Keirran.”
He sighed and turned toward us, and the longing in his eyes was suddenly plain to see.
“Sorry. I just...” He gestured helplessly to the trees soaring overhead. Cyan lightning bugs drifted around him, turning his hair neon blue. “I never thought I’d be back,” he muttered. “In the Nevernever. Not for a long time, anyway.” Raising a hand, he watched as a glowing firefly landed on a fingertip, blinking erratically. “I’ve missed this place,” he murmured.
My heart went out to him, even as anger flickered to life within. Keirran had been born in Faery; he was as much an inhabitant to the Nevernever as the fey who called it home. Exiling him had been especially cruel, because even though he was part human and could handle the real world perfectly well, he had grown up surrounded by magic, monsters, faeries, and glamour. Losing all of that, as well as the only home he’d ever known, had to be tough.
“Hey.” Surprisingly, Puck strode forward and put a hand on Keirran’s shoulder, causing the fireflies swarming around him to zip away. “I wouldn’t stress too much about that, kid,” he said. “Take it from someone who has been banished...what, three times now? Four? There’s always a way around it. Faery doesn’t forget, true, but Faery is also fickle as hell. Just wait until the next catastrophe—they’ll call you back right quick if they think you’re the only one who can save the world.”
Keirran gave Puck a faint smile. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“If you are all ready.” Grimalkin walked by, leaving the faintest glowing paw prints in the moss at our feet. “I suggest we move quickly—the dog gets bored quite easily and will wander off if we do not make haste.”
“How do we know he hasn’t already left?” Puck wondered.
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Nyx said. She had paused beneath a dead pine, and was crouched over something in the moss. As we crowded around, we saw what it was.
An enormous paw print, bigger than my hand, glowing faintly in the luminescent moss.
“This is fairly recent,” the Forgotten mused, touching a fingertip to the enormous track. “I think whatever made this is close.”