Page 127 of The Silent Mountain
“Do we really think they will all participate?” Stefan asks.
“The shifters, yes,” Favian says. “But what about the Fae and the humans?”
“It depends on who we ask,” Shayan says.
“Yes, leave the humans up to Flinn,” Endellion smirks. “He will make them agree.”
I look at him with slight amusement. “How come you are so sure of that?”
His smirk grows. “A feeling. As triplets, we have a special bond to each other.”
“Is that so?” I ask. “Well, if you believe Prince Flinn is able to handle it, I have no reason to doubt you.”
“And the Fae?” Alana asks.
“I am not sure. They are unpredictable and sly. They will only participate if it amuses them or something catches their interest.”
“Do you think you have something to catch their interest with?” I ask.
“I think I do.” Shayan glances at Alana. To my surprise, she seems to understand what he is hinting at. “I could reach out to them. Offer them something that might intrigue them.”
“Try it,” Alana says. “Please.”
Shayan nods.
Favian,Favia’s voice suddenly disrupts me.You need to come to me immediately.
What, now?
She never seeks me out so spontaneously, unless it’s in my dreams or when I meditate and call to her on purpose. In case of an emergency, she takes over my body or talks through our connection, the way our mutual contract allows her to. It’s a give and take.
But she never asks me to join her in the world between living and dreaming just like that.
“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” I tell the others. “Favia has called me.”
“Now?” Alana asks, surprised. “Like, immediately?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Then it can’t be good,” she whispers, a hint of anxiety on her face.
“I will find out,” I say, before closing my eyes and allowing my mind to drift off until I have reached a beautiful meadow. Years of meditation have taught me how to reach this place without much struggle. Favia expects me already, her face etched with worry. It still feels weird to see her like this. She is like a mirror of myself, like my female twin. She has no human appearance in her original form, so even here she manifests in the one human shell she knows: mine.
“Favian,” she says earnestly. “I have news.”
“I thought as much. What happened?”
“The picture Elio drew,” she says. “From the man Alana and he saw. I have found out who it is.”
I stare at her. “What? You know him?”
“Knowing would be a stretch. But I have certainly heard his name. It’s Arawn.”
“I have never heard about him,” I admit. “Who is he?”
“He is the god of death, representing darkness and fear. This is not a lesser deity, Favian. This is an actual god.”
I stare at her as the information slowly settles in. “By Aengus,” I breathe out.
