Page 5 of Broken Veil
“There is an ancient fae gate in this area,” Godrik said.
“Look.” Cadell pointed toward the riverbank on the near side of the river.
Carys rubbed her eyes and blinked, but all she saw was a dense stand of trees that rode along the top of the moss-covered walls of the embankment. Just beyond Chelsea Bridge was thelow, arched silhouette of Grosvenor Bridge, and the lights of the city were dancing on the dark, flowing water of the Thames.
“What the hell is that?” Duncan was staring at the embankment.
“That’s the gate,” Godrik said. “But I’ve never seen one like this. Not on this side of the gates.”
Carys frowned. “I don’t get it.”
There was nothing in the trees save for a few dancing fireflies.
“Carys, what do you think those are?” Duncan pointed at the dark silhouette of the trees along the river.
“Fireflies?” She shrugged.
“No,” Cadell said. “We do not have fireflies here.”
Carys blinked and looked closer. “You mean?—”
“The gate is beneath those trees,” Godrik said. “I don’t think it’s been used for centuries, not since the humans here built this embankment.” He pointed to Grosvenor Bridge. “There’s one a bit farther up under the bridge that’s better traveled, but those aren’t fireflies, Lady Carys. Those are wisps.”
Wisps.
Carys’s breath caught.
Will-o’-the-wisps, the dancing souls of Shadowkin never allowed to be born.
Every time a child was born in the Brightlands, their shadow self came into being on the other side of the fae gates. Created by old magic, not every child’s soul was given a body. Many were born only to live in an endless limbo, food for the dark fae creatures who controlled the portals between the two worlds, destined to whisper in the night until their light flickered out.
“Wisps show up in Scotland sometimes,” Duncan said. “We see them in the forests there. There have always been a few.”
“In California too,” Carys added. “We see them in the forests around the gates.”
Cadell turned to look at Duncan. “But in all your years living in London, have you ever seen wisps here?”
“No,” Duncan said. “Not out in the open like this.”
Carys watched the embankment as the few humans on the bridge walked over, stopped, stared, and pointed at the lights.
A bright wisp darted out from the trees and danced across the river, disappearing under the bridge where a quiet splashing sound echoed across the water. A second later, the wisp disappeared from sight.
“What was that?” Carys whispered.
“What lives under bridges?” Duncan murmured.
“Trolls,” Cadell said.
“In Brightlands London?” Carys’s heart raced. “This is bad. This is so bad.”
Cadell walked over, keeping his voice low. “Since the time that magic left this world and retreated to the Shadowlands, the gates have been guarded by the fae. The portals between the two worlds have thinned at times, but they have always held.”
Godrik moved closer. “But now there is an ancient god in the Brightlands who has not been worshipped actively for centuries. This world is new to her, and she’s been given a massive jolt of violent energy from the battle in the Shadowlands.”
“She’s stretching the limits of her power,” Carys said. “Testing things out.”
Duncan added, “And from her publicity stunt in Salisbury, it looks like she wants to make a statement.”
