Page 153 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Rhoswyn

The Hunt rides up from the Autumn Court in a now-familiar rush of baying and cheering and drum beats.

“That was the last village,” Drystan murmurs.

The night has taken its toll on him. On all of them, really. I can practically feel the exhaustion pouring off him. Beneath us, a fine sheen of sweat covers Blizzard’s coat.

Still, neither of them let it show. They’ve been tirelessly herding up spirits for what feels like hours—even though I suppose there’s no way to measure time.

“So what now?” I ask, stroking Wraith’s head.

The barghest pup somehow fell asleep, even with all of the noise. Every now and again, his little paws twitch in his sleep, as if he’s dreaming about chasing souls with the others of his kind. It’s adorable.

Of course, Drystan mutters in discontent every time he does it.

I’m beginning to think nothing I do will ever gain me his approval. Poor Wraith is tainted by association.

“Now we take them home.”

Just as vague and unhelpful as ever. “And where is that, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer.

Fine. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

We’re high in the glimmering sky when Blizzard rears to a stop. Only Drystan’s body surrounding me keeps me on the horse, and I have to work fast to steady myself as he releases the reins and summons that whip once again.

The drumming seems to speed up. The hounds and valravne howl and crow as if they’re one voice.

As suddenly as it started. It stops.

Drystan’s whip lashes through the air, striking the air in front of us with a formidable snap that seems to reverberate through my very bones.

The space where his whip struck seems to ripple, then split. The night glows with a golden light as the darkness itself peels away, revealing a… tear? Like Drystan has somehow torn the fabric of the world apart.

A warm, soft breeze seems to beckon us through from beyond. The scent of meadows and sunshine fills my nostrils, and I take a deep breath, inhaling it like a drug until I almost don’t notice the spirits riding past us.

The ghostly animals carry their riders through the gap in a riot of thundering hooves and beating wings. The spirits whoop and cheer as they pass through, but the glow coming from the rift is too bright for me to see if they make it to the other side—or where they’re going.

But I know, instinctively, that this must be the Otherworld.

For the longest second, I want nothing more than to follow. To jump on one of the ghostly mounts and leap through the rift into this place, which smells like paradise.

A second later, it’s over. The last creature—an immense grey swan—soars through with a gaggle of giggling fae children on its back.

The moment that final spirit crosses over, the threshold seals itself. Stealing the warmth and leaving me with a strange sense of homesickness I can’t quite understand.

“That was…”

“You get used to it.” Drystan dismisses my awe with a cynicism I’ve come to expect from him.

“I hope I don’t,” I mutter. “That was… wonderful.”

In the mortal realm, I watched my father slowly go mad from the fear of his own impending death and the unknown that waited for him beyond. Fear inevitably combined with the physical pain he was suffering and turned to anger until he lashed out at everyone around him. These fae know exactly what waits for them after death. They won’t ever have to experience the gut-numbing fear that plagues humans in the moments before they fall asleep.

The host has been given a gift, one I hope they fully appreciate.

Drystan stiffens, and I realise I’ve once again accidentally spoken my thoughts aloud. But instead of the scathing comment I’m expecting, he chooses to ignore my words all together and kicks Blizzard into motion.

---