Rebirth and Second Chances

There were differences between this Sithern and Saor o Shlabhraidhean, the Sithern I ruled from on Talahm. The most glaring was that the portal location had been transformed into a hall of doors. Each door opening into a different Underhill location.

The portal that would allow movement between Sithern's still existed, but even connected as this Sithern was to the network that had been created on Talahm, transportation between the two universes was blocked. It would take a Power to open a portal that could reach across time and space in two different multi-verses.

A Power like Gwyn ap Nudd. Or the unique feature of the Summerlands.

I believed the only reason the portal existed at all was the Sithern's connection to Limbo. If any dimension could be compared to the Summerlands, it was that one. It existed across the multi-verse. A place in the afterlife for anyone born with a soul.

The Sithern had grown roots to anchor itself. This one small part of Limbo that was reflected across and encapsulated the entire scope of reality.

Without System announcements and access, I wasn't sure how the Sithern was able to communicate with the new inhabitants of this space, or how it informed the newly selected Council of Twelve that they had been anointed and appointed as guardians, but somehow it managed.

I found it interesting that each person had been transported from wherever they were around the world and given access to the world that the Sithern had created. A mass exodus of people that had been trapped Underhill began as they flocked to escape the limitations that Lleu Llaw Gryffes had placed on them.

All except those that had been selected to serve as members of the Twelve.

They had been transported directly into the new council chambers. An easy task to arrange for a Sithern that could reshape anything within its environment. Even I found myself in a new location between one step and the next. The Sithern created a dimensional fold between each step to move me to the entrance of the new council chamber.

My arrival went unnoticed, for the most part. Balfour was here too, somehow, and greeted me, hurrying to my side. He quietly began to share what information he had been able to gather, enough so that he could identify each of the people within the room.

Those present might have noticed my arrival and Balfour's report if not for the argument between Morgan le Fey and High King Lleu Llaw Gyffes. An argument that was escalating. I wasn't sure how long they had been fighting, or how long it had been since the Sithern selected them.

Time flowed differently for me while I was immersed within the epicenter of Sithern's creation. Enough time that the newly anointed Twelve had begun to understand their current situation, and to lay blame for the current state of Sidhe affairs by placing blame and beginning to rehash old arguments.

That they had arrived before me. Early enough to engage in discourse that appeared to be spiraling out of control, only proved that I had been steeped in that cycle of creation longer than I'd thought.

The Sithern had deposited me within the council chambers in time to watch and listen as the argument escalated, and with Balfour's help, I was able to understand the motivation and cause of this outburst. I still wasn't certain why the [Oracle] thought it necessary for Balfour to hide his presence from me when we had traveled between, but I was glad he had. His abilities as a spy-master would make traversing this world and understanding Sidhe politics much easier.

"You abdicated your crown," Morgan le Fey hissed her fury at Lleu Llaw almost with almost apocalyptic rage. That she managed to contain herself and stop from attacking was a testament to her control. Control that she was just barely maintaining.

"You forced Sidhe, who were willing to defend our land, Underhill. You decided who would stay to face the armies of Man and the Fomorians. You decided to retreat, to hide in some deep chasm beneath the Ocean's waters. You left me and mine to stem the tide of war, and at what cost?

"How many Sidhe that could have lived forever tossed aside like so much jetsam? People you considered expendable, acceptable sacrifices to your policies and to your hubris.

"And now that this place exists, you think you can simply reclaim your position as High King?" Morgan sneered with righteous indignation.

"I refuse to bend the knee for a coward. I would see you dead before I allow you to regain your throne and power."

"Choices had to be made, Morgan," Lleu Llaw replied dispassionately, ignoring her emotion, condescension evident in his reply. "The choices I made would guarantee the Sidhe survived."

Where Morgan had reclaimed her power and magics over [Shadow] and was cloaked in her domain, Lleu Llaw had yet to reclaim his magics. Even without those magics, he cast an impressive aura of determination.

He was a creature of the Ocean.

The Sidhe equivalent to Poseidon.

That connection to those waters gave him a bluish-green tinge to his skin and hair. His eyes, instead, were reflective of deepest black. The black that comes from the ocean's depths, waters so deep that no particle of light has ever illuminated what is hidden beneath those deepest waters.

"Survived?" Morgan sneered.

"Trapped like ants Underhill?

"Never to walk the ancestral lands of our people. Never to watch the seasons pass. And you retreated, leaving three-quarters of our people abandoned to live or die by themselves? Left to fight or die because you decided they were expendable?

"How is that survival?

"You fled in your cowardice. You discarded us, discounting those you left behind as worthless.

"And we responded by holding the line. Not an inch of soil has been claimed by the invaders. Those sorties that manage to claim even a part of our territory, that make inroads, are routed within days. Those lands reclaimed."

"But at what cost?" Lleu Llaw wondered with little real care or worry.

"The cost?" Morgan raged. "The cost was lives. Sidhe who sacrificed their immorality to keep our land safe and free.

"The cost was blood and tears.

"The cost was destruction, and war, and grief.

"The cost to keep our land, ours! Borne by those you discarded. Those you deemed worthless to earn a place within the halls of Underhill."

"I had no choice," Lleu Llaw finally bellowed, his anger evident. Morgan's attacks finally pierced the armor of detachment that he had cloaked himself in.

"The Oracles were united. The Sidhe would fall. The armies of Man were seeded with the by-blow of Gods. Gods that were prescribed from direct intervention, circumventing that rule by sending their bastard progeny to carry out our destruction."

"Prophecy?" Morgan spit in disgust. "You forced the most powerful among us to retreat to Underhill. You ran and hid, because of [Prophecy]?

"I wonder if the reason the Oracles each saw the destruction of the Sidhe was because you retreated? You guaranteed the vision of the future they had seen would take place. You know as well as anyone that [Prophecy] is a trap.

"You know. Each of you knows. That [Prophecy] can be a self-fulling event. To act on or react to [Prophecy]. To make decisions or act based on [Prophecy] can often result in the inevitable conclusion foretold.

"But you also know that [Prophecy] can be denied. That the words and visions of the Oracles are only possible futures. They see only what might be, not what will be.

"You have done more damage to the Sidhe than all the armies of Man that have attacked our lands and people for decades by listening to and fearing [Prophecy]," Morgan lamented.

"The blood of our people.

"The sacrifice of immortality by those you deemed disposable can be laid directly at your feet.

"You may have doomed us, all because of some damn bit of esoteric possibilities. You have become the instrument of [Prophecy]," Morgan said accusingly.

"Does any of this matter right now?" The man Balfour identified as Fionn mac Cumhaill wondered.

Fionn had a presence to him, the other Sidhe lacked. A connection with the earth that made him seem not only more grounded but more solid. He had an earthy smell to him that spoke of freshly tilled fields. A Power built on a foundation as solid as bedrock.

"The truth is Morgan is right," Nimue said, "but so is Llew Llaw. And as distasteful as it may be for both sides to hear, Fionn's point is well made.

"We should be addressing our current circumstances, not re-hashing old debates that will never result in a resolution. We are too divided on what was done. The question before us should be how was [Geas] broken. And what is this place?"

Nimue was Selkie. Her moniker as Lady of the Lake was fitting, given her race. Like Lleu Llaw, she had a bluish-green tint to her skin and hair. But where Lleu Llaw's leaned more towards green, her coloring was more iridescent blues.

"She's right," Puck agreed. He was the first to speak, who wasn't entirely Seelie or Unseelie. He was Knocker, the bloodline evident, the physical characteristic apparent. He displayed the pointed ears and serrated teeth of that people. He looked more Dark-Elf than Sidhe if the elf was barely two-feet tall. But the Sithern had selected him and identified him as a Power, so there was no mistaking his true heritage.

"What is the place? How was it created? How was every Underhill connected? How did the [Geas] that bound us Underhill break, at least unravel enough to allow us to gather in this place?"

Puck was the first Knocker I had come across since I'd transitioned into the world. My experiences with Wynn had me predisposed to like and trust him right away. I hoped the character flaws that Shakespeare had written concerning his Puck didn't translate across dimensions.

Unless he was willing to put his skills in trickery to use for me.

"And what was that testing?" Angus demanded?

"I've never felt any magic or glamour like that before. There was an awareness, a mind, behind that testing. Something with the ability to judge not only my power but my actions and my motivations.

"How is something like that possible?"

"And what does it mean that we have been selected as members of this council?" Nimue wondered. "What does it mean to be a member of the Council of Twelve?"

"An interesting idea," Merlin chimed in. "Instead of a High King to rule them all, a council of equals to lead us. A chance for diplomacy and compromise to supplant the old ways."

Merlin's appearance was the most jarring of those present, probably because of my expectations at hearing the name. If I hadn't read the stories of Camelot. If I hadn't built an image of him as a stooped, wizened old man, my expectations would have been tempered. But Merlin as Slaugh came as a surprise, one that took a few seconds for my expectations and the reality to resolve.

"It will never work," Lleu Llaw replied. "Even as diminished as we are, my Power is great enough that I can still force my will among our people. Over each of you."

"Maybe not," Gwydion fab Don interjected. "What you might not be aware of is that magic has returned. The promises of the Summerlands have been fulfilled. And that the old magic that has been forgotten or lost has gained new life."

"Magics that makes any of us your equal," Morgan warned as she released those spells long held in abeyance. Magics and spells that she hadn't been able to cast before the return of [Fairy]. Now flung with purpose as her magic, fueled by her anger, slammed into Lleu Llaw Gyffes. His words understood to be a threat. A threat that she no longer feared.

Morgan le Fey would no longer bend the knee to High King Lleu Llaw Gyffes. His reign was over. There would be a new High King.