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Prologue

Autumn, 2028

With one final shove, Sera pushed her mother's funeral ship into the cold waters of lake, sending gentle ripples ahead of it to herald her passing into the afterlife. She picked up her bow from where it lay against her pack and pulled out a lighter, sparking a flame to light the arrow that was waiting for one last flight. It was easy for Sera to make the shot, in more ways than one.

The arrow thudded into the bundle of kindling, igniting the carefully-made pile and spreading to the rest of the tiny vessel. It was an old canoe in truth, but it would serve for her mother. Shadowhunters were burned when they died, and whatever else her mother had done, she had been a Shadowhunter.

She watched the canoe drift out farther into the lake, and the wind blowing down from the north was cold as she inhaled. An early blast of winter had come to strip the Muskoka Lakes of their autumn beauty; a thin layer of snow had already covered the ground and would soon bury the land around her tiny cottage. Her breath fogged the air as she exhaled. Everything matched what she had seen in her dream. She had been waiting for this day for nearly a year.

Turning away from the lake, Sera walked back up the embankment toward the cottage. It was time to close it up for good and get moving. No time to waste.

It was easy to pack; she'd never had much out here in the isolated cottage where she had been born and raised. Never allowed to stray far from the lake, her mother had been desperate to keep her hidden from the Clave, from Downworlders, from everything for the last 17 years. Her training had been lonely, but hard; her mother had seen to that. But her mother couldn't protect her from the dreams, and Sera had long-since learned to stop sharing them with her.

While awake, Sera's heart had been chained to this lake and her mother, but it was the hours she spent dreaming that she truly lived for. Her father's blood had given her that much, at least.

A small bundle of food joined what little she had already shoved into her pack and her hands passed by the hand-carved gifts from her mother, and her own childish crafts made years ago. None of it mattered anymore. This part of her life was ending, and she wasn't going to need it where she was going.

She knelt down and pried a stone free from the edge of the hearth, reaching into the space behind it to pull out the last of her family's precious heirlooms. Glittering sapphires and shining diamonds sparkled up at her, and matching earrings followed the necklace into her pack. It would be enough to get her started. That was all she needed. A good start.

She rose, brushing the ashes from the hearth off her jeans. There were still hours of daylight left to get to the highway and catch her ride into town.

As she took one last look at the tiny interior of the cottage, she caught a flash of a vision – her mother's stele, tucked away in the bedside table drawer.

Sera shook her head, willing the vision to jump further and show her why, to give her a reason to take this piece of her mother's life with her. Nothing more came. She sighed and crossed the room to her mother's bedroom. These flashes were so seldom wrong. She slipped the stele into the side pocket of the pack. Just in case, she thought. Although why she would need a stele, of all people, was beyond her.

The door closed tightly behind her but she didn't lock it; there was no lock. Maybe someone would need a safe place to stay someday and find this abandoned cottage. Maybe animals would manage to push their way in and live like kings. The only thing that was certain was that she wasn't coming back. Not ever.

The trees welcomed her as she passed from the clearing into the protection of their boughs. Aged trunks slid by and great branches dipped overhead, escorting her away from everything she had known in her waking life, silent sentinels that had watched her grow up amongst them. Her dreams had shown her so much, but she still knew so little of what was needed. As she walked, she let her mind drift back to where it always went, to the first dream that had set her on this path, to him.

Sera had been 11 the first time she dreamed of him. It had been among the first of her dreams that felt different. These ones were special. Sometimes they held hints of what the future could be, sometimes they felt so strongly of the present that Sera was certain that they were really happening at that moment, and sometimes they took on a faded quality that made them feel like things that had already happened.

This dream was strong, and its sense of immediacy was overwhelming. This was happening. This was real.

Great, dark trees rose all around her, high into the night sky, exaggerated by dream sense, as things often are. They ringed an expansive clearing where glimmering Faerie lights floated in the air, unsupported, twinkling with a lazy grace. Starlight shone down on the clearing, adding to the ethereal illumination.

The dream flashed, and now the space was filled with beautiful and terrible creatures, creatures she never could have imagined. Slender bodies in every imaginable hue, some winged, some horned, others even more exotic. Flowing hair shimmered in wild colours, and jarred the eye with incongruous glimpses of chitin and claws. Feral eyes flashed above perfect smiles, and delicate limbs sometimes ended in talons or hooves. She couldn't hear the music, but she knew it was there and could feel it thrumming through her chest, pulling at her heart without being able to hear a single note. She could see some of the Fey farther back in the trees, dancing and twisting in the night, helplessly ensnared by the music and throwing away every thought except of dancing more in their lust for pleasure.

Wings fluttered impatiently and antlers twisted around as heads turned to see what was happening at the far end of the clearing. Sera slipped closer in her dream, sliding through the crowd of achingly beautiful monsters. She drifted through the last bit of spectators and could at last see what was drawing their attention.

A great throne of twisted oak rose from the earth, clearly not an original part of the clearing. Gnarled limbs extended from the back, twisting upward almost painfully, cursed to never again know the clean lines their limbs once bore proudly. Upon the throne was a Faerie woman of surpassing beauty, her elaborately-styled red tresses so lush even in a dream that Sera ached to reach out and touch them. She was gowned in diaphanous gold, the folds clinging where they should and flowing gracefully everywhere else. A crown was just visible in her hairstyle, and Sera surmised that this must be the Seelie Queen she had heard of during her mother's lectures.

The silent music humming through her chest faded and the Seelie Queen rose from her throne with grace that spoke of a thousand years of addressing her subjects. Her ice-blue eyes pierced the assembled crowd and Sera could feel the weight of that gaze as it swept by her, the power that radiated from a Queen of Faerie. Rosebud lips parted and the Queen spoke,

"Welcome, my faithful and loyal subjects. The Seelie Court makes free with its food and drink this night, that you may revel and take pleasure in it and from each other," she paused as the crowd cheered and raised glasses filled with every colour of drink Sera could imagine, and a few she couldn't.

"Even now, the Nephilim and their Downworld allies celebrate the renewal of their Accords in the City of Glass, without the Fair Folk." The crowd hissed at this, and the Queen raised her hands to stay their anger.

"The Nephilim children do not understand that we, the most powerful and oldest of Races, care nothing for their human laws. If they think to grind us under their heels, they will learn to their woe that we were here long before their kind, and will live on long after they are wiped from this earth."

The gathered Faeries stamped loudly with ill-assorted feet and hooves, cheering wildly and Sera could feel the blood-lust growing in the crowd, that feeling that comes from being on the very precipice of becoming a mob.

"The Shadowhunters think they have the power to strip us of our weapons and deny our legendary warriors their right to bear arms. I laugh in the face of this order. Let our warriors come forth now to entertain us with their skill and valour!" The Seelie Queen clapped her hands together twice and a gap opened behind and to the side of her throne.

Two-dozen Faerie knights, armed and armoured in splendour marched forward. Great, antlered helms, white chain-link mail, even a crusted bark-like armour streamed past the twisted throne until they stood before their Queen and knelt as one. Sera could see that many of them had the slimmer and smaller forms of females under beautiful armour, delicate hands braced on hilts or fingering blades strapped to thighs.

One, at the far end, was smaller than the rest and wore a double-bladed staff across their back. The blades were wickedly curved at the ends, and the weapon looked almost too large for the Faerie knight. Light-weight black leather armour covered the Faerie from head to toe, including a mask that covered their face from the eyes down. A shock of ice-white hair spilled down, nearly shoulder-length, slightly pointed ears just visible. The knight's gaze was riveted on the Seelie Queen, and Sera moved even closer to the gnarled throne to get a closer look. Something about this particular knight drew her in, and she crossed in front of the throne.

The knight's eyes snapped to Sera, looking right at her for just an instant. Eyes of the deepest emerald fixed Sera in place, holding her captive as surely as chains. This wasn't possible. It was a dream. No one could see her. A hint on confusion darkened the knight's expression and Sera used the distraction to wrench herself away, vanishing from where she stood in front of the throne. She found herself back in the crowd, just another spectator again.

The dream flashed again, and now the leather-clad Faerie knight was in the centre of the clearing, a make-shift arena, and the double-bladed staff was gripped in gloved hands. Sera had been wrong earlier; it wasn't too big. It fit every line of the knight perfectly, and she knew that it would be wielded with deadly grace.

The ground within the arena boundaries was rough and torn up. Many matches must have been fought already, but if Sera was seeing this one, it must be important.

There was a stirring at the eastern end of the clearing and Sera moved closer to hear what was being said. A massive man with eyes of two different colours was holding a horned helmet under one arm and was gripping the shoulder of another Faerie with his other hand. A long blade of hammered metal hung at the large Faerie's waist, black and twisted like it had been burned over and over again. The Faerie he held had nearly black hair with a sheen of blue and green shot through, almost as if it couldn't decide what colour to settle on. His eyes were two different colours as well, but both black and silver burned with equal intensity. He shook free of the other's grip and sneered.

"I will pay whatever blood-price the Queen has set to do battle with her whelp, Gwyn."

The larger Faerie shook his head slowly, sadly. "Let the past stay in the past, Kieran. The mortal world has seen many years pass since that day; let your heart see them pass as well."

Kieran's face twisted for a moment. "You cannot understand. I will do this thing, and then my heart will allow some of the pain to bleed away. Give me leave to fight, that I might find peace."

Gwyn settled back a bit within his great cloak, seeming to take the measure of the other Faerie as if weighing his heart in those massive hands.

Gwyn tilted his head and said, "You would fight to find peace, Hunter? You are still so young," He shook his head, and for a moment, Kieran's face fell. "Do what you must."

A dark light seemed to fall across Kieran's face as Gwyn melted back into the crowd of fierce Faerie faces around him, the wildness of Faerie chillingly palpable to Sera, even through the dream. These Faeries, these Hunters, were different from the rest. Kieran bounded forward into the arena to stand across from the leather-clad Faerie knight who still stood waiting, staff in hand.

The Seelie Queen rose from her throne once more, her face alive with a wild pleasure at the two combatants in the arena. Her voice soared over the crowd,

"My lord Gwyn of the Hunt! You honour us by allowing one of your Hunters to join in our little games! How delightful!" She clapped her hands once more and settled back to watch, anticipation lighting up the beautiful lines of her curving smile.

In the arena, Kieran pulled battered white gauntlets from his belt and pulled them on slowly, fingers easing into familiar material now worn from a thousand battles. He flexed his hands and looked at them intently for a moment, lost in memories that Sera couldn't imagine.

The Hunter's hands flashed too quickly for Sera's eyes to follow and a blade whipped out of its sheathe at his waist, arcing for the knight in a silver flicker, and she was certain it was over before it could even begin.

The knight vanished, faint wisps of black smoke curling in the air where he had stood. Before Sera could even begin to process it, he had reappeared behind the Hunter, staff sweeping up to strike at his unprotected back. The Hunter was caught completely off guard and off balance, nearly stumbling through the empty space where his opponent should have been standing.

The knight's staff sliced across the Hunter's back, leaving a shallow slash through armour and flesh alike. The Hunter spun around with lightning speed, darting back for another strike and was parried by the knight, staff whirling, deadly blades flashing in the Faerie light.

The spectators were drunk with their intoxicating delights, enchanted by their own food, and were screaming with blood-lust as the two combatants met again in a clash of steel. The knight feinted and struck and parried, pushing the Hunter back on his heels, and Sera could see the intense focus locked in those green eyes.

The Hunter snarled, a second blade appearing in his left hand, and now they wove a deadly dance between them, staff spinning deftly in black gloves, sword and dagger in white gauntlets. The Hunter pressed back, slashing and darting, maddened by his opponent in a way that Sera couldn't understand.

Seconds ticked by and all of the jeers from the crowd, the still-inaudible music, and even the sharp shearing noises coming from the blades began to fade away until Sera was watching the fight in nearly silent slow-motion.

In moves that would have been too fast for her to see if the dream had not slowed, Sera saw the Hunter's dagger snake past the blurred staff, aiming for the knight's heart. The second stretched and Sera's breath caught in her throat, her own heartbeat slowed to a single hard pulse as the knight vanished again, now behind the Hunter, hand closed over the dagger hilt as it drove toward where it would have pierced flesh.

The dream snapped back to regular speed and suddenly the Hunter was on his back on the ground, thrown down by the knight taking advantage of the forward momentum. The knight still held the dagger and in the second that it took the Hunter to comprehend what had just happened, the dagger pierced the Hunter's left hand, pinning him to the ground.

The Hunter screamed in pain and the knight stepped back, the fight concluded.

The knight retreated a few more paces and knelt, facing the Seelie Queen once more, and raised the staff in salute, offering the honour of the victory to her. Her eyes blazed and she couldn't contain the satisfaction that curled up the edges of her smile. She fixed her eyes on the knight and nodded once in approval, accepting the victory as her own.

The Hunter, forgotten on the torn ground, wrenched his own dagger from his left hand and dropped it into the dirt as he rose to his knees, chest heaving, his lips frozen in a rictus of pain and rage at the humiliation he was consumed by. A touch of madness had a hold of his mind, dulling the pain in his hand and back. He launched himself at the knight, clawing and grasping at the leather armour.

The knight turned in shock at the unexpected attack. The Hunter tore at the armour, crazed, and hissed at the knight, "You are not a Shadowhunter." The knight grappled with the Hunter, still confused. The Hunter ripped away an arm guard and reached back in for more, still tearing away at anything he could get a grip on.

"You are not a Shadowhunter!" The Hunter screamed at the knight, pulling away the mask that had protected the lower half of the knight's face.

Massive arms encircled the Hunter, trapping him, and Gwyn lifted Kieran away from the knight. Kicking and struggling, the Hunter was pulled backwards by Gwyn, his face now streaked with tears that smeared through the dust kicked up by the fight, the pain in his eyes bleeding through the anger. The Hunter shouted one last time as he was carried away, "You are not a Shadowhunter!"

Sera's heart was racing as she looked back at the knight, still kneeling in the dirt, armour torn away in places. She had misjudged earlier; she thought the knight had been a female because of their small stature. But she was looking a boy, barely older than her perhaps, though it was always hard to tell with Faeries. She could just see the edge of one of the Angel's runes on his forearm. He was watching Gwyn carry away the maddened Hunter, a look of hurt etched on his face. He looked back at the Seelie Queen for direction, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

She beckoned him to kneel at her feet. When he had done so, she stood and gently stroked the side of his face. "You did well, my son."

Sera cursed under her breath as her foot turned on a rock hidden by the snow. Hours of walking in the cold had not improved her mood.

The first dream had been burned into her memory for the last six years. There had been others, of course, so many others, but that one always stood foremost. The other, from last winter, had been much darker. It had had the feeling that always came when tendrils of the future twisted back through time to tease at her dreams. She had seen him. Seen him hunted. Seen him squared against his mother's enemies, and his father's. She'd seen him win. She'd seen him lose. She'd seen him die.

But there was still time to fix it. The future isn't set until it becomes the present, and by then it's already in the past, she thought to herself as she trudged through the forest toward the road where a silver car would be kind enough to stop and give her a ride into town. That darker dream had absolutely resonated with a sense of time, telling her when it would come to pass. Warning her how long she had left to change it.

The road appeared ahead of her and she scrambled up from the deep ditch and started walking south along the shoulder. Her breath puffed out as twilight started to fall, the chill already settled into her hands and feet from the long walk. She thought about her mother's funeral pyre slipping under the water of the lake where they had lived out her mother's exile. She thought about her father, whom she had never known, but had caught glimpses of in dreams of the past. She thought about how much work it was going to be to get ready for what was coming. But most of all, she thought about him.

Sera turned around and peered down the road, searching for headlights. Light bloomed from around a bend and she flung out her right arm, thumb up, walking backwards and huffed a few more clouds of breath as she waited.

A silver Honda slowed and then stopped just past her and she jogged over, hitching her pack to one shoulder, ready to sling it into the trunk. The passenger-side window whirred down and the driver called out to her, "You need some help?"

More than you know, she thought.

The trunk popped open and Sera tossed what was left of her old life inside, then climbed into the passenger seat. She nodded when the driver asked if she wanted a lift into town, and she thanked him.

She leaned her temple against the window and watched as the lakes and forests were blanketed over by darkness, erasing everything except the bit of road that she could still see in the headlights. Seems about right, she thought to herself.

Her eyes started to close, and the last thought she held on to was the one that had driven her every day for nearly a year.

I have five years left to get ready. I have five years left to figure out how to save him.