Bound By The Goddess – Prologue

The Morrigan

Somewhere else…

Although we were cast out, not everything changed. A court of fae still surrounded me. Laughter continued, and my people still lived their lives. To them, it didn’t matter that a barrier stood between us and the rest of the Thirteen Realms.

A barrier that took a lot of effort.

Centuries of work to find the right people, and for what? Three simpering gods to wedge a foot in the door and hog the energy. All while they trapped my warriors between the Veil.

Gods didn’t need access to humanity to feed their powers. We simply required belief, and I had enough of that in my court. Yet some of my brethren weren’t content with that. They wanted more, and I refused to give it to them.

But as much fun as I experienced toying with their efforts to bring down the barrier for good, I couldn’t shake the need for… something.

My court happily danced and drank around me as though there wasn’t a waste field beyond my walls. Two hundred years ago, I would have found pleasure in their joy.

Now, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to how horribly wrong my carefully laid plan went.

When the doors locked, with me on the wrong side, and the other gods discovered witches had trapped us, they turned to outright assaults on the barriers. I snorted, remembering the sight of it. No matter how despondent I became with waiting, their stupidity would never fail to amuse me. Gods wasting their reserves to attack an impenetrable barrier. 

None of us possessed the power to sift through it. I’d made sure of that. Despite knowing that, they’d still tried. 

When that failed, the infighting started. 

And all the while, I watched, comfortable in my tower above it all, protected by my connection to the earth and my flock.

I could repair the damage, but the earth whispered to wait. 

So I did. 

For three hundred and fifty-five years, I have waited for my twelve warriors to escape their prison and finish the job. The gesture had grown fake and keeping my boredom secret had become difficult. Impatience passed centuries ago. Then came rage and now, I’d reached a level of apathy that concerned even me.

Everyone stopped as I rose. Every eye in the room burned against my skin. I smiled, because I always did. I left the ballroom and walked down the guarded corridors with well-practised purpose, determination in my stride even though I had no destination in mind. Beyond the swish of my gown and the clatter of my heels, silence reigned. 

When I reached my chambers, my ravens waited, all three of them perched on their stands, eying me with quizzical tilts of their heads.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my tone a little defensive. “I put in an appearance. They’ll be fine without me.”

It didn’t appease them, but I ignored them, turning  instead to the thing I now realised had been whispering to me for the last hour. 

The mirror took up the entire back wall of my walk-in wardrobe — I might be trapped, but a woman needed her treasures. The frame glittered with a dirty gold that spoke of age and an ornate finish that showed ancient craftsmanship. But the glass was anything but old. It shimmered no matter the light. Power imbued it, and not mine.

The stranger thing? I couldn’t remember acquiring the piece. It just turned up the day my men were captured and my plan stalled. 

Ever since, it had shown me things.

Could it have news of my warriors?

The image cleared, and the moment of elation crashed. 

Although it displayed men, the two before me bore no resemblance to the coven of twelve who served me. No, these two wore modern clothing, and though handsome, neither of them could compare to my men. They differed in both appearance and energy. One had an athletic build with sun-kissed blond hair and calm blue eyes. The other, with a shock of vibrant red hair and hazel eyes, seemed more awkward.

Stunning though they were, why had the mirror showed me them?

Then their conversation floated over me, as though carried on a breeze.

“Will you stop with the flicking?” The blond demanded, exasperation leaking from him. He lay on a sofa, sprawled out and uncaring of where his feet lay. “We’ve talked about this. There isn’t a woman on the planet who would handle us, let alone him.” 

He hooked a finger to an armchair in the corner that contained a hulk of a man I had entirely missed in my first perusal. Shadows wrapped around him and something inside of me perked up. 

“Okay, you’ve got me intrigued,” I muttered to the mirror as I edged closer. “Tell me more.”

An almost foreign feeling bubbled in my stomach. Giddiness. Excitement. Anticipation. Call it whatever the Annwn you wanted. I hadn’t felt it in aeons.

As they continued bickering amongst themselves about their chances and the need for hope, I eyed the mirror critically.

It couldn’t have responded to me.

The very idea of it was absurd. 

And yet… every time the boredom grew unbearable, the mirror gifted me a distraction.

My eyes narrowed on the three men before me. What distraction did they pose?

I couldn’t imagine any of them working for my brethren. The air of optimism would have dissolved from their auras within weeks of getting into bed with one of them.

“I refuse to believe the goddess would abandon us like that,” the red-haired one said with a determined glint in his hazel eyes, “and I’m not going to stop swiping until we find her.”

The other two groaned, but I leaned closer. Goddess? 

“Which goddess would that be, child?” I murmured to myself.

All three were witches, that much I could ascertain. The flavour of their magic eluded me, no doubt thanks to the barrier. 

Once upon a time, I had been the voice of all witches within the Thirteen Realms. They called to me with every ritual, fuelling me, feeding me as they called for my vengeance and directed my warpath.

Those calls had reduced to whispers over the years, voices so soft, I could believe them nothing more than the wind.

“The Morrigan wouldn’t concern herself with the likes of me, Finlay,” the raven-haired one encased in the shadows said. “Leave it be, for once.”

The note of despondency in his voice quieted the race of my thoughts. It triggered an answering pang of hopelessness in my chest. A pang I detested. It suggested me weak.

Witches invoking my name could not be blinded with anguish.

“This one doesn’t have the first clue who I take an interest in,” I growled, glaring at the raven-haired man now. 

Tall, dark and stormy had always been my preference, but the darker the soul, the more violent their reactions. And I just adore a bloody massacre.

“I’ll show them.”

“Leave it be, Morri,” Ciara, the head of my raven guard muttered behind me. 

I glanced over my shoulder at her, still in raven form, those beady eyes seeing more than I liked. 

“How can I ignore a cry for help?”

A chuff sounded from Ciara’s neighbour. My eyes narrowed on Aisling, laughing at me. 

“You’re not a matchmaker,” Mara said, utter boredom cloaking her words.

I bit my lip, an idea sparking with the idea of it. Turning back to the mirror, I barely saw it, too lost in the possibility of it. Matchmaker. Me?

“Maybe not.” I hummed, testing the idea over and over. 

But it had worked on Lucifer. And it would be a handy failsafe in future, and until then… well, it would be remiss of me not to practise before bestowing such a gift on my warriors.

“The witches don’t beg for my marks for nothing.”

“They’ve forgotten it ever existed.” Aisling clucked at me, her alarm rising.

“All the better to sew a little chaos.” I smirked, my gaze now fixed on my first unsuspecting victims — I mean gift receivers. “Now, if only I could add a Witches Council member or two to the mix...”

I settled back against my bed and shut my eyes. Blocking out the peanut gallery of dissenting ravens, I forced it all out. Every zing of feeling inside of me quieted and I focused on them, on the threads of their essence I could reach. 

My magic gripped them, gathered them up and raced off into the night, searching, hunting for the perfect match.

I grinned when I found her. A spitfire of a witch, bristling at the constraints of her life. Even better? She would be my first cog of chaos in the Witches Council’s.

They’d locked away my warriors and turned my plans against me.  They would rue the day they pissed off the Goddess of War.