He knew why she’d passed the edict. The Keltar, having pledged their lives and all their future generations to upholding The Compact, were to be free of any Tuatha Dé Danaan interference, because his queen had known, even then, that there were those among their race that didn’t like The Compact. Who’d not wanted to leave the mortal realm. Who’d argued to conquer the human race. Who might have tried to goad a Keltar into breaking it.

So since the day The Compact had been sealed, not one Keltar had so much as glimpsed one of their ancient benefactors.

Adam suspected that might have been a mistake. For, although the Keltar had faithfully performed their duties, over four thousand years they’d forgotten their purpose. They no longer even believed in the Tuatha Dé Danaan, nor did they recall the details of the fateful battle that had set them on their course. Their ancient history had become nothing more than vague myths to them.

While on Yule, Beltane, Samhain, and Lughnassadh, the Keltar still enacted the rites that kept the walls solid between their worlds, they no longer recalled that such was the purpose of those rites. Perhaps one generation had neglected to pass down the oral tradition in full to the next. Perhaps the elder had died before he’d been able to impart all the secrets. Perhaps old texts had not been faithfully recopied before time had disintegrated them, who knew? One thing Adam did know was that mortals ever seemed to forget their history. Those days that were so sacred to The Compact were now seen as feast days, little more.

He snorted, watching the car crest the hill. Humans couldn’t even get their own religious history sorted out, from a mere two millennia past. It was no wonder that their history with his race had become so obscured by time’s passage.

So, he thought, watching from his perch upon a high tor, the darkest Druid has come home, bringing with him all the resurrected evil of the Draghar. Fascinating. He wondered what his queen would make of it.

He had no plans to tell her.

After all, in Adam’s opinion, it was her fault they’d been there to be resurrected in the first place.

Even now, she was ensconced with her council, where they were busy determining the mortal’s fate.

Four thousand and some odd years ago, his people had withdrawn to their hidden places so that mortal and Fae would not destroy each other. Shortly thereafter, the Draghar, with their black arts, had nearly destroyed both their worlds.

His queen would never permit such a thing to happen.

He sighed. The mortal’s time was finite.

Chapter 12

12