Tamsin had left the Dal without saying goodbye. She hated goodbyes. The word always felt too absolute. She had stood outside, arms folded across her chest, watching as Dyson carried Bo from the Dal and to a car parked in the alley. The succubus was wrapped in a thick blanket, her head resting in the safety net that was the crook of Dyson's shoulder. Trick had opened the passenger side door and stepped aside, solemnly watching as Dyson placed Bo gently on the seat. The wolf's movements were slow and cautious, as though the succubus were made of porcelain and he were afraid that she would crumble to pieces in his hands.

The moment she heard the thud of the passenger door closing, Tamsin had slid in behind the wheel and, with the turn of the key, bought the car engine to life. As the car pulled away from the Dal she allowed herself one final glance in the rear-view mirror; one final look back at her friends watching her drive away; one final wordless goodbye.

There was nothing to be done, nothing to be said. Tamsin's eyes were focused on the road in front of her. The feeling of de ja vu lay heavy on her mind. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to be sick. How long had it been since Tamsin had first driven Bo down this very same road, prepared to deliver her to her father? It felt like weeks. Her reasons were different, the destination the same. In the end, after everything, nothing had mattered. Yet now, driving down the familiar road, it felt worse. Every minute that went by as they drew closer and closer to their destination were like shards of glass in her skin.

It was a cruel twist of fate. No matter what she did, everything she had done, here she was. Driving Bo to the place she had never wanted to return to. The place she had sworn Bo would never set foot in. But maybe she couldn't outrun her path. Maybe no one could. Perhaps Bo was meant to be taken to the Wanderer and Tamsin the one to bring her there.

The thoughts did nothing to ease her guilt.

Tamsin traced the bracelet around her wrist with one finger. The metal felt cool against her skin. Idly, she wondered if it would protect her. If it would be enough to save Bo after she had been healed, the venom purged from her system, the bite reversed. In the back of her head, a voice taunted her.

It wasn't meant for you. The bracelet should be on her wrist.

"Tamsin," the sound of Bo's weak voice interrupted her thoughts.

Tamsin quickly glanced at Bo. Her stomach dropped when she saw the succubus' face. It was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. The whites of her eyes were turning red.

"Hush," Tamsin said, moving one hand to rest on Bo's knee. The succubus grasped it weakly. Her fingers were burning hot against the valkyrie's hand.

"I'm so cold."

Tamsin gently freed her hand from Bo's grasp to turn the heater up. The car was quickly flooded with heat as the interior temperature rose.

"This br-brings back m-memories," Bo murmured. Her teeth were chattering. "At least this t-time I'm not wearing a k-kimono."

"It's nice to know being in the jaws of death hasn't gotten rid of your sense of humour."

"It is?" Bo asked, reaching out to grasp the valkyrie's hand again.

"No," Tamsin said shortly.

Bo's lips twitched in a faint smile. Her eyes fluttered closed as she slumped back in her seat. Tamsin watched her carefully, relief spreading through her at the sight of the other woman's chest slowly rising and falling as her lungs expanded with air.

"Stay with me, Bo."

Back at the Dal, before she had left with Bo, Tamsin had felt on edge. Her emotions were pulling her apart at the seams, fury and dread tugging her in different directions. Standing in the Dal, her fingers mindlessly scratching at the bracelet around her wrist, she had watched Dyson and Trick prepare for their departure. As Trick had walked back over to her, the keys to the car clenched in one fist, she hadn't been able to stop the question that had been burning inside of her spill from her lips.

"Why are you not angry?"

If Trick had been taken unaware by her question he had not let it shown on his face. His answer to Tamsin had been a simple one.

"Because I have hope."

As though Trick's words had struck a match, a small ember had begun to burn inside of Tamsin's chest.

Hope.

Even now, staring down the dark windy road, knowing what lay at the end, she could feel its tendrils of fire inside of her.

Maybe they still had a chance of winning this. Maybe they had a fighting chance of defeating the Wanderer. Maybe... There would be consequences, Tamsin knew. A price would have to be paid. Her gaze dropped back down to the succubus sitting beside her.

"To hell with it," Tamsin ground the words out from behind clenched teeth.

They would make it out, consequences be damned.

The Dal looked as though it had been brutalised by a hurricane. Barely standing, and with the front of the building collapsed, its only inhabitants were three men. The inside was littered with debris. In the middle of the Dal stood a single table. It was untouched save a long jagged line running down the middle of the tabletop. It created an eerie picture, as though it were the eye of the storm, the brief calm surrounded by ruin.

The only sound was the crunching of glass as Trick moved through the Dal. Hale sat at the table, idly drumming his fingers against his thigh. He was staring down at the tabletop, seemingly unfazed by the destruction around him.

"It's really that bad then?" Hale asked.

"Worse," Trick responded, sitting down at the table opposite the siren.

"And this- this Wanderer is really Bo's-?"

"Yes, he is her father."

"Well, damn." The siren let out a long whistle.

Dyson moved by them carrying a large piece of broken wood in his hands. He added it to a quickly growing pile of carnage he was creating in a corner of the Dal.

"Dyson," Trick began, his eyes following the wolf, "you don't need to-"

Dyson raised a hand towards Trick, "Please let me help. I can't just sit around while-" his voice shuddered to a stop for a split moment before he continued, "-while we wait for Tamsin and Bo to return."

"And Tamsin is taking Bo to this Wanderer guy? To her father? Alone?" Hale asked. "It's not like you to send someone in without backup."

"It's our only option of saving Bo," Dyson said, leaning down to upright an overturned table that was missing a leg.

"And, uh, what if the Wanderer has no intention of saving Bo?"

Dyson paused, looking up at Hale, but it was Trick who replied. "He has gone to great lengths to retrieve Bo just to let her die. He will save her, even if just to fulfil an unknown purpose."

Hale nodded, accepting Trick's answer. Dyson returned to his clean-up. The siren looked around the Dal before turning to Trick again, "I hope you've got insurance."

"That," Trick began glumly, "is the last thing on my mind right now."

"So, how do we know that the Wanderer hasn't already left his realm and is on his way here?"

"He will no doubt be waiting for Bo," Trick said.

"And after that?" Hale pressed. "When he has Bo?"

Trick said nothing, his gaze still on the destruction surrounding them.

Hale leaned in closer to Trick, his brow furrowed. "What are we going to do when he rocks up at the Dal with an undead army at his heels?"

Trick took a moment to answer, mulling his thoughts over and over in his mind. "We have to be prepared." Finally, he looked back at Hale. "Which is why you must talk to the elders."

Hale let out a long drawn-out sigh. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head side to side. "This is going to be a hard sell, Trick. The Wanderer has always been considered a myth; an old wives tale. Who's going to believe this?"

"There are still some who know the truth, and the others we must convince."

Hale chuckled humourlessly. "How do you propose we do that, old man? What's your big plan to get the dark and light working together?"

"We'll make the old fools listen to reason. We need an army if we want to face the Wanderer." Trick looked up at Hale. "Call a meeting with the elders. But first we are going to need all the help we can get. Are there any other fae you trust, any that would believe and help you argue your case to the elders?"

Hale nodded. "There are a few I could speak with." He sighed heavily, elbows propped up on the table. "Do we even have time for this- this bureaucracy? Do we even know how much time we have?"

For a moment Trick was silent. His eyes were drawn back to the debris surrounding them. Every broken chair, shattered glass and dark bloodstain was a reminder of the Wanderer's presence. He was coming, Trick knew. They had to be ready. "We will have to make time."

They were here. Tamsin didn't recognise the large field she parked at the edge of, but she recognised the familiar feeling that greeted her. She felt almost bowed by the weight of death upon her. A bitter taste crept into the back of her mouth. This was it; this was one of the doorways into the Wanderer's realm.

The realm could only be reached through places where something significant had happened to Bo's father. A battle between the Wanderer and the fae who opposed him had been fought in this field thousands of years ago. Over four hundred fae had died. Death lay across the grass like a heavy smog. It was almost overbearing.

"Bo," Tamsin unclipped her seatbelt, reached out and stirred the succubus with a gentle touch. Bo groaned, her eyelids fluttering. Tamsin stepped out of the car and made her way to the passenger side. Opening the door, she tried not to stare at Bo too much; to see the paleness of her skin, the sweat that beaded on her brow, the laboured rise of her chest as her lungs struggled for air.

"Bo," Tamsin murmured again, leaning down. "We have to go." She carefully lifted Bo from her seat and pulled the succubus into her arms, making sure to keep the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

They made their way into the middle of the field, Tamsin half carrying Bo now as they stepped through the dry grass. When the Wanderer's presence became overwhelming, the taste in the back of her mouth so strong and bitter, and her back almost bowed from the weight of death, she stopped. Tamsin pulled Bo against her chest tightly, cradling the succubus in her arms. This was the beginning of the end. There was no turning back now.

Tamsin ducked her head to press a kiss against the top of Bo's head. "Bo," she began, not even sure if the succubus could hear her. "Do you remember the Dawning, how nothing was as it seemed? The moment we step through the door we'll be in his realm, at his mercy. He controls everything inside, can make you see and feel things that aren't really there."

Tamsin thought she felt Bo stir against her, as though she were nodding her head, but it was too hard to tell.

"Just – don't trust anything or anyone. Not even me."

Tamsin knew she probably wasn't making sense. How could she prepare someone for his realm? For the trickery, the darkness, the horrible things inside? It was an impossible task.

"Are you ready?" Tamsin asked, looking down at the top of Bo's head.

This time she knew she didn't imagine it. Bo nodded weakly against her chest.

"Ok." Tamsin tightened her arms around Bo. "Here we go."

The dungeons were dark and musty, the air thick with the stench of stale sweat and excrement. A single source of light burned by a door at the end of the hallway; the flame trying and failing at keeping the darkness at bay. It's tendrils of light barely reached the numerous cells lining the hallway before it. A woman sat hunched in the corner of a cell, face leaning against the wall of bars to one side. Her bones were gaunt, sticking out sharply through the scrap of clothes she wore. The dirtied soles of her feet were the same colour as the ground beneath her. Turning her head to face through the bars, she coughed. Her throat muscles constricted tightly, hacking up a mixture of blood and phlegm. She leaned her forehead against the cool bars, eyes closed in defeat and exhaustion. One hand reached up to wrap around the steel bar, the pale skin stretched tightly over the brittle bones. With her eyes still closed she began to sing softly under her breath, her voice strained from disuse.

"There was a lady all skin and bone; and such a lady was never known. It happened upon a certain day, this lady went to church-"

The singing broke off in a fit of coughing. The song started up again, the singer's voice slightly croakier than before.

"When she came to the church stile, there she did rest a little while; when she came to the churchyard, there the bells so loud she heard."

There was a rustling movement from the far side of the cell, as though something were stirring in the darkness beyond. The woman slapped her hands over her ears, her voice rising as though to drown out any other noise.

"When she came to the church door, she stopped to rest a little more; when she came the church within, the parson prayed against pride and sin."

The rustling grew louder, and the woman began to shake her head violently.

"On looking up, on looking down, she saw a dead man on the ground; and from his nose unto his chin, the worms crawled out, the worms crawled in."

"Surely there are better ways to pass the time than singing human nursery rhymes." A voice from the darkness spoke out, a soft dryness coating its words.

The woman pressed her face into her knees, singing under her breath. She rocked herself back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around her bony legs.

"Then she unto the parson said, Shall I be so when I am dead? O yes! O yes, the parson said, you will be so when you are dead."

The voice spoke up again, its tone more urgent. "I am afraid we are out of time. You must listen to me now. I can amuse your insanity no longer. I am not a voice in your head."

The woman began to rock back and forth violently. Her hands gripped her legs so tightly that her nails pierced the skin. Her voice was rising louder and louder with every word she sang, until she was practically shouting the words into the darkness.

"Here the lady screams-"

"Aife!" The voice from the darkness cracked like a whip.

As though a switch had been flipped, the woman, Aife, stopped rocking.

"No, no, no, no. You aren't there. You aren't real. No, no, no, no."

"Aife-"

"Not real, not real, not real-"

"Tell me about Bo." It were as though the voice had spoken a magic word.

Aife looked up, eyes as wide as saucers. She stared out into the darkness and a pair of white orbs stared back. "Bo? Bo. Yes. My daughter."

"Ysabeau is in grave danger." The voice spoke out. "Her father seeks her soul."

"No, no, no." Aife shook her head violently back and forth. "Her father doesn't know- he can't know."

"He will dress himself in sheep's clothing and step outside the jailor's gates."

"Her father- him." Gripping the bars with both hands, Aife pulled herself up to her knees. She peered franticly out at the darkness, out at those two orbs of white light in the cell across from her. "He is the devil. He is the devil! He can't- mustn't have my Bo. My Bo."

"Aife, what is the last thing you remember? Before this?" Those two white orbs were unmoving. They stared back at her, unblinking.

"Bo," Aife whispered. "My Bo. And… falling. I fell. And then he was there. He plucked me and fixed me and sewed me up. But I didn't give him Bo. I'll never give him my Bo."

"You cannot protect your daughter, Aife. Not from this, not from him. But you can help her. Will you help?" There was a rustling noise as something moved in the cell across from Aife.

"Help, help," Aife echoed, staring out between the bars. "He said he would help me. He pulled things from my head. Made everything strange and cold and… wrong. Helping me, he said. He put me in the dark. Can't get out. Can never get out. He'll cut off their heads and pull out their souls."

"Aife, listen to me, child. There is something you must do. Something very important to help Ysabeau-"

"No," Aife shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. "My Bo, my daughter. I won't let him get my Bo."

"It is too late," The voice said distractedly, as though the owner's gaze was no longer inside the dungeons, but rather far away, seeing something that Aife could not. "She is already here."