In the tree-crowded bower of the Morrigan, Number Seven opened his eyes. A gentle rain of raven feathers fell on him, piling up on his body and shielding his nakedness. He looked up, beyond the feathers, and through a gap in the branches, at the star speckled sky above.
'I did warn you.' The voice of the Morrigan echoed through the bower. 'I told you the suit would be a danger to you.'
Seven sought out the source of the voice but could not see the Goddess. 'Am I dead?'
'Have a little faith. You think I would name you as my favourite and then let you die on the very same day?' Her voice sounded close, intimate even, but he still couldn’t see her.
'I do,' said Seven. 'But only because I’ve met you.'
The falling feathers began to swirl in a wind that sprang up from nowhere. The feathers spun into a vortex that coalesced into the form of the Morrigan, sitting astride him. 'If you would rather be dead than be my favourite, that can be arranged.'
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'Just tell me what’s happening to the others.' His voice was not as steady as he hoped but not as pleading as he feared.
The Morrigan sighed. 'So demanding. You had better be worth it.'
He didn’t move. 'I’m not at my best when I’m distracted by worry.'
She brushed away the feathers that had accumulated on his chest. 'Your honoured dead, Achilles and Orion, will join the household of Sgàthach. She will repair them and care for them. Perhaps she will even be happy with them. Orion is a better man than most she has repaired.'
'What about Number Two?'
'You mean Annwn. She has taken that name and accepted my gifts.'
'You made her a Raven?'
'She made that choice. So she could return to your world. Though even with my gifts she cannot remain in your world indefinitely.'
'Five and Six?'
'Are safe. Just as you are safe. Sorrow has friends of great power and ability. They will not allow harm to come to her, or you, or your colleagues.'
Seven put on his brightest smile and pulled her close. 'Funny definition of safe you have. I’m with you. Nothing safe about you.'