31. The Fallen #3
Mannie speaks, not truly acknowledging Casey’s questions directly.
“A Pastseer peers deeply into what has come before. It is a gift of immeasurable potency, but one fraught with pain, for she carries the weight of choices made and unmade. Her insight arrives only after time is set in stone. Yet, despite this burden, Amelia carries it with a grace few could muster. To dismiss her insight is to dismiss the weapon history provides. Trust in what is spoken to you now,” Mannie says, his gaze briefly hardening as it falls upon Casey.
“She has endured far worse than this inconvenience you so readily question.”
Casey, his jaw tightening, fires back quickly. “You expect us to shoulder it without question?”
Finn’s voice cuts through the tension. “It’s not her word we dinnae trust,” he asserts, his tone sharp. I place my hand in his, giving a reassuring squeeze. His gaze softens, steadied by my touch.
“Finn, please… share with us what you were told,” Amelia says.
Running a hand down his face, Finn meets Amelia’s gaze as he continues. “The same woman approached me.”
Finn looks down at me, his expression troubled.
“In the same tavern the night before. She came up to me out of nowhere, as if she’d been waitin’ for me.
She spoke of things that defied explanation—words that felt like riddles spoken by a troubled woman.
But now…” He looks directly down at me. “She was speakin’ about you. ”
I ask, my voice rising with urgency, “What did she say?”
Finn hesitates, as though the words weighed heavily on his tongue. Finally, he exhales, his voice low and steady. “As you said, it seemed the speech of a madwoman. She said, ‘She is the thread that binds you to the stars.’ ”
My breath catches, and I stand abruptly. “She told me ‘You are the thread that binds him to the stars ,’” I add softly, the weight of the revelation sinking into the space between us.
Finn’s eyes search mine. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups my cheek. His thumb brushes against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “It’s as if… we were always meant to find each other,” he murmurs, his voice ra w.
Emotion wells up inside me, threatening to spill over. I cover his hand with mine, leaning into his touch. “What does being bound like this mean?”
His forehead rests lightly against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “It means we’re stronger together than we are apart.”
“ Quite the opposite of what you’ve believed of yourself, right Finn?” Bran says.
I place my hand on the back of his neck. “I could have told you how wrong that was years ago if only you’d told me how you felt then,” I say as I kiss his cheek.
Finn’s hand slips to the back of my neck, grounding me with his touch. “If the stars bind us, then they’ve already seen what we can be.”
Tears sting my eyes as his words settle over me. There is a strange comfort in the way he speaks. As if he possesses the knowledge of our future.
Before either of us can delve further, Mannie claps, breaking the moment. “Ooo, I do so love the joining of two souls, don’t you, Amelia?”
“Indeed, but such bonds are not without trial. Threads must sometimes fray to find their true strength.” Amelia turns her gaze to Deidre, their eyes meeting briefly. Something unspoken passes between them—pain, perseverance, love earned.
Mannie’s grin widens as he leans closer. “Trial, indeed. Though I suspect these two are not ones to let their thread snap so easily.”
Finn shifts beside me, his jaw tight. “Tell me something, Mannie,” he says, voice cool and clipped. “Have you been screwin’ with us this whole time? Flirtin’ with Triona, buttin’ in to compliment her, touch her, dance with her—was that all just some game to you?”
Mannie doesn’t retreat. If anything, he tilts his head with maddening calm, that ever-present smile twitching like he’s tempted to laugh—but doesn’t.
“Hardly a game, Finn. I only ever meant to push you two together—seemed the only way to get you to move.”
He lets that linger, then adds, “Though I will admit, watching you stew was a delightful bonus.”
Finn steps forward, but I place my hand firmly against his chest. His breath hitches under the weight of my palm, and his jaw loosens just enough.
“Who exactly is this maiden?” Finn asks sharply .
Mannie sobers. “She is a Keeper,” he says with more weight than flair this time. “An oracle’s guide. The Mirror of Whispers she carries would have pointed her directly at you.”
Finn’s brows draw together. “To Triona?”
“To you both,” Mannie corrects. “The mirror does not see faces. It sees ties—what is bound, what is meant. That is how she found you.”
My hand remains on Finn’s chest. “So she was sent?”
Mannie nods. “In a way. Called, rather. By fate.”
His expression softens. “Your mother,” he says, his voice quiet, “was a Timewhisperer. She could hear the echoes of what has yet to come, the whispers of fate weaving through the air.”
I blink, the words barely registering. “A Timewhisperer? My mother?” My voice trembles as I speak.
Mannie continues as if his words aren’t an absolute shock. “And you, Little One…” His voice takes on a reverence that makes my stomach twist. “You have the power to do both.”
“What?” The word falls from my lips like a stone, disbelief wrapping tightly around me. “That’s impossible. I can’t do that. I’ve never—”
“You may not yet feel such power,” Mannie interrupts, his voice as gentle as a breeze. “But the power is there, waiting. Hidden.”
“How would I not remember?” My frustration boils over. “If I could do this, why—why wouldn’t I know?”
“Because you do not remember yourself,” Mannie says simply. “But that is why I have come. It is my duty to untangle the mess in your head. I can see you are overwhelmed, so let me make this simple.” He stands and shakes out his limbs.
“The Tuatha Dé Danann came to this realm with four treasures that symbolised sovereignty, strength, sustenance, and victory—foundational elements for the Tuatha’s survival and dominance.”
He points to where Finn stands. “ You journey now with sun-born kin, to find the spear, the battle’s twin .”
Then to Callan. “ The warrior bold from Gorias’ might, seeks the blade of eternal light .”
Bran and Casey come next. “ Two hearts entwined, a cauldron they crave, a vessel of plenty their fate will pave . ”
Finally, Mannie stands before me, his expression grave. “ And you, my child, seek what’s been torn—the shard of your soul, to be reborn .”
“These are four great items,” Mannie continues, “that have never met battle at the same time. If they were united, the force threatening their wielders would face an impossible challenge.”
He raises his hand as if summoning the weight of history itself.
“The first, from the great city of Falias, imbued with a force far greater than any man could ever comprehend: The Stone of Fál.” Then he turns to me.
“Little One, it is your task to go to The Hill of Tara, for your item sets all others in motion.”
“Why me?” My voice wavers.
“ Lia Fáil roars when touched by true nobility, a voice great like thunder. It has not roared for millennia. It must be taken to Uisneach Hill, where it took its last breath.”
“It has to be moved to work?” Callan challenges, a furrow forming on his brow.
“How useful is a key to you without a lock to open?” Mannie counters with a quiet gravity.
“It holds no use at all,” Callan answers with confidence.
“Indeed. A lock is impassable without a key, and the key is meaningless without a lock. Think of the stone as the key, and what lies inside Uisneach the lock, and Triona the one given right to unlock a truly spellbinding power. The object will only respond to those made worthy, as told by her mother. The threads of fate are tightly bound to her, and only through her presence will the ancient forces respond, allowing the journey to truly begin.”
“And then?” I inquire.
“Then… your path will reveal itself to you. And as the maiden made it so, you will know your next task.”
“You mentioned four items?” Casey presses.
“Ah yes, the other three. A sword, a spear, and a cauldron.”
“Ye want us to follow you into the unknown, trust ye with our lives,” Callan grunts, his tone heavy with skepticism. “And why should we? What makes ye so certain we willnae be led to our deaths?”
Amelia steps forward, her expression calm but firm, and places a hand on Mannie’s arm. “You need to show them, dear.” She addresses the room. “Be warned, visions are your truths to unravel, but they are not the end. Only a guide. ”
Mannie nods and holds his palms out to us.
“Each of you, my dear chosen ones, shall see why fate—or perhaps sheer lunacy—has deemed you worthy of these sacred relics. If the price of your trust is proof, then so be it.” He winks, and with a flourish, the room seems to still, the air thick with anticipation. Then everything descends into darkness.