6. SIX #2
“Your fate will be one of us, Tilly,” Fionn said. “Your only choice will be the one you bind with.”
The word bind hung in the air between us.
What was this, some creepy aristocratic tradition?
“Then there will be no choice,” I said, slowing down. My chest was tight, my thoughts were tangled. My head was pounding with everything, his voice, the air, my own heartbeat.
"Come along," Fionn commanded. "We've wasted enough time with this nonsense. Let's get moving again."
He turned and began to march ahead, closely followed by Torin. Cillian held his hand out to me, waiting for me to move. Exhausted by the situation, I was seized by a sudden urge to run, regardless of where I ended up.
I was done with the jokes at my expense, done with going along with whatever the brothers had planned for me. And now there was talk of me having a choice?
That was a joke if ever I'd heard one. I found myself suddenly unable to stem tears of anger and frustration.
I glanced at Cillian's hand still outstretched towards me and then at his face, now creased with concern.
His expression was the final straw. How could he keep pretending he cared when he was a part of whatever the hell this was?
Before I could change my mind, I turned away from him and ran across the lawn towards the trees that borderred the south side of the Sternwacht Manor, past a weathered sign pointing to Dornbruck Village.
Less than a moment later, I felt someone grab me from behind so roughly that I cried out from a wrenching pain in my arm.
I stumbled, out of breath, against Fionn .
"Let me go! Get your hands off me,” The words came out thinner than I meant. My chest was tight, and my pulse pounded against my throat. I hated that he could probably see it.
Worse, I hated that he didn’t flinch. I struggled furiously against his ironclad grip as he held my face and glared at me.
Up close, I couldn’t help stare at the scar on his eyebrow, trailing down his cheek. Who left it there and why? Three brothers, three scars, each slightly different, yet all seemed to have been placed by the same hand.?
Was that what binding meant?
Fionn didn’t loosen his grip.
He simply looked down at me.
“You don’t get to run, Tilly.” his words quiet but powerful.
“You’ll soon learn this isn’t about fairness. It’s about what must happen whether you like it or not.”
Feeling his strength, I did not doubt the power he possessed.
You think I’m afraid of you?” I said. I was. But I’d rather swallow the fear than let it show.
"Don't make me warn you again. The sooner you accept that you must comply, the better."
Even though I trembled with fear, I didn't look away. The fight might have been gone from me at that moment, but I still had a survival instinct, and it kicked in, telling me that showing the slightest sign of weakness around Fionn would be a mistake. I met the challenge of his gaze in the act of defiance, and I felt better for doing it. I was terrified, but I was still me. He might be stronger than me, but he would not break me. I wouldn’t allow it.
His grip was tight, too tight and for a terrifying second, his thumb pressed hard against the pulse in my throat.
I couldn’t breathe as I watched the pupils swallow the blue of his eyes.
Even though he stared at me, he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking through me, like I was nothing.
The realization made my stomach drop. I wasn't a person to him right now, just an obstacle.
A shiver crawled up my spine as he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear while his thumb continued to press against my breath.
"Your life is just a heartbeat under my thumb, don’t give me a reason to stop it."
The coldness in his voice made my blood turn to ice. I wanted to scream, to fight, but my body felt locked under the weight of his stare.
"Let her go, Fionn!" Cillian spoke with an undertone of menace I hadn't heard before.
"Focus, before you do something we both know you'll regret."
Only then did I notice Torin watching nearby, an amused look on his face more befitting a spectator at a sporting event.My fear spiked into a hot, sudden flash of loathing.At that moment, I didn’t know whether I hated stone-hearted Fionn or arrogant Torin more.
Fionn released me but turned to Cillian with a cold, unreadable look.
A message passed between them, betrayed only by the tightening of Cillian’s jaw.
I staggered back, catching my breath; his grip still burned against my skin, as if his anger had branded itself into my bones.
I rubbed my throat, half-expecting to find his fingerprints permanently etched into my skin.
Cillian reached for me and touched my throbbing arm. I winced from the pain, but he kept his hand pressed firmly on my marked flesh. Within moments, a strangely warm, tingling sensation coursed through my arm, instantly relieving the pain.
"How did you do that?" I asked, moving my arm to find it completely healed.
There were more pressing questions to be asked. Like how did the portals work? And where were we meant to end up when we jumped through the one they created? But I knew from my short time with the brothers that they wouldn't tell me anything important.
Cillian, though... he might answer .
Not because he owed me. But maybe just to satisfy my curiosity.
“This is channelling our way of harmonizing with the universe's energy.” He smiled at my awed expression as I peered at my arm.
“It accelerates healing, connects us to the natural world. It's everywhere, influencing everything, if you know how to look.”
I looked up at him, still cradling my arm. "It doesn't sound simple."
"It is when you know what you're doing," Cillian confirmed. "There are many forces at play in the world, Tilly, but humans don't sense them like we do. How's the arm?"
He knew my arm was fine, he was trying to distract me from asking more questions.
I let him change the subject. For now. But I’d be asking again, and next time, I would press for real answers.
"As good as new," I confirmed.
I looked at him with gratitude, beginning to understand that I had an ally, at least for now. I tried to forget that Cillian had been just as involved in my abduction as his brothers. There was something different about him. He wasn’t like them. Or maybe he was?
Cillian smiled. “You see, Tilly, not everything about us is bad. Don't worry, we won't choose for you. That decision will be yours and yours alone.”
“That hardly reassures me,” I said. “I'm not choosing anybody. I have a boyfriend. Donte’s the only person I want to be with.”
Cillian gave a slight shrug and a wry smile. “So, you’ve already said.” But his eyes lingered a moment longer than they should have.
"What a touching scene," Fionn interrupted. I stiffened, startled to realise I had almost forgotten he and Torin were still there. A mistake. I needed to keep my guard up .
"But you know the rules, Cillian," Fionn continued, his tone colder now. "And you know what happens if you break them."
He cast me a glance dismissive and full of irritation, then turned and walked off. Torin followed but paused beside his brother.
"Tread carefully," he told Cillian, voice low, eyes flickering briefly to me.
"Then that’s something we all must do," Cillian replied. "Just because she’s mortal doesn’t mean she’s some toy to be mistreated."
Torin smirked and turned away, like it was all a game to him.
Cillian watched him leave, then turned back to me. "Are you all right?"
I rubbed my arm, the skin still tingling from where he'd healed me. "No. I want to go home, Cillian. How would you feel if you’d been taken from everything you knew?"
"I know how difficult this is."
"No, you don’t," I snapped. "How can you even say that?"
He reached out. Though his embrace was gentle, there was no mistaking the strength beneath it. His skin buzzed faintly under my hand as though it held its own current.
He held me briefly, took my hand and guided me toward the Manor of Sternwacht . At first, it still looked beautiful with vine-covered stone walls wrapped around leaded windows that shimmered like stained glass. Bees danced from flower to flower in the garden, heavy with golden pollen.
But as we neared the gates, the illusion began to fray.
“Stay close, Tilly,” Cillian murmured, his hand tightening around mine.
“We’re approaching the Moonspire Gate .”
Two statues flanked the arch. Tall, veiled figures carved from pale stone, their robes flowing like frozen silk. Each possessed graceful features, yet there was an unsettling beauty about them. It was their eyes, they looked heavy with sadness, as if ready to cry .
One hand pressed to her chest, as if guarding a secret that had long since turned to grief. The other had tilted her face toward the sky, her lips parted in a silent, eternal plea for some type of mercy.
I blinked and for a moment, I thought I saw the second statue’s fingers twitch. Just slightly. Then something brushed the edge of my mind. Not words. A whisper exhaled against my thoughts.
Its fingers moved. They fricking moved. I swallowed hard. It had to be my mind. It had to be. No way that was real. No way.
"You see, Tilly, magic is all around us," Cillian said, voice soft beside me. "It flows from the universe itself. But our gift to harness it depends on whether we choose to open ourselves to that power.
I barely heard him.
Did he see the statues fingers twitch? I didn’t dare ask. A knot had formed deep in my chest. I wanted to sit, breathe, and gather my thoughts but Cillian led me on.
At The Manors arched doors stood two guards. Silent. Still. Their robes were black, threaded with silver that shimmered like veins in the moonlight. Their faces were covered by smooth masks, utterly devoid of expression. They didn’t blink. They didn’t speak. They Just watched us.
The air shifted. It felt thicker, like the clouds above had dimmed just by looking at them.
My pulse quickened. Until now, the brothers had felt dangerous, but this was different. What were they, an elite cult or a secret mythical society living here on Earth? Whatever this was I had no business wanting to understand. Yet even those words seemed too small and human for this situation.
I walked toward the doors, feeling as if this place was alive. It wasn’t welcoming. This wasn’t just a kidnapping. It was far bigger. And I was already walking into it.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision.
And somewhere deep in my chest, a voice I didn’t recognize whispered:
There’s no going back.