Chapter 55 #2
The song became louder and Alia’s voice quieted in the distance. Cillian kept his eyes closed as more and more light poured into him.
“You are destined to cleanse and protect what the darkness wants to destroy. You have two paths, Cillian, my kin. Two paths.”
The song faded, and Cillian opened his eyes to find Alia smiling beside him.
“She told you your destiny, did she not?”
“She did.”
“You must not tell me,” she said gently. “It is yours alone.”
He hesitated. “How did you know who I was? Not as a lord, but as a…”
“Sunweaver?” she finished, tilting her head.
He nodded, and she took his hand, guiding him to sit in the grass beneath the tree.
“You know the Stonebridge family,” Alia began.
“Vera Stonebridge called to me when I arrived from the Southern Isles. That is where my kin once journeyed to plant the sister tree to Solwyn. It is where we have lived ever since. When Elarwyn warned us of a threat to our mother,” she added, gesturing to the great tree above them, “I was sent back to Velenshire to discover what had taken root here.”
Cillian did not understand, but he listened.
“When I stepped from the ship, Mrs. Stonebridge was waiting for me at the docks.”
“Why?”
“You truly do not know what she is? What your friend is?”
Cillian shook his head. At this point, he was certain he knew nothing at all.
Alia smiled faintly. “She and her son are seers. She saw that I would come, though not why. Only that I was the one she was meant to meet. So she brought me into her household while I carried out my purpose and visited the grove.”
Cillian stared at her, stunned.
Alaric… a seer?
“You look shaken,” Alia said with a small, uncertain laugh. “I am sorry. I did not mean to overwhelm you.”
He cleared his throat. “It is not you. There is simply… a great deal to take in.”
“Yes,” she said. “Then perhaps it is best to be direct.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“The first time I came here, I let her sing to me,” she said softly. “She told me of the Duskwood line. Of the boy who would summon light. And that I was to help him learn what he is.”
She turned his hand over in hers, tracing slow circles along his palm. The sensation was calming, drawing the light from his skin into hers.
“Your bloodline is ancient,” she continued. “But it is not just the Duskwood line tied to your new life.”
She gathered the light between them, letting it bloom in her palm so he could see it. It shone gold, bright enough to make him squint. Then she released his hand and summoned her own.
The light was the same color. But softer—weaker.
“Long ago, the daughter of one of our strongest Sunweaver lines chose to remain here,” Alia said. “She fell in love with a mortal man and did not cross the seas with her kin. Her mother did not return for her. She allowed her to choose her own life.”
That was not how his mother would have allowed Evelyne or Aurelia to live.
“The Sunweavers choose peace over conflict,” Alia said quietly. “It was Lumira’s choice, so her mother honored it.”
Lumira. The name meant nothing to him.
Alia looked at him carefully. “Do you understand what I am saying, Cillian?”
Did he? Was she saying he was not only a Duskwood wolf shifter, but also tied to an ancient Sunweaver bloodline?
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Though I do not understand how it passed only to me. Why me?”
“I imagine others in your family carried it before you,” Alia said. “Perhaps they simply seemed… different.”
Cillian thought of the stories his mother used to tell about her sister, the one everyone claimed had gone mad. She had spoken of things no one else could understand, and the family had kept its distance until she became little more than a warning whispered behind closed doors.
She had hanged herself for it.
“You may never have known either,” Alia said gently, “if you had not been tied to a prophecy.”
She was right. He might never have known what slept beneath his skin, what had lain dormant in his family for generations.
“What of my sisters?”
Alia shook her head. “I do not sense it in them. I asked the mother, and she does not recognize them as her kin.”
Of course. Of course he would be different from everyone, even his own family.
He had known he was more than a wolf, known he could wield magic, but he had thought it came from the prophecy alone.
Now it seemed he had belonged to the Solwyn bloodline all along.
An ancient one. And apparently, he had not been brought here only to weaken Vaelora through wolf blood and prophetic light. The tree had chosen him for two paths.
Protect.
Cleanse.
The most impossibly vague instructions he had ever received.
“I do not know how to feel about any of this,” he admitted. “But I am grateful for you. For your kindness.”
Cillian reached for her hand, and this time the touch felt more intimate. Alia looked down at their joined fingers, but she did not pull away. He heard the flutter in her chest and found the courage to admit what had been haunting him.
“I am afraid,” he said. “Of what is coming. Of not knowing when it will happen. Of not being ready.”
Alia’s gaze warmed. “You are not meant to know when.”
“I do think they are weaker,” Cillian said suddenly. “The Noskari. They are not what they were when Vaelora ruled. Now they seem to attack only to feed, then vanish again.”
“Yes,” Alia said. “They have lost their anchor.”
“Anchor?”
“Blood magic is not natural. It was never meant to be used. Vaelora was their source when she created them, the power that bound them and fed them.” Alia shook her head. “Her creatures will not simply die because she is gone, but they will weaken and they know it.”
“So we must protect this grove,” Cillian said.
Alia shook her head. “No. Not the tree.”
Confusion pulled at Cillian. If the Noskari needed an anchor, surely the Solwyn Tree would have been the strongest source.
“They must anchor themselves to a soul,” Alia said quietly. “A powerful one.”
The wind stirred the leaves above them, and both rose to their feet. It was time to leave, but Alia caught his hand before he could move.
“The night you found me here, I was warning the tree,” she said. “Vera told me it was time. That you would come soon.”
“What can it do?”
“Call to her sister. To Elarwyn. And then… they will all come.”
A sound broke through the stillness. Movement at the edge of the grove, somewhere within the bramble. Another gust swept through the branches, and Cillian turned just in time to see a familiar white shape emerging.
A wolf.
“Kaldrek?” he called.
No answer.
“Kaldrek, is that you?”
Alia’s voice dropped. “Something is wrong. We need to go.”
The air shifted as a cold wind curled around them, and the shadows began to gather. Blackness twisted between the trees, like smoke taking form.
“They’re here,” Cillian said, stepping forward. “Kaldrek! Look out!”
The first creature lunged. Cillian threw himself over Alia, driving her to the ground as the others closed in. Dark shapes circled them now, cutting off any clear view of Kaldrek.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
Light flared in his palms as he thrust it outward. He had scarcely practiced such a thing, yet the power answered as if it had always known what to do. The creatures recoiled, shrinking from it.
Good.
Through the shifting darkness, he caught sight of Kaldrek, standing near the tree, staring upward as though in a trance. No shadows touched him.
“Kaldrek, what the hell?” Cillian shouted, forcing more light into his hands to drive the creatures back.
He was not ready for this. He did not know how long he could hold it. Each pulse of magic cost him more, each breath growing heavier. If it failed, they would strike. And if it came to it, he would have to shift. But he would do it to protect her.
Cillian held his ground, pushing the light again and again, each effort draining him further.
“You are tiring,” Alia said behind him. “Please, let me.”
Light gathered in her hands just as another wave of shadows surged forward. Then a vicious growl split the grove, followed by the sharp crack of shifting bones as Kaldrek changed.
And the darkness fled. It slipped back into the trees, dissolving into the night as quickly as it had come.
Cillian stood frozen, breath caught in his chest. What was that? They had never retreated before. For a moment, only silence remained beneath the Solwyn Tree.
“Are you well?” Cillian asked, breath unsteady.
“I’m fine.” Kaldrek dragged a hand across his jaw. “Cillian, take her back. Warn the others. I need to reach the packs. Make sure everyone at the manor is safe.”
Cillian did not argue. He turned and ran for the carriage.