31. Nothing truly dies
Nothing truly dies
Looking back, Sorcha could see the city behind them and the passage sealing into the stone hillside, leaving no mark behind but memory.
It was a relief that they wouldn’t have to sneak through the city walls, and Sorcha was grateful to whatever forces were watching over them.
She turned to the stream and Maelan looked around, bounding up a tree once again to get a clear view.
He yelled, “This is where we were headed before,” as he leapt gracefully down from the trees.
Sorcha looked around the area, eyes scanning the tree line.
She felt as though someone was watching them when Noctis appeared suddenly and began growling.
Kyron and Maelan already had swords drawn when the God Donn, emerged from the shadows.
The lines etched in his face were partly concealed by the large, white hooded cloak he wore.
His eyes were a smoldering vapor trapped inside glass, and his voice was a low rumble.
“How does one such as yourself obtain a book of power?” His stare was unnerving as he stepped forward.
“How?” he yelled, causing the birds to scatter and the forest to fall still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Sorcha held her straps tighter as she stepped back.
“I’ve searched for centuries for the book. One should never be allowed to hold such power.” He placed his hand out. “Give it to me,” he demanded.
Noctis lunged at the god, inches from his face. Donn snapped his fingers, and Noctis was thrown across the forest. Her body wrapped around a tree, whimpering.
Sorcha screamed, “Noctis!” and began to turn toward her when the God blocked her path.
“I said give it to me,” the god’s voice seething in anger.
Sorcha backed away before speaking. “It chose me.” She managed to say.
Rage filled his eyes, and a dark mist began creeping through the trees.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He snapped his fingers and Lugh appeared before her.
Tears began pouring from the corners of her eyes as she tried her best to keep composure.
Her father’s eyes looked tired and weary, the light in them dimmer than she remembered, but his smile was still the same.
He reached for her cheek as Donn spoke again.
“The book for your father. I can grant him passage back to the living in exchange for it.”
Sorcha’s heart ached, and she slid her bag off her back as she lifted it open, but her father leaned forward like he was going to kiss her cheek, placing a hand on hers and whispered, “Don’t give it to him. Remember, gods truly never die.”
Before she could respond, Donn ripped him away in a whirl of mist. “Do we have a deal?”
Sorcha’s heart felt as if a vice grip was tightening around it. She shook her head, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “No.” Her voice trembled, but she stood firm.
Donn hissed and cursed her. “You’ve made your choice. I can’t harm you because of the Dagda and I can’t take it from you. The Veil won’t let me, but I will make your journey impossible.”
And with that, he was gone, and all traces of her father vanished with him. Sorcha trembled, her body threatening to buckle under the soul crushing weight of seeing her father.
Sorcha raced over to Noctis, who lay breathing heavily. She brushed Noctis’s fur and her eyes fluttered open. “Are you okay, girl?”
Noctis whimpered and stood shaking, limping beside Sorcha.
Maelan appeared beside her. “What did he say, your father?”
Sorcha wiped away the tears and looked at Maelan. “He said he would be back.”
Maelan and Kyron exchanged glances, both looked shocked and confused.
Sorcha turned to Kyron, an icy dread washing over her. “This means we can’t trust the gods.”
“We can rely on the Dagda and what he says.” Then Kyron quickly added, his tone uncertain, “As for the others, I couldn’t say.”
“It means we should remember that not everyone shares our cause,” Maelan told Sorcha.
Sorcha held her bag tighter. If this was true, how much of this list was reliable? Was all this a waste of time? Her mind was too loud, cluttered with questions.
“We have to be careful of them.. of the gods.” Her voice trailed off as the sounds of birds chirping returned, the drone of insects and animals scurrying filling the silence.
And in the midst of it all was Sorcha, a storm coiled in silence. The gods watched from their heights, some turning their backs on a war they deemed beneath them, others stirring at last for the children they never claimed.
Maelan and Kyron following behind her. The land was an endless sea of waves, the hills relentless as they climbed. Maelan stood at the top of another hill and looked outward, his nose twitching, his body beginning to shake and tremble as he hunched forward.
Like the wolves of the Ossory Maelan shifted, emerging as a cat once again. In his larger jaguar like form, his two tails whipped behind him. Noctis jumped around Maelan, excited and playful.
“No, no, Noctis.”
Noctis stopped and sat with an exaggerated thud as she huffed. Sorcha and Kyron let out a laugh as Maelan tried to comfort her.
“I’m sorry, girl. I’m not an actual cat.”
Noctis just huffed again and turned her back to him.
Maelan turned to Sorcha. “I think she’s upset with me.”
“Why did you change?” She asked.
“I think there’s a fairy mound nearby. I need to track it better.” Maelan’s whiskers twitched in rhythm with his ears, and he began chasing a scent none of them could follow.
Walking behind Maelan as he moved swiftly down the hill, they watched him bound into the woods toward what looked like the entrance to another bog.
Large willows bent forward, their indigo and rose quartz leaves drifting lazily in the breeze as small lightning bugs darted about, dancing around flowers of violet and turquoise.
The sun was high in the sky now, and shards of light shimmered across the land.
Maelan carefully moved about until he reached an odd mound beneath one of the willows.
This willow was larger than the rest, possibly hundreds of years old, judging by its sheer size.
Maelan shifted again, his fae form emerging fully as he locked eyes with Sorcha.
“It’s here.”