33. Gods
Gods
Niall stared out over his busy town from the hillside, watching the sun stretch across the horizon like a yawn. Slow and golden, it spilled warmth into the valley below. His eyes drifted beyond the rooftops, past the cliffs, out toward the sea. His thoughts were louder than the morning.
Why was he trusting a stranger’s word?
What she said was impossible. Laughable, and even more so, dangerous.
She could be lying, leading him to his death.
The crows, the lightning, her story, everything was odd, and maybe it was a sign.
There was conviction in her eyes, the kind you couldn’t fake.
And the worst part was that he believed her.
He felt it in his chest, in the weight of the silence around him. Something was wrong.
The water upstream was darker and tainted. Animals had avoided certain parts of the woods and mountains. No birds had sung that morning. Not a single one. Even the crows were quiet, and crows never shut up unless they’re listening for something worse.
He felt it in the way the wind slowed through the valley, the way mist lingered in corners.
Something had shifted, and it wasn’t just in the mines.
Work was harder now, more dangerous. The creatures that once played tricks from the trees had started attacking.
No more watchers. Just wild, repeated violence.
It was exhausting just trying to stay alive, let alone mine. He sat still in the morning, letting sunlight seep into his skin. The air hung thick with dew and tension. Not a breeze moved the grass. Even the insects had gone quiet.
BOOM.
The blast tore through the silence as smoke curled upward behind the town. Miners were shouting in the distance. Niall didn’t flinch; he just smirked.
The miners are still at it, he thought.
He pushed himself up, grabbed his hammer from the grass, and started walking. As he walked, the tune found him as it always had, a low, familiar melody he’d recited since childhood.
“The wind runs o’er the bramble hill,
As the blackbirds scatter, the world goes still.
The smoke rises and fire spreads,
For Balor stirs beneath the clay.
Oh Balor’s belly groans again,
The thunder cries of blood and rain
His hunger swells with war and flame,
And none shall sleep who know his name.
The oak splits wide, the rivers churn,
As the red-eyed crow swallows the world.
We dig and sing to keep him still,
But deep below, he drinks his fill.
Oh Balor’s belly groans again,
The thunder speaks of wraith and rain.
His hunger swells with war and flame,
And none shall sleep who know his name”.
Niall pushed open the tavern doors, nodding to the barman who’d only just begun preparing for the evening rush when Niall waved and sat himself at the table with Sorcha. A plate was piled high with eggs, toast, and venison sausage. Bowls of stew, yogurt and fruit beside it.
Niall waved over the barmaid, who brought him a mug of beer.
Kyron looked at the mug and then to Niall, “Drinking already?”
“I’ve never seen him not drinking.” The barmaid said as she planted the mug in front of him.
Niall raised his mug. “That’s because I’m always drinking.” He took a sip. “You’ll never catch me without one.”
Maelan gave a lazy shrug. “To each their own.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes and without asking, Niall grabbed a slice of toast and helped himself to a forkful of eggs.
Sorcha grabbed her fork and stabbed the eggs mid plate and smiled at him.
His grin curled, slow and shameless. He leaned on one elbow, eyes on her. “That fire,” he murmured.
Kyron groaned as Maelan chuckled and reached for the fruit.
THUD.
A massive black shape slammed against the window beside them.
Niall jumped so hard he nearly knocked over his chair. “What in the Dagda is that?!”
A hulking black wolf stood at the window its massive head inside it, eyes bright, fur bristling.
Without flinching, Sorcha reached across the table, grabbed a venison sausage, and tossed it through the open window. Noctis caught it midair, gave one solid crunch, and disappeared from view.
“That’s my friend,” Sorcha said, calm as anything.
Niall stared at her. “That’s a friend?”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “You mean pet.”
“No.”
He looked around the table, expecting someone else to question this. No one did.
“Right,” he muttered. “Friend.”
Kyron choked back a laugh. Maelan grinned and popped a grape into his mouth.
“So is this what I should expect from here on out? Just accept the strange?” Niall asked, exasperated, when Kyron nonchalantly pointed a thumb at Maelan.
“He’s a cat.”
Niall blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Cait Sidhe,” Maelan said, still chewing. “But ‘cat’ works too.”
Niall stared blankly at them for a few seconds, processing.
“Of course,” he finally said. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
The town faded behind them as they moved north, leaving the tavern behind, the forest swallowing the last of the rooftops.
Niall led the way, whistling low and off-key, his hammer bouncing against his back.
Traveling along the bend of the river, trees closing in tighter on either side.
The path was damp with dew, but easy enough to navigate.
Insects chirped low in the underbrush, but no birds called from the branches above.
Not a single animal, just like this morning and every morning for weeks now.
Niall slowed slightly, his eyes flicking to the canopy.
Just the hum of the insects and whispers on the wind.
Behind Niall, the group had fallen into a quieter rhythm. Kyron was muttering under his breath. Maelan was pretending to ignore him. Sorcha kept her gaze ahead watching the way Niall moved. Niall then took a swig from a small flask at his hip.
Sorcha’s brow ticked up.
“What?” Niall didn’t break stride. “It helps me fight better.”
“Helps most fall harder, Then again you aren’t exactly normal.” Maelan replied.
“Now that you mention it,” Niall said, uncapping the flask again, “I once took out six men in a tavern and still had time to finish my drink before the last one hit the ground.”
Kyron groaned, rolling his eyes.
Niall muttered. “Anyway, tell me something. Are you really a cat, or is that just an inside joke?”
Maelan raised a brow and without a word, shifted. One breath later, a massive black jaguar padded forward, its muscles rippling beneath obsidian fur. It paused just ahead of the group, then let loose a low, bone-shaking roar that echoed through the trees.
Niall stumbled back. “Well, damn. That’s—yeah, that’s a cat.”
He took another swig.
Sorcha brushed past him with a snort. Kyron looked unimpressed.
“You could have changed into a house cat,” she said dryly.
Maelan shifted back, still grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Sorcha let out a soft chuckle and kept her stride with Niall, who was still glancing at Maelan. “How far north is the next town?”
Niall turned his glance to Sorcha. “It’s not far. We should be coming up on it anytime now.”
The group continued to follow the path, pushing through thicker brush that had overgrown the trail. Niall kicked the vines aside. “I don’t remember the trail being so overgrown.”
He crouched near a tangled mess of thorns and odd flowers, eyes narrowing at the black buds clustered along the ground. “I’ve spent my whole life here,” he muttered, “and I’ve never seen flowers like this before.”
Sorcha stepped beside him, glancing from the buds to Kyron, then back again.
“Don’t touch that.”
Niall looked over at her.
“Step back, Niall.”
He obeyed without question but confusion spilled across his face, retreating as Sorcha’s hands began to glow.
The runes on her body flared to life, casting a soft, golden light across her skin.
She moved with calm precision, gathering fire between her palms. Then, gently, she let it spill forward.
The vines and flowers ignited instantly.
A terrible screeching rang through the woods as the plants shriveled and cracked, black petals curling into ash. The fire roared, rising high into the air as the trail began to clear.
Sorcha closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Droplets of water formed at her fingertips, circling with graceful intent before crashing forward. A clean wave surged from her hands, dousing the flames and hissing against the scorched earth.
She stood still as steam lifted from the ground, the rest of the group watching in silence.
Niall’s eyes were locked on Sorcha, watching her as she examined the path ahead. Kyron and Maelan brushed past him to take position behind her. Noctis stood beside her before she flickered out of existence again.
Maelan glanced at Niall. “That’s my wife. It’s a lot to explain.”
Niall didn’t miss a beat. “No need to explain. I’m just glad to be on her side.” He clapped Maelan on the shoulder as he passed.
Maelan smirked, falling into step beside Sorcha. Niall strode to the front, leading the way once more as the little coastal town came into view.
“There’s a merchant here who owes me for saving his arse in a brawl.” Niall said, flashing Sorcha a smile. Sorcha couldn’t help but smile back, his roguish charm was annoyingly disarming.