11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
When the last star crowns the night above Anam Lac. Cryptic asshole. The Weave sat at the edge of my senses—low, insistent, almost like it was nudging me forward, leading me on some wayward mission. It seemed louder now, unsettled. Straining against something unseen.
I couldn’t stop the thought: what else prowled these woods at night?
The wolf-thing I’d slain hadn’t been the only shadow slipping through from the more…
unsavory realms. The Shaman had whispered that boundaries between the realms were thinning.
Those creatures with no names might be crossing.
The sort of things that lived in the corners of scrolls, scrawled in ink that always bled through the page.
Every step carried me deeper, past the carved standing stones at the village boundary, past shrines mossed with long abandoned offerings.
Fear should have stirred—maybe it did. But it never lasted, not anymore. What throbbed in my chest wasn’t panic. Rage burned hotter, sharper. Anger that even Saorla had seen on my face, quick to snap, quicker to burn.
A branch cracked to the side of the trail and I stilled, holding my breath. Only an animal, most likely. But for a heartbeat, I could have sworn the forest held its breath with me.
The path dipped toward the sound of water. Anam Lac lay ahead.
Roots thinned, dipping into damp earth. Even the birds seemed to hold back, as though the forest forbade them from making themselves known.
The trees opened into a clearing. The lake stretched wide, a mirror of the realms above, rippling silver under starlight. No wind stirred here, it was eerily quiet.
I stepped closer, my temple sandals sinking into dense moss. The air changed—colder, older, and more uninviting than ever before. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t really belong. Even in my own home. Unease pricked along the back of my neck.
My Sight stirred on instinct, brushing the lake’s surface. Threads shimmered faintly in its depths, veins of light twisting like blown glass. The echoes of bonds made in Anamcroí. The bindings of promises. The place of rites. Even divines tread carefully here.
I scanned the shoreline. Empty. Too empty. No wings, no whisper of leaves. Only the faint lap of otherwise stagnant water.
I lowered myself onto a stone at the edge. My reflection wavered in the dark surface. My hood shaded my face. My eyes were aglow with the Sight. Mortal, but not. Bound, but restless.
I couldn’t see him yet, but I felt him. The pull of his presence pressed on me the way storms bent branches before the rain. I leaned forward with a fist underneath my chin.
“You’re late.”
The voice rolled through the clearing, low and unhurried, pulling the breath straight from my lungs. I snapped my head up.
He was leaning against a tree at the clearing’s edge, like the forest had spit him out.
He wasn’t in flowing robes this time, but leathers that clung to his shoulders, a dagger strapped at his side.
Less god, more predator. The forest seemed to respond to him—trees letting out deep sighs like they missed his very presence.
Traitors, the lot of them.
He stood there inspecting his nails, looking bored and far too…godly. I scowled in his direction.
“Late?” I laughed, cold and humorless. “I was here first. Your note was half-riddle, half-joke. You’re lucky I didn’t burn the fucking thing.”
His hood slipped back slightly, revealing eyes that flashed with the kind of brightness only a divine would have.
Was he annoyed at my cursing? I hoped so.
He looked at me the way storms look at trees, weighing which one to break first.
“And yet,” he muttered, definitely annoyed. Well, that made two of us. “You came.”
Heat crawled along my jaw. “Because duty requires it. Not because your perilous games amuse me.”
His gaze drifted down slowly, appraising. Similar to the way he looked at me in that dreary tavern. Even though he couldn’t have known that it had been me he looked upon there.
Did he look at every woman like that?
I could feel my cheeks starting to redden from the weight of his attention.
His eyes bore into me. “You’re dressed rather…impractically.”
The words were a slap to my face. For a divine, he noticed mortal details far too well. I straightened and crossed my arms. “Excuse me?”
He pushed off the tree, shoulders shifting. “Cloaks drag, their hoods catch, sandals sink. You came as if this were a temple floor.” His tone left no room for softness, it was all hard edges and judgement.
I scoffed. “The temple gives me robes, so I wear robes. Believe it or not, I’ve already noticed how impractical they are in a forest. I don’t need you pointing it out like I’m too blind to see.
” I was getting redder by the second, anger manifesting as redness in my cheeks.
“Besides, your obtuse letter conveniently left out a dress code.”
He clucked his tongue, mockery lighting his perfectly defined facial features. “All that backtalk in the Elder’s hut about how well you know these woods, and yet here you are…about to trip over your own hems. Perhaps tonight, you’ll finally learn.”
Had he not just heard what I said? Unbelievable.
My fingers curled into fists. “Perhaps tonight you’ll realize I don’t need your rude commentary to remind me what’s hard. Do your divine ears work, or am I talking to a wall?”
He circled closer, steps measured, deliberate. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice almost…amused, to my utter dismay. “One day, that sharp tongue will cut deeper than a blade. And when it does, who bleeds first? You…or them?”
I met his gaze, unflinching even as my pulse hammered. “If you came to taunt me, congratulations—you’ve succeeded. Shall we call the lesson done?” I made to turn on my heel and stomp off.
I didn't need this shit. The past fortnight had been exhausting to say the least, and he was only irritating me further. My anger was already difficult to check, I certainly didn’t need an arrogant god provoking it.
I had better things to do, like read the book that was weighing down my chest back home.
The laugh that left him was low, dangerous. I stopped in my tracks, hair standing up on the back of my neck.
“Oh, I’ve only just begun. Who am I to deny the sacred Seer a lesson?”
I did not miss the venom lacing the word Seer.
His words hung like a lash, heavy with mockery. Disdain for me and what I represented. Like he was the one inconvenienced by standing in front of me.
“You speak of my duty like it’s some contagious disease,” I snapped. “As if following the Seer around is nothing but a burden you’ve been shackled with.”
His mouth curved, humorless. “Perhaps it is.”
I held in a gasp by some miracle. No one spoke like this—not of the Seer, not out loud. They veiled their pity with reverence. But him? His words dripped venom, as though my very existence soured his tongue.
And gods, that—that sat low somewhere inside me. Uncomfortable in its truth. A knot I couldn’t untangle. Because I felt the same way about it. But I refused to show I had common ground with an egotistical god. Even if the last thing I wanted was him following me around.
So naturally, I deflected. “Funny. Every tale I’ve heard of you speaks only of self-importance. How you’ve taken the lives of countless soldiers, obeying no leash, no law. The Awakener who bows to nothing but himself.”
I shook my head, letting out a scoff. “You were so angry with me for calling you out on your obvious arrogance in the Elder’s hut…yet you speak as if you know the weight of chains that bind. So which is the truth, Tairngire? Are you shackled by your abhorrent reputation, or by the Godhead itself?”
For the first time, his smile faltered. A flicker of heat lit beneath his skin, rising like embers in the wind. I had hit one of the untouchable Forests God’s nerves.
Good fucking riddance.
“Watch. Your mouth,” he said, a growl wrapped in velvet. “You still mistake legends for truth, silly little tales as law. The stories you cling to? Scraps mortals are allowed. And you—” He moved closer, menace in every step. “You should know better than to bind a god in other people’s words.”
I forced my chin up, though my pulse thundered. “And still, here you are. Bound to your duty to ‘protect’ me. Makes it rather obvious which accusation is truth, don’t you think?”
His jaw ticked, light flaring faintly beneath the runes inked in golden green at his collar. His gaze locked on mine, fire and forest all at once.
“One day, Seer,” he whispered, deadly quiet, “you’ll learn the cost of wielding another’s wicked tongue as your weapon. And when that day comes…you won’t like the results.”
His fury bled away, leaving something worse—controlled restraint. Purpose. The smooth drag of a predator savoring the chase. His expression cleared.
“Speaking of bonds,” he drawled easily, tilting his head as though weighing how far to push me. Like he hadn’t just barked at me like I was an insolent child left in his charge. “We need to move. Now. Do try not to trip over yourself.”
The words slid under my skin and tried to make a home there. My throat burned with a retort—something vicious—but nothing came. Rage swelled hot in my chest instead, where it always did.
He saw it, of course. His slow, knowing smile said my silence pleased him more than words.
He’d been truly furious seconds ago, and now, he was taunting me again.
Like a snap of his fingers, his mood changed.
How did he manage that? When I felt any emotion it consumed me whole, I couldn’t shut it off.
His ability to control his emotions to that degree must have been a divine trait.
It only made me resent him more.
The forest leaned closer, listening. Every step echoed through the canopies above us.
He turned without waiting for me, leathers shifting with quiet authority. “Come, Little Seer,” he called over his shoulder, threaded with mockery. “You’ll want to see this.”