30. Interlude
Interlude
The forests of Aeos Sítheann did not bow. Their canopies shimmered with veins of gold and violet, as if starlight had woven itself into the leaves. Small, sharp-eyed things with glassy wings whispered from the shadows. Tonight, they did not scatter.
The god comes. The god walks here again.
Even the silfraels paused their hunt to stare. He was known here. His presence familiar as the oldest blooms. The forest parted where he passed and settled after, though it should not have. Aeos Sítheann had resisted once, long ago. It did not yield easily.
At its heart, where the air thickened with jasmine and smoke, the god found him.
Caelith. Or rather, the one who wore the name like a mask.
He lounged on a throne grown from the living roots of ancient yew, hair gold and wild, feathers gleaming as if dipped in molten light. A violet coat spilled across broad shoulders, his wine-dark eyes glimmering with mischief—and something older. Crueler.
Eisarnach.
God of Chaos. Trickery. Brother to the Veilwalker.
When theThread Wars ended, he had refused the peace.
While the Tuatha Dé Danann rebuilt and mortals stitched their wounds, Eisarnach claimed Aeos Sítheann, bending its skies and rivers, its very soil.
Illusions danced at his fingertips as easily as breath.
And unlike the rest of the Godhead, he could look upon the Weave. Manipulate it, tug on the threads if a situation called for it. Held accountable by his brother, the only other aside from the Seer who could see the threads of Fate.
“You walk boldly for one who does not belong here,” Eisarnach said, smile cutting. His voice splintered into a dozen echoes, riddles on the air.
The god did not answer. The creatures crept closer, their wings humming. The silfraels lay down in the grass, ears pricked. The god bent down and ruffled one’s ears, it yipped enthusiastically in response.
“You know why I’ve come,” the god said at last, once again rising to his impossible height. He would not dim himself in the presence of a predator.
Eisarnach leaned forward, feathers glinting in his golden hair. “Ah. The infamous hunter seeks counsel…or perhaps mercy.” He taped his chin, eyes gleaming
Mercy was not what the god sought. And both knew it.
Eisarnach rose only halfway from his living throne. “Well, well. The little Seer walks into my realm dripping with fire, fury…and desire.” His cat-like eyes glowed, something ancient behind them. “You’ve felt it too. Haven’t you? The tug. The burn. Naughty forest god, touching what’s forbidden.”
The air trembled with his lilting laughter.
The god’s jaw tightened. Silence.
“Tsk.” Eisarnach clicked his tongue, delighted. “Even now, you smolder. The soul bond sings between you. Loudly, I might add. Threads fray when pulled too taut. And when yours inevitably snaps…” He snapped his fingers, Violet shadows spilling across the roots. “Ah, the chaos that will ensue."
Eisarnach laughed again. "I can almost taste it already.”
“You speak too freely,” the god said, voice low.
Eisarnach leaned forward, grin all teeth. “Freely? Or truthfully? I wonder, does history repeat itself, Awakener?”
The silence that followed bit deeper than any words that could have been spoken.
Eisarnach sighed, his voice overlapping like a broken chorus. “Desire. Wrath. Fire you swore to bury. When restraint breaks, the Fates will howl with joy.”
“Silence.” The word cracked like thunder. “Your tricks and your games are not what I’ve come for. I’ve entertained them long enough as it is”
Eisarnach slouched back, amused. “So serious. Always so serious.” He twirled a feather in his left hand, gaze never leaving his guest. “Then speak, hunter. What do you seek? A silence I'll be reluctant to give? Or an alliance you’ll regret?
“Both,” came the even reply.
The God of Chaos went still, grin sly as a fox with blood in its muzzle. “Then let’s play. But remember, forest lord—every bargain with me is a labyrinth.”
The god’s voice dropped, flat and final. “The Obsidian Heart chose her.”
For once, Eisarnach faltered. His fingers going still from their incessant drumming against his throne of roots. “Come again?.”
“The Heart chose her.”
A pause. Even the branches hushed. Eisarnach’s eyes narrowed, his playfulness cooling into steel. “Impossible. That stone was forged to bind, to devour. The last time it stirred, the storms nearly broke the realms.”
“And yet, it chose.”
Eisarnach sat back, grin gone, his gaze somewhere far away. The news was so dire that it could temper a god who thrived on trickery, if only for a moment. “Then she is already marked. Do you know what that means?”
The gods green eyes burned like embers. “That your silence is required.”
Eisarnach’s smirk returned, slow as sap dripping from a tree. “Ah, there it is. The cold god asks favors. Tell me—why should I give them? The Godhead believes you’re still their faithful hound. You bow. You kneel, You wear the leash so well it almost convinces even me. Do you not tire of it?”
“They see what I want them to see,” the god replied, voice low. “They smell loyalty where there is only illusion.”
Eisarnach’s laughter cracked the clearing, fine-edged and unforgiving. “Oh, how admirable. Clever little forest god, taking a page from my book. So…calculating. Always the knife in the dark rather than the roar of the storm. You have other intentions. I’ll figure them out eventually.”
The god’s expression didn’t change. “So will you give it? Your silence. Your word. Your hand, if the storms break?”
The trickster’s eyes glimmered. “Silence is easy. Alliances, however, are an entirely different matter.”
The god let out a long sigh. “The seven storms churn, each realm will become a tempest unchained. Would you risk this out of petty indignation? Surely, you’re smarter than that. Old grudges mean little when nothing exists to hold them.”
The clearing fell quiet, two predators measuring each other. The God of Chaos tapped his fingers against his throne, rubbing his mouth. Never taking his eyes off the intruder, considering his words closely.
At last, Eisarnach leaned back and let out a long breath in concession.
He'd been backed into a corner, something he typically avoided at all costs.
“Very well. I will hold my tongue—for now. I will not whisper of the Seer or the Heart that should not choose. And when the storms rise…perhaps I stand beside you. Or perhaps I set the board aflame. We shall see.”
The god’s jaw tightened, but he gave the smallest nod. “Then we are agreed.”
Eisarnach laughed, the barest hint of annoyance lacing it. “Well, I suppose. For now, at least, my cold friend.”
The god turned, cloak brushing the moss, ready to leave. The pact hung between them, fragile enough to shatter from the briefest touch.
But Eisarnach’s taunting voice followed. “She still wants you, you know.”
The god froze for a heartbeat. Eisarnach savored it, leaning back on his throne.
“And I'm not talking about your precious Little Seer,” he added softly, almost a purr.
“But another. One who does not forgive as easily. One whose longing stinks of old wounds and broken vows. Pathetic little tale, really.”
The god’s shoulders tensed.
Eisarnach’s violet eyes shined in the dim light of his enchanted forest, pleased that he hit the right nerve. “Bristle, bristle. You can lie to the Old Gods, lie to your little mortal. But not to me, Forest God. Unrequited desire leaves marks even on stone.”
Silence stretched taut. The god stepped forward once more and turned his head to the side, mist curling at his heels.
When he spoke, his voice was iron-edged: “Mind your business, Trickster. And if you dare to enter her dreams uninvited again, I’ll see to it that your labyrinth is burned clean and you are chained alongside your brother for an eternity in the Shadow Realm. ”
Eisarnach only laughed, if the God of Chaos was afraid at the subtle mention of Dorchadas he did not show it. “So very protective you are. Ahh, but burn it, and you’ll only prove me right. Your idle threats do not scare me, oh great Blood of Cernnunos.”
The god vanished into his mist, leaving Eisarnach’s laughter echoing through Aeos Sítheann like bells tolling for war.