52. Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty
By the time breakfast ended, my thoughts still circled like crows. The memories still clung to me: Ailbhe’s venomous words struck first. “So the fragile Seer has new blood. Let’s hope your weakness left with the old.”
Ciaran spoke before I had the chance to even open my mouth, his voice calm. “Careful, Ailbhe. Weakness doesn’t draw the eyes of the Fates.”
Her glare could’ve split stone, but she said nothing.
Scáthae’s gaze was worse, hot and measuring, like she was cutting me open across the table. I couldn’t look away, even when my pulse hammered.
I hadn’t breathed until Branwyn elbowed me under the table, smirking into her cup. Mairenn’s hand brushed mine in quiet solidarity.
Now I stood at the top of the stone steps that would lead us to the Iron Vein, Tairngire beside me. The air below carried damp earth and iron, the fortress breathing in the dark. His hand brushed mine, tethering me to his calm fortitude.
My stomach knotted as I peered into the shadows yawning below.
Mist gathered in the alcove before I could descend—violet and golden threads coiling through shadow…
Of fucking course.
Eisarnach stepped free, all flourish and theater, as though he belonged on a stage, not in a war-forged fortress.
“Well, well,” he purred, eyes locking on me. “The little Seer shines brighter than yesterday. Divinity woven into mortal veins. Oh, the Fates do love to meddle.”
I groaned. “What in the Seven bloody Realms are you doing here, Eisarnach?”
“Admiring, obviously.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, violet coat flowing behind him in an invisible breeze. “You wear divinity well, darling.”
Behind me, Tairngire’s sigh rumbled rough from deep in his chest—half-annoyance, half-resignation. “He’s here,” he muttered, “because whether we like it or not…his tricks may be of use.”
Eisarnach lit up, absurdly pleased. “Ah, see? The forest lord admits he needs me. What a moment in history. Should I etch it into the roots of the World Tree?”
Now that would be entertaining. Though, not for the reasons he thought.
I arched a brow. “The Oracle would have you by your feathery balls if you tried.”
Tairngire covered his mouth with the back of his hand, stifling a laugh.
Eisarnach grinned. “Well, I’ll be…I didn’t know you had it in you to tease. Perhaps the golden spark lends to ones humor.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn't call it humor. You bring my violence out, actually.”
“Ahh, and it's a pleasure,” he said with a wink and another dramatic bow.
The three of us stood at the mouth of the descent: one god exasperated, one god delighted, and me—caught between them, fire threatening to burn straight through the stone beneath us.
The stairs wound down, slick with damp, torches guttering low. Our boots echoed hollow in the silence, or would have, if Eisarnach hadn’t filled it with his chaos.
He tilted his head back, inhaled deeply, then loosed a low, theatrical hum. “What did you two get up to last night?” His grin spread like wildfire. “I can still taste it in the air between you.”
My whole body snapped tight. Rage flared, hot and blinding. I spun on him, hand lifting before I thought. “That’s it—”
Tairngire grabbed my wrist before it could do any damage and let out an infuriating chuckle.
The Trickster stepped back dramatically with his hands up. “Oh,” he said, delight curling his words. “Fiery little Seer. Desire and wrath, red and gold, tangled. A truly potent mix.”
“Careful,” Tairngire drawled, fingers brushing my wrist, stoking my fire higher. “You’ll tempt her into setting the fortress ablaze.”
“You’re both enjoying this far too much.” I was ready to detonate. My pulse thundered through my veins.
“Of course I am,” Eisarnach sang. “How often does one witness a mortal turned half-born? I certainly never have, and I've been around for a very long time, darling."
“And I—” Tairngire added, leaning close so his breath seared my ear, “enjoy seeing how fierce she gets when provoked.”
I wanted to scream, to slam them both into stone and let the ceiling fall. Instead, I grit my teeth, took a deep breath, and walked faster. My every step an effort not to ignite.
Their laughter echoed down the stairwell, aimed at me.
I started to see red, my palms itched. I squeezed my right hand once, twice…
and then, I reached. Threads sparked in my veins, red and gold twisting with the Weave.
I didn’t pull on it hard, just enough to let the power hum from my chest to my fingertips.
It was easier than it ever had been. The stones trembled as I deadlocked the Weave, squeezing on it with invisible hands. I could feel every thread surrounding us as if it were running directly through my veins.
That probably should have scared me, but all I felt in that moment was raw power. And I was so tired of being stared at, mocked, treated like a specimen for the Old Gods experiments.
Both gods stilled. Eisarnach’s grin faltered, eyes sharpening with sudden hunger. Tairngire’s hand clenched the rail like he’d been jolted, his stone-hard body gone rigid.
“Well I'll be,” Eisarnach whispered, half-laugh, half-awe. “She tugged it again.”
Tairngire’s smirk was gone, his jaw set. But through the bond I felt him. His pulse quickened, fury and want braided together. I could almost hear him saying be careful with that, Little Seer.
I lifted my chin, chest heaving. “Knock it off,” my voice was rough to even my own ears. “I won’t be your entertainment. The Fate of the realms rests on this journey, and I refuse to let either of you cocky gods turn it into a fucking spectacle.”
My vision was edged in light, I was barely containing my rage. I squeezed my eyes shut and began counting to ten in an attempt to ground myself. When I opened my eyes, Eisarnach remained there staring, lips parted like he didn't have something to say for once
Good fucking riddance.
The reprieve didn't last, though. Slowly, his catlike grin returned. “Oh, you are going to be dangerous.”
Tairngire’s eyes locked on mine. His growl was a low scrape across my bones. “She already is.”
The steps carried us deeper, and I didn’t look back at either of the insufferable gods behind me.
The air was warm and damp, heavy with a mineral scent.
The chamber opened wide. Its ceiling was lost in steam rising from scattered pools.
Water dripped, hissing faintly where fissures bled heat from earth.
It didn’t look like anything like a cavern for war, as one might expect. But rather, a place of indulgence, of stolen moments that didn't belong in a compound made for training warriors.
Eisarnach breathed it in like perfume, arms wide. “Ah, wonderful. A hot spring fit for temptation and secrets. The Morrígan and her hidden treasures.”
Tairngire stepped close. His heat was at my back before his breath grazed my ear. His gravely voice slid down my spine. “Do you know how much pleasure could be made here, Aurenya? The water, the stone…you’d be writhing before I even touched you.”
The memory of taking him in my mouth last night surged. My nails bit into my palms.
Damn him, and damn this bond.
Eisarnach’s laugh scraped against my nerves.
“Good gods, you two are incorrigible. That bond of yours drips into the air like honey—cloying, thick, enough that I can taste it.” He gestured to the chamber, stream curling around his wrists like serpents.
“There are deeper things here. The Iron Vein runs beneath this place, the pulse of a realm beating beneath your feet. And yet you both yearn like teenagers drunk on lust.”
His grin sharpened. “By all means, burn each other to ash. I'd love to watch. But please, do it after we find this wretched rock, hmm?”
Tairngire’s hand brushed my hip as he stepped past, emerald eyes glaring at the God of Chaos.
I rolled my eyes, he could be frustrated with Eisarnach all he wanted, but he was the reason that he was here, after all. I still couldn't understand why Tairngire tolerated the Trickster. He wasn't exactly known for his patience, and yet, he put up with all of Eisarnach's antics.
The path narrowed, colder with every step.
The warmth of the springs fell away, traded for damp stone and the sting of earth that had never seen light.
My skin prickled as though the air was charged with power, every nerve lit.
The Weave seemed to hum louder down here.
Darkness had never been an issue for me, but now, with divinity coursing through my veins, it seemed almost too bright.
Eisarnach strolled ahead, whistling some lilting tune as if this were a walk through a garden, head tilted, hands clasped behind his back, utterly lost in his own world.
Beside me, Tairngire pressed closer, eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “You’re burning too hot, Aurenya,” he murmured, voice low, meant for me alone. “The bond is strengthening with your divine blood. Careful how far you let it take you.”
My jaw tightened. Of course, he knew. He always knew. My thoughts, the memory of his mouth, the ache he’d left behind—it all pulsed down the tether like fire.
Then my Sight surged. The world snapped sharp and electric, vision blurring as iron sang on my tongue—cold, metallic. Ahead, the stone wall loomed, trembling with a sound that crawled along my bones. Silver and gold threads shimmered across its surface, luminous and beckoning.
My hand lifted before I thought. “It’s there,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Behind the stone. I can feel it. The Vein…it’s there.”
Eisarnach’s whistling died, replaced with his annoying voice. “Ahh, the song of iron calls to her. Seems you’ve found your second heart.”
Tairngire’s hand slid around my arm, steadying me. His gaze locked on mine, his amusement replaced with something far more dangerous. “Then it’s time we wake it.”