76. Brennen
brENNEN
The fire is warm as I settle down in my chair, pouring myself a dram.
It’s been a long day of judgment. Decisions that weren’t as clear as I like for them to be.
It’s challenging when a soul is both dark and light.
There should be a clear line, or at least, I want there to be.
One that is either crossed or not, but mortals dinnae seem to be like that.
Horrible consequences can come from good intentions, and the unfortunate truth is, that must be considered if I am to be fair.
I kick my feet up onto the table just as there's a knock at the door.
I sigh, putting down my dram. “Back so soon? I call, flicking my wrist. The chair I sit in morphs into my throne, a ridiculous black monstrosity made of hardened shadows meant to inspire fear, though I’m not sure why.
It is not my desire to judge anyone poorly, and it is their own choices that lead to my verdict in the end.
I pick up my gavel from the armrest, waiting for an answer, but one never comes. My mood turns serious.
With the pure souls, the ones I judge to go to peace, my brother An Treòraiche is generally jovial. He teases me before I even open the door, his voice light to try to put the souls he guides to me at ease. It is only with those he fears I will sentence to suffer that he remains silent.
“Enter,” I say, sitting up straighter. The door unlocks at my command, swinging inward, and I stiffen.
Theo’s face is drawn in, and a young woman with blonde hair and sad eyes stands next to him.
But that is not what causes my concern. It’s the goddess of death standing beside them, her face sharp with anger.
It’s happened again.
“Come in," I say, keeping my voice measured and calm even though rage burns inside me hotter than thousands of stars. It is not this young girl's fault humans cannae seem to withstand the allure of power. Not even the Fates.
“Hello,” I say, ducking my head in a nod and giving the young girl a gentle smile. “I see my friend here has brought you to me for your final judgment. Would you like to plead your case?” I ask.
The girl wrings her hands together, clearly nervous, but before I even use my magic, I know I will judge her well. Her aura is clean, almost as white as fresh snow.
“I think I lived a good life,” she says, tentative. “Or, I've tried to, at least.”
“Then I'm sure you have nothing to fear,” I encourage her, extending my hand. She looks to my brother, Theo, an action that isn't uncommon. He’s the gentlest among us, after all, though it should not be mistaken for weakness. He’s as deadly as any of us, but souls feel comfortable with him, often looking to him for approval or advice. He is the guide, after all.
He nods, giving her a kind smile. “Go on, then. I'm sure it will be just fine.”
The girl takes a deep breath and steps forward, her hand shaking as she reaches out to lay her palm on top of mine. I bring our joined hands to my forehead, and it begins, just as it always does. Her life flashes before my eyes. Every decision she’s ever made, and the consequences of those choices.
I see her helping her little sister. Offering food to a young boy at school who was hungry. I see small lies to her parents—normal things, for a child. I see overwhelming goodness. It doesn't surprise me. The goddess would not have picked the next Cutter to be unkind.
“Bidh sìth agad,” I say with a smile. You will have peace.
Her eyes light up immediately, and I wave my arm to the right.
A door appears in the mahogany wall, swinging open wide, and beyond it is what can only be described as paradise.
Highlands and moors and lochs all in one landscape.
All so stunningly beautiful, one could spend the rest of eternity marveling in the glory around them and never tire of it.
“Go on,” I encourage her. “All you could ever want, you will find just through there.”
“Shanni?” a voice calls out. The girl freezes, her smile growing.
“Mother?”
An older woman appears in the doorway, eyes bright with joy.
“Oh, mother!” Shanni races through without another glance, and even though her life ended too young, I’m glad she isnae alone. The door disappears, turning back into rich wood, and any lightness in the room brought on by the girl's happiness at seeing her mother flickers out.
I snap my fingers, and the room of judgment morphs once again, my throne turning back into my armchair. Two matching ones appear in a circle with a table in the middle. Ban-dia a’ Bhàis and Theo approach their seats, and when they sit, a dram appears in each of their hands.
“How did she find her? I thought you hid her this time,” I ask, though it’s not accusatory. This is the second time Cailleach has found the woman who was Fated to be her replacement and eliminated her.
She sighs. “I'm embarrassed to say I do not know. I chose someone deep in the Measurer’s kingdom. A tiny village of no more than fifty.”
“How old was she?” I ask, and the goddess's eyes flash with anger.
“Three days shy of her twenty–third birthday.”
A growl rips from my throat. We were three days away.
Three fucking days, a blink to a god or goddess, and the girl would have begun to come into her powers.
The dàn bearing her sigil would have begun to appear in her mind.
A new one, specifically for her to mark her as a Fate, and had she accepted it before her twenty-fourth year, she would have been brought here to pledge herself to Ban-dia a’ Bhàis. I grip my glass tighter.
“The Epoch will begin soon, then,” Theo says, his voice strained. Of the three of us who govern the path, the consequences of the Cutter refusing to step down bothers him the most. The sheer number of lives that will be lost.
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis nods grimly, taking a long sip.
“Do you think it will change anything? That it will cause Cailleach to see what she is doing to her kingdom?” he asks.
“We can only hope,” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis says. “Blàr says she’ll make sure of it. That this one will ravage the kingdom. Thousands upon thousands will die.”
“And it willnae be enough,” I say, my voice sharp. “Her soul is too corrupted by power. She willnae stop unless we stop her.”
“What is it, then, that you suggest?” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis snaps, her ethereal face somehow haggard.
“I have tried all I can think of. I have hidden the ascending Cutter as well as I can, but she always finds her. This isnae how it’s meant to be.
The ascending should make their pledge, and the Cutter willingly step down. Pass on her power. That was my design.”
I look at Theo, then the goddess. “Then we must change your design.”
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis leans back in her chair, eyebrows raising. “I’m listening.”
“Make it so the next ascending cannae be killed,” I say.
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis shakes her head, her frustration growing. “You know magic doesnae work that way. To do something to alter the threads so severely, there must be a bargain.”
“Then I will make it." I take a pull of whiskey. The words come out casually, but I know the weight of what I am offering. What I’m risking. This is not a decision I’ve made based on emotion or impulse. Cailleach must be stopped.
The room goes completely still.
“What is the bargain you propose?” she asks, but there’s curiosity in her voice.
“Make it so the next Cutter cannae die, and I will vow to you that I will find her and protect her. I will ensure she accepts her position so that the ascending Weaver and Measurer can begin their ascent. Maybe together, the three of them can change fate.”
She tilts her head, swirling her glass. “You cannot go above. Not without becoming mortal. And even then, there are too many variables. How can you be certain you’ll succeed?”
“With another bargain,” Theo says, and my eyes flick to his.
He’s staring at the goddess, determined, without an ounce of fear.
“Mine. Weave it into Brennen’s thread that he will find me.
That he will use me in whatever way he needs to be successful in our quest. That I will help protect the ascending. ”
Warmth fills my chest. “Thank you, brother,” I say.
The goddess straightens, listening now. “Even if you both succeed, it isn’t only a matter of finding them. What about this realm? Who will guard the path? Who will guide the souls that pass through and judge them?”
My throat tightens because of all the things that could cause me to change my mind, this is it. My purpose, my duty. It isnae just what I do, but who I am. Can I trust anyone else to do it well? The souls who pass through this room deserve nothing less than everything I can give them.
But do the living not deserve the same?
“Make that my bargain, then.” Our eldest brother and the guardian of the gates, Garrick, enters with a cocky grin, flicking his wrist. A fourth chair appears, and he sits, a dram appearing in his hand.
“I’ll join them in the mortal world to protect the ascending as well, and I will ensure we find a way to convince the reigning Cutter to step down.
He leans forward. “Either that, or I will find a way to kill her. In return for my assistance, transfer our magic to your sisters until we succeed. Tie my magic to Dìonadair and Dorchadas. When a life is completed, and its thread is severed at its time, the souls will be allowed entry into the After. It’s simple enough. ”
“Solas could guide them,” Theo says, narrowing his eyes in thought. “She can light the way and lead the souls to judgment.” They both look to me.
My jaw clenches, but I consider my options. “Ceò would make a fine judge until I return. She’s used to peering through the mist to what lies beneath it. You can lend my magic to her as well, and return it to me once my bargain has been fulfilled.”
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis eyes sharpen, flicking between us.
“It could work. If we can find a way to ensure the next ascending Cutter survives long enough to accept her role and awaken the next Weaver and Measurer, it is possible that together, they will be able to overthrow Cailleach. Though I cannae guarantee we will succeed. I can weave the possibilities into your threads in exchange for your bargains, but I’ll have to be careful.
If I upset the balance, it could have catastrophic consequences.
It could be the end of the realm as we know it.
” She closes her eyes, shuffling through visions of the future.
What is likely dozens upon dozens of possible outcomes.
“Yes. I can see it will be challenging. And it will not be pleasant. Each of you will be forced to make sacrifices, and they will not be easy.”
“It doesnae matter,” I say, jaw tight. “We will do as we must. Cailleach has to be stopped, no matter the cost.”
Ban-dia a’ Bhàis stares off into the distance for a long moment.
“This Epoch will be brutal, and it has already been set in motion. Let us give Cailleach one more opportunity to do what’s right.
If she doesnae step down at the next exchange of power, then we will risk this plan.
You will all be born mortal in time to prepare for the next transition. ”
“So it’s settled then?” I ask.
One by one, we raise our drams. “Let us toast to bind our intentions. Do we all agree?” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis asks.
“Aye,” I say.
“Aye,” Theo and Garrick echo.
“Then let it be done,” the goddess says, and we bring our drams together.
“Aye!” Mire appears, a dram appearing in her hand. She clangs it against the four of ours. I try to pull back. I dinnae know her intentions, nor do I trust them, but she is too fast. Whiskey spills from the rim of her glass, splashing into ours.
Whatever her addition to the bargain is, spoken or not, it is too late to undo.
“Mire!” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis snaps before I have the chance. “I did not call on you!”
Her eyes glint, wild with chaos. “Since when does madness require summoning?”
“What have you done?” the goddess of death demands, her voice full of horror, but her sister only smiles.
“Dinnae fash, sister. You’ll see.”