Chapter 5 Merciful End
Merciful End
As the fog thinned, the golden city blurred behind him; his knees hit the soil before he’d realized he’d dropped.
The fog carried Kyron and the creature on a storm cloud of mist, landing them into a grove just beyond the sanctity of the Tuatha Dé Danann.
The city shimmered behind him, fading into the distance as he turned to the figure slumped by his side.
Gnarled bark and twisted limbs wrapped around a body blackened like ash.
Crimson veins pulsed beneath the skin like molten sap, crawling through the bark that veiled what was left of a face.
His gaze caught on a faint star-shaped mark etched into its shoulder, and his breath hitched.
Alenia.
She had vanished from the Tuatha court two weeks earlier, a witch and a scry gifted with healing and foresight.
Kind and soft spoken, her eyes had been the color of primrose petals, and a small star birthmark had rested above her heart.
Whispers had always followed her, saying she came from the stars themselves.
Kyron had come to these woods on a different mission entirely, but that no longer mattered. As he knelt in the ash and ruin, staring at the twisted remains before him, he knew it was her.
The darkness had taken hold and there was no coming back from it now.
The creature’s body jerked suddenly, bones snapping, limbs twitching in violent spasms. Kyron flinched, then steadied himself as its jaw unhinged in a snarl, revealing jagged teeth slick with black saliva. He stepped forward, forcing calm into his voice, and spoke her name.
“Alenia.”
For a moment, the thrashing stopped. The creature’s eyes, wild and blood fogged, found his. They shimmered faintly pink, like spring blossoms steeped in starlight. Tears welled and cut pale tracks through the soot on her cheeks. She shook her head in a silent plea.
Kyron’s throat tightened as he reached for his blade, her eyes watching closely as his sword cleared its sheath. He hovered it over her chest, just above the star mark he had once kissed as flashes of young love flickered behind his eyes.
The memories of kisses stolen under the ancient yew trees, flower picking in his mother’s gardens and how she’d smell of sweet clover for days after, the sunsets they watched from the golden fields of the Tuatha.
His gaze held hers as he watched her struggle to remain in control of what little was left of herself and he knew that this was better than damnation.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words breaking apart in his throat.
The blade drove down and ribs snapped beneath the force of it.
The sound was sharp and splintering like tree branches cracking in winter as a soft cry tore from her throat and then fell away into silence.
Her body shuddered once before it stilled and in that moment, her face seemed almost peaceful.
Her eyes lifted toward the violet hues of the sky, to the faint shimmer of stars dancing between the clouds.
Kyron felt a hollow relief that he had found her, that he had been the one to say goodbye.
Yet the truth ached in his heart. It wasn’t peace he felt, only the sharp grief of farewell.
If he had found her sooner, there might have been a way to heal her.
To save her from the darkness that had taken hold.
Now all he could do was make sure she hadn’t died alone.
Kyron stayed on his knees beside her body, his hand still resting on the hilt as he bowed his head and whispered into the stillness.
“May the Dagda show you the light. May the Don take your hand and lead you through the rivers that run steady and true, and guide you home to Tír na nóg.”