Chapter 32
The Truth
The Circle dispersed toward the outposts to gather supplies.
Each officer selected a section of forest to survey and rope off or to speak with the townsfolk.
Their hurried footsteps echoed on the stone walkways as they split up.
Sorcha paused, taking in the late afternoon light, a wash of yellow melting into pink and orange hues reminiscent of ruby fruit–a wild citrus that grew in the woods surrounding the city.
Its peel was a vibrant red, but the flesh within held shades of pink, the taste a blend of lemon and raspberries.
Lumora and the others faded into the background as she entered the woods, branches swaying in the breeze as her boots sank into the emerald moss.
Trees danced in the wind, a whistling sound carried through the air when she narrowed her eyes at movement in her periphery, whirling around. Something weaved between the trees.
Sorcha spun in circles, trying to catch sight of it when searing pain erupted in her right arm, then her left, then her right again.
Small slashes appeared on her skin, droplets of red flowing from the cuts.
Her runes flared, glimmering, when a tiny figure, about two feet tall, emerged from the trees.
He wore a red cap and had a twisted grin as he jumped onto a large rock and sat, watching Sorcha before licking the blood from his nails.
He howled with laughter at her confusion.
“What burns hotter than the sun, yet dies the moment it’s born?”
“What?” Sorcha spat, wiping blood from her wounds.
The little man leaned back, holding his stomach, laughing. “Why, you, silly girl.”
Suddenly, he was in front of her, towering, his face twisted, features melting together as he smiled wider, exposing needle-sharp teeth with pieces of flesh caught between them.
Sorcha’s runes flared, and she began to ignite, fire slowly rippling across her skin.
The twisted figure stepped back and screamed, charging at her, only to vanish before reaching her.
Laughter had broken out all around, only to vanish instantly.
Sorcha’s chest heaved as the fiery ripples faded away.
She stood there, anticipating the Far Darrig’s return.
She knew the creature relished its tricks and riddles at mortals’ expense, though she’d never witnessed it firsthand.
The stories, however, were familiar. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows, she hurried toward the bloom.
Sorcha finished securing the last of her rope, brushing off her hands.
The bloom hadn’t spread as far as they’d feared, but even a mile into the forest was too close for comfort.
It pulsed softly in the fading light, an unsettling presence.
Kyron emerged from the woods, carrying another coil of rope as if he knew she was running out.
“This should finish the last section,” he said, handing it to her. “The bloom seems to have stopped spreading.”
“How’d you know I needed more rope?” Sorcha asked, knotting the post with practiced ease.
Kyron just smiled. “I had a hunch, and it was getting late.” His eyes lowered to the dried blood on her arms. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just some branches caught me on my way through.” She rubbed her arms as she spoke. “Anyway, as the Commander said, we just need to finish this up.”
Kyron stood beside her, following her gaze through the trees.
“It’s late. Let me walk you back.”
Sorcha hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Thanks.”
The walk back to the village was silent, the streets lit by a handful of soft lights. Sorcha glanced at Kyron, her brow furrowing. “Have you seen Riona?”
Kyron shook his head. “No. I asked Eirin yesterday, and he said she hasn’t been at her post much. She’s keeping to herself.”
Sorcha sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve gone to her post, knocked on her door, left notes. It’s like I’m invisible to her now.”
Kyron slowed his pace, his tone careful. “You know how grief can be. She might just need time.” Sorcha clenched her fists, frustration bubbling to the surface.
“I know she’s hurting, but—” She stopped herself, exhaling sharply. “It feels like she’s shutting me out completely.”
Kyron reached out, his hand brushing her arm. “You’ve done what you can. Sometimes people need space to process. Pushing her might only push her further away.”
She nodded reluctantly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re right. I just… I hate feeling like I can’t help her.”
They walked in silence for a few moments before Kyron broke it. “Samhain is coming up,” he said, his tone lighter trying to change the subject. “I was wondering if you’re still interested in going. I know things have changed, but…”
Sorcha glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Samhain?” She hesitated, considering it. “Honestly, I think I need it now more than ever. I need something to take my mind off all this.”
Kyron gave her a small smile. “Good. It’ll be a chance to step away, even if it’s just for a little while.
And,” he added with a raised brow, “maybe we’ll get a better sense of what’s happening in Cailleach’s Keep.”
Her smile faltered slightly, the weight of everything crashing back down. “Let’s just hope it’s nothing like here,” she murmured.
Kyron didn’t reply, but the way his gaze lingered on her spoke volumes. As they reached her door, Sorcha paused on the threshold.
“Thanks for walking me back.”
Sorcha started to step through the doorway when Kyron gently grabbed her arm. “Sorcha,” he said softly.
She turned, surprised by the unexpected nervousness in his voice. “What is it?”
Kyron ran a hand through his hair, hesitating for a moment as if searching for the right words. “I need you to hear me out,” he said, his voice quiet but serious. He muttered almost to himself, “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, concerned.
He gaze was on ground, kicking the dirt gently as he avoided her gaze. Sorcha studied him for a long moment, sensing the weight of whatever he was about to say. Finally, she nodded.
“Okay,” Kyron exhaled, bracing himself. “I’m sorry for the way we met in the woods,” he began. “But it wasn’t by chance that we met. I was there because of you.”
“Because of me?” Sorcha asked, confused.
“Why?”
“Because…” he paused, raising his eyes to meet hers.
“I’m part of the Tuatha Dé Danann. For generations, part of my family has lived in the Otherworld, but we’ve always watched over the mortal realm.
Not just the realm itself, but people… people born with special gifts or abilities, like you… demigods.”
Sorcha blinked. “Wait… are you telling me the Tuatha Dé Danann are still here?” Then she added, “A demigod?” Her voice trailed off trying to process what he just told her.
“Yes,” Kyron said simply, his voice steady. “The mist you’ve seen me use, it’s not just an
ability. It’s a bridge, a way to transport between worlds. Each of us is gifted with it. I couldn’t tell you sooner because of my orders. I know just showing up in the woods wasn’t enough to make you trust me, but I was trying to keep you safe.”
Sorcha’s thoughts swirled as she tried to make sense of it all. “So… the mist is your connection to the Otherworld? And you’re here because of me?”
He nodded. “Yes. When I came to the festival, I wanted to talk to you, to explain everything. Then the Fomorians attacked and afterwards wasn’t the right time.
The more time I spent with you, the more I realized I didn’t want to leave you.”
Sorcha’s breath caught in her throat as Kyron took a step closer, his voice softening.
“You may have started out as my duty, Sorcha,” he said, his gaze unwavering.
“But you’re more than that now. I need you to know my feelings for you go beyond what they should.
I stayed here when I shouldn’t have, because I care about you. ”
His words hung in the air between them, Sorcha’s heart raced, her mind reeling from the weight of his confession. She didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t look away from him, caught in the depths of those swirling waves of his.
“There’s more I have to tell you,” Kyron said, his voice heavy with hesitation. “And what I’m about to say isn’t easy to hear. I need you to understand there’s never been a good time to tell you any of this. But it’s about who you are and what happened to your parents.”
She shook her head, a wave of denial washing over her.
“No,” she said firmly, her voice trembling.
“I know what happened to my parents. I know who they were.” Her eyes searched his face, a mix of terror, sorrow and frustration clouding her expression.
“I can’t. Not right now. It’s too much. This is all too much.
” She began to back away when Kyron spoke.
His expression softened, a flicker of pain evident in his eyes, but he nodded. “I get it,” he said gently. “But if you ever want to know the truth, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’ll tell you everything.”
Sorcha’s eyes lingered on his for a moment longer.
He stepped closer, gently placing his hand over hers. “When you’re ready, Sorcha.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Then, before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The warmth of it lingered even as he pulled away. Without another word, he turned and walked into the night, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Sorcha standing alone in the darkness.
She stood there for a long moment, the weight of his words settling heavily on her chest, her mind spinning with questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to.