Chapter 40 An Urgent Plea
An Urgent Plea
Kyron and Sorcha walked side by side through the quiet streets of Lumora. When they reached the outpost at the center of town, Commander Nethran was waiting for them. His eyes scanned them, relief washing over his face, though it didn’t soften the deep lines of worry etched across his features.
“You’re back,” he said, standing from his desk. “Thank the gods. Are you both all right?”
Sorcha and Kyron exchanged a glance before stepping forward. Sorcha’s voice was steady, but there was an edge of urgency to it. “Commander, there’s something happening in the south… something far worse than we expected.”
“Go on,” Nethran said, his gaze hardening as he motioned for them to sit.
Sorcha began recounting their patrol at Na Crainn Fána: the eerie scene, the stampede of animals, the decay overtaking the woods, and the creature lurking in the blackened water.
Kyron added the details Sorcha had missed, emphasizing the rapid spread of the decay and the dangerous presence they’d sensed within the woods.
Nethran listened intently as the story unfolded.
When they finished, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “This isn’t what I wanted to hear…“ he said grimly. “If the decay is spreading that fast, we could be looking at a full scale collapse of the land. If it reaches the towns—”
“It will,” Sorcha interrupted, her tone resolute. “It’s only a matter of time. That’s why we need to act now.”
Nethran’s gaze flickered between her and Kyron, his worry deepening. “What are you proposing?”
Sorcha straightened, determination flickering in her eyes. “The Festival of Light was a disaster because we weren’t prepared for what could happen. We can’t let Samhain become another massacre.”
“Samhain?” Nethran asked, confusion crossing his face. “What does Samhain have to do with this?”
Kyron leaned forward. “The Veil between realms will be at its thinnest and Vaelric will take advantage of that…”
“Vaelric?” Nethran asked, the name unfamiliar. “A druid,” Sorcha explained carefully, though her
voice carried a weight that hinted at far more. “A powerful one with ill intent. We think he’s working with the Fomorians and we believe he’s behind the decay too, Commander.”
Nethran’s expression darkened further. “If what you’re saying is true, this changes everything.”
“It does,” Sorcha said firmly. “That’s why we need the Circle. We need them at Samhain to protect the festival, to make sure nothing gets through the Veil unchecked.”
Nethran sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed their words. Finally, he spoke. “You’re asking for a lot, Sorcha. Rallying the Circle isn’t a simple task, and convincing the elders to let them leave the region during this danger…”
“I know,” Sorcha said, her voice unwavering. “But it’s necessary. We can’t afford another disaster like the Festival of Light.”
Nethran’s gaze lingered on her for a long while, searching her expression. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” Sorcha said firmly. “If we don’t act now, we may not get another chance.”
Nethran sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “I’ll start reaching out to the elders. But Sorcha if we do this, there’s no turning back.”
“There won’t be,” Sorcha promised.
Nethran nodded, though the weight of their words lingered heavily in the room.
“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”
Kyron and Sorcha exchanged glances and nodded, walking together toward Sorcha’s house.
Cat remained quiet, nestled in the bag he’d crawled into the moment they’d arrived back in Lumora.
Sorcha hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Kyron had been walking her home regularly these past few weeks.
It had become such a natural occurrence that, when they reached her door, she invited him in without hesitation.
Sorcha pushed the door open and guided Kyron inside, keeping a steady hand on his arm until he dropped heavily into the chair by the hearth. The fire was burning low, the warmth radiating throughout the room.
“I’m putting the kettle on,” she said, crossing to the small kitchen. “And I’ll find something for us to eat.”
Kyron didn’t argue. He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, letting the chair swallow him. Cat hopped out of the bag, stretched, and cautiously circled near the edge of the room not too close to Kyron but close enough to enjoy the heat.
Sorcha moved quietly around the kitchen, setting the kettle on and gathering what little she had. A small loaf of bread. A wedge of cheese. A jar of berry jam. A few apples. Nothing remarkable, but enough.
When the kettle began to hum, she poured two cups of tea and arranged the food on a small wooden tray. She carried the tray over first, setting it on the low table beside him.
Kyron blinked at it, surprised. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“You need to eat something,” she said. “Both of you.”
Kyron tore off a small bit of cheese and tossed it toward Cat. Cat sniffed, then took it delicately.
Kyron watched this with a faint tired smirk.
“That was surprisingly,” Sorcha said “Maybe he’s warming up to you.”
“Or he’s too tired to be difficult.” “Could be both.”
She handed Kyron his tea. When he reached for it, his fingers brushed hers. His touch was warm despite how drained he looked, and his thumb grazed her knuckles before he finally let go.
Sorcha sat on the floor across from him, folding her legs beneath her. The crackle of the fire filled the quiet between them.
Kyron took a sip and exhaled softly. “Thank you.” “It’s nothing,” she said, though the warmth in her
chest said otherwise.
They ate in comfortable silence as Cat settled near Sorcha but kept one wary eye on Kyron, even as he accepted the next bite of cheese he offered.
When they finished, they both stood at the same time, reaching for their cups.
Sorcha laughed under her breath when they nearly bumped into each other in the small kitchen.
As she stumbled Kyron steadied her by the waist. She watched as his hands lingered, warm and careful as he held her, he didn’t remove his hands until she looked up at him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, though his voice held no real regret.
She stepped aside, heart beating too fast. “You should rest,” she said.
“Let me help. I can manage a cup.”
He set the dishes down slowly, stubbornly steady in spite of his fatigue. Sorcha returned the tray to the counter and felt him step beside her. When she looked up, he was already watching her.
Something in his expression softened. He reached for her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted the strength in his calloused fingers.
His other hand lifted the stray strands of hair that had fallen forward, tucking them behind her ear with deliberate care.
Her heart fluttered as she met his gaze.
Swirling blue tides crashed against the grey stone circles around his irises, the colors deepening in the firelight.
His lips were full, carrying the faintest flush of pink, but it was the subtle shift in his breathing that stole her own.
His chest rose and fell a little too quickly, and the sight sent heat blooming low in her stomach.
Kyron stepped closer, his body almost brushing hers before he whispered, “You should get some rest.”
Sorcha nodded as she broke his gaze.
“You’re right, I’ll try to rest my eyes for a bit,” was all she could manage to say.
Kyron’s hand stayed a moment longer on her cheek before his hand dropped to his side.
“Good. I’ll sit by the fire a while, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d like that,” she replied as she turned toward her bedroom door.
Sorcha slipped into her room, pushing the door only halfway closed. The soft glow from the hearth spilled through the gap, painting a warm stripe across the floorboards. She changed into something clean and comfortable, the day in the forest tugging at her with every movement.
When she finally crawled beneath the blankets, the mattress dipped around her body. Her muscles ached, her mind buzzed, but the quiet murmur of voices from the main room drifted in and slowly unwound the tightness in her chest.
Kyron’s voice came first, low and rough from fatigue, barely above a whisper. She couldn’t make out the words, only the cadence steady, soothing, familiar in a way she didn’t want to admit.
Cat replied with a soft chirp, followed by the pattering sound of him hopping up onto something, probably the arm of Kyron’s chair. There was a pause, then Kyron exhaled a tired breath.
“I suppose you’re keeping watch tonight,” he muttered.
Another little trill from Cat, this one almost smug.
Sorcha smiled into her pillow.
Kyron’s chair creaked softly as he moved, followed by the clink of a kettle finding its place on the stove. Warmth spread through the quiet room. Her eyes drifted shut to the gentle simmer of water and the comforting shuffle of feet and paws settling near the fire.