Chapter 53 #2
His voice was clear and deliberate, Sorcha wasted no time scribbling it all down. She then took another piece of parchment, tracing the map while carefully. noting every detail, name, and area of importance.
Once done, Cat gently rolled the scroll back up and set it precisely where it had been. Just as if he had planned it, Commander Nethran returned. Sorcha turned, prepared to ask him about the scroll, but before she could, he abruptly cut her off, speaking loudly.
“That is an ancient text, not meant for anyone other than the Elder Druids or the High Council. I’m not sure how it ended up here, but I’m certain it was an accident. I will be returning it to the library archives immediately.”
His gaze darting between them. A slow, careful nod followed, his expression telling them everything they needed to know they were being watched.
Sorcha caught the message and responded accordingly. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
At that moment, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed outside the door, pacing back and forth. Whoever was out there was waiting for the Commander.
Kyron met Nethran’s gaze before speaking. “Apologies for disturbing you, sir. We’ll speak another time.”
As Sorcha, Kyron, and Cat turned to leave, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed beyond the door were deliberate and unhurried. Whoever was there had been waiting and listening. The moment the door swung open, they were met with the piercing gazes of two elder druids standing just outside.
Their robes, dark and heavy with embroidered symbols of rank, seemed to add to the weight of their presence.
Lines of worry creased their faces, their expressions carved from stone, somber, unwavering.
One druid, an older man with silver streaked hair and deep set eyes, studied them with the quiet intensity of someone who already knew too much.
The other, a woman with sharp cheekbones and a stern mouth.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers tapping against the worn leather of her sleeves restrained frustration barely concealed.
Sorcha’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to hold their gaze, to keep her expression neutral. Kyron stiffened beside her, his shoulders squared, while Cat flicked his tail, eyes darting between them and the commander.
Commander Nethran, to his credit, remained unreadable. He stepped forward, his expression a mask of calm authority. “Elders,” he greeted them smoothly, though Sorcha didn’t miss the slight tension in his voice.
Neither druid immediately responded. Instead, they exchanged a glance silent. After a few moments, the older one spoke, his voice stern and slow.
“We need to speak. Now.”
It wasn’t a request. Sorcha swallowed hard. Whatever was happening here, they didn’t want to be involved in it.
Exiting Commander Nethran’s office, Sorcha pulled her cloak tighter against the crisp autumn air.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the rooftops, but the chill of late October lingered, biting at her skin.
A thin mist clung to the cobbled streets, curling around doorsteps, and the scent of damp earth and distant wood smoke filled the air.
The plan had been simple track everyone down, one by one, and tell them to meet at the tavern that evening. They weren’t going to pull them from their posts. Tonight, they would finally lay it all out: the Veil, Vaelric, the creatures stirring on the other side, and the war creeping ever closer.
Sorcha sighed, her breath visible in the cold.
Kyron, walking beside her, smirked. “You keep doing that. You know, sighing dramatically isn’t a strategy.”
Sorcha shot him a look. “It is if I do it enough times and the problem disappears.”
Kyron chuckled. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
They were making their way toward the post when a loud burst of laughter cut through the market square Drystan’s, unmistakable and full of mischief.
Her gut twisted at the sound. It had been a long time since she’d heard such an easy, carefree laugh.
A time when Emry would have been right there beside him, adding his own wry remarks, making her roll her eyes even as she smiled.
The absence of his voice stung, settling into a familiar ache in her chest.
Kyron glanced at her but said nothing, giving her the space to process.
Then, as if reading her mind, he jerked his chin toward the tavern. “Might as well just go for it.”
Sorcha exhaled slowly. “Let’s get this over with.”
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, they were met with the comforting warmth of the tavern. The scent of spiced cider and roasting meat filled the air, mingling with the crackling fire in the hearth. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting a golden glow over the room.
And there, gathered near the center, was nearly everyone they had been looking for.
Drystan, leaning back in his chair with a grin, was in the middle of telling some exaggerated story, arms waving dramatically.
Eirin sat across from him, arms crossed, shaking his head at whatever nonsense was spilling from Drystan’s mouth.
Mason, half listening, his attention more on the plate of food in front of him, while Rhosyn and a few others were lost in quiet conversation at the nearby table.
This wasn’t a coincidence.
Nethran must have known this conversation had to happen, had likely worked it out in his head that Sorcha would track them down or they’d find him first. And since he was tied up in his own meeting at the Druid School, he had given them the space to start this on their own.
Kyron leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, that saves us some time.”
Sorcha swallowed, her fingers curling into the edge of her cloak. She had been dreading this moment, not just because of what they had to discuss, but because she had barely spoken to any of them since her abrupt announcement about who she was. Especially Eirin.
Eirin… his gaze locked onto hers the moment she stepped inside. Sorcha’s breath hitched, her pulse skipping, but she forced herself to keep walking. To pretend she didn’t feel the warmth of every moment they had shared pressing against her like a ghost.
She had come here to tell them the plan. To prepare for what was coming. But as she stepped further into the room, she realized she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face Eirin, or what came next.
She could feel the weight of that avoidance settle over her now, pressing into the space between them.
She had feelings for him there was no denying that but she also had feelings for Kyron, and the confusion of it all had kept her distant.
And then there was Emry, the guilt that gnawed at her for failing him, and the sting of Riona’s absence, now somewhere far in the north.
She met Eirin’s gaze briefly before looking at the others, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides.
“I need to tell you all the truth about what’s coming.”
Drystan, who had been mid sip of his drink, set his mug down slowly. Rhosyn leaned in slightly, her gaze locked onto Sorcha. Even Mason straightened in his chair.
Sorcha exhaled. “We know who’s behind the decay and monsters…
It’s Bres, the ex-king of The Tuatha and Fomorians, and his son Vaelric…
he isn’t just gathering power, he’s hunting others like me.
Other children born with gifts. He’s raising an army, But he’s not looking to recruit them.
He’s looking to drain them. He takes their power for his own… ”
A few of them stiffened. Eirin’s eyes locked into hers.
Sorcha forced herself to keep going. “He’s twisting them.
If he succeeds, they won’t just be fighting alongside the Fomorians they’ll become something far worse.
” She let that sink in before continuing.
“I need to find them first. To warn them, to tell them what’s coming.
Maybe some of them will join me. Maybe some of them won’t. But they deserve to know.”
The silence stretched.
“Gods,” Drystan muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So you’re telling us we either fight these half gods or save them?”
“Save them,” Sorcha corrected firmly. “If I can reach them in time.”
Rhosyn frowned. “And if you can’t?”
Sorcha clenched her fists, hating the answer she had to give. “Then we fight.”
A heavy tension settled over them.
“And what about your power?” Eirin asked, his voice quiet but steady. “You still don’t have control.”
Sorcha met his gaze, her throat tightening. “I know. That’s why I need to train. I need to learn how to use it, to wield it before it wields me. If I go into this blind, I’ll be just as dangerous as the things we’re fighting.”
Kyron crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
She hesitated before looking down at Cat. “With help.”
Cat let out a long suffering sigh. “Finally, she admits she needs me.”
Drystan snorted, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “So let me get this straight. We go to Samhain, you cross the Veil, and while you’re off speaking to the Tuatha Dé Danann, we’re stuck dealing with creatures, Fomorians, and possibly a handful of kids that Vaelric is turning into monsters?”
Sorcha lifted her chin. “That’s the plan.” Drystan exhaled. “You’re lucky I love chaos.”
Eirin still hadn’t looked away from her, his expression unreadable. “You’ll need someone to watch your back.”
Sorcha’s stomach tightened. “I know.”
Eirin nodded once. “Then I’m going.”
Kyron’s gaze flickered between them before he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Rhosyn smirked. “Well, someone has to make sure you don’t all die.”
Eirin, still unreadable, simply nodded.
Sorcha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you.”
Drystan clapped his hands together, grinning. “Well, this should be interesting.”
Eirin’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. Sorcha swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating too fast.
Mason leaned forward “I’ll pick the cadets to stay behind and watch over Lumora. We need the strongest, the smartest, the ones who won’t hesitate if trouble comes.”
Drystan stretched out in his chair with an easy grin. “That leaves me and Eirin to build targets for Sorcha’s training. We’ll make sure they can actually withstand her magic.”
Eirin grunted in agreement. “And reinforce them properly so she doesn’t bring the whole damn training grounds down.”
Rhosyn leaned in, her eyes settling on Sorcha. “And I’ll help you control that power. You need precision, not just strength. If you want to wield it properly, you’ll have to learn how to manipulate it, not just let it explode.”
Sorcha turned to Cat, narrowing her eyes. “And you didn’t think to mention that you could help earlier because…?”
Cat stretched lazily, flicking his tail. “Where’s the fun in that?” His silver eyes gleamed with mischief. “Besides, nothing like a little pressure to bring out the best in you.”
Sorcha exhaled loudly. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you keep me around.”
Eirin drummed his fingers against the table. “The commander will enhance the horses, so we can make it to Samhain in a day’s ride, but that still only gives us three days to prepare. If we’re doing this, we do it right.”
Sorcha’s chest tightened as she looked at them, at the weight they had taken on without hesitation.
She took a breath and nodded. “Then we start now.”