Chapter Thirty-Five
Ifelt ready to take on the world when I woke up the next morning. Or, at least, the world outside my room because I was sick of staring at the same four walls. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I slipped quietly from the bed so I wouldn’t wake Owen and shuffled to the bathroom.
The reflection in the mirror was jarring.
That wasn’t me looking back. Not the Kira I knew.
The woman in the mirror had lost weight, and there was a gauntness to her face, a hollowing in the cheeks and around the collarbone.
She had the haunted look of someone who had seen and done things she’d never thought possible.
The look of someone who had been to literal Hell and back.
But she was still standing. I was still standing.
It took me longer than usual to see to my needs, but I felt a modicum of pride that I had managed on my own.
When I exited the bathroom, Owen was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows braced on his knees.
Of course he had noticed me leaving the bed.
But I needed to start doing things on my own.
He clearly understood, though it looked like staying seated had been an excruciating test of his self-control.
“Thank you for staying here,” I said as I stepped between his legs, leaning down to give him a kiss.
“I almost knocked a dozen times, but I could hear you in there and you seemed to be managing,” he grumbled against my lips, and I smiled. Owen really could be a bear.
“I want to leave this room today, Owen. I’m ready.”
“You are,” he agreed. “But we’ll take it slow, and as soon as you feel tired, you’re going back to bed. Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, knowing there would be no arguing with him.
He gave a satisfied nod and took my hand as we slowly crossed the room.
I made it down the hallway on my own, past four other bedrooms, but the stairs at the end were an impossibility in my current state, and we both knew it.
Owen scooped me up and cradled me against his chest, taking the opportunity to kiss my forehead as he started down the stairs.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked around as we descended into a living room and continued into a cozy kitchen, where Shae and Jace were eating breakfast.
“Look who it is! Welcome!” Jace jumped up and rearranged the chairs at the table to make room.
Shae squeezed my hand, and I smiled at my friends while taking in our surroundings.
Sunlight filtered through lacy curtains embroidered with vines and blossoms. Through the open windows, the scents of lavender, rosemary, and wild roses drifted in with a warm breeze.
Dried herbs and various pots and pans hung from the ceiling beams, and glass jars filled with jams, honeys, and spices lined the shelves. I immediately felt at home.
The eggs and scones on the table beckoned me, and I wasn’t sure where to start. For the first time since waking, my stomach rumbled with hunger.
“Ah, excellent. Good to see you up and about.”
I turned to see Freya walking toward the table, drying a teacup. She wore her grey hair in a small bun, a few wisps escaping to frame her face, and a floral apron, dusted with flour, over a long dress.
I filled my plate and took a few bites before fixing everyone with my best attempt at Charles’s steady gaze. “Okay, guys, talk. Where are we, and what’s been happening?”
Everyone spoke at once.
“You’re going to love it here, Kira,” Shae gushed. “I never dreamed such a place could exist.”
“Already contacted CAF. Samhain is just over a month away,” Jace said, rubbing his brow.
“Shamus will be here soon to speak with you,” Freya added.
Owen held up his hand, and the others fell silent. I blinked trying to process what I’d just heard.
“Allow me,” Owen said, throwing his arm across the back of my chair and taking a deep breath. “We’re in a garden in Fortingall, Scotland. It holds the last of the world’s ancient magic.”
“Aye, it’s the magic that healed you, Kira,” Freya said. “Can you feel it in the air around you?”
I recoiled inwardly at the idea of reaching for my magic, of releasing my darkness in such a peaceful place, and I shook my head.
“That’s to be expected.” Freya took a seat beside me. “You burned yourself out completely. You closed the portal and bought us time, but you died. Ever since you arrived here, though, you’ve been absorbing the old magic, and it has replenished you. And the breakfast isn’t hurting, either.”
Died. Died and came back. That concept was still hard to wrap my head around.
“Looked dead as a corpse when you arrived. Never seen anyone so far gone.” An older man entered the kitchen, his tall frame filling the doorway.
Silver threads ran through his once-dark hair, which was pulled back, and his skin was tanned, his hands calloused.
He gave Freya a kiss on the cheek before joining us.
“Shush, dear,” Freya said. “You’re frightening Owen.”
I cast a glance at Owen, who had indeed turned pale and was clutching his fork in a death grip. Laying my hand over his, I gave him a reassuring smile. His colour did not improve.
“Oh, sorry, Owen. Well, anyway, Kira, you looked rough.”
I narrowed my eyes at Shamus. I had something to say to the Emberstone Guardian. “You,” I growled, and everyone looked at me. “You tried to kill Owen.” I kept a tight rein on my emotions, but I could feel the darkness within me stir.
Shamus met my glare, showing little remorse, which only fuelled my anger.
“It only seemed that way. I had a feeling you would save the one you love.”
“How could you have known that? What if—”
“Your magic is strong—terrifying, even—but it is your love for Owen that is the most powerful. You fought for him, and he gave you the strength to do so. I’ve existed for thousands of years for only one purpose—to protect the Emberstone.
I needed to know you would choose Owen over joining forces with Craos once you had all three stones. ”
“Every Guardian test you passed, Kira,” Freya said gently, “helped you resist and defeat Craos that night by the river. We don’t know what the future holds or what the final battle may bring, but I know one thing. You are as fierce a warrior as my Shamus.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “You may be the blood of Craos, but there was no one more worthy of those three stones.”
I blushed at their praise even as I continued to glare at Shamus.
“You don’t have to agree with our methods, Kira,” Shamus finally said. “But I hope someday you can make peace with the decisions we made.”
I decided to change the subject. “How many people live here?”
“Only the six of us. This cottage was built for Owen’s grandmother a long time ago when she needed to heal. I believe she wrote a book about it.”
“I still don’t understand where we are,” I admitted.
“Come, we’ll show you,” Freya said.
As we exited the cottage and stepped onto a large veranda, my breath caught at the beautiful, enchanted garden.
Stone footpaths wound through flower beds that spilled over with every colour of blossom imaginable.
Dew-kissed leaves and buds unfurled and stretched toward the warmth of the morning sun, some petals seeming to glimmer as the first light touched them.
Birds chittered and flitted among the branches of ancient, gnarled trees.
Babbling brooks wove between moss-covered stones, their waters glowing faintly as they passed under stone footbridges.
“Welcome to Neamh. Our paradise,” said Freya. “This garden exists outside of the normal world.”
“It’s incredible.” The air was fresh and cool and carried with it the scents of honey, vanilla, and apricots. White and pink blossoms drifted lazily to the ground, and everything was bathed in a golden, ethereal glow, the entire glen breathing with a quiet, ancient magic.
I took Owen’s offered arm, and the six of us descended the few stairs to the garden and began wandering along a footpath. The morning sun, filtering through a leafy canopy, cast shifting mosaics of light across the stones.
“After Craos was cast from this world,” Freya continued, “the Rootstone Guardian protected the magic in this bit of ancient land. Unfortunately, the rest of Earth’s magic could not be saved, and it has leached into Craos’s realm for eons.
Craos hungers for the magic of Earth. There will be nothing left of this world should he breach the gateway. ”
My steps faltered, and Owen’s arm tensed under my hand.
We followed the path to a meadow where an ancient yew tree stood, its trunk thick, gnarled, and twisted. Its bark peeled in thin, reddish-brown flakes, and some branches dipped low, creating shadowy, mysterious hollows. Others arched high overhead, weaving together into a vaulted canopy.
Freya led us through the trailing branches, which seemed to move with a will of their own, brushing our shoulders as if curious about our presence.
As we approached, I noted how the yew’s thick roots emerged from its base, gripping the earth like a hand.
The yew’s trunk was hollow with a natural arch large enough for a person to pass through, almost like a doorway.
Beyond it, I could see the first few steps of a staircase carved from roots spiralling downward.
“This is the Fortingall Yew,” Freya said, placing a reverent hand on the tree’s trunk. “It’s over five thousand years old, and this archway is the door between Neamh and the outside world.”
She stepped through the arch and paused on the first step, holding out her hand. “Will you join me? We’re not leaving Neamh today, but the Yew would like to speak with you. It’s time you reconnected with your magic.”