"Is still present, but not in control," Marius finishes. "Like you, I can feel him, but he's... contained."
I search Marius's face, noting the new lines of strain around his eyes. What he's done for me, the risk he took... my chest tightens with gratitude and guilt.
"We'll figure this out together," Callen says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "All of us."
The others nod in agreement, and I'm struck by how united they seem now. The petty rivalries and distrust that plagued us before seem to have melted away in the face of what we've been through.
I try to stand, but my legs buckle. Five pairs of hands reach for me at once, steadying me. The warmth of their touch, the solid presence of their bodies around me—it grounds me in a way I've never experienced before.
"Take it slow," Tiernan murmurs, his arm wrapping around my waist.
"We should get you back to the academy," Lochan says.
"Wait," I say, my voice hoarse. "Before we go anywhere, I need to know—what happened while I was... gone?" A memory comes back to me. Stacy crying. And then another image, broken bodies on the ground.
The five of them exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
My stomach drops. "How bad?"
"None of it is your fault," Tiernan says, as he tightens his grip.
"He's right," Callen says. "The blame lies with the Morrigan, not you."
I want to argue, but I’m too exhausted.
"There's something you need to know. When I was... in there, with the Morrigan, I saw something."
The guys exchange glances, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.
"What did you see?" Callen asks, his voice gentle but urgent.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "A crown. But it wasn't the Morrigan's." I look at each of them in turn, my gaze lingering on Marius. "I think... I think it's meant for me."
The room goes still. I can almost hear the gears turning in their minds as they process this information.
Marius is the first to speak. "The other prophecy," he says, his voice low.
Rory runs a hand through his hair. "But that would mean..."
"That Brigid was never just a vessel," Tiernan finishes.
Chapter Twelve
Brigid
The heaviness of everything that has happened settles on my shoulders as Callen portals us back to the academy, leaving me feeling physically and emotionally drained. My legs wobble, barely able to support my own weight, and I can't help but cling to Rory as we make our way down the corridors.
Marius watches me with concern. They all do, and I find myself wanting to tell them to stop it. He nods, albeit reluctantly, as Rory and Tiernan insist on staying with me, and I can't help but feel a pang of gratitude for their offer to stay. I don’t want the concern, but I also don’t want to be alone. Just the thought of it makes me feel cold. After some discussion, and reassurance from me that I’m okay, really, the others head off to get some sleep, leaving the three of us alone.
Rory and Tiernan guide me to my room, their hands gentle as they support me. Once inside, Tiernan heads straight for the bathroom while Rory helps me sit on the edge of the bed. The sound of running water fills the air, and I close my eyes, letting it wash over me.
"Let's get you cleaned up, love," Rory murmurs, his fingers gently removing the dirty green robe I’ve been wearing for too long. I nod, too exhausted to protest or help. His touch is reverent, careful, as if I might shatter at any moment. Maybe I will.
Tiernan returns, and the two of them work in tandem, lifting the garment clinging to my skin. When I'm bare, Rory scoops me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carries me to the bath.
The water is perfect - hot enough to chase away the chill in my bones, but not scalding. Tiernan's hand supports my back as Rory lowers me in, and a soft sigh that my lips as I sink into the warmth.
The water envelops me in a calming embrace, soothing my aching muscles. Rory and Tiernan move with practiced synchronicity, their touches gentle yet purposeful. Rory's large hands cup water, letting it cascade over my shoulders while Tiernan's strong fingers work a fragrant soap into a lather.
