I’m seeing Stacy through the Morrigan’s eyes. This is real. And I’m terrified. Because I can feel what the Morrigan wants to do.
Wants us to do.
Chapter Three
Callen
I pace because I can’t do anything else. Can’t sit, can’t eat, I can barely think. Lochan’s broad frame is planted by the window, his silhouette carved against the faint moonlight. Tiernan sits cross-legged on the floor, his eyes focused intently on the space between his knees. Rory leans against the hearth, his usual gregariousness dulled by the shadows under his eyes.
The fire has burned down to embers, and it’s getting cold in here, but my mind barely registers it. Brigid is gone, taken by the Morrigan, and the gravity of that reality presses down on me like a ton of concrete.
My father's face flashes unbidden through my mind—cold, disapproving, cruel. Even in death, he manages to haunt me. I should feel something, shouldn't I? Grief, anger, regret... anything. But there's just a hollow emptiness where those emotions should be.
Our relationship was always strained, a tug-of-war between duty and rebellion. He saw me as a disappointment, a son who refused to conform to the rigid expectations of fae royalty. I saw him as a tyrant, unyielding and cruel in his pursuit of power. Now he's gone, and all I feel is... relief.
Now he's gone, and the burden of the crown looms over me like a black cloud. The very thought of it makes my skin crawl. I've spent my entire life running from responsibility, from duty, from the smothering expectations of the fae court. And now, when I least want it, when I'm least prepared for it, the throne beckons.
But I can't think about that now. I won't. There's only one thing that matters: Brigid.
Brigid's face replaces my father's in my mind's eye, her stormy gray eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her brow furrows when she's deep in thought. My chest constricts painfully. I failed her. We all did.
Lochan breaks the silence, his voice rough.“We can’t just sit here. We need a plan.”
“Plan?” Rory asks, pushing off from the hearth.“What bloody plan? We don’t even know where she is.” He doesn’t say what we’re all thinking. Or what she is now.
“She’s still in there,” Tiernan says quietly, reading my mind, his gaze still downward.“The Morrigan won’t destroy the vessel. She needs it. And Brigid is still in there, somewhere. I can feel her.”
“Somewhere,” I repeat, my voice laced with skepticism. I stop pacing and lean against the back of a chair, my eyes on Tiernan.“And you know this because of your visions? Because so far, your visions have been about as useful as tits on a fish.”
Tiernan’s head lifts, his expression unreadable.“The Morrigan corrupts. Brigid doesn’t have long.”
Lochan turns away from the window, his dark hazel eyes hard.“We need to find her before…”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” I ask, as I stand from the chair. My voice is sharp, sharper than I intend, but I don’t care.“The Morrigan could be anywhere. She could be in the rift, for gods sake, or hiding in the fae realm. She could be right under our noses.”
Rory crosses his arms, his tone laced with frustration.“We can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs. We need to do something, even if it’s a feckin’gamble. This is Brigid.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice.“Then what’s the plan here, Rory?”
“And what’s your brilliant plan?” Rory fires back, his brown eyes flashing with anger, and he moves forward.“Sit here and think until the Morrigan decides to drop by for tea?”
I step closer to him.
“Enough.” Lochan’s voice fills the room, sharp and commanding. He moves to stand between us, his massive frame causing us both to take a step backwards.“Arguing won’t bring her back.”
The room falls silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on us. I turn away, my teeth gritted so tight they ache. I don’t respond. I don’t need to. We all know the truth. We have to try. But the question is, at what cost? And what will be left of Brigid when we find her?
The vibe in the room is heavy with unspoken blame and the kind of tension that could snap at any moment. Lochan’s words hang like a challenge, but no one dares take the bait. Tiernan leans against the far wall, his arms crossed and saying nothing.
And then, without warning, the door slams open.
Marius fills the frame, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hall. His dark hair is disheveled, his black leather jacket slung over one shoulder. His dark eyes scan the room, locking onto each of us before settling on me.
The room shifts with his presence, like the first wave of an oncoming storm. Rory straightens, Tiernan pushes off the wall, and Lochan’s hand instinctively curls into a fist. I stop pacing, my arms crossing over my chest as I meet Marius’s gaze head-on.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.
Marius steps inside, uninvited, and the door creaks shut behind him.“I know how to reach Brigid.”
