Lara stared, entranced, while behind her, some of her companions murmured oaths under their breath. She’d never seen heather in so many colors. In Albia this time of year, the heather had faded, but here, it grew as it did in high summer, in profusions of creamy white, dusky-rose, custard-yellow, and even robin’s egg blue as well.
Bracken whickered as they started upon the path, her heavy hooves sinking into the soft carpet of grass. The mare's head lowered slightly, her large muscular body relaxing. Of course, animals responded well to the Shee and their magic. Her horse felt at home here. Likewise, Skaal loped alongside Cailean’s stallion, her ears pricked. The fae hound didn't have a problem with this place either.
Lara did though. Aye, the Slighe Fraoch was beautiful. However, from just a few yards in, her mood shifted. Heaviness descended upon her, as well as a nagging sense that something was wrong.
“Breathe slowly,” Bree said then, raising her voice to ensure everyone heard her. “And keep reminding yourself … no matter what you’re faced with on this path … you’re strong enough to stare it down. You are more than the darkest parts of yourself.”
Cailean twisted in the saddle, his gaze settling upon Bree’s face. Husband and wife shared a long, intense look. Of course, both her chief-enforcer and warder had bloody pasts. They’d both done terrible things, followed orders without questioning them. These days, they made different choices, but this place wouldn’t let them forget.
“The Heather Path will try to shame … and break you. It’s a distorted mirror of sorts that exposes and twists the things about us we’d rather not face … and if you let it, it’ll make you despise yourself.” Bree continued, her gaze never leaving her husband’s. “Don’t let it.”
“Any suggestions on how to protect ourselves?” Ren asked then, her tone subdued.
“It helps if you can imagine something guarding you,” Bree replied, glancing over at the bard. “A wall. A cocoon. Whatever works. Keep your shields up … it’ll help muffle the sensations.”
They rode on, traveling at a brisk canter along the path. The Shee drew slightly ahead, their cloaks fluttering. None of them looked back to see how their Marav companions were faring. Lara wondered if it was deliberate.
Meanwhile, the Slighe Fraoch stretched out before them, undulating over heather-clad hills, while a cloudless blue sky swept over them. The sun bathed their faces, a balm after so much rain and smothering cloud.
The loveliness of this place should have lightened Lara’s heart, but it didn’t. She found herself slumping in the saddle, clinging to the reins as if they were her anchor. The warmth of Bracken’s body against her legs was reassuring too, but the sense of ‘wrongness’ intensified with every furlong.
At first, she took Bree’s advice, imagining a shimmering veil protecting her. It helped, for a while. But eventually, the thoughts broke through.
The first blow struck without warning—a sudden certainty that clawed its way up from her gut.
Her father’s rage lived in her bones. The same fists that had beaten men bloody, the same voice that held no mercy, the same savage pleasure in watching enemies suffer—in torture. She could feel it coiling in her chest, hot and familiar.
Her fingers tightened around the reins until her knuckles went white. Bracken’s mane blurred before her eyes.
Then came the names. One by one, they marched through her mind. Alar and his wulvers. The Circines. The overkings. The Raven Queen. Each name carried weight—stone after stone piling onto her chest until she could barely breathe. The path knew. It showed her what she’d become: a woman who kept lists, who nursed grudges like bruises, who would spend a lifetime feeding her anger until nothing else remained.
And when it was done—when the last name was crossed off, the last throat slit, the last score settled—what then? The path pressed the knowledge into her: nothing. No peace. No satisfaction. Just the hollow echo of her own heartbeat in an empty alcove.
Sweat broke out along her spine despite the mild air. Was she already too far gone? Sometimes, in the quiet times before dawn, she’d wondered if betrayal upon betrayal had left her beyond repair. Not broken cleanly but shattered into so many pieces that no amount of vengeance would make her whole again.
The pressure built behind her eyes. Her throat tightened. Bracken’s steady gait became the only real thing in a world that was trying to unmake her.
Around her, the others had gone silent, presumably as they waged their own battles.
They stopped briefly at noon to rest their horses and eat the last of their bread and cheese. The Shee had halted around a dozen yards farther up the path, still keeping their distance.
Lara hardly paid them any attention though. She could barely force down a mouthful of food. Instead, she looked around at her escort.
They were indeed struggling too.
Roth stood by his horse, head bowed, one hand braced against the stallion’s flank as if the animal were the only thing holding him upright. Cailean had moved apart from everyone, even his wife and fae hound, and now gazed sightlessly into the distance, his jaw working. Bree had walked away from the others as well. Her shoulders were rigid, her hands clenched at her sides. Meanwhile, Ruari’s eyes were wet and bloodshot, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. Ren and Annis clung together for support, their faces the color of milk.
“I’m a coward!” Ruari cried out then, his voice cracking. “I’ll only let you down, My Queen!”
To Lara’s horror, he now lurched toward the edge of the path, staggering as if drunk.
“Gods!” she cried out. “Stop him, Roth!”
Mor had made it clear what would happen if any of them strayed from the Slighe Fraoch. The beauty surrounding them was just an illusion. Once you stepped off the road, you entered a liminal space that burned you to ash within moments.
Her captain moved fast, grabbing Ruari by the arm and dragging the seer back to his horse.
Lara approached him. The young man trembled. Sweat beaded upon his brow, and his eyes darted back and forth as though tracking things she couldn’t see. “Hold fast, Ruari.” She reached out then and placed a hand on his thin shoulder. “The arch-druid sent you to me for a reason … you’re the youngest to serve as chief-seer in a long while.” She squeezed tightly then. “When I look into your eyes, I see strength, not cowardice. Don’t you dare stray from the path.”
