Gideon pulls back, his face flushed, and swipes at his damp cheeks with the sleeve of his worn, dirt-streaked tunic. Malick immediately steps forward, wrapping a protective arm around his younger brother’s shoulders and pulling him close.
“He’s a little emotional,” Malick explains, his voice light but not unkind.
Embarrassed, Gideon ducks his head, his hair falling into his eyes.
“We’re all emotional right now,” I assure him gently. “Don’t worry about it.”
Raiden steps up to the boys and ruffles both their hair. “There’s no judgment here. If there were ever a time for raw, unchecked emotion, it’s now.”
Malick straightens, his hand resting firmly on Gideon’s shoulder as he raises his other fist to his chest in a gesture of respect. “Good luck,” he says solemnly. “May Morrigan guide you and ensure your safe return.”
“Thank you,” I reply, dipping my head. “And you—stay safe and out of trouble while we’re gone.”
Malick huffs a soft laugh as I move over to Storm, who stamps his hoof impatiently. His coat gleams in the moonlight, breath visible in soft, rhythmic puffs.
Behind me, Zaria and the others move to their horses. Zaria is riding Nova, her snow-white coat standing out among the other horses.
The air is thick with the kind of anticipation that wraps around your chest and refuses to let go. Tristan helps me onto Storm before mounting his horse.
As I adjust the reins in my hands, Raiden catches my gaze, his intense silver eyes locking onto mine.
“Ready?” he checks, his voice low but steady.
“Ready,” the single word is firm, though my pulse quickens.
Storm shuffles beneath me, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to release.
Before anyone can signal to move out, a distant, rhythmic sound catches our attention. A steady drumming of hooves on the earth, faint at first but growing louder with each passing second. Instinctively, my breath catches in my throat, and my eyes dart toward Raiden, questioning what to do. His gaze meets mine, and with deliberate calm, he raises a finger to his lips, a silent command to stay still and quiet.
We all freeze, tension rippling through us like an electric current. Each second feels stretched thin as we sit in silence, hearts pounding in sync with the approaching sound, waiting to see if the rider will pass us by.
Then, through the still night air, the moonlight reveals a dark shape moving across the meadow in our direction. At first, it’s only a shadow—a blur against the pale grass—but as it gets closer, the details sharpen. I glance at Zaria, her nervousness mirroring the unease twisting through me. Neither of us speaks, but the question hangs between us: friend or foe?
The horse finally comes into clearer view. Its sleek, midnight-black coat gleams faintly under the silver light, but something is off. It takes a moment to register what it is. The animal isn’t carrying a rider.
“Stand down,” he orders, making us all trade confused looks.
The black horse slows as it approaches our group, and I’m struck by its luminous golden eyes. A wave of magic moves over my body like a soft breeze, and in seconds, Nero stands in front of us, arms crossed over his bare chest. His long black hair reflects the moonlight as his golden eyes roam over our small group.
“Going somewhere?” he inquires in a lightly joking tone.
“Nero?”
He bows low, the movement graceful and fluid, then starts toward me. His bare feet glide over the crisp autumn leaves, not a single sound betraying his steps.
“Your Majesty, I see you are sneaking off, but I insist I join you.”
Raiden sighs next to me, and I peer over at him.
“He would be useful in a fight,” he admits.
“You’re a horse?” I ask, bringing my attention back to Nero who is now stroking Storm’s neck.
Storm nudges him gently, and I’m surprised, because I’ve never seen him be kind to anyone else besides myself and Maxon.
“I’m a púca, Your Majesty,” he replies, the word rolling off his tongue like a melody.
“A púca?” I repeat. I do recall something like that being mentioned before, but I never connected the dots. The name rings faintly familiar, dredged up from half-remembered tales whispered in my childhood, but the details remain elusive.
