Prologue
CIAN CILLIAN O’CALLAGHAN
10 Years Old
Once upon a time…
That’s how all stories with castles start, right? The castle I was squintin’ at glowed in the distance. The sky had been grey most of the mornin’, but the sun had snuck through a few cracks in the clouds, and direct beams hit the towerin’ form up on the emerald hill.
Everythin’ was so green here, even though most of the time, the sky was stormy silver, it seemed. I couldn’t remember if it had always been like this.
I was born in Ireland. When I was seven, my parents and I moved to Boston. My Da got a job with a man by the name of Oran Craig. Da didn’t seem to like it. Neither did Mam. They fought all the time. Then, suddenly, I was ten and we were on a plane headin’ back to Ireland. Da and Mam both seemed happier to be back.
Especially since we were livin’ in a castle.
It had workers and everythin’.
The castle was amazin’, but I really liked all the land. We lived in an apartment with no yard in Boston.
A gust of wind blew. I set a hand on my cap to stop the wind from stealin’ it. The air was chilled. It felt good against my skin.
It felt freein’.
A zap of energy seemed to bonk me on the top of my head, and it forced my feet to move. I wanted to feel the strain in my legs when I ran up that hill.
Heart pumpin’ in my chest.
Lungs burnin’ from the fresh air and challenge.
Da said we’d even get a dog soon. He could explore the hills with me. I was pretty sure we had trolls. He’d sniff them out, and we could chase them down together.
“Cillian, are you listenin’ to me, son?”
My Da stood behind me. He was dressed plainly, in a sweater, slacks, and flat cap like mine. The shadow of the castle and the hill seemed to eat him up.
He grinned at me and chucked my chin. “I brought you out here for a reason.”
Right. A lough ran behind the property. It even had boats with oars. Da had a few fishin’ lines set up along the bank.
I looked over the side. The lines went far under the water, but I didn’t know what he had secured to the bottom. Was he tryin’ to fish? He hadn’t mentioned anythin’ yet, just fiddled with a few of them. He was right, though. I hadn’t been payin’ attention. I’d been dreamin’ of rushin’ up the hill, a dog beside me, huntin’ down trolls.
I could break out of my skin here and become a giant.
Da pointed to no line in particular. “You’ll never go hungry, son. Not if you can get to this lough.”
“What kind of fish?”
He opened his mouth to reply when Keenan Ere appeared. Keenan seemed older than my dad, but not too much older. Da told me they grew up together and were good friends. Da didn’t have many friends. Even though this village was small, Da only seemed to know Keenan. Da was born in Ireland, too, but he grew up in the city, though he was born in this village. He left when he was a wee babe, as Mam had said.
Somethin’ about him bein’ the bastard son of Cian O’Callaghan. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.
My first name was Cian, too, but everyone called me Cillian, after my middle name. Yeah, the names were close in spellin’, but no one ever really called me by both together. Together, they were almost a tongue twister.
Even though we didn’t have much family, at least I had cousins who were around my age not too far away. Twins. Cash and Killian Kelly. Mam said their mam was her first cousin.
I’d met them twice, but it was short visits. Later on, I was goin’ to their place. I couldn’t wait to talk to them more about the trolls and the dog I’d be gettin’. I was already makin’ plans for me and my dog. Even though Cash and Killian seemed to be cool, I knew my dog was goin’ to be my best friend.
“Conor, we have a visitor,” Keenan said.
