Bridget said, her voice reedy and thin, “If you try to steal the Chronos Stone from us…”
“…you, your clan, and your descendants will be cursed for all time,” Athea finished.
“If you try to kill us…” Moira said.
“…you, your clan, and your descendants will be cursed for all time,” Bridget and Athea said together.
He laughed, a cruel sound echoing in the night through the ruins. “I havna come all this way to turn around and leave. I came for the power. I leave with the power.”
Moira lifted her arms out to her sides. “Then there is no other choice.”
The man charged, holding the great axe aloft. Together, the three women lifted their arms and repelled him with a burst of light. He stumbled backward but managed to maintain his footing. He shook it off, regrouped, and charged again.
Again, the women used a burst of light to drive him back. But he anticipated it this time and lifted his great axe to protect himself. The light—no, the magic—slammed into the steel of the axe. The weapon shuddered in his hand,vibrating up his arm with such a force it rattled his teeth. The weapon, though, absorbed the power and suddenly, it began to glow.
Athea sucked in a sharp breath. Bridget gasped with horror.
“The great axe!” Bridget cried.
“It was forged in the wilds of Éire.” His face split into a wicked grin. “By the Tuatha Dé Danann themselves.”
Moira’s face remained impassive as she lifted her hands to the sky once more. But Bridget and Athea did not conceal their terror. It was unclear how someone like Morrogh MacDonald had obtained such a prized weapon.
“Hear me now, you of Clan MacDonald,” Moira began. “By the light of the moon, and the gloom of shadows, I call upon the winds that whisper and wail.”
Athea and Bridget stepped up next to her, lifting their hands to the sky along with her. The three of them spoke together, chanting the words that would forever seal the fate of Clan MacDonald.
“He who steals shall never keep. He who seeks what is not his will forever desire. His sons and daughters will eternally yearn. His sons and daughters will forever hear the call. Haunted by whispers. Blinded by fate. By our words, our will, our ancient law. So it is spoken. So mote it be.”
A gust of wind blasted by Morrogh MacDonald, locking his destiny for all eternity.
From that moment on, his clan was cursed. He and his descendants would hear the call of the keystone while knowing it would forever be out of reach.
Moira dropped her arms to her sides and stared down at him with cold eyes. “Be gone, MacDonald. Never return. For if you do, it will be the end of your and your line forevermore.”
He bared his teeth in a feral snarl, still clutching the glowing great axe. “One day, the keystone and control of all Time will belong to my clan.”
“You may try,” Moira said, her voice ice.
As the man retreated, the Triple Goddess watched.
“It is not over, sister,” Athea said.
“He will return,” Bridget added.
“Aye, my sisters,” Moira said, her voice quiet in the night. “And we will be ready.”
Chapter Eighteen
Brianna came backto herself. But it was difficult to open her eyes. The first thing she noticed was how badly her head throbbed with a deep, agonizing pain hammering her temples. She groaned. The second thing she noticed was her palm once again wrapped with linen bandages, as if someone had taken care to do that while she was unconscious. Her hand ached where Malcolm had sliced it with the tip of the dagger, where she had used the blood magic with her sisters to activate the stone and fall into the vision.
She wasn’t quite sure where she was, but she felt strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close in a protective embrace.
The musky scent of leather and horses tickled her nose.Jamie.
“What—” Her voice was raw and raspy.
“Dinnae try to speak,” Jamie said. He brushed a hand over her hair, which soothed her.
