Riona hesitated, glancing at Sorcha before answering. “The Wolves of the Wild Hunt is what, but then…”
Sorcha inhaled, then finished for her. “We think the Ceffyl Dwr appeared… it was a massive horse made of water. It drove the wolves away.”
Unease crossed Nethran’s face. “A horse,” he repeated flatly. “A water horse. You must have been near a river.”
Sorcha nodded, shifting on her feet. “You definitely saw the Ceffyl Dwr,” he said, exhaling through his nose. “Or at least, it let you see it.”
At her frown, he pushed off the table and started pacing. “It’s not a guardian. Not the way you’re probably thinking. The Ceffyl Dwr isn’t here to help us. It doesn’t take sides.” He glanced at her. “But it is territorial.”
Riona, arms hanging beside her, raised a brow. “And it doesn’t like wolves in its territory?”
“Exactly. It doesn’t like anything in its territory.” Nethran stopped near the map, fingers tapping absentmindedly against the edge. “The old stories say the Ceffyl Dwr belongs to the rivers and the mists, neither living nor dead. It doesn’t seek battles, but if somethingwanders too close into what it considers its own—it will act. Sometimes violently.”
Sorcha’s stomach tightened. “So we weren’t saved. We were just in the right place at the right time?”
He nodded. “Or the wrong place, depending on how you look at it.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “You were lucky. If that thing had decidedyouwere the intruders, you’d be at the bottom of the river right now.”
Riona scoffed. “Comforting.”
“Don’t mistake it for an ally,” Nethran warned. “It’s a force, not a friend. It moves with the river and shifts with the fog. And if you see it again, be sure you know which side of its waters you stand on.”
Neither Sorcha nor Riona had an answer. “We’ll discuss this further in the morning,” he
decided. “For now, let’s get that cleaned up.”
Sorcha gave a stiff nod as Commander Nethran had gently guided her to a chair. Grabbing medical supplies and rune-stones, he tended to the wound on her leg.
“Ow!” Sorcha yelped as Nethran cleaned the wound.
He chuckled. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s just a scratch.”
Sorcha shot him a glare. “Hell’s teeth, Commander! It hurts.”
He shook his head and finished bandaging it up as he tapped her leg. “All better. Riona, if you would help her out the door”
Chapter 12
Vaelric’s Mark
As they stepped out onto the streets of Lumora, the soft lights and chatter were music to her ears. She smiled to herself and began walking, limping her way through the winding city. Passing by the falls, a faint giggle sang through the air. Turning toward the sound, she saw a shimmering pair of violet eyes emerging from the circular basin.
The Undine whispered, her lips moving, but the words were lost beneath the rush of water. As Sorcha limped closer, the spirit blew a kiss of water that splashed against her leg. The droplets soaked through the fabric, and a strange warmth began to bloom beneath her skin.
Lifting the edge of her pant leg, she pulled away the bandages. The cut was gone. So was the Undine.
Sorcha stood at the falls for what felt like hours, staring atthe spot where the spirit had been. Finally, she whispered, “Thank you.”
She walked home in a daze, her thoughts tangled and unsteady. The encounter replayed again and again in her mind, each time slipping further from reason until she could no longer tell if it had truly happened.
Inside, she crumbled. The familiar scent of herbs and wood wrapped around her like an old friend as she slumped against the door. Her fingers traced the runes etched into her arms.Kyron.They tingled faintly under her skin, like old kindling reigniting. The runes shimmered beneath her flesh, glowing softly like liquid sunlight.
Who was he? And why did her runes react to his name?
The questions tangled in her mind as she climbed into bed. Her eyes tracing patterns in the ceiling shadows, but her thoughts kept pulling her toward the things unsaid.She reached for her journal near the bed and began sketching Kyron’s face and writing everything that she could remember. She wrote well into the evening until her
hands grew heavy. Eventually the world slipped away, and the dream unfolded like a tapestry of beauty.
The trees rustled gently as she moved; the wisps guided her deeper into the woods. Her steps made no sound upon the frost-kissed ground as the trees thickened, their canopies closing in. Suddenly the ground rumbled, and the forest thinned, revealing a vast frozen expanse.
