Commander Nethran raised his hand, silencing the room with a booming “Enough.” His eyes swept across his Circle before looking back to the elders. “I urge the elders and the council to consider this seriously. We’ve seen enough to know that this is only the beginning.”
The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their grip on the situation loosening. Elder Caerwyn finally sighed, lowering her voice. “We will deliberate and determine our next steps. But understand this: whatever the decision, it will be final.”
Riona said nothing, but the cold fury in her eyes conveyed everything. Sorcha gently squeezed her arm, offering silent reassurance, but Riona pulled away and as the meeting adjourned, the Circle gathered near the door.
Kyron leaned toward Sorcha, speaking in a low voice. “They’ll deliberate until it’s too late. We need to be prepared to act on our own.”
Sorcha nodded and looked to the others, who, rightfully so, wore mixed expressions of frustration, anger and even sadness. Riona was already heading out of the main doors of the library without so much as a word. The sight hurt Sorcha more than she wanted to let on.
Commander Nethran spoke only after the elders had left. “What the hells what that?”
Eirin opened his mouth to speak but Commander Nethran cut him off.
“That was a rhetorical question. You think that threatening the council will make them move any faster? Once you begin to threaten them, they stop listening. All you’ve done is make our case harder to prove and shows that I have no control of my officers,” he barked out, fury burning in his eyes. He gaze fell over them again and his expression softened as he exhaled. “For now we need to scout the areas around the town, particularly where the hunters and the gatherers go. Inform the people at the market and the vendors that there are sick animals in the forest and that these particular areas are off limits until
further notice. All of you are to take a rope with you and mark the areas far enough out that the townsfolk won’t encounter the growth and understand it’s unsafe.”
Rhosyn tilted her slightly. “Wait, are you saying we should lie to the people of Lumora?”
Nethran’s gaze hardened, his voice filled with exhaustion and irritation. “What I’m asking for is your discretion. One thing the elders have right is this: if we alarm the public without solid answers, things will spiral out of control. Hysteria will set in, and chaos will follow. The best thing we can do right now is to keep the people of Lumora safe by keeping them away from danger.” He paused, letting his words settle in as tension filled the air. He scanned each of their faces, his tone softening slightly. “Think of it this way: if we tell them there’s a threat, Fomorian, sickness, decay, whatever it is but can’t provide them with solutions or protection, we’ll only breed fear. Fear leads to mistakes. Mistakes will lead to more lives lost. We need to tread cautiously for now.”
Sorcha stepped forward. “But what about the hunters and the gatherers who rely on the forest? How long can we realistically keep them out without offering answers? Rumors will spread, Nethran, whether we want them to.”
Nethran nodded, acknowledging her point. “You’re right, Sorcha. We can’t keep this hidden forever, but until we have a clear picture of what we’re doing, I’m asking all of you to use your best judgment. Rope off the areas, warn the locals of sickness and the animals, and advise them to avoid those parts of the forest for now. It’s not a lie. It’s the truth so far. As we gather more information, we’ll adjust.”
Rhosyn crossed her arms. “What if it’s not enough? What if the threat grows beyond what we can handle?”
“That’s exactly why we exist. We are among the best minds and fighters in the realm. Whatever is coming, our responsibility is not just to Lumora, but to the entire realm.”
Eirin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. “All right, Commander, we’ll do it, but we’re going to need more than rope and warning signs.”
Nethran’s eyes softened, a flicker of weariness breaking through his composure. “I know, Eirin. That’s why every one of you matters. I’m counting on you to help protect this city with what resources we have until we can face this head on with help.”
Kyron gave Sorcha a reassuring nod, his hand brushing gently against the back of her arm.
Chapter 32
The Truth
The Circle dispersed toward the outposts to gather supplies. Each officer selected a section of forest to survey and rope off or to speak with the townsfolk. Their hurried footsteps echoed on the stone walkways as they split up. Sorcha paused, taking in the late afternoon light, a wash of yellow melting into pink and orange hues reminiscent of ruby fruit–a wild citrus that grew in the woods surrounding the city. Its peel was a vibrant red, but the flesh within held shades of pink, the taste a blend of lemon and raspberries. Lumora and the others faded into the background as she entered the woods, branches swaying in the breeze as her boots sank into the emerald moss. Trees danced in the wind, a whistling sound carried through the air when she narrowed her eyes at movement in her periphery, whirling around. Something weaved between the trees.
Sorcha spun in circles, trying to catch sight of it when searing pain erupted in her right arm, then her left, then her right again. Small slashes appeared on her skin, droplets of red flowing from the cuts. Her runes flared, glimmering, when a tiny figure, about two feet tall, emerged from the trees. He wore a red cap and had a twisted grin as he jumped onto a large rock and sat, watching Sorcha before licking the blood from his nails. He howled with laughter at her confusion.
“What burns hotter than the sun, yet dies the moment it’s born?”
“What?” Sorcha spat, wiping blood from her wounds.
The little man leaned back, holding his stomach, laughing. “Why, you, silly girl.”
Suddenly, he was in front of her, towering, his face twisted, features melting together as he smiled wider, exposing needle-sharp teeth with pieces of flesh caught between them.
Sorcha’s runes flared, and she began to ignite, fire slowly rippling across her skin. The twisted figure stepped back and screamed, charging at her, only to vanish before reaching her. Laughter had broken out all around, only to vanish instantly. Sorcha’s chest heaved as the fiery ripples faded away. She stood there, anticipating the Far Darrig’s return. She knew the creature relished its tricks and riddles at mortals’ expense, though she’d never witnessed it firsthand. The stories, however, were familiar. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows, she hurried toward the bloom.
Sorcha finished securing the last of her rope, brushing off her hands. The bloom hadn’t spread as far as they’d feared, but even a mile into the forest was too close for comfort. It pulsed softly in the fading light, an unsettling presence. Kyron emerged from the woods, carrying another coil of rope as if he knew she was running out.
“This should finish the last section,” he said, handing it to her. “The bloom seems to have stopped spreading.”
“How’d you know I needed more rope?” Sorcha asked, knotting the post with practiced ease.
