He placed a hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch steadying her for a moment.
They walked side by side, their conversation drifting between what Eirin and Sorcha had discussed in the library, the growing decay, and the druids’ increasingly strained efforts to understand it. Eventually, Sorcha hesitated, her steps slowing slightly as she shifted the conversation to what Kyron had said the night before.
She didn’t want to bring it up, not really but the questions clawed at her, demanding answers. Even if she feared what the truth might reveal, she couldn’t let it go.
Kyron shifted slightly and told her it was best to wait until they were somewhere more private. It was probably better he told her at home or somewhere else she was comfortable. Sorcha agreed they could talk at her home. The rest of the walk was quiet.
Once inside, Sorcha offered Kyron a seat at the breakfast nook where she sat across from him. The tension in the air was a mix of discomfort and anxiety between the two. Kyron looked at Sorcha.
“What did you want to talk about first?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers.
Chapter 35
The Full Story
Sorcha tried to speak, but her throat tightened, her heartbeat erratic. A sense of panic began to flood her system, making it hard to breathe. Cat, sensing her distress, leapt into her lap, meowing twice to catch her attention. His purring and warmth grounded her just enough for her to take a deep, shuddering breath.
“I want to know everything,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “I just don’t know where to start. I’m still trying to understand what you told me last night. Tell me everything from the beginning. I need to know about my parents. All of it.” Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill.
Kyron’s expression softened, his sadness almost tangible. He sighed heavily, as if the weight of what he was
about to say had been pressing on him for years. “All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
He began to explain, his voice laden with heaviness. He spoke of the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, of the god Lugh, part of the Tuatha, and of Bres, the dishonored king, who had allied with Balor of the Fomorians.
Then Kyron turned to her. “Your father was the god, Lugh. Your mother was mortal, and though they loved each other, she knew she could never be part of the Tuatha. They chose to stay in the mortal realm and took you to Lumora, a city built in the image of your father; the god of the sun. It’s no coincidence you have remarkable aim, no matter the difficulty or distance. Your runes, they were a gift from your father. He hoped that, one day, you would join him in the Otherworld.”
Sorcha’s vision began to blur, the sound of Kyron’s voice growing louder in her ears.
His tone darkened slightly as he continued. “Bres had a child as well. Vaelric. Like you, he was born ofmortal blood, but Bres took him from his mother and raised him himself, filling the boy’s heart with poison and hatred from the moment he could understand words. Kyron paused a moment, placing on hand on Sorcha’s. “Vaelric was told he was a king, that his birthright was stolen from him, and that he could only claim it by uniting the Fomorians and gaining power. Bres convinced him that if he could learn the druids’ dark magic by using the forbidden books, then he could gather strength from the children of gods left in the mortal realm.”
As Kyron spoke, Sorcha’s thoughts drifted to her memories of her parents. She saw her father’s warm smile as he told bedtime stories by the fire, his laughter as they lay in the meadow under the stars. She remembered the times he disappeared for days, and how her mother would say he was on patrols, hunting, or scouting. But now, in hindsight, she recognized the sadness in her mother’s eyes every time she spoke. She thought of the Light Festival, how her father had twirled her through the streets, music and laughter filling the air. Those moments had felt sovibrant, so pure. How could they have hidden something so dark?
Kyron’s touch pulled her back as his grip tightened. His eyes were glossy with tears. “Your father heard whispers of what Bres was planning, what he planned to do to you. When he confirmed it, he knew you wouldn’t be safe. He warned the Tuatha and begged us to protect you. Your parents told you they were going hunting in the woods, but they never planned to return. They wanted to lead Bres and Vaelric as far away from you as possible.”
Kyron cleared his throat, his voice thick with remorse. “Fate had other plans. Vaelric found them years later. He drained what power he could from your father and turned them into creatures, cursed to roam the woods.”
The realization hit her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs.
“No, you’re lying,” she shouted. She thought of the creatures she’d encountered in the forest; the way their eyes had seemed almost human, filled with pain, refusing to fight back. Now, she understood.
Kyron’s voice softened. “Sorcha, you couldn’t have known. None of this is your fault.”
But his words felt distant, drowned beneath the tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. Her chest tightened as if someone knocked the wind out of her, her stomach churned, and she stumbled to her feet, the nausea rising uncontrollably. She barely made it a few steps before doubling over, her body convulsing violently as she retched. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the cold sweat on her skin.
Kyron stepped closer, his voice low almost a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Sorcha. I wasn’t able to get to you in time, to them in time. But I swear to you I’ll keep you safe. I made that promise before, and I intend to keep it. We’ll find a way to stop Vaelric.”
Her body trembled as she tried to stand, her legs weak beneath her. She knew, deep down, that everything Kyron said was true. The pieces all fit together, forming a picture too painful to bear. Her mind swirled with regret, guilt, anger, and sadness, each emotion crashing into herlike waves, threatening to drown her. She heaved again so violently that blood speckled the ground. She gasped for air, her throat raw, her body trembling as the truth clawed its way to the surface. The face from her nightmares flashed in her mind, twisted, cruel, and unforgiving.
Vaelric. The one who had stolen her parents, twisted their lives into something monstrous. And worse… it had been her hands that ended them. Because of him.
Chapter 36
Hard Truths
Kyron knelt beside Sorcha, her body curled in on itself, her sobs so deep and raw that no sound escaped her lips, as Cat lay pressed against her, refusing to leave her side.
Kyron reached for her and hesitated, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. He wanted to comfort her, but his guilt rooted him in place. The weight of his own failures and regrets clawed at him, threatening to crush him. Memories surged unbidden and unforgiving as he thought back to when he was sent to track Lugh and his wife. The sickness Vaelric had unleashed twisted them beyond recognition, resembling Fomorians in a way, grotesque, monstrous and yet there had been a glimmer of something human buried deep beneath their cursed forms. He had spent months chasing whispers, tracking signs,holding on to the faintest hope that they might still be alive. But he had been too late.
