“Oh, for the love of—fine!” Kyron threw his arms in the air and stepped back as if surrendering. “Do whatever you want! Apparently, no one listens to me anyway!”
Cat tilted his head, a smug glint in his eyes, and calmly sauntered back to Sorcha. He leapt gracefully onto the fountain’s edge beside her, where he sat primly, his tail curling neatly around his paws.
“Thank you, Cat,” Sorcha said with a small smirk. “As I was saying…” She turned back to the group, ignoring Kyron’s increasingly frantic gestures behind her.
“This is going to be a lot to take in, but it’s true.
I’m a demigod, my father is Lugh, because of that I can use the power of the sun. It’s why my accuracy is always perfect, no matter the distance. Oh, and Cat can understand us.”
At this, Cat let out a short, affirming meow as if to confirm her statement. The Circle stared in stunnedexpressions, their gazes flicking between Sorcha, Kyron, and the unbothered Cat.
Kyron ran a hand through his hair, walking toward Sorcha. “What she says is true,” he said at last, his tone weary. “I would have done this a little differently had it been UP TO ME, but here we are. If anyone has questions, we’re open to answering them.”
The murmurs of the Circle rose, questions bubbling just beneath the surface, but Kyron turned to Sorcha before they could begin. Leaning close, he whispered, “Have you lost your mind? I’m sorry for everything, but wh—” he paused for a moment before he finished his thought “What is all this?” His eyes searched hers, a mix of concern and exasperation.
Sorcha sighed, her voice steady but firm as she whispered, “Every second we wait is a second Vaelric gets stronger. I’m not sitting around waiting for him to destroy more lives when we can do something about it. We need help, Kyron. We can’t afford to waste any more time.”
Her gaze was piercing, fixed on Kyron’s. For a moment, he held her stare, and then he saw it: the clarity, the unshakable determination that had replaced the doubt she once carried.
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Commander,” she said, her voice steady now, “could you tell them what happened during the battle? They’ll need to hear it from you, too, to believe me.”
The commander nodded, straightening as he prepared to speak. Clearing his throat, he began, “During the battle at the festival, I was surrounded by Fomorians. They came at me from every side, slashing and attacking. I was bleeding heavily, and my strength was failing.” His eyes flickered down for a moment before he continued, “I was close to losing the fight.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group. “Then Sorcha came to my rescue. She was fully enveloped in fire. A bright, searing light that burned so hot it killed the Fomorians on contact. If she hadn’t been there…” His voice softened. “I might not be here today. If Sorcha says this is true, then I believe her.”
Rhosyn stepped forward and pulled Sorcha into a tight hug. “I knew it,” she said, grinning. “I knew you always glowed brighter than the rest of us for a reason.
Your runes have always been… twitchy.”
Sorcha smiled faintly, the weight of their belief settling over her. Eirin nodded from where he stood. “It makes sense now. None of us could figure out why the kelpie let me go or why they stayed away after. It was you, wasn’t it? You drove them off.” He held her gaze, his tone filled with certainty. “I had a feeling it was you.”
Sorcha nodded, his expression softening as she looked at him.
Drystan let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course one of my friends would turn out to be a demigod. Nothing can ever be simple. If it’s not monsters or magic, it only leaves the gods.”
Eirin joined in with a laugh. “It’s fine, Sorcha. I always knew you had freakishly good aim. You nevermissed a shot. Not once. Even when the wind turned or the light shifted.”
Mason chimed in: “Oh, and those gold strands in your hair? Come on, they literally glow.” He walked over and hugged Sorcha before turning to Kyron. “Hey Kyron…” He smirked. “This is going to make a fantastic story one day.”
Sorcha scanned the faces of her friends, searching for Riona. Four days—it had been four days since she’d last seen her. Her unease turned into frustration as she turned to Commander Nethran, her voice filled with concern. “Where is Riona? Why isn’t she here?”
The commander paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “Riona left for Cailleach’s Keep a few days ago, Sorcha. She’s moved back home.”
The words hit like an icy blast. She looked to her friends, hoping for some kind of explanation, but their faces mirrored her own shock and confusion. None of them knew.
“She didn’t tell any of you either, did she?” Sorcha asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with disbelief.
Her friends shook their heads, exchanging uneasy glances.
Sorcha turned back to Commander Nethran, anger creeping into her voice. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Desperation filled her voice as she pointed to herself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The commander held her gaze, his tone even. “It was strictly between her and me. If Riona wanted to share that information, that was her choice. It’s not my place to speak on her behalf, and it’s not my job to inform others of her personal decisions.”
Sorcha’s hands balled into fists at her sides as she tried to make sense of it. Four days. Four days, and Riona had said nothing. No goodbye, no explanation—nothing. Sorcha felt a swell of anger and hurt but forced herself to shake it off. She couldn’t afford distractions, not now.
Kyron gave her a soft look, one that said he’d support herwithout question. She met his gaze briefly before turning back to the commander.
