“You’re in no position to worry about me, Kyron.
I’m fine.”
“Sorcha.” His voice dropped, low and tired. “We’re in the clear. Let me help.”
Her throat tightened, her voice straining as the words slipped out. “You’re always helping me.”
A tired laugh escaped him, his forehead dropping to her shoulder again. “Careful. Say things like that and I’ll think you enjoy having me this close.”
“I don’t,” she said, immediately cursing how soft it sounded.
“Oh?” His breath brushed her neck, the faintest accidental graze of his lips. “Then tell me to let go.”
She didn’t. His warmth, the faint clover scent clinging to him, the weight of his arms around her… it told her he was still awake and still with her.
By the time they reached Lumora, the moon hung high and the streets were silent. The horses slowed outside the stables. Kyron stirred, lifting his head with effort and offering a faint smile.
“Kyron, you can let go now. We made it back safely thanks to you,” she said softly.
He nodded, sitting up straighter. Sorcha moved to untie the lead rope but before she stepped away, Kyron slid from the saddle. He wavered once, then reached for her and pulled her into a tight embrace.
She froze, breath caught. Kyron held her with a quiet desperation, his face pressed to her hair, his arms tight around her as if the moment kept him standing upright.
“Thank you,” he whispered when he finally let her go. Their eyes met for only a heartbeat before he turned and guided his horse into the stables.
Chapter 40
An Urgent Plea
Kyron and Sorcha walked side by side through the quiet streets of Lumora. When they reached the outpost at the center of town, Commander Nethran was waiting for them. His eyes scanned them, relief washing over his face, though it didn’t soften the deep lines of worry etched across his features.
“You’re back,” he said, standing from his desk. “Thank the gods. Are you both all right?”
Sorcha and Kyron exchanged a glance before stepping forward. Sorcha’s voice was steady, but there was an edge of urgency to it. “Commander, there’s something happening in the south… something far worse than we expected.”
“Go on,” Nethran said, his gaze hardening as he motioned for them to sit.
Sorcha began recounting their patrol at Na Crainn Fána: the eerie scene, the stampede of animals, the decay overtaking the woods, and the creature lurking in the blackened water. Kyron added the details Sorcha had missed, emphasizing the rapid spread of the decay and the dangerous presence they’d sensed within the woods.
Nethran listened intently as the story unfolded.
When they finished, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “This isn’t what I wanted to hear…“ he said grimly. “If the decay is spreading that fast, we could be looking at a full scale collapse of the land. If it reaches the towns—”
“It will,” Sorcha interrupted, her tone resolute. “It’s only a matter of time. That’s why we need to act now.”
Nethran’s gaze flickered between her and Kyron, his worry deepening. “What are you proposing?”
Sorcha straightened, determination flickering in her eyes. “The Festival of Light was a disaster because weweren’t prepared for what could happen. We can’t let Samhain become another massacre.”
“Samhain?” Nethran asked, confusion crossing his face. “What does Samhain have to do with this?”
Kyron leaned forward. “The Veil between realms will be at its thinnest and Vaelric will take advantage of that…”
“Vaelric?” Nethran asked, the name unfamiliar. “A druid,” Sorcha explained carefully, though her
voice carried a weight that hinted at far more. “A powerful one with ill intent. We think he’s working with the Fomorians and we believe he’s behind the decay too, Commander.”
Nethran’s expression darkened further. “If what you’re saying is true, this changes everything.”
