He set the dishes down slowly, stubbornly steady in spite of his fatigue. Sorcha returned the tray to the counter and felt him step beside her. When she looked up, he was already watching her.
Something in his expression softened. He reached for her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted the strength in his calloused fingers. His other hand lifted the stray strands of hair that had fallen forward, tucking them behind her ear with deliberate care.
Her heart fluttered as she met his gaze. Swirling blue tides crashed against the grey stone circles around his irises, the colors deepening in the firelight. His lips were full, carrying the faintest flush of pink, but it was the subtle shift in his breathing that stole her own. His chest rose andfell a little too quickly, and the sight sent heat blooming low in her stomach.
Kyron stepped closer, his body almost brushing hers before he whispered, “You should get some rest.”
Sorcha nodded as she broke his gaze.
“You’re right, I’ll try to rest my eyes for a bit,” was all she could manage to say.
Kyron’s hand stayed a moment longer on her cheek before his hand dropped to his side.
“Good. I’ll sit by the fire a while, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d like that,” she replied as she turned toward her bedroom door.
Sorcha slipped into her room, pushing the door only halfway closed. The soft glow from the hearth spilled through the gap, painting a warm stripe across the floorboards. She changed into something clean and comfortable, the day in the forest tugging at her with every movement.
When she finally crawled beneath the blankets, the mattress dipped around her body. Her muscles ached, her mind buzzed, but the quiet murmur of voices from the main room drifted in and slowly unwound the tightness in her chest.
Kyron’s voice came first, low and rough from fatigue, barely above a whisper. She couldn’t make out the words, only the cadence steady, soothing, familiar in a way she didn’t want to admit.
Cat replied with a soft chirp, followed by the pattering sound of him hopping up onto something, probably the arm of Kyron’s chair. There was a pause, then Kyron exhaled a tired breath.
“I suppose you’re keeping watch tonight,” he muttered.
Another little trill from Cat, this one almost smug.
Sorcha smiled into her pillow.
Kyron’s chair creaked softly as he moved, followed by the clink of a kettle finding its place on the stove. Warmth spread through the quiet room. Her eyesdrifted shut to the gentle simmer of water and the comforting shuffle of feet and paws settling near the fire.
Chapter 41
The Bridge of the Forgotten
The air shimmered with an otherworldly glow, mist curling at her feet as her toes touched cool moss, soft and pillow like. The towering trees whispered secrets in the wind, their branches intertwined as if to block out the sky. Their bark shifted in hues, deep blue fading into violet, the change so subtle it was almost like a trick of the light. Sorcha blinked, trying to steady herself, but the surreal quality of the place unsettled her.
A low, familiar meow broke the silence. “Cat?” she called out, her voice trembling.
From the shadows, something massive emerged.
She took in the sight of him, Cat, but transformed. His sleek black fur shimmered faintly with silver, and his molten silver eyes seemed to pierce straight through her.He was larger than any cat she had ever seen, almost the same height as her on all fours, his two tails flicking lazily.
And then he spoke.
“Do you ever have normal dreams?” His voice carried a playful yet knowing edge, his mouth not quite moving like a human’s, yet the words were unmistakably his.
Sorcha staggered back, her heart racing. “Cat, you’re talking? And what is this?”
He tilted his head, delight flickering across his face. “Talking? Me? Of course I am. How else was I supposed to tell you that you’re crossing the Veil every time you have these strange dreams?”
“The Veil?” Her voice was barely a whisper as she stared at him, trying to process the enormity of his words.
“This isn’t just a dream,” Cat continued, stretching as his tails swayed behind him, thick and powerful. “Dreams, for someone like you? They’re doorways. Your soul slips through the cracks.” He used his paw to imitate atiny figure walking and then tumbling into an unseen hole in the ground.
Sorcha swallowed hard. That couldn’t be true. She had always thought of her dreams as fragments, fleeting glimpses of nothing, but now. Hadn’t she always felt something strange when she woke? A lingering weight, a whisper of something she couldn’t quite grasp.
