Kyron had come to these woods on a different mission entirely, but that no longer mattered. As he knelt in the ash and ruin, staring at the twisted remains before him, he knew it was her.
The darkness had taken hold and there was no coming back from it now.
The creature’s body jerked suddenly, bones snapping, limbs twitching in violent spasms. Kyron flinched, then steadied himself as its jaw unhinged in a snarl, revealing jagged teeth slick with black saliva. He stepped forward, forcing calm into his voice, and spoke her name.
“Alenia.”
For a moment, the thrashing stopped. The creature’s eyes, wild and blood fogged, found his. They shimmered faintly pink, like spring blossoms steeped instarlight. Tears welled and cut pale tracks through the soot on her cheeks. She shook her head in a silent plea.
Kyron’s throat tightened as he reached for his blade, her eyes watching closely as his sword cleared its sheath. He hovered it over her chest, just above the star mark he had once kissed as flashes of young love flickered behind his eyes.
The memories of kisses stolen under the ancient yew trees, flower picking in his mother’s gardens and how she’d smell of sweet clover for days after, the sunsets they watched from the golden fields of the Tuatha.
His gaze held hers as he watched her struggle to remain in control of what little was left of herself and he knew that this was better than damnation.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words breaking apart in his throat.
The blade drove down and ribs snapped beneath the force of it. The sound was sharp and splintering like tree branches cracking in winter as a soft cry tore from her throat and then fell away into silence. Her body shudderedonce before it stilled and in that moment, her face seemed almost peaceful. Her eyes lifted toward the violet hues of the sky, to the faint shimmer of stars dancing between the clouds.
Kyron felt a hollow relief that he had found her, that he had been the one to say goodbye. Yet the truth ached in his heart. It wasn’t peace he felt, only the sharp grief of farewell. If he had found her sooner, there might have been a way to heal her. To save her from the darkness that had taken hold. Now all he could do was make sure she hadn’t died alone.
Kyron stayed on his knees beside her body, his hand still resting on the hilt as he bowed his head and whispered into the stillness.
“May the Dagda show you the light. May the Don take your hand and lead you through the rivers that run steady and true, and guide you home to Tír na nÓg.”
Chapter 6
Spreading Sickness
Morning broke with the relentless chirping of birds, dragging Sorcha from a restless sleep. She groaned, stretching the ache from her limbs. After too much ale and too little rest, she’d finally drifted off and now the birds refused to let her keep it.
Then a sharp knock rattled the door. “Sorcha! Grab your gear, let’s go!”
Commander Nethran’s voice thundered through the morning air. She blinked hard, heart leaping awake faster than her thoughts. Still half dressed, she stumbled toward her boots, tugged them on, and snatched her cloak from the chair. The second knock came just as she yanked the latch open.
Nethran stood waiting with Circle members at his back, all already armed and alert.
“What’s happened?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her face.
“A hunter reported a strange plant with a sickness in the woods,” Nethran said, eyes scanning her to make sure she was ready. “It might be connected to last night. We need to check it out.”
Sorcha grabbed her bow and quiver, throwing them over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
They set out at once, moving through the waking streets as pale light climbed the rooftops. A town scout led them to the trees, and the city’s warmth fell away behind them. Early sun spread thin across the forest floor. The deeper they walked, the quieter the woods became, until only the soft thud of their steps remained.
She knew the clearing the moment she saw it. The trees stood lifeless, gray and brittle, bark peeling in flakes that crumbled at the lightest touch. At the center, something pulsed. A massive black flower rose from the earth, slickand glistening, its petals curled inward like a clenched fist. Pale dust drifted from its core and settled over the dying ground.
Mason hovered closer. “That’s not normal.”
No,” Nethran said, careful but intent as he studied the thing.
Rhosyn crouched by a patch of shriveled grass. She brushed the blades and pulled back as they powdered beneath her fingers. “The soil is dying. Don’t touch it, whatever it is; it burns.” Her gaze followed the falling dust. “Look, it’s spreading.”
As more dust settled, a dark seep rose from the earth beneath the bloom, thick as tar, slithered outward. Sorcha felt her pulse climb. This was no natural blight.
“Stay back,” Nethran said. “We don’t know what it is.” He looked at Sorcha. “You said the creature fell here.”
“Exactly here,” she answered, and had to swallow before the words would come.
