Before Kyron could retort, Commander Nethran’s voice thundered through the room, silencing them both. “That is ENOUGH!” he barked, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. “I need to know what happened tomy ranger, and I need to know now. If you two have finished your bickering, someone explain things to me.”
Cat tilted his head toward Nethran, his expression suddenly calm and serious.
“I am telling you, Commander. Sorcha has been dream walking into the Otherworld, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t died yet. She’s crossing the Veil without any understanding of what she’s walking into or how dangerous it is. She’s been doing this long before I arrived.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “And now her powers have begun to emerge. That magic makes her a beacon for everything that walks, crawls, flies, and slithers in both planes. And worse, someone is actively hunting her.”
Nethran’s brow furrowed. “Hunting her?”
“Yes,” Cat said bluntly. “Whoever or whatever it is, they are tied to her by fate. The wisps are leading her to it, this thing cloaked in shadows. She can’t outrun it, Commander. She can’t hide from it. Whatever is happening is bound to her, and she plays a key role in all of it.”
The room fell silent, the weight of Cat’s words pressing heavily on them.
Finally, Cat let out an exhaustive sigh. “Anything else you’d like me to explain? Oh, yes—the bridge. A wraith sliced her side open while I stood in front of her, protecting her with my life. That vermin managed to get past me while I was busy fighting the masses of undead and the shadow figure that was chasing us across the bridge.”
Kyron looked at Cat, regret flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cat cut him off with a raised paw. “Now, now, no need to get sentimental, Kyron. Keep that away from me before I start to like you too.” Kyron felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.
Commander Nethran stepped closer to Sorcha, turning to Cat with a stern expression.
“How do we know she’s not there right now? How do we know she’s safe?”
Cat, unbothered as always, flicked one of his tails lazily. “If she wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
Nethran considered this for a moment, then nodded. He turned to Kyron, his tone brisk.
“I need to think this through, get some things in order, and prepare the Circle and cadets for the day. Kyron, you’ll stay here and keep watch over both of them.”
Kyron straightened, his reply immediate. “Yes, Commander.”
With that, Nethran walked out the door, leaving Kyron alone with Cat and Sorcha. Kyron and Cat settled into the quiet room. The bells of the Druid School rang softly in the distance, marking the passage of time. The clash of swords and muffled commands of training drills filtered faintly through the walls, but in the medical unit, all was still.
Kyron sat in a chair near Sorcha’s cot, his gaze flicking between her and Cat, who lay curled at her feet. The Cait Sídhe’s eyes would close briefly, only to snap open again as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Eventually, the sun began its slow descent, flooding the room with warm, golden light. The rays seemed to bedrawn to Sorcha, enveloping her in their glow as her runes absorbed the light, flickering bright and then dim. Her hair shimmered, curling slightly and twisting in the light, as though it were alive and reaching toward the sun. For a moment, Kyron was caught off guard by the sight of her. In the stillness, she looked more like a goddess than a mortal.
Then her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked slowly, her gaze sweeping the room. Her voice, raspy and strained, broke the quiet.
“Kyron… Are we at the medical unit?”
Kyron leaned forward, his features softening as his dark eyes met hers. Her green eyes, now swirling faintly with liquid gold, glowing in the sunlight.
“Yes,” he said gently. “You needed more help than I could give.”
Cat stirred, his eyes flicking up to meet Sorcha’s. “You’re safe now,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.
Sorcha’s gaze lingered on him, her expression caught in disbelief. Even now, it was hard to process thereality that Cat could speak—that he was so much more than she had imagined.
She tried to push herself up, but a sharp pain in her side stopped her, drawing a hiss from her lips. The sudden jolt grounded her. It was all real. The drowning weight in her returned, and with it, the image of his face, the one she had seen every time she dreamed.
Vaelric. He had been there again. Watching her. Chasing her. Sorcha shifted uncomfortably on the cot, her eyes flicking to Cat, who sat perched at her feet.
“Did you see him?” she asked quietly, her voice edged with unease.
“On the bridge. Did you see who it was?”
Cat paused mid lick, his silver eyes lifting to meet hers. His expression was unreadable, his twin tails twitching erratically.
“I saw someone,” he said at last, his tone low. “But the shadows were thick. I couldn’t see his face.”
“It’s him,” Sorcha whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s the same person who’s been after me whenever the wisps appear. Vaelric, the Dark Druid.”
