“They’re not,” I replied. and it was true. But the monk’s words echoed in my mind.
Magic and power are in your blood.
What if my blood could heal his wound? The thought came uninvited, and I pushed it away. He didn't deserve anything from me.
“In truth, I am not concerned, especially after the way you and your brothers have treated me. I should feel happy watching you bleed out, but I’m not as shallow as you are.”
The anger in my voice surprised even me, but I didn’t hold it back. I wasn’t the girl they could push around anymore.
Tilly, I managed to survive, but only by a hair's breadth." He gazed up at the sky where I had emerged from the vortex. "Don’t mistake that for weakness. I don’t die easily.”
“Neither do I,” I shot back, the memory of Horous’s scream echoing through me as he passed through theGate. Fionn's eyes flicked to mine, but he didn’t hold my gaze.
“We need to leave this place, now.” He demanded. “I was fortunate enough to track you here. There won’t be a next time.” His jaw tightened as if the idea of losing me to this place irritated him more than it worried him. He looked towards the heavens.
“A thousand eyes are watching us. We can’t stay here much longer. We need to leave now.”
He turned and started walking along the beach. I had to practically run to keep up with him, my pulse still thundering from everything that had happened.
No matter what happened now, death felt like the only ending the brothers had waiting for me. My hand brushed the parchment tucked at my waist, a reminder of the power the monk claimed lived in my blood. If this was true. I wasn’t planning on being the one who died. Not by his hand. Not by anyone’s.
“I know this is a gateway to death,” I said, “but even so, I feel apowerful connection here.”
The voices stirred again. This time, I didn’t push them away.
We were taken.Came a small, whimpering whisper. She sounded so young.
We burned.Came an accented voice, a hint of French, threaded with pain.
Kill him, before he kills you!Came a third voice, stronger and more restrained.
Fionn stopped mid-stride, shoulders tensing. He didn’t turn, but his hand curled into a fist.
“Stay close,” he demanded.
I didn’t move because he commanded it. I moved because the voices were warning me about him. And for the first time, I felt like I belonged to their story, not his.
Their anger and grief pulsed through me, pain I couldn’t ignore. And in this moment, I understood why they hated him, why they feared him… and why they wanted me to strike first.
They believed I could free them. And for the first time, I believed I could too.
"This isn’t a place you want to feel connected to,” Fionn said, his jaw tightening.
“You’re the last person I would ever take advice from,” I retorted.
Fionn furrowed his brow.
“The madness grows stronger in places like this. You know that. I wouldn’t wish Vareth’s madness on anyone—not even you. But it’s buried deep within you, deeper than you realize.”
His words should have grounded me, but instead, they intensified the pull I felt toward this place.
“This isn’t the place to confront the curse. Now move, Tilly. If we stay, you’ll face a danger far greater than the Gatemen. This place is a crossroads—where life and death meet.”
“Then you're familiar with it,” I said.
Fionn sighed impatiently, looking at me. “This is the gateway to eternal darkness,” he said.
“This is where you and your brothers belong,” I blurted out. “Not the innocent Marked you’ve slaughtered.”
