“I’m letting you go so you can live. We were wrong to take you the way we did. I now realise that nothing done by force ever achieves the result we hope for. Perhaps that, too, is the legacy of the curse, that we become shadows of ourselves.”
“After everything that’s happened,” I said, “you sound almost apologetic.”
Fionn held my gaze.
“You don't have long left in this world. You will continue to be hunted. Be with your family, Tilly, and remember what it is to be happy again. That’s all I want for you now.”
I stared at him in disbelief, unable to accept that after everything I had been through, I was back home, my family a short walk away. An indescribable joy overwhelmed me at the thought of my reunion, but as I looked at him, the joy felthollow.
“Go home.”
“What about you, Fionn?”
“This is as far as I go. You'll go your way, I'll go mine.”
“What about the prophecy?” I asked. “What about Vareth and your people?”
He straightened, turning his face to the sky. “I don’t fear the stars or Vareth.” His voice dropped, quieter now, as though speaking to the universe itself.
“Only the monster they expect me to become.”
I knew he was a dark, suffering soul, but I was still being drawn toward him and his brothers.
His focus returned to me. “I know you hate us for the way we took you. In our attempts to free ourselves from the curse, we’ve become what we never were before.”
The remorse that shone from Fionn’s eyes was like the rising of the sun after a long winter night.
“Fionn? I can see the burden you carry, it's like a ball and chain.”
“Some things come at a price and can’t be forgiven.”
As he spoke, a fresh line of blood slipped from the cut across his Mark, trailing down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, but more welled beneath his fingers.
“You’re still bleeding,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said too quickly.
“It won’t stop until Vareth allows it.”
But the monk’s words echoed through me like a pulse.Magic and power are in your blood.
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I stepped closer.
“Tilly,” he warned, sensing something in my eyes.
“Don’t.”
“I need to try something before I go.”
My hand lifted on instinct, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. A single drop of blood, scraped from a cut I hadn’t even realised I’d made, slid from my fingertip and fell onto the wound carved through his Mark.
He froze completely and for the first time he didn’t look at me like a burden.
“If magic and power are in the blood,” I whispered. “Blood must have the power to heal.”
He smirked, or at least he tried to, but it faltered. “Your mortal blood isn’t capable of overpowering Vareth’s mark.” But as he spoke, the bleeding stopped.
I swallowed hard. The monk spoke the truth.
