I know something about losing the ability to feel. About choosing numbness over the alternative.
I also know it doesn’t work.
“We were all meant to sip from the Cauldron,” Macha says, joining her sister. “And yet, we did not.”
“Few of us remained awake. Sleeping in shifts to preserve what sanity we had left.”
“Why? Why sleep at all?” Finnian asks.
“Why should I choose the alternative?”
“Which is?”
“Death.” Morrigan states it simply. “We wake to live again. Experience life and love. To watch our descendants grow and thrive.”
“It is better they believed us as fables,” Macha supplies.
“As myths,” Dagda adds. “I remained at the Academy as Tadhg.”
“And I the wilds,” Morrigan says.
“And the third?” Orion grabs the rags and tosses them in the corner of the bar. His skin is angry and torn, bone showing as it slowly tries to knit itself back together. “You said you sleep in shifts. So who’s the third?”
Finnian shoves the vial down his throat before he can argue.
“My son, Aengus,” Dagda says. “You may know him as Veil.”
“The nomad? With blue hair?” Of course. He wanders between the courts. Always somehow around. Always watching.
“And now we must wake the rest.” Morrigan sets the Cauldron down.
“It couldn’t wait until morning?” Orion is still vibrating with fury. I would be, too, if the god who created my artifact ripped it from my chest without so much as a warning.
“Don’t worry,” Dagda says. “It is still bound to you. But we must go.”
“Where?” Orion pushes the word through his teeth.
“To wake our sister,” Morrigan supplies.
That gets all of our attention.
“Badb,” I whisper. “You’re going to war.”
“No.” Morrigan grabs the Cauldron. “I’m going to end it. And you need her to survive the forest.”
We watch silently as she and Macha back away toward the door.
“Stay.” Dagda’s voice carries the weight of mountains. “Go nowhere until we return.”
“We aren’t children for you to scold.” The words come out wrapped in winter. Shadows curl at my feet. Snowflakes drift from my shoulders like I’m shedding skin.
Pathetic.
“If you weren’t children to be scolded, we wouldn’t be in the position we are.”
I hate that he’s right.
He walks out before I can respond. Probably wise. I’m not certain what I would have done if he’d stayed, though given my current magical state, I’d likely have buried him in a gentle flurry. Devastating really.
