Page 172 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

The goddess places a hand to her sternum. “Aye. But it didnae appear until Cailleach tried to kill you, and she couldnae see it. I tried to hide you so it would never come to that. A Fate can sense their replacement once they place eyes on them. I’d hoped she wouldn’t find you at all. I almost succeeded. Made you a nobody. No family to miss you. Just a girl adrift in a kingdom that doesnae care for those without power. But when you took your friend’s clothes from the river in your attempt to save her, Cailleach felt you. Only one fated to touch death would have been able to remove the clothes. Even with my magic hiding you, she knew who you were.”

The statement is a knife between my ribs, shockingly, deeply painful. How different would things be if I’d made a different choice? A better one? My friend had died anyway, and my entire life was ruined.

“She hid you somewhere you willnae find on any map and turned you into a legend the entire kingdom feared,” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis says.

“But what about her sisters? Why have they done nothing to stop her?” I ask, trying to complete the picture forming in my mind. Ban-dia a’ Bhàis stiffens, but she doesn't answer.

“Each Fate is duty-bound to find their own ascending, but it is only once the next Cutter accepts her dàn that the women destined to become her sisters awaken,” Brennen says. “Without an ascending⁠—”

“Wait,” I say, pressing a hand to my forehead, trying to keep up.

“Breathe, m’ anam,” Brennen says. I drag in a shaky breath, but my mind doesn’t still.

“When there is no Cutter to ascend,” he continues, “the cycle resets. Cailleach’s sisters would have been forced to continue their rule alongside her.”

I close my eyes, creating a map of connections in my mind. “When I couldn’t be killed, she started looking for the women who would become the Weaver and Measurer, should I accept the role.”

Brennen nods.

Once again, anger flickers in my chest. “Why do I have to be the one to accept the dàn first?” I ask. Must the burden rest on my shoulders, always? Why could the Weaver or Measurer not be the one to carry it for a while? Why must I endure a century of a cursed existence before their trials even begin?

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis tilts her head. “I know it doesnae seem fair, but this is how it has always been. Without death, there cannot be life. A thread cannot be woven and measured if I am not certain there will be someone to sever it. No one is meant to live forever. Not mortals. And not the Fates.” She takes a step forward, pointing into the endless sky. “Your sisters are up there now, waiting for you without even knowing it. Their dàn will appear to them, too, for them to accept or reject, should you choose your calling.”

I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around her words. The immensity of their meaning.

My sisters. A family I never really had. One fate chose for me.

The thought overwhelms me, and I sag against Brennen. All I want is to feel his calm. His sturdiness.

He doesn’t let me down, wrapping a protective arm around my waist and pulling me tightly against him. My heart rate calms almost instantly.

“The missing women. The deaths.” A web more layered and intricate than I could have ever imagined unfurling in my mind. “They’re women she thinks could be my sisters, aren’t they? She’s desperate, trying to eliminate anyone who could overpower her, and so she’s killing them.”

The goddess’s eyes flash with anger. “Aye,” she confirms, her voice dark.

“Where are they?” I ask. “The souls who couldn’t pass on?”

The goddess gestures in the opposite direction of the gates, toward the misty black sand flowing from above. “Thanks to you, they rest in the darkness. Only those who pass at their time can enter until An Glèidheadair returns.”

“And Saoirse?” I ask, eyes flicking to Brennen. He stiffens, his arms tensing as he squeezes me tighter.

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis gives him a gentle smile. “She has found peace with your mortal parents. She is happy,” the goddess says softly.

The tension eases from Brennen’s grip a fraction, and while relief wraps around my heart, it doesn’t last long. All of this is wrong.

I’m glad she has found peace, but she shouldn’t be here at all. Saoirse should be alive. Those women, and Harold, should be alive.

“Does the Cutter know what she’s doing to those souls? That she is the reason they cannot enter the After? That her refusing to step down is the cause of the Epoch?” I ask, my voice turning sharp. How much suffering will that woman cause? And for what? Power?

What good is power when the kingdom loathes you? When you refuse to use it to help anyone but yourself.

The anger in Ban-dia a’ Bhàis eyes grows hotter, the gold in her irises flickering like flames. “She knows. About the women, and the Epoch. The alignment of the moons once served as a time of celebration. A day the Fates would hand over their crowns to those who pledged to me they would take their place.” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis’s jaw tightens. “It wasnae until the Fates refused to step down that it became a time of death and mourning. It was your time to ascend over a century ago, when the last Epoch occurred. But you were trapped at the river—unable to die, but unable to ascend to your rightful place. It’s why I added to your curse. Made it so catching you would give Brennen his answer. I gave you the spell to be set free. Not to die, but to live. To reign. It’s the reason Am Breitheamh pledged to bring you to me. I couldnae interfere with your life, or the Fates, any more than I already had. Too many threads would have unraveled.”

It feels as if I cannot breathe, my lungs too stiff to expand. “You left me the spell?” I ask, the memory of finding the separate piece of parchment tucked away in the rocks flickering into my mind. “The Cutter didn’t know about it at all?”

“Aye. It was me. I couldnae free you, but with Brennen’s help, and when the time was right, I could give you the chance to free yourself,” she says, and the anger that has been simmering in my chest grows.

Cailleach hadn’t just cursed me to the river. She’d doomed me there forever, with no intention of giving me any sort of chance to escape. And because of her greed, the monsters have come once again. The Epoch didn’t have to be like this—a time of death—and yet, she chose for it to be, all to stay in power.