Page 30 of Crownless Heirs

“Show me who you really are,” she whispered, her voice no longer spoken aloud but heard within her mind.

Bé Chuille pierced through layers Sorcha didn’t know she had, peeling them away one by one in a search that felt so predatory.

Suddenly she stopped, pulling away from her, her eyes wide. “You really have no idea, do you?”

Sorcha coughed up blood, struggling to speak past the pain. “What?” Was all she could manage.

Bé Chuille regarded her with interest, as though deciding just how much to reveal. “Your fate,” she said simply, letting the words settle. “I see beyond this moment, little ember. I see you, and what you will become.”

Her voice took on a tone of sadness, but also softening, like a mother comforting their infant. “I’m sorry, child, but you will suffer. You will endure a pain so deep it will carve through your very soul. It will break you again and again, and when you believe there is nothing left, the world will take more.”

Sorcha held her ground, but confusion still knitted her brows. She tried not to let those words sink into her skin, but Bé Chuille saw the reaction anyway, and her face softened.

“You are a fire waiting to be extinguished, Sorcha. The realms want to watch you burn out,” she said, her tone turning even darker, waves of sadness breaking her voice. “But do you know the most beautiful thing about fire?”

She leaned in close, her breath cold against Sorcha’s cheek, and her eyes gleamed.

“It doesn’t go out quietly; I’ll make sure of it.”

Without another word, she turned and addressed the Fear Dorcha. “Let her go. And the hound as well.”

Bé Chuille watched her with that false smile; her eyes held a sadness that turned Sorcha’s skin cold. She waved her hands and Sorcha felt her bones break again, but she could breathe now. She turned onto her side and vomited blood. As she turned, she felt pieces of her mend together as took a full breath.

“Go on, then,” she hissed. “Run to her.”

Her gaze shifted, not to Sorcha, but to the shadows behind her. From the darkness, the black hound stepped forward.

“The hound will go with you,” Bé Chuille said. “A loyal little shadow.”

The hound padded to Sorcha’s side.

“I don’t want it.” Sorcha rasped between gasps.

“Oh?” she tilted her head. “You can choose to have her by your side, or I’ll simply kill her.

Sorcha watched the hound; it was docile beside her. Her colossal head nestled against her side, its eyes met hers, pleading.

“I’ll take her with me,” Sorcha spat fiercely.

Bé Chuille smiled. “I have one last message for you, child. As much as you might long to escape this, you’re far too important and your survival is crucial to the balance of both realms.”

The hound pressed its head against Sorcha’s.

Bé Chuille looked over her shoulder one last time. “We will meet again, though perhaps not in this life.” A slow smile formed across her lips as she stepped back into the shadows. “Perhaps I will greet you in the dark.”

With a flick of her fingers, the altar shuddered and the shadows retreated. The ground gave way beneath Sorcha’s feet, and she plummeted back into the woods. As Bé Chuille and the Fear Dorcha’s presence faded, Sorcha’s breaths came in ragged gasps, her body still trembling from the sheer effort of survival.

The massive black hound stood before her, its eyes locked onto hers. Whatever it had perceived her as before, she was no longer it’s prey. Her shoulder throbbed where its teeth had ripped through skin, the wound still burning and aching, but before she could steel herself for more pain, the hound moved. A low rumble vibrated in its chest as it lowered its head and, with slow, deliberate intent, dragged its tongue across the bite. A chilling cold surged through her coursing beneath her skin like ice through her veins. Her muscles seized for a few seconds before the pain vanished entirely. In its place, a peculiar sensation settled. When she looked down, surprise washed over her. Delicate dark markings curled around her shoulder, faint lines that traced down her arm and brushed along her neck. Whatever had just happened, it had left its mark, literally. The hound lifted its head, its gaze patient, as if waiting for her to comprehend. Sorcha swallowed, realizing she had forged a connection with the hound. Slowly, she reached out, and when her fingers brushed its fur, it remained motionless.

14

Hound

Behind her, Maelan and Kyron materialized without warning, standing a few feet away. One moment they were gone, and the next, they were simply there, observing her with caution and bewilderment. From their expressions, she knew they hadn’t experienced time as she had. For them, only minutes had passed. For her, it had felt like hours.

Her voice was surprisingly steady when she turned to face them.

“We need to leave,” she said, not bothering to explain the heavy exhaustion weighing her down or the fatigue clouding her vision.