Page 142 of A Legacy of the Light

“An taghadh,” the voice echoes quietly as the creature walks until it’s not two feet from me. The water making up its body moves in waves like the ocean as the creature holds its shape.

Blood pounds in my ears and I fight every instinct I have not to run screaming into the trees. The Craobh Beatha hums against my chest as the horse stares at me, unblinking and unseeing.

Please do the weird magic barrier thing, I will to the Craobh.

It hums again and goes silent.

Great.

The creature tilts its head and the depths of its eyes swirl again, reminding me of storm clouds, waiting for me to make a move.

On trembling knees, I take a tiny step forward.

The creature doesn’t stir.

I take another.

And another.

I slowly lift my hand and hold the back of it a few inches from the nose of the horse, like I would greet any other animal, and wait for it to close the gap between us.

“An taghadh,” it says a final time before lowering its head and nudging the back of my hand with a cold, wet snout.

My breathing eases and I turn my hand over and rest a flat palm against the bridge of its nose. The water is icy under my touch but holds its shape.

“What are you?” I ask.

The creature tilts its head in the other direction and stares at me with an intelligence that unnerves me.

“All that is, belongs to you.”

As my mind speaks that thought, the water-horse nudges my hand again and turns. It gallops across the surface of the water before collapsing back into the lake between one breath and the next.

I stay frozen with my arm extended.

I watch where the creature disappeared and ask, for the thousandth time since I arrived in Elfayne: what the fuck?

When I’m sure it’s gone, I turn from the lake and quickly mount Mabel. We gallop back along the path until we reach the edge of the city, where we slow down.

My shoulders sag with relief when I spot Seelie on the streets of Elfayne. The voice in my head knew the creature wouldn’t harm me, but that didn’t stop fear taking hold as it came towards me.

I consider the fact I’m hearing a voice in my head. It’s not like my internal monologue, the thoughts that make me who I am, but an actual voice. It sounds like I have earphones in and am listening to an audiobook or something.

Like I’m listening to Granny talking to me.

I’ve thought a lot about her voice since the accident, how she would roll her ‘r’s and the way her accent would get thicker when she was angry. And I’ve thought a lot about how much I miss it.

Since Mom was born in the US, her accent wasn’t quite as entertaining to me as a kid. Had I known then what would happen, I would have paid more attention to it. Time has dulled the memory of it now. One day, I realize, I won’t remember what she sounds like at all.

Sadness prickles my eyes and tears threaten to spill. When will I not feel this way? When will I not carry their loss? It feels like I’ve carried grief for a lifetime but this feeling, the emptiness, when I think about Mom and Granny, will always be with me.

Back at the stables, I help Fraser remove Mabel’s saddle and get her back in her pen. He hands me an apple to feed to her.

“Thanks for the cloak, Fraser,” I say moving to unbutton it.

“Keep it,” he replies.

I thank him again with a soft smile and stay stroking Mabel’s nose as she happily chomps on the apple after he leaves to tend to the other horses.