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Movement interrupts my thoughts in the distance. Three figures are approaching, their shapes growing clearer with every passing second.

I force myself to my feet, my legs trembling beneath me, and shake off Callan’s attempt to help with a sharp gesture.

“Ah, finally,” says the one in the middle, his voice a cryptic blend of weariness and amusement. “I wondered if you would ever touch Lia Fál. Millennia... Millennia spent waiting for this moment. Can you feel it yet? The echoes of an age long past, the weight of it pressing against your soul?”

I don’t think—I just run, a snarl rising in my throat as rage takes over.

The three figures falter, surprise flashing across their faces—but they brace for the blow. It doesn’t matter.

I lunge at the man in the centre, slamming him to the ground with every ounce of strength I have. Straddling him, I press my hand to his throat, power crackling through me—wild, untamed, and searing. He swallows hard beneath my grip, his wide eyes filled with fear… and recognition.

“Finn was right about you,” I hiss, my voice shaking with fury as I lean in. “We trusted you. You led us to Tara… and I lost him.”

They walked here as if the world belongs to them. As if they didn’t help tear mine apart.

Mannie.

Dana.

…And the bloody maiden.

Mannie lets out a laugh, low and almost mocking, as he effortlessly pushes me off him. I stumble back on my hands, rage bubbling at the surface as he stands up, rubbing at his throat.

Callan is at my side before I’ve fully caught myself. He doesn’t ask—he checks. Quick once-over, then he turns on Mannie.

“Piss off,” he snaps, the words rough and thick with rage.

“I suppose I might have earned that, had I truly betrayed you,” he says, his tone calm but edged with something dangerous. “Though I must admit, I am quite curious to see the extent of your power at its peak. You have only brushed the edge of your strength, Little One. At your height? I doubt I would still be on my feet.”

I stagger to my feet, my breathing ragged as anger courses through me. “Where are my brother and Bran?” The question bursts from me, sharp and demanding, overriding my fury for a moment. “What have you done with them?”

Mannie’s smirk falters, replaced by an expression of faint exasperation. “They are safe,” he says, his tone clipped. “I assure you, Little One, we have no intention of harming them. In fact, they had a far less... eventful journey than you.”

Callan steps closer to me, his body tense as he glares at Mannie. “Safe where? Ye better not be lyin’.”

Mannie sighs. “I swore when you asked, my dear Triona, that no harm would befall those you cherish.”

My voice breaks as I give way to my rising temper. “I trusted you! You lied—Finn was hurt!”

Power burns beneath my skin, curling through my limbs like fire seeking release.

His voice drops, calmer now. “I made a vow not to harm them. That vow was iron then, and it remains so now. Now, if you are finished baring your teeth at me, there are matters of far greater consequence to address.”

The fury roils tighter in my chest, coiling hot and alive. His calm doesn’t soothe—it infuriates. My hands glow, faint at first, then brighter, pulsing with the same light that surged through me when the Stone’s power first awakened. I don’t hide it. Let him see what I’ve become.

But Mannie doesn’t flinch. He watches me with something else entirely—awe.

“You are a wonder,” he breathes.

Then his expression shifts, solemn and unguarded. A man—no, something far older—stepping out from behind the curtain of myth.

“I am sorry,” he says quietly, “for what happened to Finn.”

Something in his voice makes me falter—not enough to cool the fire in my blood, but enough to make me listen.

“I know that kind of loss,” he continues, each word carved from some old grief. “I once had a wife. Children, too. All of them gone now—lost to time, to war, to fate. It burrows deep, Triona. Deeper than anyone expects. And once it is in you... it never truly leaves.”

My hands lower, the glow dimming—but only for a heartbeat.