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“Take her. Get her as far from here as possible. And dinnae look back.”
He turns to Alex, eyes locking with unwavering trust. “Ye ken the route. Take them to Port Oban. Our allies there will see them safely to Lisbon. That’s the path laid before ye—follow it, no matter what.”
Alex steps forward, and without hesitation, the two men clasp forearms in the kind of steadfast grip that speaks of trust and respect. A warrior’s promise. A brother’s oath.
“I’ll see them through,” Alex says, his voice ironclad. “Every one of them. I swear it on my life.”
James holds his grip for a beat longer, his jaw tightening as if committing the words to something deeper than memory. Then, with a sharp nod, he releases Alex’s arm. “Good man.”
Ellen pulls me aside, her hands clutching mine tightly, her eyes searching my face. “Finn, listen to me,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “Triona has a long road ahead. A dangerous one. She cannae afford any chinks in her armour. What we’re askin’ of ye… it’s no small thing. It’s everything.”
“I’ll keep her safe,” I say, though the weight of her words press hard on my chest. “Ye have my oath.”
Ellen nods, her expression serious. “I ken ye will. That’s why this falls to ye. Ye have to be her strength. Her shield. No weaknesses, Finn. None. It’s more than protection, lad. It’s about… it’s about seein’ her through this. Standin’ by her when she needs ye most.”
I swallow, the meaning settling like a stone in my gut. No distractions. Human or otherwise.
“What’s comin’, Ellen?”
She shakes her head. “This is as far as we get, Finn. This was always meant to be.”
Her gaze holds mine, unyielding, and for a moment, something in her expression twists that I can’t quite name. A pang of hope, chased swiftly by sorrow. Resignation. Or… something more.
Does she know? About what I feel? About what I’ve been trying so hard to bury?
Ellen exhales softly, the kind of breath that carries lifetimes. Her hand finds my arm, squeezing once.
“I trust ye’ll do what’s right,” she says, voice thick with meaning. “What’s best for her?”
My throat locks up. I should say something—anything—but the words won’t come. I nod instead, hoping it’s enough.
Ellen’s words claw at my thoughts, but duty anchors me.
Protect Triona.
It’s as natural to me as drawing breath, as ingrained in me as my own name. Whatever I feel, whatever I’ve longed for, it counts for naught.
I’ll be her strength, her shield, her blade, her keeper in the dark. But never her weakness.
Ellen and I sit in vigil beside Triona while, throughout the entire house, the others are bustling to gather what little they can in order to leave. Her hand absently strokes Triona’s dark hair.
Within the hour, they’ve loaded what we can carry. Our four horses—Aisling, Shadow, Casey’s horse Iona, and Callan’s horse Meara—sturdy creatures whose hearty spirits mirror our own, stand ready to bear us to our destination within the narrow window we have to secure safe passage. We exchange silent glances, each look heavy with trepidation and an unwavering determination.
Shadow’s eyes dart anxiously, but the moment Triona comes into view, he settles, as if sensing the purpose behind the simple cart to which he’s yoked. The intent is unmistakable—Triona won’t be able to sit upright for days, perhaps even weeks. This journey promises to be a torment to her body.
“Finn, we’ll need ye to keep her in the saddle until we reach safer ground,” Casey declares in a firm tone. I nod without hesitation.
James carefully lifts her limp form into my arms, adjusting her gently as she moans softly in protest. His movements are deliberate, as though the weight of her is more than he can bear—not because of size, but of what she represents. His eyes burn with determination even as unshed tears shimmer against their edges.
Nearby, Casey and Callan stand with Ellen. Ellen, as resolute as ever, cups each of their faces in a touch that is both tender and commanding. Callan’s expression remains impassive, his jaw set as though steeling himself against the inevitable storm. Meanwhile, Casey, who wears his heart on his sleeve, appears mournful, his lips drawn tight as he struggles to hold back words that threaten to spill forth.
Despite the differences in their outward reactions, the shared burden of fear—fear of the unknown, of what lies ahead, and the possibility that this may be the last moment they stand together as a family—is unmistakable.
“There will be things on this journey,” James begins, each word deliberately spoken, “that defy all earthly explanation. Many things will not be as they seem.”
He continues, “Ye’ll face obstacles that test ye in ways we cannae explain. But never lose sight of one another—if ye allow fear to divide ye—then whatever lies ahead will win.”
This moment, this goodbye, isn’t one of parting but of transformation. We are not merely leaving behind a home or a family; we are abandoning everything familiar, stepping into a realm where the rules we have always known no longer hold sway.
