The smoke rising from Sazith's cabin is laced with the scent of the sacred herbs he burns when he's in one of his spirit trances. Since I was a little boy, they have given me blisters. I hated those afternoons when Mom made me pick-up Gideon after I was already tired from an exhausting training session, and having to deal with Sazith on top of that was excruciating.

As I'm about to knock, the door is whisked open. I come face to face with Andrenior.

My brows quirk. "What are you doing here?"

A smirk is all I get and he pushes past me. The boy is getting cheeky. With narrow eyes, I watch him disappear between the trees. He carries himself tall, more like a master warlock than an apprentice, and he sure doesn't act like someone who is in the least worried about the punishment looming for his many transgressions. If he seriously believes that the Sentinel Council will just gloss over him helping the werewolves, he's delusional.

I refocus on the task at hand. Stepping across the threshold, I fan the heavy smoke away from my nose as best as I can. Sazith is on his knees by the fireplace, extinguishing the last bits of smoldering herbs in a silver pot. When I clear my throat, he looks up.

"Oh, Marush. Wasn't expecting you."

"I hope this isn't an inopportune time."

"It's fine, I don't have any special plans. What can I do you for?"

Since this will take some time, I might as well sit down. Dropping into one of his rocking chairs, I offer him my best fake smile. My skin itches from red blotches that already cover my lower arms.

"And by all means, have a seat." Sazith's dark eyes fail to hide his annoyance. My visit is more of an inconvenience than something he looks forward to.

"That's very kind of you." I glance around the cabin. It hasn't changed from the last time I was here, the night Gideon died. "I'm not sure if you heard, but we have a visitor. It's Gideon's daughter."

"I'm aware."

"She is believed to be a Caomhnóir."

"She is. When you brought her around earlier, she inadvertently opened a portal." He scrapes around in the silver pot, adding some of the ashes to the crackling fire. My fingers twitch to scratch the small blisters that are multiplying on my arms with every breath.

"That shows a certain strength, doesn't it?"

"Correct, but then you already knew that." Sazith sets the pot down and folds his arms. "Why are you here, Marush?"

"We tested her powers today. Turns out her primary strength is fire."

Not even a sliver of surprise reflects in his eyes. Someone must have told him.

"But Andrenior might've mentioned it already." It takes all my effort to keep my voice even as I search his face for a reaction. "Was that the reason for his visit?"

"He stopped by to say hello to an old master."

"And that was all?" And why would they burn herbs if the visit was that innocent? It's Sazith main tool to communicate with the dead.

"He's worried. You and the other Sentinels summoned him here to punish him for his involvement with the werewolves, but then you keep him second guessing about what that might be. He came to me for advice, advice you'd normally expect to come from his own family."

My forehead wrinkles. "Are you implying that I'm neglecting my duties to my own blood?"

"I'm not implying anything." He sighs, not hiding his frustration. "Look, Marush, you and I have never seen eye to eye on anything. Is there a special reason for your visit? Otherwise, I'd prefer if you leave."

I smirk. What a way to make an enemy. Unfortunately, he's also the only one who can shed a light on the abnormality with the hybrid. "I was hoping you could tell me how a creature of the moon can be granted powers by the Sun God."

"So you came here to learn about the ancient scriptures that have never been important before. Didn't you even call them rubbish once?" His satisfied chuckle stings like salt in an open wound. "It's unbelievable that an old Caomhnóir still holds value to a powerful Sentinel like yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Do you have an explanation or not?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. A child of the moon, like a werewolf hybrid, can only take the strength of the sun when the Moon Goddess is at her weakest. The moment the moon hides in the shadows of the Earth and the Goddess is lit by the glowing breath of the Sun God."

"A total lunar eclipse."

"That's right."

Unlikely as this scenario might be, it makes sense in the overall power play of nature. "And once she takes her blood promise, all these powers will ingrain in her DNA."

"That's the tricky part. The hybrid will have to make a choice. A blood promise made during a solar eclipse will prove her loyalty to the Sun God and will extinguish all powers granted by the Moon Goddess. On the other hand, if the hybrid chooses to pledge her blood to the moon during a lunar eclipse, she will relinquish the graces of the Sun God."

Interesting. "Will she lose her ability to turn into a werewolf if she makes the blood promise to the Sun God?"

"That's my understanding, plus her skills as a Caomhnóir will disappear."

"And her secondary powers?"

"Those depend on whether they were granted by the sun or the moon. I'm afraid we won't know for sure until after the blood promise."

So the hybrid is pretty much screwed. No matter which choice she makes, she'll lose a whole lot of her strength.

Getting to my feet, I finally give into the itch by massaging my thumb over a few of the larger blisters. Helpful as this was, it's time to go. The blisters have spread to my chest and inhaling those bloody traces of the herbs stings my lungs.

"Before you go, Marush, there's something I want to ask you. Rumor has it that you had yet another infant killed who was believed to be a metal warlock within the Sentinel bloodline. Is that true?"

His eyes are accusing and my skin feels all of a sudden too tight for my body. "Rumor?" I chuckle. No one will ever openly talk about my desire to cancel out my competition unless they have a death wish.

"Just answer my question."

"Sazith, you were my mother's closest confidant, and I respect you for that, but do yourself a favor. Don't get involved in Sentinel business. Otherwise, a Na Miodóg will end up in your soul."

~~~~

Ss soon as I put a short distance between myself and Sazith's cabin, the itch subsides. I still can't believe the old fool asked me about the warlock children. It's my absolute right to defend myself—it's survival of the fittest, after all. An ancient law that weaves the fabric of our society.

No need to get upset.

The old man was just fishing. Probably heard it from some spirit.

The anger still seethes under my skin. I don't need to have my motives questioned by an inferior warlock like Sazith, not after I've proven myself to the Council for over a thousand years. I'll have to address it with the others. It might be time to take the old Caomhnóir out, especially if the hybrid turns into a suitable replacement. Sazith has gotten too comfortable for his own good.

Just as I reach the blacksmith shed, a whiff of melting steel caresses my nostrils. I soak up the forces of my primary power, let it rush through my veins, leave it lingering in every nerve cord until its warmth has reached my core. Inhaling, the power builds inside my chest. The next blink of the eye turns my body into an indestructible weapon. If I had my own Na Miodóg, I could even kill a warlock.

Tessa's giggle breaks my concentration. I shift my focus to the group of young students who have gathered by the blacksmith shed. Tessa is wielding a semi-liquid string of steel as if it were her puppet, shaping it into the heads of animals others call out to her. Even her secondary powers grow with every new training session.

"Let Raelyn try."

Tessa allows for the metal to float onto the hybrid's opened hand. Raelyn pulls it up with her thumb, bending it, twisting it, molding it with both of her palms into a short rod. When the metal doesn't fully yield to her command, the heat from her breath tames it into submission. The encounter with the fire must have given her confidence. Her eyes are full of life; I even detect a small glint that suggests she's slowly falling for the thrills of power. The knowledge that you can force the world to crumble at your feet can take you to the stratosphere.

As the steel meets her lips, soft tunes explode like chimes of a penny whistle. The melody drifts up toward the sky, carried by the wind to every corner of the Iomaire Draíochta. Sparks from the sunshine ignite around her. A glowing ball of energy joins with the forces of nature to nurture her strength, her passion, the beauty of her soul. A display of harmony between the two Gods. When the melody dies on her lips, the warlocks around her seem to awaken from a mesmerizing dream.

Tessa gasps. "That was lovely."

"It was." I tousle the young girl's hair. "And I believe we can conclude that Raelyn holds steel as a strong secondary power."

"Can you teach us together?" Tessa's cheeks are flushed with fervor. Ever since she arrived a decade ago, she has longed for a friend. That the hybrid, despite the fewer years she spent on earth, is too mature for a child like her will be hard to grasp.

"We have to see about that." I jut my chin at the scrap pieces of metal that are scattered on the ground. "Why don't you all clean up? It's soon time for your break."

Glancing around, I find Izikey on a bench close to the shed and walk over to him. Plopping down, the wood wines under my weight. I keep my voice no louder than a breath. "I've spoken to Sazith."

"And?"

I enlighten him about the circumstances surrounding the hybrid's birth and the choice she'll have to make.

"That's too bad." Izikey's gaze is fixed on Raelyn who is juggling two pieces of metal with ease. "If she could keep all of her powers, she would've made for an interesting option for a mother."

"Who would've been out of your reach."

"Have you ever thought of just blasting the malediction?"

"Of course. Who hasn't?"

He locks my gaze; the golden specks in his hazel eyes hold a certain malice. "Imagine the kind of children we could sire with another warlock. Their strength would be unimaginable."

"And that's exactly why we have the malediction. Those children could cause an imbalance of the forces of nature."

Izikey snorts. "You are a fine one to talk. Your mother didn't exactly follow the rules."

Maybe not, but there haven't been many to remind me of that and still got to live. Inhaling deeply, I draw the metal particles floating in the air into my lungs and release a toxic breath right into Izikey's smirking face. His body buckles; he gasps and splatters, dropping to the ground. His muscles spasm. I laugh as he convulses and squirms like a worm—serves him right. I'm even tempted to spit on him, but that would set a bad example for the younger students.

Tessa comes running. "Master Marush, what's wrong? Why is Master Izikey sick?" She is so full of blissful innocence.

I chuckle. "He's choking on his own words."

A wrinkle spreads across her forehead. "I don't understand. Should I heal him?"

I gloat a few more beats at his torment and nod. "Sure, go ahead."

She squats, the stroke of her hand releasing my deadly grip.

Hands clutched to his throat, Izikey pants on the ground. The glare he shoots me sizzles with rage. "Bloody hell."

Despite the anger still boiling my blood, I manage a smile. "Do yourself a favor, my friend, and never mention Kaleidopae in my presence again."

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© Sally Mason 2018

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