"Morri!" Aeden said cheerily as the door creaked open and a short woman—shorter than me, for once—peered around the crack. Firelight spilled past her, breaking apart the dim, moonlit forest with colour and warmth. "Good afternoon. Or night. Or perhaps morning."

The first thing I noticed about Morrigan was the jewellery. She wore earrings that dangled, bracelets on each wrist and both ankles, and not one, but several necklaces. She also bore cuffs on her upper arms, which were connected in the back by about a dozen thin, silver chains. They swung as she moved to get a better look at us, creating an ever-moving cape of shimmering metal.

It was so. Loud. She only had to glance between Aeden, Ronan, and I to set all the metal bits tinkling against one another. The woman clinked. She chimed. If sparkles made noise, this would be it. Horribly, horribly annoying.

"Mae, Ronan, meet Morri," Aeden announced, making some utterly meaningless gesture with his hands.

The woman's bright red eyes widened. "Aeden," she whispered. She lifted one hand, her fingers hesitating a mere breath from his chest. Her lips parted, though it took her a while to find her voice. It was soft, so much I struggled to hear it. "You came back."

"With friends!" Aeden nodded at Ronan and I. "May we come in? It's dark outside. And Shayne's chasing us."

Morrigan sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. With my auburn plaits, I'd been called red-haired, but this woman fit the definition far better. Her curls, which were twined with silver thread and spilled down the length of her back, were vivid scarlet. If that wasn't unnatural enough, the tips were stained white, as if she were ageing in reverse.

"Come in," she relented, opening the door further to allow entry. We slipped past her, Aeden casting an uncomfortable glance at the interior as he stepped over the threshold. Morrigan dipped her head politely; a series of delicate tinkles followed. A headache began to pound at the base of my skull.

I jerked my gaze to her dress as I moved inside, ignoring the discomfort of entering another home. It was a sea of delicate, purple swaths of fabric and silver embroidery. Painfully elaborate, just like the rest of her. I wrinkled my nose. "Were you sleeping in that getup?"

She froze, as if something about those words was shocking. "No, no," she said, closing the door. She gestured primly at a chair in the corner of the room, beside the fire. It was surrounded by woollen clothes, all neatly folded, and enough strings to create many more. "I was knitting. It's how I repay those in the town below for providing me food and other supplies."

I ignored her and walked to the fireplace, using my walking stick to support myself as I collapsed to the floor. It was made of wooden boards, smoothed and polished. Much of the cottage was finely crafted, in fact; it looked as if more money and time had been devoted to it than any building in Tirlagh. I held my fingers to the flames, letting the heat soak into me. It brought only a faint relief, but the energy of the fire was enough to keep me from feeling too half-dead and frozen.

"Moon and sun, is that blood?" Morrigan gasped. Apparently, she'd only just noticed we were all covered in it—particularly Aeden. She curled her fingers, whispered something in the old tongue I couldn't understand, and an orb of silvery light formed above her palm. It illuminated the room far better than the weak fire, hovering in the air as she took action. Thankfully, she had enough sense to save her questions. Ronan was the first target of her concern; she rushed to him, peering up at his face before guiding him to the chair. "I apologise: my home isn't fit for humans, but I can make you some food in a moment. Please, rest."

Ronan all but collapsed into the seat, and I suddenly remembered that his body was not as suited for hard travel as Aeden and I, and he'd been walking nearly the entire time. Still, he gently pushed Morrigan aside. "Maeve is the most injured, I believe."

Her eyes drifted to me. "Oh, dear, you're bleeding through that bandage. I have water, allow me to..."

"No, no, I don't need—" My protest was too late. She'd already fetched a large bowl, a rag, and a clean stretch of cloth. She set it all beside me, lips pinched together. Her hand hovered over my torn trousers and the bandages there, as if asking for permission. I knocked it aside. "Why don't you coddle Aeden? He's the one covered in blood."

"And I'm sure she's tired of it," he chimed in, sitting cross-legged on the ground a few paces away. He scratched behind his ear. Perhaps he had fleas. "It's not mine. I'm alright."

Morrigan froze, twisting to look at him. "You're hurt, too?"

"I just said that I'm alright."

"Which you only say when you're not," she mumbled, finally leaving me be. The silver chains linked across her back clinked as she began to fuss over him.

He squirmed, but wasn't able to escape before she tugged his cape and shirt back. A jagged cut marred his left side, leaking a trail of blood down to his hip. For once, Aeden didn't move as Morrigan pressed a damp cloth to it.

I leaned forward to get a better look in the glow of Morrigan's light. "Don't tell me you're going to need a cane too."

"I've had worse," he said breezily. "Isn't that right, Morri?"

"It... it won't hinder you greatly, and should heal swiftly." Her voice was quiet, hesitant. She started wrapping his side up with practised ease.. "But it's bleeding a great deal. I'll bandage what I can, but you must be careful. You should rest tonight—all of you," she added, glancing between us all. Her bright red eyes settled on me as she tied off Aeden's new bandages. "Maeve, yes? Please, allow me to help you with your leg."

"I'm fine," I snapped. Something about the delicate politeness she carried irked me. I unwrapped the stained cloth myself, wrinkling my nose at the stench of old blood. I scraped away the worst of the brown crust from the wound, careful not to tear at it. The cut had sealed somewhat as we travelled thanks to my swift healing, but it seemed to have reopened at some point while we were fighting.

Morrigan hesitated, wringing her hands, and then nodded. "If you insist. I'll make some stew for you all." She passed a cup of what I assumed was water to Ronan before rushing to a cabinet in the corner. She opened it, revealing a collection of pots and neatly stored food—potatoes, greens, even some dried meat and cheese.

"Aeden," I said, "care to explain the mess we've landed ourselves in?"

"It would be my honour, dearest Mae."

"Shut up."

"I thought you wanted me to explain?"

I threw my dirty bandages at him and he promptly launched into the tale of our journey thus far, from his arrival in Tirlagh and the fight with Niamh to our encounter with Cael. His voice remained steady, but I noticed a certain darkness in his expression as he described the iron weapons the humans had used and Cael's ominous statement before he ran from us.

"Shayne has him controlled under a geas," he said coolly. "First trespassing, then attacking without reason, then using iron against other sídhe, and now this. It's as if he's determined to break every one of nature's laws."

Morrigan's lips parted soundlessly. She'd placed a pot of stew over the fire while I yanked clean bandages around my leg. Ronan remained slumped in his seat, his face tilted back towards the ceiling. I could tell from the way his jaw was set that he was listening closely.

"He ran, and we did as well. Now, here we are," Aeden continued, spreading his arms in a dramatic gesture. "Morri, you already knew Shayne had gone mad. Tell me you've learned more since I left."

She fiddled with one of the several rings on her right hand. "I have, but first..." She drifted towards Ronan, her steps as soft as a ghost's, and placed two slender fingers on his forehead. He startled; she shook her head, crimson curls bouncing gently. Everything she did was annoyingly graceful. "Please, be still. I simply want to ensure that Cael did not curse you."

"Curse?" The word sounded rather too high upon leaving my tongue. "What do you mean, curse?"

"Cael is old enough to have the ability to place simple ones upon humans. I doubt he would have had the time or energy to form a lethal one," she said calmly, "but since he already held you under his power, Ronan, it is likely he left a mark. For example, a curse that would allow him to track you..." As she spoke, she lifted her fingers and made a quick motion with her other hand. A faint ripple of energy cut the air. "But it is no more."

"I didn't feel anything." I clenched my fists, watching Ronan closely. He seemed unhurt, but my chest still tightened. She was being far too helpful; what would she demand in turn for all of this?

"Curses are subtle and complex things, and you are young, hurt, and exhausted. Of course you wouldn't." Morrigan cast me a sickeningly pitying look. "Do not worry: I have enough safeguards around my home to ensure you'll be protected here for a day or two. Even with humans and iron, they'll find it difficult to intrude."

At some point, Aeden had fidgeted his way from the floor to her table. He sat upon it, one leg tucked to his chest, the other swinging over the floor. His eyes roved around the cottage; they lingered on the windows, though they were covered with wooden slats. In that moment, he didn't look like a powerful sídhe bent on revenge. He looked like a worried child. "Morri. What's going on?"

"There's a sort of... darkness that I've sensed." She began fiddling with that ring again, one lip delicately snagged between her teeth. "Primarily in Natír. It has tainted some of our kind: that's why they have been acting so erratically."

"So, what, you're saying they're sick?" I asked from the floor. I had noticed something wrong with Niamh, and now Cael, but there hadn't exactly been time to study it.

"It's a poison called the Ándúr Nimh." Another twist of the ring. "And those affected are the Kaelte. The lost. They're overcome by hatred or delusion and have forgotten our ways. The oldest boundaries cease to hold meaning."

"You mentioned the otherworld," said Ronan. "It's stronger there?"

She nodded. "I believe its origin lies there, but it's seeped so evenly into the land, the water... I cannot identify the precise location."

"Grand," I muttered, warming my hands by the fire. "We already knew there was something wrong with them. The question is how to fix it so they don't start a war."

Morrigan lowered her head and wrapped her slender arms around her middle. "I'm truly sorry. The Ándúr Nimh is beyond me. All I know is that it's spreading through Natír and there's a powerful force behind it. The otherworld will soon be unlivable."

"How did you know the name of this poison and the Kaelte?" Ronan leaned forward in the chair, his eyes focused despite his obvious exhaustion.

"There have been whispers of it across Natír: it isn't as if this has gone unnoticed and unnamed. I gathered what I know from that and my own senses." She drifted to the stew and cast a small bowl of chopped greens into it, stirring as she did. The motion came with a cacophony of metallic clinking. "But nothing of the cause."

"You must know who will have the answers," Aeden interrupted, now swinging both legs freely from his perch on the table.

"I do." She filled the bowl with some of the stew, which even I had to admit smelled tauntingly good. "Her name is Clídna."

Morrigan handed the food to Ronan, who glanced at me before hesitantly taking it in his hands. I kept a wary eye on Morrigan as she fetched more for the rest of us. Aeden seemed comfortable—as comfortable as he could be with a roof over his head, anyways. He'd said as we travelled here that we wouldn't have to worry about accepting the woman's kindness. According to him, she didn't offer her aid for free—that would've been strange for one her age—but what she asked for in return was always fair. Tricky as Aeden was, I was inclined to trust him on the matter. When Morrigan offered me stew, I accepted.

Still, I thought as I took a sip of the hot broth, I don't like her. She seemed gentle, sure, but too much so. Looking past her appearance—while ethereally pretty, she had the deathly pale skin of a ghost and was as eerily silent as one to boot—she reminded me of a spring flower. Defenceless. Delicate. Soft. Generally useless. Also, her jewellery made her look an absolute eejit. I could feel myself getting steadily blinded by all the light she reflected.

"How do we reach Clídna?" I asked, not really bothering to hide my annoyance at the prospect of more travel. My leg ached more than ever now that I was sitting; the energy of the fire could only do so much to alleviate my pain and weariness.

Morrigan leaned against the table beside Aeden—no, it was more like she gracefully draped herself upon it. I began to wonder if her fluid, beautiful movements were intentionally designed to annoy me. She released a rueful sigh and lowered her head, the light playing across the silver strings in her hair. Must be. Nobody should be that damn pretty without trying, otherworldly sídhe or not. "She lives in a secluded part of Natír. It's difficult to reach if you don't know the way, especially without her permission."

"Will you guide us?" Aeden asked.

My jaw dropped. "You want her to help us? She looks like she'd faint if she muddied her shoes."

Morrigan's eyes widened a bit; hurt flitted through them a moment later, and her lips trembled. Somehow, she made it look attractive. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"Now, now." Aeden leapt off of the table and slipped an arm around her slender shoulders, grinning down at me. "Unless you've been holding out on me and know how to open a path to Natír, Morri is our only way in and out. Even then, we need her to find Clídna."

"Do we?"

The woman lifted her chin a tad. I briefly hoped that she'd show some spine and assert herself, but she only shook her head and continued in that soft, demure tone. "She is a previous mentor of mine. I know the path well."

"What do you want in turn?" I demanded, waving vaguely about the warm cottage.

She paused, her brows delicately drawing together. "In this matter, our interests align. I have connections in Natír and visit it myself often. I do not want to see it and those who live there destroyed by the Ándúr Nimh. All I ask is that you do everything you can to stop it, as I intend to do everything I can to assist you."

I noted the way she'd danced around making that a promise, so as to avoid forming a geas between us. I was glad of that: even if she did appear harmless, I didn't want to bind myself to her. "That'll do," I relented. "So long as there's no fainting."

"There won't." Her voice was still soft. Was there nothing that could make her angry?

"Maeve," Ronan said, a warning lingering beneath the word. He pinned me with a stare which clearly meant that's enough. Clearing his throat, he curled his fingers around the steaming bowl in his hands. "Do you know anything else about the Ándúr Nimh?"

"No. Since it's named, I thought it might've appeared before. But no matter how many accounts I read, I can find no recorded instances. The others of the aes sídhe I've spoken to also aren't aware of it." Morrigan moved a bit from the table—Aeden's bare, muddy feet were swinging dangerously close to her skirts. "I can sense that it's rooted in a spiritual darkness; that is all."

I shifted so that my back was to the fire, sweeping my braid over one shoulder. As usual, my hair had begun to slip loose. "What does it matter? It's here now."

"Understanding it does matter," Morrigan chided gently. A spike of annoyance shot through me. "For example, those roots are probably why they've targeted you."

"Eh?"

"You are linked to the sun." Her red eyes suddenly seemed quite piercing as we stared at one another. It was impressive: I hadn't used my power before her yet, and without the sun's presence even I could hardly feel my connection to it. "That makes you well suited to fighting it. You may even be able to—"

"Destroy its influence?" I thought of the darkness I'd sensed in Niamh and Cael. There hadn't been time to examine it—not beyond my knowledge that it was certainly unnatural—but my thoughts drifted to Orin and the illness I'd burned from him. It was easy to guess I could do something similar with this plague: much of the fire I used was physical, but there were other uses for the sun's energy. "That sort of thing takes time. It's not quite so easy when I'm dealing with folks who want my head."

"Which may be why they've targeted you beyond your friendship with Aeden."

"Friendship is a rather strong word."

Aeden gasped. "You wound me."

"Hush. You've yet to make up for your antics earlier."

"Association, then," Morrigan corrected herself politely. "But it's not merely the Kaelte I speak of; if there's a source for the Ándúr Nimh, you could eliminate it."

"Ah!" Aeden cried, leaping from the table. He drew to me, and before I could stop him, ruffled my hair. "I knew you were special, Mae."

I hooked my elbow around his leg and jerked, forcing him to tumble to the ground beside me. From how easily he fell, I suspected he had allowed it. "Do not muss my hair! Have you any idea how annoying it is to brush out tangles?"

"It's already tangled. Your braid's half undone."

"That doesn't mean it can't get worse!" With Aeden sufficiently subdued, I returned to the subject at hand. "The plan is more or less the same, then: we get to Clídna, have her tell us where the source of the Ándúr Nimh is, and I destroy it. Simple enough."

"Right. Simple." Ronan leaned back with a sigh.

Morrigan seemed to echo his doubt, but didn't express it directly. "The night is nearing its end. Rest here for tomorrow—or longer, if you need to. Then I will open a path to Natír and we will find Clídna."

"Why wait?" Aeden said, pushing himself off the floor. His fingers drummed restlessly against the ground. "We can leave now."

"No," I found myself saying. Ronan was tired, and the pain in my leg was becoming a hindrance. However disconcerting I found Morrigan, she didn't seem to bear any ill intent. She also made good stew. "This is a chance to actually get sleep. There's no telling when we'll come by it again."

Aeden didn't at all hide his reluctance, but he nodded and fell back onto the floor. "I suppose that gives us time to catch up, Morri. Or have you been knitting all this time?"

I tuned out her quiet response, checking on Ronan. He had focused upon the fire, eyes half-closed as he thoughtfully turned the bowl in his hands. For the first time since we'd left Tirlagh, he almost looked relaxed—at the very least, he seemed comfortable. I wished I could feel the same. The way Morrigan had spoken told me that she knew no others who shared a bond with the sun as I did: it sounded like it would be up to me alone to deal with this... Ándúr Nimh. Me, a sídhe too young and new to my powers to even reach the otherworld.

A sigh escaped me as I poked the fire, letting the orange flames twist around my fingers. There was no use worrying about it. The world was in danger, and failure could mean its destruction. No pressure. I'd just have to hope that whatever the problem in Natír was, it was flammable.