Ronan, Aeden, and I must've had the same thought: we all turned to Morrigan. She knew the woman, after all. Best for her to ask the questions. She wilted beneath our stares, but accepted her fate with a grim nod. When she spoke, she raised her voice from her usual quiet murmur to something loud enough to be considered normal speech. I almost felt proud. "Where is the Ándúr Nimh spreading from?"

"Lake Draí," Clídna said.

"The centre of Ríenne. Makes sense." I pressed my palms into the table and stood up. "We've wasted enough time. Let's go."

Clídna lifted a finger, forcing me to pause. "Believe me, you will want to hear more."

"I'm not so sure I do."

"Maeve." Ronan looked at me pleadingly. "Let's hear what she has to say."

With a groan, I flung myself back into my seat. How much longer would we have to sit here, watching this bejewelled woman sip elegantly her wine?

"The lake is only the source. The Ándúr Nimh began with Lún. Lún Lénlir," Clídna continued. "An old fool—and I do mean old. He had lived since the creation of the ocean, as far as any of us knew." She hummed, swirling her cup. "It is a shame his end came so... brutally."

"We know this tale. He's been dead for a century." Aeden rested his chin on one knee, which he'd drawn up to his chest. "How could he be causing this madness?"

"Your confusion is understandable. The soul must return to the earth: this is true for both the aes sídhe and mankind." She gazed at the sky, baring her slim throat and the myriad of necklaces wrapped about it. "But Lún was neither. His spirit lingers still, and it is unforgiving. When he was dying, he must have fled to Natír. His body sunk into the depths of Lake Draí—or our counterpart, at the very least."

She paused to breathe and eat another cherry. Did she intend to consume the whole platter of fruit in front of us? "Lún was a primordial creature; he was not meant to die at the hands of mortals. There are always consequences for such things. A curse bled from his heart into those waters—I assume it was something he created in his anger—and has spread throughout the water and land of the otherworld ever since, slowly enough that most haven't noticed, subtly enough that those who did had no reason to care. This is what we know as the Ándúr Nimh. It's proven... toxic to our kind. It hasn't spread to the mortal realm yet, but I anticipate it would be no kinder to humans."

"So it's a curse," I mumbled, slotting the pieces together in my head. "One foolish old man did all of this?"

"If he could be called a man, yes. Lún was an embodiment of the sea: he held all of its darkness and ferocity. On the other hand, you embody the sun. You're the antithesis of the Ándúr Nimh."

"That's enough," I growled, holding up one hand to stop her. "I'm a sídhe, not some ancient manifestation of the sun. I only draw energy from it."

She nodded. "Which is why you're lucky Lún Lénlir is dead. The sickness you face is merely a ghost of his true power—a lingering curse. Though you are young, your bond to the sun is pure. Any one of our kind can sense that. Your power will be enough to eradicate the Ándúr Nimh."

"That sounds like speculation. How sure of this are you?"

"Quite." Her lips curved upwards. "Of course, Lún's actual spirit will oppose you. I haven't encountered it myself, but I doubt such power is mindless and without aim. As you draw closer to what remains of his heart, he will likely attempt to protect himself."

"You mean to say we'll face the ghost of the ocean?" Ronan had grown pale.

"I mean to say."

"But..." He gnawed on his lip. "If his body—his heart—is the source of this, and that's at the bottom of the lake, how could we possibly reach it?"

"I have a way," I said, "but you'll have to stand very, very far from me."

Ronan stared at me. "You don't plan to evaporate an entire lake, do you?"

"Maybe."

"But that—Lake Draí is massive—"

"I think it's an excellent idea, Mae," Aeden chirped. I hated that I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Shut up, both of you." I dragged my hands through my hair, pulling the tangled strands from my face. "I know myself. If there isn't a better way, I could do it."

"I could swim down as a bear and have you hold on to me." Aeden wrinkled his nose. "Though I might get poisoned again. It was uncomfortable enough having you burn it out the first time."

"What about breathing?" Ronan asked, somewhat frantically.

Aeden flapped a hand at him. "Sídhe don't need air as badly as you. We could last a while."

"I'm not doing that," I grumbled. "You could barely ferry me across the river."

"I thought we decided not to speak of that incident?"

Clídna cleared her throat, drawing our attention back to her. "When the time comes, I can help you part the waters," she said. "The destruction of the Ándúr Nimh will benefit me, too."

"Help? What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"You'll see."

She's not going to tell us. My annoyance burned hotter. "Are you planning to come with us, then?"

"No. I will come when it's necessary."

A groan built in my throat. "You're just lazy, aren't you?"

"I'm not a warrior," Clídna replied idly, "and I have no desire to confront Lún Lénlir myself."

"Tch. Selfish feck—"

"Thank you!" Ronan yelped. He cleared his throat, smiling tightly. "Thank you, Lady Clídna. Your aid would be invaluable."

Amusement sparkled in her eyes. "Ah, it is so good to be respected. You're very welcome, Ronan. I'll look forward to seeing you again."

"A-aye." Was he blushing again? He better not have been.

"If we're done asking about the Ándúr Nimh, I have another question." Aeden's viridescent gaze had become abruptly serious; he leaned forward, remaining on the very edge of his chair by some miracle of balance. "Where is Shayne?"

She smiled. "He is nursing his wounds in a far corner of Natír. It would be very hard to reach him this time, even for Morrigan."

Aeden tensed, but didn't move. His eyes darkened as he glanced away. "Right."

"You should have all you need, now." She smiled pleasantly. "Any last questions?"

"Aye, I have one," I said, standing. "You seem to enjoy acting like you're above all this. What is your greatest fear?"

Clídna traced the rim of her cup with a fingertip, unfazed. "I am old. The only thing I fear is boredom."

Morrigan got up as well, smoothing her skirts. "Thank you, Clídna."

The woman dipped her head in acknowledgement, pushing up from her seat. As soon as Ronan and Aeden got up, she dismissed the table, chairs, and the food and drink with a wave of her arm. They crumpled into mist, caught and twisted by the wind before dissipating. She walked across the surface of the pond, gesturing for the rest of us to follow.

"It is a shame you all must leave so soon," she said, focusing upon Ronan rather too long. "I do love company. This has been... colourful."

"Leave?" Aeden echoed, bounding onto the grassy shore. He spun, an edge creeping into his voice. "Why would we leave? Lún Lénlir's body is here."

"So are your enemies." Clídna tilted her head. The gold clasps and pins in her hair glittered. "But that's what you're hoping for, isn't it?"

"She's right," Morrigan said, cutting off Aeden's protest. "We cannot stay here much longer. Even with my ward, Ronan shouldn't remain in Natír. I've made sure time has been flowing for him as it does in the mortal realm, but... well, he doesn't belong here." She gave my brother an apologetic look.

"There's also the Ándúr Nimh," I added. "It's probably stronger the closer we'd get."

Clídna hummed. "Indeed. It will be best for you to traverse the mortal realm, and only reenter Natír when you reach Lake Draí. I will send you to a human town—it will not be a long journey from there."

Aeden tsked at the word town, folding his arms. "Best not to risk killing Ronan or going insane, I suppose."

"I can guide us out of Natír myself," Morrigan said, a delicate frown forming on her lips.

"Of course you can," Clídna cooed. She swept around the shorter woman, trailing her fingers down Morri's upper arm. When she reached the makeshift bandages there, she paused. "But you must rest, little one. You've used much of your power protecting them."

Morrigan shrank away from the woman's touch. She delivered a short bow, her crimson curls falling about her face and hiding her expression. Her voice was as demure as ever. If she was upset, she hid it perfectly. "You have my gratitude."

"It's a simple favour." Clídna smiled at her with sharp eyes. "Perhaps you'll visit me again soon. That would be more than enough thanks."

Morrigan clasped her hands behind her back. Her collection of silver jewellery clinked softly with the motion. "I will consider it."

"Wonderful. Áine grows restless at times; I think she would value time to get to know you. Ask questions, all that." Clídna waved her fingers, which shimmered with gold rings. As she spoke, golden sparks skittered across the surface of the pond. They swept across it in a gentle wave—the water stirred and shifted behind them, revealing an image of a cloudy sky, rolling fields of grass, and the edge of a wooden building. "If you step through the water, you'll arrive at a town a day or two's walk from the lake. I believe it's named An Hainn now."

"I have one last question, if I may." Ronan dragged his focus from the pond to Clídna, hesitating beside me. When she nodded, he went on. "You're a seer, like Morrigan. What is it that you see in the future?"

Clídna's laugh rang out across the clearing, rich and soft. She pressed one hand to her lips, humour dancing in her gaze. "How forward. There was a time in which I only saw death, but it has passed. What I see now, well... the future is a flimsy thing. One cannot reveal it so casually."

"I understand," he said, ducking his head.

"That's all the dallying I can stand." Aeden stretched his arms behind him languidly. He crouched beside the pond, prodding the water with one finger. Sparks of gold skittered outward from his touch, but the image of An Hainn didn't fade. "Do we simply hop through?"

Clídna looked at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Indeed."

Aeden exchanged a look with Morrigan and then flashed a thin smile. "I'll be off first, then." He stood, mimed some sort of soldier's salute, and fell backwards into the pond. His lean form disappeared as he passed through its barrier. The pond rippled, flashes of golden light playing across it. When it settled, he was nowhere to be seen.

"We should go after him before he does anything," Ronan sighed.

"It may be disorienting to pass back into the mortal realm. I can help." Morrigan offered her hand to him; he took it, glancing at the pond with new wariness.

I stared at their backs. Morrigan's vibrant hair was perfectly done, twined with braids and silver thread. The thin chains strung between her shoulders swayed softly, catching what little light filtered from the clouds above to sparkle. Folk in Tirlagh praised Ronan as handsome, but compared to that, with his simple, now-torn clothing and mussed hair, he looked quite plain to me. His face was soft when he looked at Morrigan, though, and that calm kindness gave him a certain, inner glow.

Clídna hummed, disapprovement in her eyes. She turned to me. "Stay for a moment, Maeve."

Ronan and Morri immediately turned, concern written all over their faces. I waved them off. The woman annoyed me, but she didn't seem dangerous. I'd hear her out. "Aye. You two watch Aeden."

"If you're sure," Ronan said, searching my eyes.

"Sun and moon, go. That boy won't need much time to cause trouble."

Morrigan ducked her head, and after some hesitation she guided my brother into the pond. Their feet sank through the surface easily, and the image wavered gold once again. Once they were in up to their knees—or rather, Ronan's knees, while Morrigan was submerged well beyond her thighs—she gently grasped his arms and leaned backwards, pulling him into the gateway completely. Ronan gasped; then they, too, disappeared without so much as a splash.

I snickered before focusing on Clídna. "What is it?"

Clídna's golden eyes moved across my face slowly. She stepped closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up at her. Her silence was a heavy one, surely designed to make me uneasy. Not that I would grant her the pleasure of seeing it work. I folded my arms, impatient.

Eventually, a small smile cracked across her fine features. "I will give you advice," she said, as if finalising an important decision.

I didn't bother hiding my disinterest. "How gracious."

"We are the aes sídhe," the woman went on. "We do not feel the way humans do. Their emotions are swift and tumultuous; they live quickly, and cannot afford to be otherwise. That is their nature."

"So? What does this have to do with anything?"

"We can make a display of those shallow fits." Clídna toyed with a lock of fair hair, winding it gently around her finger. Her gaze was sharp, calculating. "Disgust, happiness... annoyance. But they're fleeting, and we know it. There's no intent behind that glare of yours."

"There could be."

"There isn't. You are more like little Morrigan than you realise: she, too, mirrors their dispositions to walk amongst them more easily. It's a farce, of course. We are swayed only by the deepest of emotions. Hatred, love, perhaps grief. They last with us all our lives." She leaned forward. "Those are what the Ándúr Nimh latches on to, and it is those feelings that cause Kaelte to spiral out of control."

I frowned at her, unnerved by how serious she was acting. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you aren't immune to its influence. Your allies certainly are not. Ask yourself what emotions drive you. If you don't take care, you will be consumed by then."

My brows furrowed. "Clídna."

"Hmm?"

"You're too close to me."

"I suppose I am." She sighed and drifted back, leaving me some space, and immediately ruined it by placing a hand on my back. "You should leave now. Your companions await."

I tried to shrug her touch away, but let her lead me to the edge of the pond. "What are you planning, woman?"

"Nothing you'd find harmful, I'm sure." She smiled, keeping her hand in place. I could feel her fingers on the small of my back, which wasn't entirely covered by my tunic. They were cold. "Sun sídhe. Take care of that human for me."

I immediately opened my mouth to snap at her, but before I could, she pushed me into the pond.

That thin frame was deceptive: she was strong. I tumbled over with a curse, flailing—when I struck the surface, it felt as if I were passing through a curtain of icy water. My sense of time and space snapped back to the familiar knitting of the mortal realm. The world spun, and I smelled the dampness of mist.

Solid ground touched my boots a moment later, and I found myself standing in the middle of the field I'd seen. Tall grass brushed my arms. Above, the sun shone through a thin layer of clouds—normal ones, grey and heavy with rain. When I inhaled, the air was wet. The additional power I'd felt in Natír faded rapidly, replaced with the familiar feel of the mortal realm.

I was back in Ríenne.