We slept in the glade Aeden pointed out that night, tiredly switching watch duty between ourselves on the off chance Shayne or Cael did come back. The forest floor wasn't nearly as nice as beds at an inn would've been, but if Morrigan said staying in An Hainn wasn't worth the risk, I believed her.

I was the last to take watch. Clouds loomed overhead, blotting out the pale light of the moon: if not for the campfire, we'd be drenched in darkness. All was quiet. I spent my time prodding the flames back to life, feeling cold, and awkwardly watching the others sleep. The only disturbance that came was Aeden's nightmare.

He was sprawled beside the fire in the form of a wolf. It was interesting—the fresh bandages I'd given him remained in place, though they'd somehow changed to fit his forelegs. I spent some time wondering at the logic of his shifting—could he keep his clothes, too, if he wanted? Or a satchel?

As I scrutinised the shadows, he growled. I jolted upright, preparing for an attack before I realised he was only dreaming. His ears flattened against his head; his breathing fell out of its previous cadence, sharp and shallow. Golden flecks of light skittered across his fur, filling the air with an agitated hum of energy.

"Oi," I whispered, scooting over to him. After some hesitation, I rested my hand on his side. "You're going to wake the others."

Aeden was usually a light sleeper, but he only twitched at my touch. His movements eased, though, and he seemed to calm down somewhat. I frowned at him before moving back, rubbing my bad leg absently.

"Our kind doesn't dream much." Morrigan's voice was soft as a breeze. She'd let her hair down; it was glossy and perfect despite the fact that she'd been sleeping on dirt. Sweeping it behind her shoulders, she soundlessly pulled herself to Aeden's side. The fire reflected in her eyes, orange-gold flames in a sea of crimson. "They're usually visions, or... memories."

"I know. It's not hard to guess what's haunting him," I muttered.

"No, it isn't."

"You should go back to sleep, Morri."

"I will soon. When I took watch earlier, the same thing happened—I don't want to see him in pain." She gently touched the side of Aeden's head, humming a soft melody I didn't recognize. It had the notes of a lullaby. His unruly energy settled back into his body, where I could no longer sense it.

"Are you doing something to him? He usually wakes if someone breathes differently," I whispered.

She shook her head softly. "I'm trying to ease his mind, nothing more. He's... with you on watch, he must be comfortable enough to sink into a deep sleep."

"He doesn't seem the trusting type."

"He's not." With that, Morrigan resumed her feather-soft singing.

Weariness flooded my body as the notes drifted around us. I'd slept more than enough to stay functional: I'd never needed more than an hour or two of rest, unlike Ronan or any other human. But after all the energy I had expended and without the sun to fuel me, I was tired. I drew up my uninjured leg and rested my chin on my knee. "You treat Aeden rather like a child, sometimes."

"He is a child." She paused, a delicate frown touching her lips. "At least, he hasn't finished maturing yet. Neither have you. That won't come for another decade or so."

It was true enough, but I bristled all the same. "What about Ronan, then? He's the same age as Aeden and I. Are you calling us immature?"

"Humans reach adulthood somewhat more swiftly," she said quietly. "I don't mean to insult either of you."

"...Aye. I know."

Her hand drifted from Aeden's head to his shoulder: the broken one, which I'd noticed he was avoiding sleeping on. Her fingers hovered over it, tracing the lines of the bone but not touching it. She cast him a weak smile, dangerously teary-looking. "I cannot understand why he's trying to hide all these wounds."

"What, you know about his shoulder?"

"Of course I do. But right now, I can't help him unless he asks me."

I looked away, thinking of the way his demeanour had cracked in An Hainn, the fear and anger that lingered in his every movement. Had that been him asking me? I didn't think so. The only request I'd glimpsed in his eyes was to stay silent about his weakness. "The way things stand, the only thing that'll ease his mind is Shayne's death."

"Revenge. Yes." She pulled away from Aeden, swiping at her cheek. "I only hope that it won't destroy him."

An uncomfortable silence ensued. I twiddled my thumbs for a bit before speaking. "Don't get so gloomy, now. He's determined enough, and we're here to knock sense into him if need be. He'll be fine."

"You're a good person, Maeve," she murmured. With that, she retreated to the place she'd been sleeping and lay down.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. "No, I'm a mean one. Ask anybody."

Morrigan smiled before turning onto her side, facing away from me. Her voice grew quieter, forcing me to strain to hear her. "You care about others."

"Only some." I sighed, dropping my head so that my temple pressed into my kneecap. "It's ridiculous, hearing this from you—you're kind. Sympathetic. What are you getting at?"

"Being good and being kind are different." Despite her words, her tone warmed. I watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "As... rough as you may be, you choose the right people to love, and you love deeply. I believe in your character. That's all."

I stiffened. "That's..."

"Yes?"

"Painfully sappy. Get to sleep before you ramble more nonsense."

She laughed softly. "Aye, kindness is something you'll have to grow into."

"Oh, I didn't think you were capable of jibes," I snapped. "Sleep."

I half-expected Morrigan to offer some form of resistance, but she didn't. Her breathing deepened, and she slipped into unconsciousness as easily as she'd broken free of it in the first place. I sighed and resumed my watch, though I knew we were more or less safe for the night.

The fire flickered, its amber flames slowly gnawing on cracked wood and embers. I fed them another branch, thinking of the sympathy in Morri's eyes when she looked at Aeden, the softness she tendered to all she met, the perpetual grief she carried for the deaths she'd witnessed.

If I was a good person, she was a saint.

❇

Despite the dark clouds, we were spared overnight rain. Our luck continued through the next day; we made it to the afternoon before a light shower swept over us. Ronan cast the sky a sullen look, I grumbled a curse, and Morrigan sighed. Aeden, currently in the form of a black fox, trotted along as happily as ever. He was limping on his right foreleg, but if I hadn't known to watch him closely, I might not have noticed the injury at all.

Morrigan's power sparked to life around us as she lifted an arm, mumbling something in the old tongue. A skein of energy took form in the air above: the rain bounced off of it, sliding off the sides harmlessly.

"One day," I said, "I'd like you to teach me those wards you use."

Ronan nudged me.

"Please," I added.

"They will come naturally as you age." She tilted her head. "But I could guide you through the basics tonight. You might have enough strength to cast some if I show you how."

"I'd appreciate that." Her little spells seemed quite practical and the less water that got into my boots, the better. I eyed Ronan. "There, I used your pleasantries. Are you happy?"

He gave me a wan but warm smile. "She agreed, didn't she? They can be quite useful, Mae—ah, Maeve."

My mouth dropped open at the failed attempt to disguise the nickname. The last thing I'd expected was to hear it from Ronan. "Do not let Aeden rub off on you," I warned. "I like calling you brother."

"Would you stop doing so if I did?"

"No, but I'd be sorely disappointed. The title would lose all dignity." I fiddled with my hair, redoing the knot I'd tied it into. We'd neared the top of a rocky hill, where slabs of slate and a small stream roughed the terrain enough to become an annoyance. At the base, the Rene curved onwards and out of view. The sea was nowhere to be seen, even from this height. Heavy clouds loomed overhead, nearly black and dampening the daylight into a premature evening.

We truly were far from Tirlagh.

I sighed, glancing back at Ronan and Morri. Both of them seemed tired: him from a day of nonstop walking, her from the continued use of her power in Natír and now here. If possible, her skin had grown even paler. The flower buds in her hair had wilted slightly, though if she cared at all for them—and considering she'd left them twined amongst her braids, she certainly did—she easily could've supplied enough energy to keep them alive.

I hastened to catch up to Aeden, hunkering down beside him. His fur was slick from our brief exposure to the rain. The scent of wet earth clung to him, which was surprisingly pleasant. "Those two seem near collapse. Can you carry them without putting any weight on that shoulder?" I asked. It didn't feel quite right, having him do such a thing, but he seemed to have the most energy. Even I was growing weary. I'd lended all three of them some strength earlier that morning, but with the sun as obscured as it was, that was no longer viable.

Aeden tossed me a wolfy grin, which looked quite odd on a fox. Then, without warning, he shifted into a horse. Considering he was much taller in such a form, he nearly knocked me into the ground. I yelped and scrambled back, shooting him a dirty look. His golden eyes glinted playfully as he nosed my shoulder.

Resisting the urge to yank his ear, I shoved horse-Aeden in the direction of the others. He was quite well balanced but still pretended to stumble, which spared some of my pride. "Get on," I said. "You two are slowing us down."

"You're still limping, Maeve," Ronan protested.

"Yet I'm faster than you. How sad is that?"

There was no refuting that. Ronan helped Morrigan onto Aeden's back and reluctantly followed suit, wrapping an arm about her waist. Considering his height, Morri looked rather like a child—the top of her head didn't even reach his shoulders. I snickered and circled around Aeden, keeping an eye on his shoulder as he continued up the hill. His limp was more pronounced as he strove to keep weight off of it, but he didn't seem to have trouble keeping his balance.

Strange thing, I thought, hobbling alongside him. Pain was easy enough to ignore, but he acted as if it weren't there at all. He'd barely even slowed down. Nothing could stop the man from running about as he pleased. Or perhaps he refused to let anything stop him.

Morrigan tipped her head back, gazing at the sky beyond the barrier she'd set up. "There's a fierce storm coming, and I can't keep us protected for long. We may want to start seeking out shelter."

"We wouldn't have made it much farther today, anyway," I grumbled, turning my eyes to the land around us. There was more open, rocky ground than trees, though it wouldn't be hard to find some once we began to descend the hill. Mud sloshed beneath my boots as I followed Aeden up a particularly steep slope. "We're lucky we aren't in a hurry."

That slope turned out to be the hill's crest. It was impossible to see far—the rain cast a misty veil across the land that would have stretched out before us, including whatever paths forward we might've mapped. I saw a dark line of trees some dozen paces down, however, thick and tall and close enough to promise shelter. I pointed. "Let's get to those before the mud swallows us all."

A dazzling burst of light seared my eyes before I finished speaking, and everything went to hell.

Effectively blinded, I blinked spots from my eyes as thunder crashed around us. The air vibrated, rippling with currents of sheer, electric power. It sparked against my nose and cheeks, hot yet sharper than the familiar, weighted warmth of flame.

Aeden released some decidedly unhappy neigh, flinching away from where the lightning had struck. A scorch mark had been burned onto the grass before us, a spiderwebbing scar of ash and bare dirt. Ronan shouted something, but his remark was lost amidst the ringing in my ears.

Wind shattered Morrigan's thin shield, whipping at my clothes. The downpour struck like a wave as her power faded, instantly plastering my hair to my face and blanketing my vision in water. I swore loudly, reaching for Aeden's side—I couldn't see him, but when my palm touched his slippery coat I knew he and the others were still with me.

"No warning, Morri?" I cried, craning my neck to see her silhouette. She was hardly more than a slash of red hair and purple clothes, Ronan's burgundy coat just behind her. Rain slipped past my lashes into my eyes, forcing me to duck my head again.

Her voice came uncertain; I imagined a delicate, nervous frown forming on her lips. "Something broke my ward."

With my palm on Aeden's side, I felt his breathing hitch. "Shayne?" I asked.

"No. No, this is..." her reply was drowned beneath the hiss of rainfall as the storm grew ever worse. More lightning scrawled across the sky above, followed far too closely by a clap of thunder.

"Let's just move!" I hollered into the wind, hoping the others could hear me. I'd learned to raise my voice from Mam, and was tolerably confident in my skill.

Aeden either picked up on it or had the same thought. He moved forward, for once almost losing his balance as he skidded down the slope. Considering he was divested of a leg and carrying two people, it was a miracle he didn't fall entirely. I clung to him and followed. The ground sucked at my feet—the abrupt downpour had turned the ground into dangerously thick, slippery mud. Since the undergrowth was sparse at the top of the hill, there was little to hold the ground together.

I inched my hand up over Aeden's back, feeling first for Ronan's leg and then Morrigan's to ensure they were still there. I'd learned from experience that Aeden made a terrible horse, constantly moving about with no care for riders. To my relief, he hadn't bucked them off; Ronan tapped the top of my hand in reassurance, apparently recognising my worry, while Morri grasped my wrist with her icy fingers. There was real fear in the way she squeezed me. Not very calming, that woman. At least she wasn't wailing about death. The storm wouldn't have been able to cover up that.

After much struggling, we stumbled beneath the cover of trees. The canopy broke the rain into larger drops here, allowing me to see more than a few paces in any direction. Morrigan slipped off of Aeden's back, looking like some runaway beauty of legend with her hair darkened by the rain and her clothes clinging rather too well to her thin frame. My brother fell off behind her like a wet, bedraggled rat.

Aeden shifted into his usual form. "This isn't right," he shouted over the rumbling thunder, scraping his tousled hair out of his face. I'd expected him to also resemble a rodent, but somehow the rain suited him almost as well as it did Morrigan. His eyes burned gold as he stared at me, clutching his right arm, power thrumming about him.

"What, a storm appearing without warning?" I wrung out the hem of my shirt, which proved useless against the rain that slipped through the canopy. We were doomed to be soaked. "That happens every other week."

"I know it when storms approach, Mae. It shouldn't have gotten this bad this quickly." He frowned at the trees around us. "Someone created this."

"Aye," Morrigan said, pitching her voice loud enough to catch our attention. She huddled close to Ronan, and I couldn't tell which of them was supporting the other. They both looked exhausted. "It's the Andúr Nimh."

"That's not a person." Yet as I opened myself to my senses, I saw that she was right. A faint touch of darkness lingered in the air, cold and heavy. I'd almost missed it—it was subtle, disguised by the chaos of the storm—but it was growing stronger. It was no longer a stagnant, steadily-growing force, but something that was approaching in a sudden swell of power.

"The Andúr Nimh?" I repeated, incredulous. It shouldn't have slipped into the mortal realm yet, if Clídna was to be trusted. While I wasn't so sure she was, Morrigan had agreed with her. The poison shouldn't be moving so swiftly, even if we had come closer to the source.

It certainly shouldn't have been so strong. I found flames flickering into existence at my fingertips without my command. They sputtered against the raging torrent. I paced forward, scanning the dark trees around us.

The wind abruptly sharpened, slamming into my back with the force of a wave. I toppled over with a shriek; icy mud squelched beneath my fingers and knees, no doubt further staining my trousers. They were quite possibly beyond saving. I'd need to change clothes once I had the chance. A few fresh curses came to mind as I scrambled to get my feet underneath me and got to my knees, shoving my hair from my forehead. My heart stuttered as I looked up.

Mere paces away, a pair of luminous, moon-white eyes glared back at me. Their depths held the deepest sort of hatred; the kind that tore apart whatever it touched. I froze, snared by the sheer power of that anger, an odd chill trickling through my heart. I'd never been looked at like that—like I'd committed an unforgivable crime.

The face those terrible eyes belonged to was drenched in shadows—I only glimpsed pale skin and tangled, bluish hair before the stranger vanished, a mere reflection easily shattered by the storm raging around us. The taste of the Andúr Nimh, bitter as rage, clung to the space he'd occupied.

Hands wrapped around my chest, dragging me backwards. I jumped but recognized Aeden's touch, which quite possibly saved his life. "Wait!" I protested. "That was—"

"I know what it is," he said quietly, crossing one arm in front of me as he continued to back up. He was like a wolf sizing up a shepherd before an attack, all wary calculation. "Even I can feel it now. It's close."

I pulled away from him. His hands slid away like water, as if he were afraid to actually restrain me. "Not the poison, Aeden. I saw a person." If not for the darkness in the air, I'd have assumed it was a mere passing spirit or another sídhe. Such things wouldn't be unusual in the wilds of Ríenne. Yet...

His eyes darkened. "Who?"

"Not anybody I know. He had white eyes."

"White?"

"Aye. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Not in the least," he muttered, scanning the hillside as rain pummelled us. "It simply sounds like a fetching trait."

"What a nice compliment. You should pass it to him, assuming he doesn't try to murder us." I paused, remembering one of Clídna's warnings about Lún. As you draw closer to what remains of his heart, he will likely attempt to protect himself. "Ah, shit."

"Is that your compliment for him, Mae?"

"No. That might have been Lún."

"We're still a full day's travel from lake Draí," Aeden said, uncertain. "Spirits don't drift that far from their bodies."

"That's what I thought, but we know that he isn't normal." I turned, screwing my eyes up against the rain as I surveyed the forest. There—between two trees several paces away, I glimpsed a short, lithe figure and two glowing, white eyes. He vanished a second later, but it was enough. I pulled away from Aeden, summoning what flame I could. Though the storm considerably dampened my power, the sun was still out there somewhere. Fire warmed my fingers, burning away the water that had gathered on my palms. "I'm going after him."

This time, it was Morrigan's icy fingers that wrapped around my wrist and held me in place. I turned to see her eyes had flooded crimson. Bloody tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks. She had captured Ronan's wrist with her other hand, holding onto the both of us as if she feared we'd fade away.

Keeping my gaze, she shook her head and whispered, "Don't move. Don't use your power."

My flames fizzled out as I caught the seriousness of her tone. I glanced at Ronan, who looked incredibly confused but had the sense not to open his mouth. He gave me a sharp little nod, his free hand twitching toward the dagger at his belt.

Further away, I glimpsed Lún's shadowy form. Lightning flashed directly above, nearly blinding me a second time. Morrigan wrenched my brother to the side; something shot past his head, colourless and glittery. Water? Ronan sucked in a sharp breath, fumbling to raise his dagger. Blood leaked from a long, fresh cut along the side of his head, dangerously close to the edge of his left eye.

I stiffened and lifted my hands, straining to draw enough energy from the sun through the cloud cover. The power of the iron in Ronan's hands mingled with the heat of my flames to ward off the storm somewhat; the downpour slanted above our heads, as if to avoid us.

"Where did he go?" Aeden's hiss rose above the rain. He remained at my side, fists raised before him as if he planned to fistfight the ancient, vengeful spirit.

None of us spoke for the next minute, our breaths mingling with the patter of rain and cracks of thunder. The storm slowly abated, and the lightning grew more distant. Keeping my fire in place grew easier as the bitter chill faded from the air, replaced by the usual coolness of spring storms. A light drizzle continued, heavy with the scent of lightning.

"Is it over?" Ronan asked. He redoubled his grip on the hilt of the dagger, keeping a brave face.

When Morrigan spoke, I could hear her quite clearly. Her eyes had returned to normal, though fear lingered in them. "He's too far from his body," she said, her grasp on me loosening. "He hadn't the strength to fight all of us."

I yanked my hand from her with a frown and strode to Ronan, pushing his hair out of the way to examine the cut. It wasn't deep—I'd seen him get a thousand wounds like this as a boy—but it was bleeding enough to make my stomach squirm. "Then what death did you see?"

"Ronan's." She pressed her lips together, sagging under the weight of whatever vision she'd received. I noticed that she hadn't let go of my brother. "Once Lún lured you away and we were distracted, he would have circled back and killed Ronan."

I tensed, watching the blood trickle down the side of his face. Anger thrummed in my chest, a coiling, dark serpent. Flame hissed in my veins, and if not for the clouds I was certain they'd have burst free from my hands. I turned my gaze to the wet woods surrounding us, across the dripping underbrush and branches. Lún was supposed to target me, not my brother. My young, very mortal brother.

"Why?" I asked, my voice tighter and colder than intended.

"If he was killed by humans, it must be revenge." Aeden straightened, finally facing the rest of us. I had the sense he hadn't quite let his guard down.

Morrigan placed a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. "I believe so," she murmured distantly, staring at me with an odd intensity.

"It doesn't matter," I snapped, glancing at my brother again. He was trying to hide it, but I recognized the crease between his brows, the tilt of his lips. He was frightened. I jerked my gaze away, clenching my fists. "Whatever you saw, whatever he wanted to do never happened, nor will it. Because you're here to stop it, right, Morri?"

She swallowed, finally turning to Ronan. "Yes."

"Grand." I took a deep breath. Ice clung to my throat and lungs, trickling down to my stomach. Ronan had always been at risk on this journey. He'd already been saved by Morri. But something about knowing he'd be targeted, especially by the spirit of a being that might be even more powerful than me? The thought gnawed at me, as did the image of my brother lying lifeless. Maybe I could have him turn back, wait for us at a town further and safer than this place.

A large drop of rain landed on my head as I thought, cold and unwelcome. Muttering a curse, I cast those thoughts aside for the moment and began to stumble down the hill. "Let's just find some cover," I growled.

The others followed. An odd quiet had replaced the ruckus of the storm, and none of us dared to break it. Even Aeden was silent: there were only our footsteps and the distant rumble of thunder.