ChapterSix
Tiernan stalked into Ceridwen’s bedroom and came to an abrupt halt. Lir and Merrick stumbled into one another as Tiernan took in the scene before him.
Ceridwen was hovering in the center of the room with her golden wings outstretched behind her. Her arms hung limp by her sides and her head was tipped back with her hair floating like ribbons of silk. She wore a gown of pale blue that drifted around her like she was suspended in time. It was her eyes, however, that worried him the most.
They were frosty white and completely opaque.
Scattered on the hardwood floor was an assortment of crystals—amethyst, selenite, and citrine. Four reflective black stones were placed between the gemstones, spinning collectively, and in the middle sat a glass bowl of fine sand and fragments of bone.
Brynn sat on Ceridwen’s bed with her legs tucked underneath her, rolling a toothpick between her lips. Her gaze was fastened to the High Princess.
“How long has this been happening?” Tiernan asked.
“Only recently, my lord.” Merrick ran his hand along the back of his neck. “The first time it happened was right after Maeve…”
The unsaid words hung in the air between them.
After Maeve was taken to the Ether.
“I see.” Tiernan moved closer, then crouched low to inspect the crystals and stones that were set out in a distinctive pattern, much like that of a compass. It looked as though Ceridwen had been scrying, something she hadn’t done in years. Not since…
He shook off the unwanted memory.
Standing, he stared up at his sister.
“Ceridwen.”He reached for her thoughts.
Silence answered him.
“Cer, answer me.”
Again, there was nothing.
Tiernan delved further, cautiously venturing into the recesses of her mind. Her thoughts were not her own. They were a cacophony of murmurs and whispers, each one overlapping, demanding to be heard. Carefully, he stepped into her vision.
The skies churned, tainted with plumes of smoke from fires that burned in the distance. Specters of ancient warriors on horseback wove through the storm clouds, the rumble of thunder echoing with their steadfast pace. Cold wind swept over the landscape, carrying bits of ash and the scent of bitter florals. The ground was sodden with blood and bodies, the aftermath of war. The world had been dipped in shades of gray, but through it all, the softest glow, like that of a dying ember, flickered to life.
Its brilliance could not be dimmed, but a harsh wail rang out, shattering the unnatural quiet.
The light was not another fire, but the radiance of the dawn. Beyond it, shadows lingered.
He couldn’t look away, not when the vision morphed, dragging him closer to the pulsing glow of life. Forcing him to look upon the same scene.
Beams of sunlight took the shape of a female warrior, one who sat upon her knees, drenched in blood and filth. She was bowed over, her shoulders slumped, tears leaving a path down the grime on her face. She clamped her arms tightly around herself and rocked back and forth. The sounds she made, those empty, hollow, soulless cries, were unlike anything he’d ever heard. When she tilted her head back to damn the heavens once more, Tiernan buckled at the sight.
It was the Dawnbringer. Her keening brought down the midnight stars, so they took pity on her, catching her tears.
And beside her, his eyes downcast in despair, stood the Nightweaver.
A wall of power slammed into Tiernan, knocking him down. He slid across the floor, hauling himself up in time to see his sister’s body waver from its suspended position. “Ceridwen!”
Merrick bolted forward, catching her in his arms before she crumpled to the ground.
Brynn leapt off the bed and was beside Ceridwen a moment later, her eyes shifting from stony gray to a warm brown. Her magic penetrated the air as her fingers roved over Ceridwen’s lethargic body, checking her for any sort of injury.
“She’ll be alright, my lord.” Brynn stepped back so Merrick could carry Ceridwen over to her bed. She had yet to open her eyes. “She just needs to rest.”
Tiernan nodded but found himself unable to look away from his sister. He couldn’t recall a time when her visions had been so overwhelming. Usually, they were brief, mere glimpses of events yet to come. And sometimes, even then, those same moments never came to pass. But seers had been known to envision more than just the future. They were the blessed ones, the gift of sight spanning centuries.
