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“Across the veil, to the Otherworld, where the guardian of the dead, Arawn, awaits them.”

Arawn. The name tickled her memory, almost like a word on the tip of someone’s tongue... just out of reach, but there all the same.

“Then, they join in the warriors’ feast with all those who passed on before them if they are worthy to participate in the celebration of life with the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

That answered her earlier question. The prayer was from lifetimes ago, something her soul held on to, and that gave her some small bit of hope. Hope that she would recognize her power if she called on it.

She visualized the Morrigan saying the prayer over the people she found worthy before she moved across the veil, delivered to the guardian of the dead who would watch over them.

Bryn had a lot to learn, but knowing where the prayer came from, she felt her first sense of rightness since Danu had quite literally landed in their lives.

Turning back to the last body, she moved to take their legs, Callum deciding halfway through to take the heftier part of them as Jace usually did. Putting his hands under their arms, she placed her hands around the man’s ankles. Though she touched his skin, she knew since he was dead and she wore gloves, it was safe to do so.

The deceased man’s eyes opened, milky white, and his body jolted up to a sitting position. Turning his dead eyes to look at Bryn, she fell backward as she stared at the man in horror. This was nothing like the visions she’d had of the living on the brink of death. Nothing at all.

It was all very real and had happened while she’d been wearing her gloves. Those same gloves having been her only protection from visions until now.

“Glaoigh ar a mbás! Déan mar a gheall tú dár muintir!” the dead man yelled, his voice piercing her ears as she covered them, but it was to no avail since he was speaking into her mind. The man repeated the words until Bryn was in the fetal position, screaming for him to stop, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the noise and pain.

Hands pulled her back up to sitting, her vision wavering as Callum moved into her line of sight, his presence calming her.

He kept quiet as she kept her focus on him, and she imagined galaxies of stars in his eyes before he blinked, his eyes returning to the blue she recognized.

“You... Did you see that? That...” Bryn pointed to the very unmoving dead man that lay in the same position he had been before he came back to life.

“While it was a vision for you, I did feel your pain. I heard the soul’s painful screams as well, though I could not see him as you did.”

Flexing her fingers in the leather gloves, she calmed her breathing, Callum still touching her shoulder.

“Your powers will grow stronger. It is best to embrace them as they come and not fight against them.”

Shaking her head, she pulled away from him.

“He was speaking, but I’d never heard that language... did you happen to hear what he said? Between all my screaming?” she asked, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Callum nodded, helping her to stand.

“What did he say?” she asked, and Bryn already felt the chill in her bones before Callum said a word.

“‘Call for their deaths. Do what you promised for our people.’”

Chapter 22

Ahardhittothe door woke Bryn from where she had dozed off half dressed in bed, having come straight home after working the pyres, exhausted mentally and physically.

Groaning, she rolled over, but the knocking was relentless. A feather fell onto the pillow next to her head, and she sighed. Cyerra was molting so much Bryn was sure she was about to see what a naked crow looked like.

Yet the crow was never around when it was just the two of them anymore. As if she were avoiding answering the questions that she knew Bryn had.

Rubbing at her face, Bryn stood, her legs wobbly from just having woken up, which was why she would chastise herself later for opening the door without checking first.

The moment Bryn undid the lock, her aunt barreled in like a bull full of rage.

Before she could steel herself, her aunt was pinching her in the soft flesh under her arm, and Bryn wished she’d had a vision right then that told her that her aunt would not be her problem for much longer.

A gasp left her not just from the pain of the pinch, but as Mallory twisted the skin between her bony fingers.

“Explain to me—” her aunt seethed as she twisted the pinched flesh even harder, breaking skin, and Bryn felt blood dripping down her arm.