Page 29 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

I push open the door to my room. My mind is a whirlwind, thoughts spinning too fast to catch—Macha, the prophecy, this queen I ’ m supposed to become, the ancient bloodline I didn ’ t know I carried. It feels like the walls of my world are closing in yet again.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the floor. I pause on the threshold, my hand still gripping the doorknob. The air smells faintly of mint and rain, a scent that ’ s become familiar since they started claiming my space as theirs. My mates are here, all five of them, scattered around the room like they own it—which, let ’ s be honest, they kind of do now. I ’ m learning they ’ re not going to wait for an invitation.

Lochan is standing by the window, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the faint light filtering through the curtains. His arms are crossed, and even from here, I can see the tension in his face. Callen is sprawled on my bed, one leg dangling off the edge as he leans back on his elbows. His pale blue eyes flicker toward me, sharp like he ’ s already piecing together what ’ s happened before I even speak.

Tiernan is perched on the edge of my desk, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the wood, while Rory leans against the wall by the door, arms crossed and his blond hair catching the light. Marius is the only one who seems remotely at ease, sitting in the chair by the fireplace, his dark eyes watching me with that quiet intensity that always feels like he ’ s seeing straight through me.

I close the door behind me, letting out a slow breath. “ You could ’ ve waited outside,” I say. I don ’ t mean it, not really. Part of me is relieved they ’ re here, even if I won ’ t admit it.

“ We did wait,” Callen says, his tone light. “ For about five minutes. Then we got bored.”

He grins, and despite everything, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.

“ You ’ re not funny,” I mutter.

Lochan pushes off the window frame and takes a step toward me. His hazel eyes are serious. “ What happened?” he asks. No preamble, no small talk. Just straight to the point.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. For a moment, I consider brushing it off, telling them it was nothing. But I know better. They ’ ll see right through me, and besides—they deserve to know. I owe them that much.

“ Fiona told me something,” I begin, my voice wavering slightly. “ About who I am… what I am.” I glance around the room, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

I tell them everything. About Macha, about the prophecy, about being descended from her bloodline. The words spill out of me in a rush, and when I ’ m done, the room is silent except for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Lochan is the first to speak. “ So you ’ re saying you ’ re not just connected to the Morrigan—you are Macha.”

“ No.” I say quickly. “ I ’ m still me. I think.”

Am I though? I certainly don ’ t feel like I am, not with all that has happened, and all that I can see and feel now. It ’ s so strange. I have all of my memories of my life, but it feels a little like watching someone else ’ s home movies.

Rory steps forward, his warm brown eyes filled with concern. "You are you, Brigid. Whatever else is going on, that doesn ’ t change." His voice is steady, reassuring, and for a moment, I let myself believe him.

Marius leans back in the chair, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Macha or not, you ’ re still ours. And we ’ re not letting anything—or anyone—take you away from us." His words are edged with a darkness that sends a shiver down my spine, but there ’ s also something fiercely protective in them.

Tiernan pushes off the desk and moves closer to me. "This changes things," he says quietly. "But it doesn ’ t change how we feel about you." His fingers brush against mine, a fleeting touch that grounds me in the moment.

Callen sits up on the bed, his blue eyes locking onto mine. "So, what now?" he asks. There ’ s a challenge in his tone, like he ’ s daring me to take control of the situation.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I don ’ t know," I admit. “ I think that I ’ m supposed to become her. Macha. Fiona says I ’ m part of some ancient prophecy to unite the supernatural realms." I let out a shaky laugh. “ Sounds ridiculous, right?"

Callen sits up straighter on the bed, his eyes narrowing. "Ridiculous? No. Dangerous? Absolutely." He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Prophecies aren ’ t exactly known for being kind, darling. They tend to chew people up and spit them out."

Lochan steps closer, his presence a solid wall of heat at my side. "You ’ re not going through this alone," he says, his voice rough. "We ’ re here. All of us." His hand brushes against mine, and I feel the faint tremor in his fingers. He doesn ’ t like this any more than I do.

Rory moves to my other side, his big frame radiating sunshine in the gloom. "We ’ ll figure it out together," he says. "You ’ re not just some pawn in this prophecy, Brigid. You ’ re our mate. We ’ re not going to let anything hurt you or take you away from us again."

Marius watches us from the chair, his expression unreadable. "Macha or not, you ’ ve got power," he says finally. His voice is calm, but there ’ s an edge to it that makes my skin prickle. "And power is control. Use it."

I glance at him, unsure if I should be comforted or unnerved by his words. Marius is always harder to read than the others—his motives more ambiguous, his methods more ruthless. But there ’ s no denying the truth in what he ’ s saying.

"And what about the Morrigan?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "She ’ s still in me. What if becoming Macha means she wins?"

Marius stands then, his movements smooth and predatory. He crosses the room in a few strides, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "The Morrigan is powerful," he says, his voice like gravel. "But so are you. And we ’ ll be here to make sure you come out on top."

Tiernan finally speaks. "The Morrigan," Tiernan begins, his voice low and measured, "is not just one goddess. She ’ s three. Babh, Macha, and Nemain—the triple goddess. Sisters, aspects of each other, and yet distinct in their own right." He leans back against the edge of the desk, his green eyes distant but bright, as if he ’ s pulling the words from some deep well of ancient knowledge. "It ’ s complicated, to say the least. Even for those of us who ’ ve studied the old ways."

I frown, trying to wrap my head around it. "So they ’ re not separate beings? They ’ re all her?"

"In a way," Tiernan says, nodding slowly. "Think of it like this: the Morrigan is the whole, and Babh, Macha, and Nemain are her faces—her expressions in the world. Babh is the harbinger of war, the crow who feeds on battlefields. Ana is the mother, the keeper of life and death. And Macha—" He pauses, his gaze locking onto mine. "Macha is sovereignty. The queen who rules with strength and wisdom."

"But how can they be sisters and still be her?" I ask, my voice tinged with frustration. My head feels like it ’ s spinning with too much information, too many pieces that don ’ t quite fit together.

Tiernan gives me a small, understanding smile. "It ’ s not meant to make perfect sense to us," he says. "The gods and goddesses—they ’ re not like us. They don ’ t follow the same rules. They exist in layers, in fragments, in ways that are beyond understanding." He pushes off the desk and takes a step closer to me, his voice softening. "The important thing is that you ’ re not just a vessel for her, Brigid. You ’ re Macha ’ s descendant, yes, but you ’ re also you. And that matters."

I nod slowly, though his words only half-reassure me. It ’ s hard to feel like I ’ m still myself when so much of what I thought I knew about my life has been upended. My fingers brush against the hem of my sleeve.

Lochan steps closer, his hand settling on my shoulder. "You don ’ t have to figure it all out now," he says quietly. His touch is firm but gentle. "You ’ ve already been through enough today. Take a breath. We ’ ll figure it out together."

I lean into his touch, the warmth of his hand steadying. Callen moves to my other side. "He ’ s right," Callen says, his voice lighter but no less sincere. "You don ’ t have to carry this alone. We ’ re here for you, Brigid. Always."

Rory, Tiernan, and Marius exchange a look, some unspoken understanding passing between them. Rory steps forward first, his usual easygoing demeanor softened by concern. "You need time to process all this," he says. "We ’ ll give you some space. But we ’ re just a call away if you need us."

Tiernan nods in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Take time to rest," he says. "The answers will come when they ’ re meant to. And we ’ ll be here to help you make sense of them."

Marius doesn ’ t say much, but the intensity in his gaze speaks volumes. He gives me a slight nod before turning toward the door. "Don ’ t overthink it," he says as he leaves, his voice carrying a hint of that same predatory edge I always feel from him.

The three of them leave Callen, Lochan, and I alone in the room.