Page 119 of Killaney Fire

The velvet falls.

Fuck.

The statue towers above us, easily eight or nine feet tall, cast in blackened bronze.

The Morrígan. War. Death. Fate.

Every instinct in my body flares to life, sharp and immediate. The air shifts. The room feels smaller, tighter, like the walls are closing in.

We shouldn't have come.

This isn't how I imagined it going down. No, it was supposed to be different.

But it’s happening here.

Now.

In front of witnesses.

I scan the room again, my pulse quickening. The guests aren't guests; they're moving, positioning themselves, blocking exits as if they're encircling us.

There's more than I anticipated now.

Shit.

I count them quickly. Too many to fight through.

I need to grab her hand and get us the hell out of here.

I tense, but I hesitate.

Three seconds. Just three seconds.

Because if I pull her out now, the Phantom King stays hidden. The Morrígan Order stays intact. They regroup, they adapt, and they come for her again.

And again. And again.

Until one day, I'm not fast enough.

Three seconds. That's all it is.

And in those three seconds, my world changes.

The lights cut out. Instant, total darkness swallows the room whole.

Glass shatters. Screams rise. The sound of a body hitting the floor. Then more. Someone cries out.

And then?—

"OCTAVIAN!"

Keira's voice, sharp and terrified.

I lunge forward, hand reaching for where she just was, fingers grasping at empty air.

"Keira!"

Silence.