Page 13 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

Silence, save for the rush of waves and the cold spray from the lake.

“Did I die?” I sucked my lips between my teeth, imagining I could do the same to my question. I didn’t want to hear the answer.

“I am Manannán mac Lir. God of the Otherworld. God of the Sea and all the beasties that reside within it.” He finally turned to face me. “You’re not dead.”

“I’m not?” I stuttered.

He shrugged. “Whatever you are is still up for debate.”

I puffed up my chest. “I know who I am.”

“Who or what?”

“Where’s my mother?” I demanded. “If this is the Tuatha Dé Danann, she should be here.”

“The Mer were cursed for less than that, Maeve Cruinn.” Manannán mac Lir held up a hand. “Do not speak back to me again.”

I growled in frustration.

“Do you know how gods are born?” He grinned.

My anger grew like the burning embers of a fire, hungry and desperate. I squinted and clenched my fists. “I don’t know,” I admitted through gritted teeth.

“There is a term, used by the Sídhe.” Manannán mac Lir tapped his chin thoughtfully. “ Magical Majority . The awakening. Gods have something similar.”

My heart leaped to my throat. “Oh?”

“You’ve barely scraped the surface of your magic, Maeve Cruinn.” Manannán mac Lir slanted a look at me, loaded with emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Your mother asked me to give you this message.”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “What did she say?”

Manannán mac Lir regarded me, looking down his regal nose. “Perhaps I’ll wait until after your trials to deliver the message. Motivation and all that.”

“Motivation?” My jaw clenched. “Do I have a choice in these trials then?”

“The Tuatha Dé Danann does not give anything for free.” His eyes sparkled.

The water of the lake grew more tumultuous by the second, a whirlpool forming below my feet while Manannán mac Lir spoke.

Manannán mac Lir cocked his head to the side. “You have the blood of the Tuatha Dé Danann. You awaken, or you die.”

The last thing I heard was Cormac Illfinn as he screamed my name from the shore.

The world bled into my vision. From sparkling darkness, the kind that came from a blow to the head, to a dank, stone room. Seamless, without a window or door in sight.

An inch of water coated the bottom of the room. More of a puddle than a pool.

My feet were bare. Muddy and coated in wet sand. Sea salt had dried on my skin, marking the passage of time since I’d stood on the lake with Manannán mac Lir.

I staggered to the side, feeling the pressure around my chest loosen. As if the giant fist that had grabbed and transported me had finally let go.

I sucked the air into my lungs. The room held a stale stink under the dank. The slow ooze of rot.

The four walls remained still, but every time I turned my head, I felt them closing in. My mind was playing tricks on me.

Frozen in fear.

Trapped.

It had to mean something.

I took one step, and then another, until my nose was almost touching the wall. With shaking hands, I reached out and touched the stone. Cold and unyielding. As real as I was.

I slapped the stone. Nothing happened.

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the wall.

I’m so tired.

I just want to go home .

The stone began to soften under my touch, as my hand sank into the wall.

Startled, I opened my eyes, finding my handprint on the wall. I pushed my hand into the divot, but the stone was no longer malleable.

I closed my eyes again and placed my hand in the same spot.

I’m hungry .

Nothing happened.

Eyed closed, I exhaled a huff.

I want to go home .

I want to get out of this box .

The box's magic reacted to my desire to leave, and my hand moved again. The wall became warm and soft like dough. Eyes closed and focused, I repeated the same phrase over and over in my mind.

I want to leave .

Soon enough, the divot in the wall formed, the stone pliable enough to dig my hand in. I worked my fingers into the wall to create a hole.

It was long and arduous. Every time my focus slipped, the wall returned to its stone form. My fingernails bled, and every time I opened my eyes to see the progress, the wall hardened again.

I knelt down and scooped up the water from the puddle on the floor. It was foul-tasting, but enough to sate my thirst. My fingernails peeled away from the nail bed as I clawed at the wall, stopping only to sip from the foul-tasting water while I tunneled to freedom.

I kept my eyes closed, pulling at the stone, and formed a hole big enough for my body to fit through. The stone was warm from my body heat and warped in several places. Lines carved into the stone from my fingertips.

It was dark on the other side of the wall.

It had taken hours to make the smallest hole. It would be a frightening squeeze, but that was the test, wasn’t it?

Manannán mac Lir had called them trials. My desire to complete them waned by the minute.

There was something important. Something I was forgetting. Somewhere I had to be. I didn’t have time for Manannán mac Lir’s games.

Without Cormac close, I even struggled to remember his face. My former self slipped away every moment, memories dissolving like sand in an hourglass.

Manannán mac Lir had said I wasn’t dead, but something wasn’t right .

I paced the stone room, glaring at the worn hole every few seconds, shaking my bloody fingers. I couldn’t raise my arms past my waist, and every muscle arched, but there was a way out, even if every muscle in my body recoiled from the idea of crawling through the stone.

I bent down, scooping up more of the disgusting water, but no matter how many sips I took, I still felt thirsty, and my mouth tasted like metal.

I sank down to my ass, pulling my legs to my chest and resting my forehead on my knees.

What if there was no water beyond the box?

I knew what it felt like to travel without water.

The dried river path from the Twilight Lake to the Dark Sea was torture to a water-fae.

Realization dawned as I scrutinized the puddle at my feet.

The water tasted the same as the puddles of rainwater collected on the dry forest floor.

The same water had tasted like ambrosia on the dried river path.

I had been running for my life at the time.

Always pushed, hither and tither. Never truly settling. Without a place to call home .

My bones creaked as I stood, eying the ugly hole in the stone wall, with the stance of a soldier preparing for battle. The box might have been ‘safe’ because I didn’t know better, but I couldn’t remain inside the prison forever.

I have to get back to —

My thoughts screeched to a halt.

Back to where ?

I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead, struggling to pull the memories forward, but they remained fixed like octopus suckers.

What was I forgetting?

It hovered on the tip of my tongue.

Shaking my head to clear it, I approached the hole.

I extended my arms first, hopping in place until my head went through next, and the edges compressed around my chest and my belly.

On the other side of the wall, the scent of pine needles and rotting leaves filled the air.

I wriggled and writhed until I was free, landing hands-first into the soft, spongy bracken.

The damp leaves clung to my sweaty skin.

I scrambled to my feet and looked around.

The sky was blocked by a canopy of ancient trees, their branches forming an interconnected web above my head.

Darkness extended, like a hungry fog, between the thick trunks of the trees.

The deepest part of the forest. Empty of life, save for me.

I turned back to the stone box, but it was no longer there.

I was free. Or perhaps, my prison had simply grown.