Page 15 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

“The Battle of Mag Tuired raged for many years.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “But Balor was defeated. In the end. Too weak to do much of anything, except for haunting a cave for thousands of years.”

“How?” I asked incredulously. “If the whole pantheon of the Tuatha Dé Danann couldn’t defeat him, how am I going to? How is anyone in the Aos Sí going to?”

“Why do you want to defeat him?” Bríd posed the question, cradling the teapot as she examined its tarnished body. “Why not let him rule the Aos Sí? He’ll do less damage, I’m sure.”

My teeth gritted. The scars no longer sullied my body; death had wiped them clean and left unmarked skin behind. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still feel them. Burning under the surface. The harsh crack of the whip. The blood leaked into the water. The throne and its horrid magic.

“He hurt me.” I met her gaze. “He took my birthright. He poisoned the lake. He poisoned my home, and he hurt my—”

My... What? Who did he hurt?

A sharp pain began to form behind my eye.

The elderly Fae stood up, her bones creaking beneath her. “I offer you shelter for the night.” She waved towards the house. “I think it’s time you slept, don’t you?”

I woke up with the taste of sunshine and salt on my lips. Tears had dried on my face in the night, my hand extended as I reached for something. My eyes refused to open. Everything was dark.

A scream pierced the night. Echoing through the forest, followed by the eerie howl of a wolf. One cry became a dozen, and soon the night was alive with the sound of wolves.

I was safe enough behind the wooden door of the hut, but I called out for Bríd, my voice barely above a whisper. No one responded, though it was hard to hear as the howls grew louder. Closer.

I hadn’t given much thought to my selfishness until that moment. I had taken her tiny bed, tucked into the corner, and left my host in the cold.

I stood up, groping for the faelight. A candle. Anything. It was dark. I couldn’t see my own hands. My body. I couldn’t see anything at all.

Fear lodged itself in my heart, and my breath came in short, sharp bursts. My teeth chattered and my body shook.

I rubbed my face. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see. I was blind.

Just like... Bríd!

The older Fae was alone in the forest, without her sight. Surrounded by wolves.

I raced to the door, but tripped over several things on the way. My shins throbbed with unformed bruises, and I struggled to remain standing. I wrenched open the door, met by a wave of heat that was far greater than the dying embers of Bríd’s bonfire.

I extended my hands, but pain nipped my fingertips, quickly followed by the throb of a burn. Everything was on fire. Burning wood had a smell.

A female shriek echoed over the dull roar of the flames.

“Bríd?!” I called out, ignoring the savage snarls.

“My dagger! Get my dagger, God-Child!” She screamed.

“I can’t see!” I shouted back, my face tight with heat as I staggered away from the threshold. “Bríd!”

The elderly woman screamed in fear and pain. Her voice was muffled by the savage growls of the wolves. I knew little of Wolf-kin. They were wild Fae, just as the Selkies and Kelpies were. I knew even less about the Tuatha Dé Danann and Brid’s identity.

I could run. I could save myself .

Yeah, not going to happen. “Bríd!”

Before I could catch my breath, a living wall of fur hit me at full force, driving me to the floor. My back hit the ground as my arms came up to protect my face. Teeth lodged into my forearm, flooding my body with pain and adrenaline. I kicked out, but the beast was too heavy.

Through it all, I was blind.

Warm, wet liquid hit my face. I licked my lips. It was blood and foul saliva.

No water for miles.

I hadn’t felt my magic since waking up in the Tuatha Dé Danann.

The gnashing jaws in my face grew closer as the creature pressed its weight onto my chest.

I couldn’t see it—somehow that made it all the more frightening.

Bríd’s screams drowned out the fire, the howls, and my own panicked thoughts.

Blood . I remembered.

Water and blood.

Teeth gritted, eyes closed, I reached out with the invisible limb I used to control my magic. Ignored, but not gone.

I felt the creature above me as a network of waterways. The collection of blood in every organ. I knew next to nothing about anatomy, especially that of a beast I couldn’t even see, but I reached out and stilled its blood—imagining a river halted by my magic.

The beast gasped, its jaws relaxing, as it slumped over, dropping the full force of its weight on my body. I tried to wriggle out, but it weighed too much. Magic was one thing, but my physical body was another.

Another howl echoed through the forest. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, feeling my muscles burn as I reached out again with my magic. There were several more wolves in the camp. Bríd’s blood soaked into the ground. The older Fae was silent now, but not dead.

I gripped each of the wolves until they fell to the ground. Dead, or at the very least, unconscious.

I sank down, dropped my head back to the wooden floor. Exhaustion clung to every bone in my body. I blinked, my vision milky, but returning. The dead wolf stank of blood and decay.

I wasn’t sure how long I was pinned under the corpse of the beast. My arm knitted shut, but the pain did not disappear so easily.

Finally, the weight left my chest as a figure stood over me. The body kicked away with the force of swatting a fly.

I looked up to find Bríd, stained in blood, her milky eyes unseeing as she held out her hand.

“What did you do to me?” My voice was hoarse. “You stole my sight.”

Bríd sighed and retracted her hand as I scrambled to my feet, clutching my injured arm. “Those were Lugh’s wolves.” She told me. “Unfortunately, you were caught up in my punishment.”

“That was a punishment?” I spluttered.

She squinted and looked away, her face blank. “I am Brígid.” She declared with the force of a feather. “I am the reason Nuada is dead. I betrayed my own people, and for that, Balor killed my queen.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

Nuada’s secret was not mine to tell, but Brígid’s guilt was so palpable I could taste it on the air—like rotting fruit.

“My husband, Bres, was once King of the Fomorians. Balor was his most loyal soldier and deadliest weapon. Bres threatened to kill my child if I did not betray the Tuatha Dé Danann. It was I who opened the gate to the sacred halls. It was I who walked towards Nuada, whom I trusted with my life. And it was I who watched her die, by Balor’s hand, before the Fomorians came.

” She rubbed her hand over her lips, her breath coming in shaky gasps.

“Manannán mac Lir sent you to me because only I know where Lugh is.”

“And Lugh defeated Balor before.” I surmised. “Is Lugh here, in the Tuatha Dé Danann?”

Brígid shook her head. “He lives in the Forest of Teeth, in the Aos Sí.”

Any words died on my tongue.

The Aos Sí ?

“Go to the river, God-Child. Twenty paces north.” Brígid stepped back. “Someone is waiting for you.”