Page 44 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

Maeve Cruinn

It started with a pinprick. A flicker of light that reflected from the water in a strange and unfamiliar way.

It took all of my strength to compress Balor with the water. Though the god of the deep no longer had a vessel, it didn’t mean she intended to go quietly.

The pinprick grew larger, piercing a hole between the worlds, expanding until a familiar view materialized on the other side.

The Quorum, with its limestone platform and bright blue sky.

My mother stood, smiling, next to the Dagda, who had gained a crown since I had last seen him.

His lichen-stained eyes appeared more lifelike, as if Balor’s curse was slowly melting away.

The two gods stepped through the door between worlds, seemingly unbothered by the water. My mother drifted towards me, holding out her hand. “You’ve done well.” She told me. “I have never been prouder, my beautiful Maeve.”

My breath was shaky with the strain, as Belisama plucked the dark god from my grip. The weight left my shoulders, and I could have cried.

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

Her smile turned to sorrow. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she spoke without opening her mouth.

I understood then.

“You can’t come back.” I surmised, feeling my eyes burn with unshed tears.

“The Aos Sí is a physical realm, and I cannot stay without a tie to the Tuatha Dé Danann.” Belisama gestured to the open portal.

“My time as queen is done, but there are many creeds in the lake that still need protection. It is your duty, as my daughter, to embrace those who are exploited due to the weaknesses inherent in their design. The Tuatha Dé Danann always require payment.”

“What if I am not strong enough?” I whispered. “What if they don’t accept me?”

“Of course, they will accept you.” Belisama scoffed, slapping me on the shoulder. “What other choice do they have? You control the very water they breathe.”

My eyes widened in horror. “I don’t think...”

The Dagda let out a hearty laugh. “Let’s not encourage tyranny as a first port of call, darling.”

Belisama waved him away. “I’ll take Balor to the Mistéireach.” She conceded, shooting him a meaningful look. “Can you...”

“Of course, darling.” The Dagda nodded patiently.

My mother reached out, one hand holding Balor and the other wrapped around my shoulder. “I am always with you.” She whispered. “Carry my love, and magic, and know that you are loved beyond reason.”

“I love you too,” I whispered.

She nodded once, looking back at the lake with longing, before striding through the rip in worlds and disappearing into the sun.

Balor was gone.

Maybe not dead, but not in the Aos Sí. Not haunting Cruinn, and killing the water fae.

I took a breath, and everything seemed brighter. I glanced at my mates and saw the lines in their faces ease; the way they held themselves had changed slightly, as if a burden had been lifted.

For the first time in years, the water did not taste of decay and rage. I had been breathing poison for so long that I only noticed when it was gone.

“Are you ready?” The Dagda asked.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Cormac swam forward with a nod. His smile was sad, and his hands shook.

“Wait!” I held out my hand, but he was past my reach. “Cormac?”

My Mer glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t say a word. The Dagda nudged him. “You can say goodbye.” My father offered

Rainn barged forward. “What the fuck, Cormac?! Fight. Run!”

“You cannot take him.” Tor’s eyes glittered with rage, and the shadows of the lake grew darker.

The Dagda eyed us with the patience of an elder watching younglings stomp their foot.

Cormac turned to me and knitted his fingers with mine, our hands extended between us.

“I died, Maeve.” He whispered. “I am not of the Tuatha Dé Danann, as you are. I cannot flit between worlds. I died when I touched the Kraken’s eye.

I knew it. Even when I returned, I did not feel the same hunger.

I could not sleep. I knew that I would have to return to the afterlife.

My only hope is that I am not condemned to the screaming sea, but it is my time to leave. ”

My eyes burned with unshed tears. “No.”

“Cormac—“ Shay croaked as he struggled to form words. “You were the most infuriating male I’ve ever met, but there is no one more loyal. You lived well.”

“No.” Rainn shook his head. “He’s not fecking dying!”

“I get to say goodbye.” Cormac arched a brow, flashing his signature grin. “Special treatment. So much more than anyone else gets.”

I clawed his forearm, pulling him towards me. I wrapped my arms around him so tightly it hurt to breathe. I closed my eyes tight and memorized every inch of his body, from his absurdly large shoulders to the smooth scales below his waist.

Cormac’s arms came around me slowly. “I’m worried that if I hold you, I won’t want to let go.”

“Don’t let go.” I pleaded.

Rainn stepped forward and wrapped his arms around us both. He pressed his head against Cormac’s shoulder. Tormalugh was next, nudging a golden strand of hair out of the way before he placed a kiss against his lips. The action was platonic, but no less meaningful.

Tor pressed his forehead against Cormac’s. “You do not need to be frightened of the afterlife.” The Kelpie told him. “You are noble and brave. You will be rewarded.”

Rainn laughed, the sound broken by a sob. “We will find you. When we die, we will find you. We won’t leave you behind.”

The Dagda cleared his throat, gesturing to the portal. The edges had turned jagged, seeming to lose their structure.

“It’s time.” The king of gods said softly.

Shay Mac Eoin stepped forward. He lifted the staff, holding it in front of his body as if it were poisonous. “What about this?” He demanded. “You are the god of life and death,” Shay argued. “Cormac doesn’t have to be dead.”

The Dagda gave me a long, expectant look.

My mother’s voice echoed through my head.

The Tuatha Dé Danann always require payment .

“What if we trade the staff?” I asked. “For his life.”

My father’s gaze softened. “Well, well, what a turn of events.”

The portal was closing. Every heartbeat was the ticking of a clock running out of time. I held out my hands, my thoughts going too quickly to verbalize. “Will you bring him back?” I stuttered. “Can Cormac stay?”

“In exchange for...” My father’s lip twitched with a smile. “My staff.”

Cormac frowned. “Maeve, you really shouldn’t—”

“Shut it, you overgrown fish! I’m bargaining for your life.” I snapped.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job.” Cormac pinched the bridge of his brow.

“It’s settled then, daughter.” The Dagda interjected. “You may keep your Mer, and nothing is owed.”

We exchanged glances and agreed silently.

The Dagda plucked the staff from Shay’s fingers, placing it in his pocket. He gave us a jaunty wave before stepping through the portal—disappearing into the ether.