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CHAPTER LVI

LIR

Lir let go.

The Sidhe king flung himself from the forest with a great cry. The bones in his back snapped in half at the shoulders, molding and remolding as he writhed on the grass in agony. From here, a meadow stretched between him and the gateway—too far for him to reach on time. And now, he was afflicted by some strange torture, crippling him when Aisling needed him most.

“ Ellwyn ,” he said between clenched teeth, but none could hear him save for the flowers he crushed as he dragged himself across the grass.

“ Ellwyn ,” he repeated like an undead creature, stopping at nothing to meet their ends.

The Sidhe king roared out in pain, reaching for his back and scratching at the strange wound. Had he run into a tree? Caught himself on something? Been shot by an arrow? Lir rummaged through his mind to make sense of his pain but found nothing. Nothing until his fingers scraped the silky soft edge of a wing.

Lir froze.

He brought his fingertips before him and stared at the blood smeared there now. He reached back again, this time less cautious.

Two wings grew from his back, expanding, stretching, materializing from his shoulder blades with a magic most called “miracle.” It smelled of bargains, of promises, and of the rain. The storm that soaked him now and showered the world with its finality.

The Sidhe king winced when he attempted to move them, screaming and biting through the torture of new muscle and bone alike. Lir shook his head, determined to use his newfound wings here and now.

Lir moved again, complexion red with his effort.

At last, his wings moved fluidly, rising and falling, collecting rain and light and glimmering with an otherworldly glow. They spread behind him like a dragon boasts its mighty wings, great and wonderful and the makings of legends.

Lir focused on his mother’s teachings, swallowing hard before he, at last, took flight.

He sprang into the air and darted for Aisling and Niamh already standing before the gateway. The Goblet of Lore shone brightly in Aisling’s hands—an ember amidst the darkened night.

He’d make it in time. With his wings, he could reach her and together they’d bring mankind to their knees?—

Aisling tilted the Goblet back and drank.

The air pressure grew heavy, pushing down on Lir as he flew. It made his wings heavy as if he tore through currents of pure, undiluted magic from the dawn of time.

“Aisling!” He called across the expanse, but he was still too far. She couldn’t hear him.