over to the Otherworld. They looked at each other, looked at him, and told him they would show him the way to cross, but there was tension for a short while, Ceithin stubbornly refusing to admit why he had been in the City in the first place. The evening had closed in, a bright late autumn moon the only light they used in the corridors that spread from the main cabin, a rabbit warren of small rooms and halls. Quaint, rambling, old, and solid, it was unlike anything he had lived in before.
Brigid led him to a small side room with a comfortable pallet, and he really did try to sleep, despite the contradictions and thoughts in his head. His Fire was restless, uncertain, flickering behind his eyes, nagging at him, tracing impatient lines of blue along his bare skin. With a huff of exasperation, he sat up and rubbed the sparks away. Maybe getting some air would help? He pulled on his pants and a jacket over his sleep shirt to go and find somewhere he wouldn't feel so damn unsettled. Opening the door gently, he walked down the main corridor. The cabin was in peace, darkness, and he let himself out of the front door. There was no purpose or destination to the course he took, and he wandered aimlessly until the clouds covering the large full moon shifted to let moonbeams light the edge of the river and the beginning of the slopes of the valley. That something as beautiful as this place existed so close to the City and he had never even known of its existence was a shock.
Voices carried on the air, and the words reached him long before he consciously realized he was listening. Ceithin was there, and Darach caught the end of a sentence, shouted words, and the other voice he identified as Ceithin's father.
"…you think he would want you to die for him?" Llewellyn sounded so damn sad.
"Don't say that, you don't know—"
"How close were you, Ceithin? How close to dying, losing your Fire?"
"I wasn't!" Ceithin's voice was so loud he was close to shouting.
By direct contrast, Llewellyn's voice was modulated and calm, ringing with the certainty of knowledge, of great grief averted by a hair's breadth. "I saw you. Ceithin, they were so close to pulling your Fire out of you, and for what? To follow up some nebulous speculation about your brother?" Darach strained to hear Llewellyn, inching closer in the shadow of the cabin.
"He had been there, Dad. I sensed it as truth when I heard—"
"Ceithin, it's been seven years. Your brother is dead."
"No. I would know if he was dead." Whatever Ceithin was saying, Llewellyn didn't appear to be listening.
"Your mother was out of her mind with fear for you."
"Don't throw Mom at me. She wants to know what happened to Trystyn as much as I do."
"Not at the expense of her other son."
"I'm going—"
"I forbid it." For the first time, Llewellyn's voice rose a fraction.
"I'm a grown man. As soon as we work on his element, I am crossing." Crossing where? Darach was confused. What was Llewellyn forbidding?
"You have brought back the exact person who—"
The voices stopped, the silence sudden, and Darach shrank back into the shadows.
"You do know I can feel you." Ceithin's voice was so close Darach jumped and twirled to face the other man. How the hell had he gotten behind him? He glanced past Ceithin and couldn't see any sign of Llewellyn, but he definitely could see Ceithin smirking.
He moved back a step. He had never been able to clearly sense other Fires. There had been the spark of connection when he and Ceithin had touched in the cave and through the tunnel, and then through the fight in the woods. At those moments his blue had sought out Ceithin, inquisitive and persistent. Now there was nothing, just this buzzing in his ears and a sense of shame he had been caught eavesdropping.
"I didn't mean to…" To what? Listen? Pry? Learn? He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.
Ceithin took a step closer and then another until they were nothing but a breath apart. "Close your eyes," Ceithin
Brigid led him to a small side room with a comfortable pallet, and he really did try to sleep, despite the contradictions and thoughts in his head. His Fire was restless, uncertain, flickering behind his eyes, nagging at him, tracing impatient lines of blue along his bare skin. With a huff of exasperation, he sat up and rubbed the sparks away. Maybe getting some air would help? He pulled on his pants and a jacket over his sleep shirt to go and find somewhere he wouldn't feel so damn unsettled. Opening the door gently, he walked down the main corridor. The cabin was in peace, darkness, and he let himself out of the front door. There was no purpose or destination to the course he took, and he wandered aimlessly until the clouds covering the large full moon shifted to let moonbeams light the edge of the river and the beginning of the slopes of the valley. That something as beautiful as this place existed so close to the City and he had never even known of its existence was a shock.
Voices carried on the air, and the words reached him long before he consciously realized he was listening. Ceithin was there, and Darach caught the end of a sentence, shouted words, and the other voice he identified as Ceithin's father.
"…you think he would want you to die for him?" Llewellyn sounded so damn sad.
"Don't say that, you don't know—"
"How close were you, Ceithin? How close to dying, losing your Fire?"
"I wasn't!" Ceithin's voice was so loud he was close to shouting.
By direct contrast, Llewellyn's voice was modulated and calm, ringing with the certainty of knowledge, of great grief averted by a hair's breadth. "I saw you. Ceithin, they were so close to pulling your Fire out of you, and for what? To follow up some nebulous speculation about your brother?" Darach strained to hear Llewellyn, inching closer in the shadow of the cabin.
"He had been there, Dad. I sensed it as truth when I heard—"
"Ceithin, it's been seven years. Your brother is dead."
"No. I would know if he was dead." Whatever Ceithin was saying, Llewellyn didn't appear to be listening.
"Your mother was out of her mind with fear for you."
"Don't throw Mom at me. She wants to know what happened to Trystyn as much as I do."
"Not at the expense of her other son."
"I'm going—"
"I forbid it." For the first time, Llewellyn's voice rose a fraction.
"I'm a grown man. As soon as we work on his element, I am crossing." Crossing where? Darach was confused. What was Llewellyn forbidding?
"You have brought back the exact person who—"
The voices stopped, the silence sudden, and Darach shrank back into the shadows.
"You do know I can feel you." Ceithin's voice was so close Darach jumped and twirled to face the other man. How the hell had he gotten behind him? He glanced past Ceithin and couldn't see any sign of Llewellyn, but he definitely could see Ceithin smirking.
He moved back a step. He had never been able to clearly sense other Fires. There had been the spark of connection when he and Ceithin had touched in the cave and through the tunnel, and then through the fight in the woods. At those moments his blue had sought out Ceithin, inquisitive and persistent. Now there was nothing, just this buzzing in his ears and a sense of shame he had been caught eavesdropping.
"I didn't mean to…" To what? Listen? Pry? Learn? He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.
Ceithin took a step closer and then another until they were nothing but a breath apart. "Close your eyes," Ceithin
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