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Spotlights lined the sidewalk, ushering funeral attendees through the winding aisles and terraces that dotted the Turston Funeral Grounds.
A floral wreath emblazoned with her mother’s name, written in deep emerald, marked the gravesite’s entryway. Naika swallowed hard, forcing her knees to stay locked as she moved down the path. It was a family tradition—Cristina’s, not Anthony’s—to hold the entire ceremony outdoors, welcoming the world’s spirits to attend. Whether it was Lucent in execution or older, she wasn’t sure. The Order of the Lucents had arranged the majority of the rites without her, after all.
Two columns of red-stained oak pews spanned the rounded clearing. White and green ribbons hung from the trees, accented in royal purple orchids that matched the arbor above her casket.
An explosion of sobs choked her at the sight of her mother. Her lips, painted faint pink, strawberry blonde hair falling in gentle curls around her shoulders, a soft salmon-colored sash covering her collar and swirling up around her neck.
Gravity robbed her of height as she crumpled to the ground at the casket’s side, wailing like no banshee ever had. This day wasn’t supposed to come until she was old and gray, her mother older still.
She lingered there in the grass, her knee-length black dress dampening with dew, her heart and mind convulsing, her stomach threatening to lose its contents. Suddenly a hand was under her elbow, lifting her from the cold, wet ground. One set of arms, then another wrapped around her, hugging tight. She hadn’t opened her eyes, but she knew who held her by the intensity of their squeeze, how their hands felt on her bare arms.
Chier half-whispered, half-cried into the layered tufts of Naika’s hair, “It’s gonna be okay, we’re here with you... I’m so sorry.”
The wails did not cease. Noah held them both, carrying the weight of all three hearts.
A few others started to file in, some taking seats on the middle pews, others standing off to either side.
“Guys,” said Noah quietly, painfully, choking back tears of his own, “we need to take our seats.”
Naika looked towards the pews, her face puffy and red with tears. She nodded, though she was hesitant to face the casket again. The world rocked and rolled around her, the Call a nervous tick in her spine. It was strangely quiet. Her ears began to ring, the dull tone overthrowing her already-shaky senses.
The Officiant made his way to the arbor, speaking briefly to several of the men standing to the left of the pews. Mr. Cours was among them, his feigned feebleness on full display; he kept his hands folded into one another at his hips, his back slightly hunched forward. He seemed to meet Naika’s gaze purely by accident, giving an awkward wave and nod as sweat pooled along the top of his shirt’s collar. She made no move to reply. Her gaze was finally pulled away from the man’s façade by the approach of Sirus and Dílseacht, who both slid into the aisle directly behind her.
“Ma’ams,” Dílseacht nodded to Naika and Chier, “my condolences for your loss, Naika. Your mother was a wonderful woman. Don’t ever let their stories,” he tilted a head towards Mr. Cours and his group, “convince you otherwise.”
Naika thanked him, though the grimace on her face did not match her appreciation. Her tears had stopped, caught in her somewhere between nausea and blacking out. He rested a thick, calloused hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
“We need to talk about a few things afterwards,” he added in a hushed voice, “someone paid me a visit yesterday.”
Naika was immediately on edge. Who could it be? Possibilities wracked her brain. Eris. Anthony? The UVHF wasn’t trying to take him, too, were they?
Noah’s head shot up, his eyed wide at first, then shrinking into angry slits. “We have company.”
The entire group shifted at once, staring through the shrubs that crowded the entryway.
Anthony.
Naika’s agony lit on fire, engulfing her inside with rage. Quickly up on her feet, she began to march down the aisle, headed for the center path where she would intercept him.
Something snatched at her arm. It was Dílseacht, holding her back. “No. Not here, not yet. Wait and watch first.” He handed her one of the funeral pamphlets situated in the wooden cubbyhole built into the pew’s back.
She sat back down at the end of the front pew, anxiously watching his every move from behind flimsy white pages that read Requiescat in Pace in a bold blue. He didn’t bother to search the pews for her. Anthony scoured the men standing along the side, tilting his head upwards in acknowledgement as his search ended. He made a beeline for Steven Cours.
What the hell...?
The men spoke at length, barely moving their lips and both peering out over the ceremony grounds, sure not to make eye contact. At one point, Cours made a slight gesture towards her, barely tossing a hand in her direction. She stared back in defiance as they eyed her carefully, no longer concerned with being discreet. Anthony didn’t bother to wave.
Noah slid down to her, keeping his head down. He was focused on keeping his suit sleeves pulled over the Runes at his knuckles the best he could. “Nai, what’s happening?”
She bowed her head towards his, whispering. “Anthony’s talking to Cours,” her father’s name tasting like salt and soot in her mouth.
“Why would he talk to a Lucent? He hates them.”
“We don’t think he’s actually Lucent—Chier said he introduced himself as the Director of Urijah Valley when he first called.”
His brow furrowed down deeply, eyebrows nearly touching one another. “Do you think... they’re all in this together?”
“They might be. But... why? Or how?”
Before they could move back to the others, the officiant spoke up. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for joining us, for being here today. We are here, not only to mourn the loss of Cristina Connors, but also to celebrate the life she lived— that of a great person.”
He began plainly, discussing her childhood as though he had been there. Her teenage years were filled with Lucent training, and excelling at a variety of things—quilting, archery, singing, and a few sports.
Naika knew some of these things, but still marveled at the sheer determination of her mother’s spirit. She could do anything she wanted to, she thought, so how did she end up in such a mess?
“In her twenties,” the officiant continued, “Cristina met a young printer named Anthony.” Random awws moved through the small crowd, some people looking to Anthony in pity and admiration.
Naika could have vomited. He deserved no admiration. She guessed that all of the horrible parts would be swept clean, leaving the sparkling image of a man who, in reality, was the only darkness in their lives. Did these people not know her mother, or the truth, at all?
“They were married, and soon after, Cristina gave birth to their only child. Cristina is survived by that child, Miss Naika Connors.”
Her cheeks reddened. She was proud to be her mother’s daughter, but after the bizarre way Anthony had received— praise?— for his part, she wouldn’t dare look up.
Noah took her hand, pulling it away from her mouth. She had chewed most of her nails away, and some of the surrounding skin. He wiped it clean on the navy pants of his suit, then held it tight. He lifted his head, turning to check on Chier. She sat pressed against the backrest, breathing heavily and clearly trying not to cry aloud. Dílseacht left his hand draped over the pew, holding her steady as she shivered.
Their eyes met, and Noah could see the broken heart that she held inside. He wanted to hold her, cradle her into his arms and never let go. Make the promise that tomorrow would always be there, and none of this would ever happen again.
He wished it hadn't happened in the first place, but there were no more stars to wish on.
The ringing of the tower’s bells yanked them all back into the moment. The officiant poised himself, ready to conclude the service. “On this day, the spirits take Cristina to be their own. The earth, her body; the cosmos, her mind. Thank you, Cristina, from all of us, for the many memories you’ve left for us to cherish.”
The bittersweet tones of “The Parting Glass” began to play, the sound bleeding through the trees and out into the grounds. Naika burst into tears at its words, clutching Noah close to her, grasping at his suit coat. The words that her mother sang so softly at the most difficult times. The song that Cristina so delicately taught her to harmonize with.
The song she sung to Nell.
If you listened closely enough, you could hear the last bits of her heart break—all those tiny pieces that kept her strong through bad days, spidered with cracks and falling into her ribcage. Tears fell from all of them, even while the heartless stood and chatted under their breath.
Chier, Sirus and Dílseacht made their way to the end of the aisle, all wrapping themselves around Naika and Noah. Naika gripped desperately to her friends, an anchor to a world she no longer had a grasp on. The song’s lyrics had long disappeared, but the melody played on, looping back on itself and filling the silence.
A gruff cough came from outside the human wall. Naika slowly lifted her head, waiting for each person to loosen their grip. There stood Anthony, hands tucked into his light brown suit’s pockets.
“Hey, kid.”
Her rage was instantaneous. She jolted up, thrusting her face towards his. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“She spent a good chunk of time as my wife. I thought I had a right.” His words were dry, almost bored.
Naika spat into her father’s face. “YOU PUT HER THERE, YOU MONSTER. You left her to rot! You’re nothing to me, and you were nothing to her! You disgrace her memory by even showing up!”
He wiped the spittle from the corner of his eye, trailing fingers down his nose and slinging it to the ground. The same old snarl rose at the right corner of his lips. “I am your father. I demand some respect.” He lifted an arm towards her. In an instant, her comrades were about him, pushing him away even as Naika pursued.
“I will never respect you.”
A few of the sidelined men approached, pulling Anthony back towards their larger group. Noah held Naika back against his chest, her arms flailing about his shoulders. She ducked under him for one last shot.
“Oh, let me guess: that was your pretty little flourish of words being spouted up there? You make me sick.”
Dílseacht stepped in front of them both, his back to Anthony. “Okay, that’s enough,” he whispered roughly, cupping her arm and leading them back to the center of the pew. “It’s almost time for the burial. Leave your peace with your mother; don’t let her see that anger.”
The other guests stared and whispered. She nodded, her cheeks, neck and chest flushed red with exasperation. Chier held her hand, tucking her arm under Naika’s side. The officiant shuffled at the side before heading to the center arbor.
“Ladies and gentleman, we will begin the burial in a few minutes. Thank you, everyone, for joining us today. If you would like to stay for the burial commencement, you are welcome to do so.”
A small group of men, pallbearers Naika assumed, stripped the green tarp from behind the arbor, revealing the prepared gravesite. Her mother’s final resting place.
Naika stood, wobbly legs taking strides toward her mother once more. She placed both hands on the coffin’s outer edge, staring at the grass below. Moments passed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted her head, envisioning what was on the other side of her eyelids—preparing herself for the sight.
Finally, she opened them. Nothing had changed. She took it all in, trembling. “Mom, I want you to know I love you. I have missed you so much. I’ve thought of you every day, and I’ll keep on doing it, every single day.” She cupped her mother’s cheek, delicately sliding her palm along cold skin. The same way Cristina often had, lulling Naika to sleep. “You’ll be proud of me when it’s all over. I promise.”
She stepped back, making a slow trek towards the empty seat at the center of the pew. Chier and Noah were at the casket, whispering. They wrapped around one another, both nodding before they moved along. Dílseacht half-knelt, half-bowed at the casket’s edge, his head down and one arm crossed over his chest.
Naika couldn’t discern his words from those of the crowd.
Sirus hung back, fidgeting with the liner of his coat, watching his father. When he approached the casket, he mumbled in long drawls and bowed his head, wavering there a moment before turning back.
The others, including Anthony, began to line up, each bowing and whispering prayers to a woman they hardly seemed to know.
Who were they?
Naika stared them all down in a darkened haze. Some felt it, timidly meeting her gaze, being shocked by her hybrid eye that sparkled all too brightly in the dark. She could see it plainly on their faces. She didn’t care.
Leaning at the casket’s side, Anthony seemed to make small talk—like he was chatting with an old friend, rather than the corpse of his once-wife, the mother of his child. Naika set her jaw, holding bile and anger back behind clenched teeth. He didn’t even pretend to look in her direction.
Within a few minutes, the procession was over, the officiant once again heading to the front.
He motioned to the pallbearers, who moved in their squared formation up to the casket. All five men took position, the officiant closing the coffin’s lid delicately while the others grasped at the handles along the sides. They hefted all at once, lifting the casket to shoulder height and slowly moving towards the silver tracks that lined the grave. Four metallic clicks confirmed that the lowering device was properly secured, Cristina’s coffin hovering over the empty hole.
Requiescat in Pace, they said.
“Rest in peace,” the officiant translated, “in Latin, used the world over. We bring our last tidings here.”
He turned to the casket, folding his hands and nodding. “May you find peace.”
A steady hand reached for the crank that controlled the silver guiderails and their green tethers. He turned it slowly, loosening the lines that kept Cristina in this world. The casket began its descent, heading into the earth that would cradle it for the rest of time.
Behind it, there in the distance, stood a woman all clad in black. She stared and grinned and laughed into the wind at their plight.
Eris.
Naika bolted to her feet, shucking uncomfortable heels and leaving them in the wet grass. She ran through the shrubs that encircled the gravesite, rushing towards the woman—the monster—that had brought this disaster upon their lives. With a smile, the woman disappeared.
“Where did you run to, Eris?! Can’t you face me, or are you too afraid?!”
The Chaos Goddess reappeared, peering out from a small thick of trees, her face molded into a furious scowl. She leapt over the nearby path, sprinting for an archway that led out of the cemetery and into the woods beyond.
Naika gasped, hunching forward from the searing pain that stole her breath. Keep your arms down, she told herself, or your shoulder is going to tear open. She continued running, arms pressed into her sides, still as she could make them.
Noah was right behind her now, shouting. “Naika, where are you going?!”
She looked back over her shoulder, wide-eyed. “Eris!”
He stopped in his tracks, a calculating look on his face. “I’ll be right behind you!”
She could hear him shouting to the others, but the heartbeat that rumbled in her ears distorted the message. Eris had crossed over the street and into the woods already. She had very little time to catch up.
Just keep going, Naika. You can do it.
Within seconds, Sirus and Chier were with her, keeping pace as she moved towards the two-lane street. She panicked at the realization. “Chier, you have got to go! This is too dangerous!”
The spritely girl growled. “I’m not leaving you. I’m tired of the sidelines! Now shut it and let me help!”
Somewhere in her mind, through her ever-present desire—no, need— to protect, she was happy to hear it. Chier won’t leave me.
The traffic signals ahead all blinked yellow, a cautious beacon to those turning into and out of the Cemetery grounds. Naika slowed at the crosswalk, impatiently stamping her feet, waiting for a single delivery truck to pass. She bolted out behind it, staring at the other side with fierce determination.
“Look out!”
Bright headlights. Brake pads squealing against metal rotors. A white sport utility vehicle loomed over her, sliding to one side as its driver worked to avoid collision. She jumped ahead, throwing herself towards the empty space at the sidewalk’s edge. The SUV fishtailed hard, its back end hovering on one wheel before crashing back down moments later. Her body landed, skidding into the curb with a thud. She wheeled around, watching as the front bumper barreled toward her.
Flinching, she closed her eyes, shutting down altogether.
One moment passed, then another. No more pain, no extra pressure. She inched her heavy eyes open. The silver grille at the front of the SUV sat inches from her face, its bumper hanging limp from one side.
Shouts erupted from the other side of the vehicle. Noah was at her side, lifting her head from the concrete, his spear once again nestled against his back. Chier stood behind him, examining the rest of her body.
Dílseacht rounded the vehicle, Sirus close behind him. “Is she all right?!”
“I’m—I’m okay,” she managed to stammer out, dazed and seeing more stars than usual. In the spaces between her thoughts, Eris laughed, deep and throaty. Naika’s eyes shot open. “Eris! We have to go!”
“Do you hear that?” Sirus asked, glancing all around them.
“Yeah. It’s her. She’s calling to us, egging us on,” replied Noah, scoffing. Chier stared into the woods, confused.
“I don’t hear anything...”
“It’s us, sweetheart,” Dílseacht hefted one leg up onto the curb, leaning over his knee to catch his breath. “We aren’t Touched like they are. They could hear the Lifestream itself if they tried hard enough.”
Chier pulled her lips in, biting down on their edges. “Oh, I get it.” Her shoulders slumped as she crouched down to Naika’s side. “Well, you’ll have to tell us what to do then!”
On the count of three, the boys heaved her up from the concrete, setting her back on bare feet.
“Are you okay to go?” Noah asked, checking the grafts over Naika’s bare shoulder.
Defensively, she pulled her dress back up, covering the oozing wounds. “I’m good enough. We have to catch her before we miss our chance.”
Each of them exchanged unnerved glances.
“Fine, I’m with Miss Genley. We are coming too—as backup,” Dílseacht said, loosening the long brown topcoat from his elbows.
“This is way too dangerous! It’s over our heads already,“ Sirus stepped in to object, but was waved off in the middle of his thought.
“Then we will all be in over our heads together,” his father smiled, a rather mischievous gesture. “Just lead the way.”
He pointed into the woods. Caged construction lights lingered here and there, marking a walking trail that had only recently started to be cleared. By its completion, the surrounding grounds would be connected to the western neighboring town—something that Mayor Myers hoped would bring more people—and their money—into sleepy little Turston.
Naika closed her eyes and shuddered in frustration. “Okay! Whatever, however. Let’s just get moving.”
The group filed into the woods, Naika and Sirus at the front, Chier and Dílseacht center, and Noah—with his Gungnir and scabbard—bringing up the rear. The forest was dense all around the dirt trail; tall oaks and birches spread up into the sky, while false indigo and meadowlark forsythia dominated the ground. The foliage seemed to close in on them, chasing them, trying to catch them in their pursuit.
The echo of Eris’ laugh bounced through their skulls, shifting to one side or the other as they turned their heads. It was still distant.
“So, you pick a new hiding place everywhere you go now, huh?” Sirus asked, his voice tremulous from anxiety. He turned back to Noah, trying to stay even. They shared a smirk— far too cautious to smile.
“Yeah, it never gets left behind these days.”
Chier piped up, shrugging her shoulders. “Are we talking about the Gung—“ Her voice was suddenly muffled, her mouth cupped over by a marked hand. She followed the hand’s retreat back to Noah, who shook his head nervously. They continued on in silence.
Eris’ calls were closer now, so loud that Naika could almost hear it pinging against her eardrums. The scent of apples assaulted their senses, the smell wavering in the air so pungently that a red mist formed in its wake.
Over here, she called from one corner. Or here, from another.
All at once the sound centered, bursting forth in stereo from where they stood. The wind stilled. The surrounding trees no longer rustled. Nothing moved about them but the red mist, wavering here and there. It came together, forming the curves of a woman, twisting and transmutating until she stood before them.
Eris. Her shimmering red eyes sparkled in the dark, her dress shifting around her thighs, morphing from black to maiden white. In one hand, she held a round trinket—gold and red, the size of a baseball. She began tossing it idly into the air, seemingly bored.
“Ah, here we are again, children,” she giggled in a honeyed voice. She studied them all, a piteous and impish sneer playing across her lips. “We have Zeus, the Nobody, fresh game,” she pointed to Dílseacht and Chier, “and, oh my! The Allfather himself. Awoken and in full force, I see.”
Noah’s runes blazed in fury as he slipped the Gungnir from its sheath.
“Now where is your little helper? I had so hoped she would be here to see you fail.”
Naika mumbled a warning under her breath, pushing Chier back with one arm. “This is the end, Eris,” she snarled, throwing herself to the ground.
Sirus immediately pushed his father back, shoving him behind the thick trunk of a Mongolian oak. Chier took refuge behind Noah, hiding in the nearby silverberry bushes. Naika’s body swelled— doubling, tripling in size, morphing and snapping and willing itself to burst open. Within seconds, the Goddess of Winter stood there, her teeth bared, a fearsome roar clambering out of her throat.
Sirus flanked her to the left, Noah to the right. One danced with electricity; the other overrun by runic fire.
Lightning, ice, and flames.
Eris was taken aback, but immediately hid her fear down under pursed lips. “Huh. So the Nobody actually has a power! No wonder I couldn’t find that old, mangy bear when I slaughtered all of his little forest friends. You killed an age-old Earthen deity—seems like you and I aren’t so different.”
She flicked the trinket up onto her fingertips. It lingered there, careening over her pointed nails as she rolled her wrist. They could see it clearly now—it was an apple, the lower half a deep red, the top dripping gold, like it had been dipped into a bucket of paint and not left long enough to dry. “Hope you’re ready to join our side.”
Sirus lashed out first, sending an eruption of electricity through the wet dirt and up to her feet. Lightning bolts of every size rose up in a crown of spikes, growing higher as he held the current within himself. With a grunt, he released it, watching the lightning zip inward on itself before exploding in mid-air. Each of them tensed, waiting.
The burned circle on the ground was empty.
“Close, but not close enough,” Eris whispered in his ear.
He turned, swinging his electric fists wildly. Eris hovered, bouncing lightly, avoiding each haymaker without effort. Naika was quickly at her back, clawing at the spectre that floated between herself and Sirus. Even as she evaded them both, one swipe connected, tearing the back of Eris’ left sleeve and leaving a slight gash on her upper shoulder.
Fury flashed in her crimson eyes. The Chaos Goddess screamed, sending a blast of dark mist into the air. The specks landed on the Gods’ skin, causing it to burn and welt on impact—even Naika’s jet-black skin, hiding so far under her coat, was not immune to its effects. Their eyes stung, vision clouded red and gray. Each breath took the ashes in, making them wheeze and cough. But still, they tried to keep guard.
Noah lifted himself over Naika’s back, his knees squeezing around her heavy frame. He lifted the Gungnir high over their heads, chanting under his breath, his eyes wild and foreign. The Swaying Spear began to turn, eventually hovering over his open palms. Faster and faster it moved, until its blade and shaft were no longer discernable—just a blur of fire and metal. The wind gusted down on them, not only clearing the mist, but also knocking Chier to the ground as her silverberry hideout bent beneath its might.
He hurried down from the ashen-strewn mount, rushing towards her with the Gungnir in hand. In an instant, Eris was at Chier’s throat, holding her with one arm, apple held out in the other.
“Want to know what happens when someone crosses me, Allfather?”
She flicked a nail along the gold of the apple, sending a spray of little chips into Chier’s eyes and mouth. The goddess yanked at the girl’s throat one more time.
“They lose.”
Chier took one ragged, gasping breath, her eyes watery and red. And then, she disappeared.
The apple took on a faint, silvery glow. It shimmered in Eris’ palm, pulsing erratically before completely darkening once more. Her deep, saccharine-coated laughter resounded through the woods.
“Chier? No! What have you done to her?!”
Noah rushed the Goddess, Gungnir high above his head. Sirus and Naika were there with him, assaulting her with every ounce of their strength. Lightning struck. Claws and teeth rended and gnashed, a whirlwind of ice following their trails. A spear wielded deftly swung again and again.
None of it touched the Goddess of Chaos. She weaved through the trees, climbing higher after every attack.
Sirus called lightning from the sky, inadvertently setting fire to a small throng of bushes. Dílseacht darted from his hiding place, throwing his jacket over the flames and snuffing them out. He watched from behind the blackened brush, astonished and afraid, as the three young deities fought one that ran through all eternity.
With Eris high into the treetops, there was little Naika could do. She called for ice and snowstorms, but each one had little effect on the outcome. Sirus sent bolts as he could, but ultimately watched from the ground, helpless, as some of the trees were set ablaze. The ice calmed most of the fire, dousing the tiny fronds of heat before they could spread. Noah crouched, head bowed down onto his chest. His lips moved fervently, rushing in a tongue neither of his comrades understood.
Energy began to build around him, rattling the gravel and idle twigs nearby. The force pushed against the trees, making them pop and snap, shattering smaller branches. Naika’s body hefted against it, but the sheer pressure eventually forced her to crawl on her belly to escape the area. She roared, capturing Sirus’ attention, motioning for him to take hold of her fur. Together, they scraped along the dirt, seeking the edge of an ever-growing radius. Dílseacht waved his arms high, leading them towards the safety of normal gravity.
A shock wave sent them all flying. Landing with her back against the hollow of an oak knot, Naika followed the trail up to Noah’s body. He hung in mid-air, knees drawn up slightly, arms out as though he were balancing on the edge of his energy. Behind him, Eris convulsed, her face contorted in pain. The Gungnir hung from her collarbone, embedded so far that the shaft rested on her breast and the point could be seen long and far behind her.
She plummeted from the height like a stone into water, tumbling through outstretched branches and crashing hard into the dirt below.
Noah made a delicate descent, landing behind her with ease. He took a moment, shaking the energy away from his shoulders and out through his fingers. Spirals of black smoke wafted up and into the darkness, kindling from the searing runes across his skin.
Noticing his presence, Eris pulled herself along the dirt, gasping with each movement. “You will not take me here. This is—” she stammered, coughing up blood, “not the end, Allfather!”
She howled, deep and gravelly, and the earth opened up to receive her. As it clamped upwards around her body, she turned into a fine mist, disappearing into nothingness. The Gungnir laid on the ground, still covered in her blood.
Naika limped towards the spear, her front paw imbedded with a large, splintered branch. A faint coo escaped as she fell to the ground, her breath heavy.
“Nai! Here, stay calm, I’ll get it out...”
Noah worked at the branch, pulling gently side-to-side. The blood and swelling around the branch created a tight suction.
“If this had impaled you anywhere else, I wouldn’t touch it, I know— I know,” he reminded her, keeping the great bear calm, “but I’m more afraid to leave it in you and have you transform back...” he trailed off, fearful of where the branch might have been. “Does—would it stay in your hand? Would it move because of size and mass differences?” The bear made no attempt to reply.
The grizzly pop and slurp sounds indicated that he’d pulled the largest part of the branch out of the wound. Gingerly, he lifted against her paw, eventually getting the smaller end and its numerous twigs out of her skin. Blood gurgled out, oozing onto his hands and dripping down to his knees.
He immediately started to remove his shirt. Out of nowhere, a singed coat dropped into his lap, over the wound and into the dirt.
“Keep your shirt, son, it’s one of the only things you’ve got.”
Dílseacht had recovered, though he strained just to have his hips move heavy and tired legs. Noah wasted no time dressing the wound, wrapping it as many times as the knee-length coat would fold.
“Maybe you shouldn’t change for a while,” he urged Naika, “at least until the bleeding stops.”
He turned to Dílseacht, who had hobbled over into the woods, searching for Sirus. He found his son under a forsythia bush, its purple leaves covering most of his body. His eyes were still closed.
“Is he breathing?” Noah queried, a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Oh yeah, strongly too. He’ll be fine. Just a hard knock to his system, it seems.”
Noah nodded at the older man’s back.
“You did very well out there, Noah,” Dílseacht added, his voice both proud and tired. “Quick wit and quick action—those two will serve you well. I’m glad to see that my son is in the company of such great friends.”
“I—I don’t know how I did any of that,” Noah replied, dazed.
“You’ll learn control soon.” Dílseacht turned a keen eye on Noah, staring far past the exterior he presented. “And what have you got there?”
Noah pulled the bulging item from his back pocket. Behind his exhausted expression, he almost seemed pleased. “A little parting gift.”
In his outstretched hand sat Eris’ apple.