Thick frost had already congealed to the door as I rushed into the night, leaving Glyn in the hut behind me. Pale blue light formed the shape of a young woman, with long hair flowing around her.

She floated toward the hut. I slashed with my sword, however the blade met nothing but chill air. The blue figure continued on her path, no faster or slower than before, creeping closer to her destination.

“Bring peace to the lost lambs.”

If my sword couldn’t hurt her, then I would see if the light of the Silver Champion would. A tiny spark lit the runes of my blade, yet there was still no effect on the banshee.

“Tear out the fangs of the lion.”

Prayers to the Silver Champion filled my soul. No templar in recorded history had ever summoned silver flames to their blade before my fight with the duke. I needed those flames again.

“Crush the head of the treacherous viper.”

Even without the sacred flames, I continued to hack away at the pale ghost. Her feet stepped over the threshold and into the hut. Glyn stood in front of her, his image distorted as if looking through blue glass.

The banshee screamed, forcing the healer to his knees. Why wouldn’t my sword ignite? I closed my eyes and begged all three goddesses for help, hoping one would listen to my plea. Still nothing but normal light touched the silver runes.

Despair threatened victory as I helplessly watched Glyn writhing on the ground. The banshee’s wails drown out my own screams of frustration. I focused on the fear, and let the memories of being inches from death fill me. The memories burst into an image of silver flames, feeding from a pool of my terror and rage.

My battle cry ripped through the air, while silver flames wrapped themselves around my blade. For the first time, the apparition noticed me and halted its actions. She turned to face me.

Visible waves of sound rippled from her open mouth, speeding toward me. On instinct I cut the air in front of me then watched as the wave shattered in around me.

My sword pierced her heart with a lunge through the doorway. The edge met no resistance passing through her, but the flames spread quickly to engulf her from the inside out.

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Her scream lingered in the smoke that replaced pale light before drifting away. Within moments the warm humid air of the grove returned, driving the frost from the walls.

My sword clattered to the ground as I rushed to Glyn. His chest rose with slow, shallow breaths. Heat pulsed against my fingertips as I brushed them against his forehead.

He was much lighter than I had expected, making it easy to move him to the bed, but plagued me with further worry over his health. His skin was paler than the linens that I used to cover him.

Time was running out. With the help of his medical journal I was able to work on making the potion that cured him the time before. For once, the memory of the púca’s nagging voice was a blessing, and the steps required to prepare the tonic went smoothly. It wasn’t long before the bitter smelling liquid ran down Glyn’s throat.

Shallow breaths deepened, and his temperature cooled a little, though it was still warm. My only hope lay in the remedy just needing more time to work. I retrieved my sword before I sat next to him.

“That won’t be enough mister.” That voice was no longer a blessing. “It might make master stable for a day, but the banshee will be back tomorrow night.”

“Then I’ll drive her away again.”

“Next time she won’t be taking her time. She’s not very good with surprises, but she has a whole day to think of how to deal with you.” His little chuckle filled the room. “You can’t even stop me.”

Dark fur melted into the shadows, leaving only his beady eyes to stalk the room. The eyes blinked shut for a moment, and when they reopened he was already halfway toward the comatose healer.

My slash tore into the cushion laying on the floor, but met only air where the eyes floated and giggled. Fear ran through me, but my focus weakened. Shadows stretched and spun together next to Glyn’s face, forming a black rabbit.

“You see mister? You’re going to fail.”

No matter how many fowl words erupted from my mouth, I couldn’t change the fact that the púca was right. The goddesses granted me a unique power, yet I was far from mastering it. There was nothing I could do to save the fairy counting on my protection.

Silence descended on the room, even the púca remained quiet. There had to be something I could do. I needed to stop looking at my faults and start looking for the path to victory. If it was going to take a miracle to save Glyn, then I would find a miracle.

“Hey pipsqueak, was Duke Morfran really searching for Ghrian in these mountains?” My sword slid back into its sheath, and I sat down.

“Tuatha Dé Aynia won’t meet with someone as rude as you.” His fur puffed up as he spoke. The strange name put me off a bit, but it made sense the aes sídhe had different names for the goddesses. “The Oillipheist will gobble you up first.”

“Trying to trick me with a children’s story?” Witches being burned would sometimes invoke the name of the Oillipheist, calling on the beast to come save them. The creature didn’t exist anywhere in the history tomes, aside from those last words of desperate aes sídhe.

Legends gave different descriptions of the beast. Some portrayed it as one of the wild aes sídhe. Others said it was the first of the fairy folk to walk the land and the wisest of the ancient aes sídhe. It took many forms throughout the different tales, which were as plentiful as there were mothers wishing to scare their children into behaving.

“If you manage to find the right mountain, you’ll see your children’s story for a few moments.” The rabbit raised its hind leg to scratch behind its ear.

“If you help me find it, you’ll get to watch it gobble me up.” Black ears perked straight up, and a smile matched the brightness shining in his tiny eyes.

“You’re right mister. I’ll wake you up at sunrise so you have the energy to run and scream a bit before it chomps you.”