Several hours after Simon had left for the forge, a familiar yowl sounded from outside, muffled through the thick wooden door. Amriel barely had time to unlatch it before Meeko strode in, his tail high, a distinct air of triumph in his step. Between his sharp teeth, he carried the limp, headless body of a rabbit.
“Oh, lovely,” Amriel muttered, half amused, half exasperated.
Meeko dropped his prize at her feet, then let out a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated against her legs. He twined around her calves, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her trousers. She sighed, the simple act of touch grounding her more than she cared to admit.
“Yes, you did great. Thank you,” she said, scratching behind his tufted ears. His silver eyes narrowed in satisfaction before flicking past her, landing on the man in her cot.
Meeko’s tail lowered slightly, his head dipping as he prowled forward, large paws soundless on the hardwood floor. He circled the unconscious stranger, pausing every so often to sniff at the bandages.
Amriel folded her arms and watched, intrigued. Meeko was generally a good judge of character. If he had sensed something was wrong with the man, she would have known by now. Instead, after a few more moments of silent scrutiny, Meeko stretched luxuriously and padded off toward the sunbeam filtering through the window, curling up without another glance.
Simon had kept his promise. Together, they’d managed to move the cot nearer to the fireplace and, with great care, positioned the patient onto the bed, his slumber undisturbed save for a few mumbled words that slipped from his lips as they lifted him.
That had been hours ago. Now, he was still. Breathing steadily, but too still.
Amriel let out a breath, rubbing her arms as if to dispel a chill that wasn’t really there. She’d thought about showing Simon the arrows, but something had stopped her. Honestly, she feared her friend might leap to the same conclusion she had, and who knew how Simon might react. Amriel’s father, albeit broken, had come home from the war with the fallen angel all those years ago. Simon’s father had not.
Better to wait.
Shaking the thought away, she bent down, scooping up Meeko’s unfortunate gift. Stepping outside, she welcomed the crisp air as it wrapped around her, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. The storm had passed, but the ground still bore signs of its fury—mud clung to her boots as she walked toward the side of the cottage, where a sturdy bench waited beneath the overhanging roof.
She set to work breaking down the rabbit, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. The task was familiar, almost meditative, but her mind refused to quiet.
The tome. The prophecy. The words that had burned themselves into her thoughts ever since she first read them.
“When the last of the Starlight Witches falls, the door to Eternity will open.”
She had spent years studying magic at the Academy, surrounded by witches, learning their histories and their ways. But never—not once—had she heard of a Starlight Witch.
The question gnawed at her.
She needed answers.
Amriel wiped her knife clean and exhaled, her decision made.
Tomorrow, after class, she would go to the Witches’ Tower.
After cutting off a portion for Meeko, she wrapped the rest in cloth and stored it in the cool storage beneath the cottage. Perhaps she would take it with her to the Halivards tonight, a gesture of goodwill.
Making her way back around to the front of the cottage, she heard a cheerful knock at her door. Rounding the corner, she came face to face with Niamh.
Dressed in a flowing green skirt and a light wool jacket, Niamh carried an empty basket in her hands, with a backpack slung casually across her back.
Holding up her wicker basket, Niamh smiled brightly. “Fancy a trip to the market?”
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“Well, I can see why you let him in,” Niamh said, staring down at the man sleeping in front of the hearth.
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The warm, crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the small cottage as Niamh and Amriel stood side by side, mirroring the earlier scene when Simon had been there.
“I can’t approve, mind you, but I can definitely understand.” Niamh continued. She balanced her basket on her hip while her dark red hair cascaded down her back in loose waves. Her gaze remained fixed on the sleeping figure, taking in his rugged features and tousled dark hair.
Amriel shot her friend a sideways look, but Niamh’s focus remained fixed on the sleeping figure.
Meeko, having just awoken from his nap, stretched lazily before winding his way around the legs of both women, purring contentedly. Amriel chuckled softly, reaching down to scratch him behind his large, tufted ears. Niamh followed suit, her fingers gently combing through the soft fur. The cat settled himself comfortably between them, basking in their attention.
Niamh tilted her head as she studied the slumbering man on the cot. “I must say, he is quite handsome,” she remarked with a hint of admiration.
Amriel couldn’t help but playfully chide her friend, raising an eyebrow. “Niamh! What would Simon say?”
The man lay motionless, his features softened in slumber, the gentle rise and fall of his chest creating a steady, rhythmic melody that filled the otherwise quiet room.
Niamh shrugged, her voice holding a mischievous lilt, “You know he would probably agree with me,” she replied. “Married or not, it doesn’t change the fact that this ones got the dark and handsome look down pat. With a mysterious edge to boot. I probably would have let him in too.”
To be completely honest, Amriel hadn’t really paid much attention to the man’s physical appearance. When he first arrived on her doorstep, he had been someone in need of her help. Nothing else mattered except for that. But now, as she stole glances at him, she couldn’t deny the allure of his striking features
“Niamh!” Amriel feigned a gasp of indignation before chuckling softly, her gaze lingering on the man. “I suppose there is something intriguing about him. But let’s not get carried away. He’s still a stranger.”
“True, but a dangerously handsome one,” Niamh insisted playfully. “Just imagine the stories he must have. The kind of trouble that comes with a face like that.”
“Or the kind of trouble I might have invite by taking him in,” she countered, but couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips.
Niamh sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart in mock despair. “You’re no fun, Amriel. But I’ll behave. For now.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Amriel smiled softly.
“I’m guessing Simon already gave you a lecture?” Niamh asked, her eyes flickering over Amriel at her side.
Nodding, Amriel replied, “Of course. As if he would miss a chance to lecture me.”
“It’s only because he loves you,” Niamh said softly. “And I love that he does because it saves me from having to do it.”
Amriel felt a pang of guilt, but understood her friend’s perspective. However, Amriel couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something more to this man than meets the eye. She had seen the vulnerability when she looked into his eyes. There was a hidden pain that resonated with her own.
“I know it may seem reckless,” Amriel admitted, her voice steady but laced with determination. The faintest blush tinged her cheeks as she avoided Niamh’s gaze. “But there’s something about him, Niamh.”
The late morning sun streamed through the small, wooden-framed windows of the cabin, casting long, golden streaks on the dirt floor.
Niamh’s sharp eyes sparkled with mischief as she tilted her head, feigning deep contemplation. “That he is devastatingly handsome? That much I can see, Riel,” she teased, her lips curling into a sly smirk. She leaned over and gave Amriel a playful nudge with her elbow.
Amriel rolled her eyes, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “You’re terrible,” she retorted, shaking her head as her friend’s laughter filled the small cottage. Despite her exasperation, Amriel couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of comfort in Niamh’s playful banter.
Niamh’s expression softened, and she reached out to gently touch Amriel’s arm. “But in all seriousness, be careful, Riel,” she said, her tone more serious now. Her gaze held Amriel’s firmly. “I can’t lose you. Nor can Simon. Never hesitate to ask us for help.”
Amriel’s chest tightened, her heart swelling with gratitude. She placed her hand over Niamh’s and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you,” she murmured sincerely, her voice barely above a whisper. “So, did Simon tell you he was spending the night?”
“He mentioned it when he swung by the house. There is not a chance are you spending another night alone with this man,” Niamh declared with a knowing nod. "Even if he is incredibly handsome."
Amriel’s laughter bubbled out, her earlier tension easing. “You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “Meeko caught a rabbit this morning,” Amriel said, glancing down at the cat with a fond smile. “Shall I bring it for dinner?”
At the mention of his name, the forest cat sitting between the two women began purring loudly. Clearly proud he was a provider.
Niamh’s eyes lit up. “That would be lovely, Riel. And, as the mighty provider, Meeko is welcome as the guest of honor, of course.”
At this, Meeko rose gracefully and strode over to the door, his movements almost regal. He glanced back at the women, his large, expressive eyes speaking volumes. A soft chirp escaped his throat, and he tapped the door lightly with his paw.
“I think someone’s telling us we need to get a move on,” Niamh said, chuckling. “We’d better listen, or the market will be emptied before we get there.”
Amriel grabbed her shawl from its hook by the door, her eyes lingering for a moment on the man sleeping peacefully on the couch. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and a faint furrow in his brow softened as he shifted slightly in his sleep. With a quiet sigh, she turned back to Niamh.
“Ready?” Niamh asked, already holding the door open.
Amriel nodded, stepping out into the warm embrace of the morning sun. The soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves welcomed them as they followed Meeko down the path toward the village, their laughter carrying through the crisp air.