The bulky ornate pale wood doors parted with a massive and loud parting. It was a long rectangle room with a marble floors, pale wood bannisters, and a high ceiling. The rear of the room also lacked a true wall, instead sporting a massive balcony that overlooked the city of Connacht bellow. A single long dark green rectangular carpet with red trim and patterns covered a good portion of the floor leading to the ornate throne. Sitting proud and calmy in the thrown was a man of tall stature. Sporting nearly kept and parted reddish brown hair, copper eyes, and braided goatee. His outfit was a regale suit of green cloth and stained black leather hidden beneath a fur cloak. Flanking him on either side were guards sporting the standard uniform only with golden accents. “It’s rare for you visit me, especially at my own home.”

Killian came to a stop a couple of feet from the throne. “Business.”

“Apparently so, and not for the usual clientele.” The man smirked. “You’ve been busy- making all sorts of stops across the Isle.”

“And it appears you’ve been busy tracking me.”

“It’s hard not to old friend. Word travels fast when it comes to you- especially with what you’ve been discussing.”

“Then I suppose I can skip the details?”

“Oh no- do go over the full thing. I want to know everything.”

Killian narrowed his eyes into a glare. The man on the throne was named Eochu mac Lynn, the Lord of Connacht and the only person on the Isle that Killian loathed unconditionally. “The Keep atop the Devil’s Scar is in search of reinforcements.”

“Why?”

“They believe a Dirge’s birth draws near.”

Eochu raised a curious brow. “A Dirge? It has been almost have a millennium since the last.” Leaning back in his throne he glanced up at the ceiling. “Last one ransacked the north for months, no?”

“Yeah. Hence why they want to prepare ahead of time.”

“Do they, or do you?” He questioned while adjusting himself in his seat. Killian raised a brow which prompted a slight smile from Eochu. “I could be wrong, but isn’t your boy around that age?” Killian’s eyes sharped into a dark glare. “It’s an honest question. Are you here because of your duty, or because of your boy?” Killian stood in silence for a moment before Eochu leaned forward. “You aren’t the only one with a child there, my friend.”

“Then I’m sure you’re keen to help.”

“Not necessarily.”

Killian let a quick and confused “What?” slip out before he stop himself.

“I’m sure you’re in a similar mindset- teach them everything they need to succeed and let them fend for themselves. Triumph or fail, it’s their plight.”

“This isn’t some mindless animal-“

“Very true, if it was you’d just drive to extinction again.” Killian took a half step forward. “A Dirge is a threat wort bringing the holds together, yet I don’t see many leaping to the thought of leaving their land vulnerable to squash a potential threat.”

“So you’d like your kid die?”

“Hardly.” Eochu laughed. “I know she’ll be fine.” His smirk widened as he cast a judgmental gaze down at Killian. “What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t believe in her? I’m sure she’s already awakened by this point.”

“You know it’s not that simple.” Killian paused as he watched the overwhelming confidence on Eochu’s face look down on him. “You told her how, didn’t you?” A question Eochu answered with a slow roll of his shoulders.

“I know she’ll be fine.”

Killian stood in angered silence for a moment before twisting the topic back to the initial discussion. “Can the Scar count on Connacht’s support, or not?” The conversation was anything but enjoyable. He wasn’t surprised though, Eochu was always trying to ensure he had some way to remain on top. If he believed breaking the unspoken rules of the Fianna and the Scar, teaching about awakenings, would result in their combined supremacy- it was perfectly in line with his past actions. Despite how beautiful and ornate the former capital was, the Lord that oversaw it was a true blight.

“Of course.” He answered to the surprise of his guest. “I just craved a bit of small talk. What kind of Lord would I be if I didn’t put the safety of the Isle and it’s people above all else?” Killian didn’t trust him, or his supposed reasoning. Eochu had to scheming, he just knew it. “Simply instruct the Warden to send a messenger with the time and location he needs warm bodies. I’m sure my people will be elated to fend off a Dirge.”

“Of course!” The two guards chimed in unison.

“I’ll be off then.” Killian turned and began to walk to the door, stopping as it opened to show a single guard.

“A gift.” Eochu answered the unspoken question. “It would be rude to not send you off without some of our famous wine.” Killian bit his lip and retrieved the bottle, answering with a simple.

“Thanks.”

“One last question before you leave.” Killian turned slightly, annoyed but cooperative nonetheless. “When both of them make it out, I would love for them to meet. Good friends are scarce, and I’m sure they would hit it off.” Eochu drummed his fingers against the armrest. “My little Medb is an angel, after all.”

Rhiannon and Mona walked silently back towards the camp. They had scowered the trail, tracks, and areas surrounding. Upon reaching the clearing where the tracks terminated, Rhiannon began inspecting the surrounding trees and rocks while Mona examined the clearing itself. Despite how skepticle Mona had been in Rhiannon’s ability of smell, she was faced with the harsh realization that the girl was indeed correct. They simply vanished. Mona had even worringly expressed the possibility that Singers might have already gotten to the bodies, but Rhiannon mentioned it takes time for them to digest. There would be evidence of Singers, and there was simply none to be found. It was a perplexing situation and neither had a good theory to run on.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

As a result the treck back was akward silence as the two girls both were trying to ponder possibilities but not sound foolish to the other. “Maybe they already returned… You know, while we were gone?”

“Doubtful.” Rhiannon answered dryly. Her eyes briefly glansed to Mona and noticed the pure emotional turmoil the girl was going through. Her hands tightened. “However-” She forced a small smile. “They very well might have.”

Mona turned to Rhiannon and smiled. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed, and the awkward air that the two had experienced the whole day was at least, for the moment, lessened. Realizing they had no food for the night, the two made a quick stop at the creek the trail passed over and Mona watched Rhiannon quickly catch a handful of fish. “How?” Mona pondered internally. Her movements seemed just as otherworldly as her appearance at times, and the girl couldn’t help but question just how a normal person could do what she did. Her team would spend hours, if not the whole day, procuring the same amount of food Rhiannon did in less than half an hour.

After acquiring the fish, the two returned to their silent walk and pushed through the treeline and froze. Rhiannon dropped the fish while Mona charged forward. “I knew it!” Mona shouted as she charged forward and leapt into Grians arms.

“Something happen?” He asked with a smile.

“Well duh! We’ve been worried sick searching for you all day! Where did you go!?” Her voice cracked at various points while she tried to fight back the tears of joy.

“We got a little lost.” Another voice emanated from the cave, jerking Rhiannon's attention to it.

“How…” She muttered under her breath.

Pulling himself from the cave, Kieren gave a big smile and a wave. “Sorry ‘bout that!”

Rhiannon blinked, then closed and opened her eyes. Her vision wasn’t confused, but every other sense fought back against what her eyes told her. With her body unable to agree on who this was, her eyes eventually won, forcing a single word from her lips: “Kieren…”

“Rhiannon…” Kieren tossed a ball at his bedroom wall. “Why can’t I get her name out of my head?” His words were soft. Typically, he wouldn’t speak this out loud, choosing instead to internalizing it. Yet here, in his current state, he felt incredibly off. Thunk. His red rubber bouncing ball no bigger than the palm of his hand hit the wall, then the hardwood floor, and then back into his hand. It was a routine toss and routine akin to a boomerang. The beats were like a metronome, helping his thoughts remain steady while he tried desperately to sort through them.

Something was wrong, that was plain as day, but what? He had brief spats of déjà vu before, but never this intense. “Wait…” Another word slipped as the ball came careening back into his hand. “Have I?” He froze, clutching the ball tightly. He was always bad with exact dates, but now just trying to recall memories felt like he was walking in a fog. They would appear, but even the action of recalling something that happened the previous week was incredibly difficult. Closing his eyes Kieren let out a deep breath. There was a growing doubt, a sinking feeling that set his heart deep bellow the earth.

He had to test something.

The only person he could trust was Grian, and if he was wrong about his outlandish theory then he could laugh it off. He set the ball on the bed and unlocked his phone. Holding it to his ear he listened the dial tone and rummaged through his drawer for a pen and paper. “Hey…?” Grian’s tired and groggy voice answered.

“Where are yah?”

“It’s the middle of the night… I’m in my room.”

Kieren took a deep breath and pressed his pen to his paper. “I have a question, and it’s kinda weird.”

Answering through a yawn, Grian replied with a simple: “What’s up?”

“When did we meet?” Kieren immediately began to write on the paper, trudging through the mental mud for each letter.

To Kieren’s scared delight there was only silence at first. “Yeah, that’s a weird one.” He answered. “I’m trying to remember, but I think it was like…. Freshman year?”

“Freshman year?”

“Yeah, that seems right. Bit of a blur. You making a scrapbook or something?”

“Nah, I’ll show you late. Sorry I woke you up.”

“No biggy, cya tomorrow.”

The line went dead and Kieren lowered the phone before gently placing it on the bed. The test he had conducted was a simple recollection one. If both the boys came to a similar answer, he would be confident in saying his feeling was more akin to paranoia and he should try and sleep it off for the time being. Interestingly, it seemed like Grian was also struggling to recall as well. “Freshman year…” Kieren gave a chuckle while he spun the pen between his fingers. “Freshman year… huh?”

From downstairs the doorbell rang, jerking his attention from the book. “This late?”

His question was quickly answered by his father. “Mind getting that? A little busy!”

“Sure!” Kieren tossed his pen onto the notebook, gave it one final worried look, and jumped off the bed and moved out of the room. There alone in the room with a long pen on it, was a page of notebook paper with a single sentence on it. ‘A month ago, during a storm.’

Jogging down the stairs in socks, a pair of black shorts, and blue shirt, he poked his head into the living room. Lights were all on, and no sign of his dad. Raising a brow Kieren took a few steps in, still unable to catch a glimpse of his dad. Wanting to keep searching, he stopped when the knocks rang out again. With a sigh he returned to the door. “Who’s there?”

Knock knock.

Kieren furrowed his brow. “Who’s. There.”

Knock knock.

Growing more annoyed Kieren looked through the peephole to the site of endless darkness. “Are they covering it?” He mumbled.

Knock knock.

“Kieren!” Killian’s voice rang out from up the stairs.

Kieren pushed the handle down to open the door before realizing the origin of his dad’s voice. “How-“ He turned his head to look up the stairs before the cold rush of air crashed against his body. “Shit-“ He turned back, knowing he had opened the door, and froze. That lone moment expanded into what felt like hours. His mind raced, trying desperately to understand what he was looking at. It seemed so normal, and yet deep, deep, down he knew this wasn’t possible. Every doubt he had, every last panicked fear of dread that had been cultivated since that chance meeting in the morning, came to a grand and eruptive climax. Before the figure could even speak Kieren let a single word, no, a single word escape:

“Mom…?”