Page 44 of The Last Kelpie

Caelum stood a few feet away, one hand resting on Zephyr's head. I hadn't heard him approach. Tiny flowers bloomed around his bare feet.

“I didn't hear you,” I said stupidly.

“Most people don't.” He smiled. It was a gentle expression, but there was something ancient in his eyes. This man had seen centuries pass, many of them spent in mourning. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

Caelum moved to stand beside me, his hand settling next to mine on the oak's trunk. For a moment we stood in silence, and I had the strange sensation that the tree was listening to us.

“You're troubled,” Caelum said. It wasn't a question.

“This is my first assignment, my chance to prove I can be one of you, and I feel like I'm floundering. I thought I would go to Scotland and save a myth. I thought I'd be sharing Áedán's stories with others, not uncovering mysteries.” I lowered my hand. “The changed stories, the spiral in the water, and now the note in Velas's journal. I know it's all connected, but I can't figure it out.”

“Neither can I.” Caelum looked down at the base of the tree before lowering his hand. “There's a reason the stories changed so drastically, and I suspect you're right about the spiral being connected. It reeks of magic, but I don't know if it's an attack against Áedán or the result of something else. I don't know why anyone would want to alter stories about a myth.”

“To make the myth fade faster? If people only remember kelpies as monsters—”

“Then they're harder to believe in. Good is easier to believe in than evil. Many Christians believe fervently in their god, but as for the devil, they say they believe, but they don't really. They scoff at people who say they're possessed and comfort their children by saying the devil doesn't exist. No one wants to live in fear.” Caelum turned to face me. “Yes, that's one possibility. But there are others.”

“Do you think—” I started, then stopped. The kiss kept replaying in my mind. The way Áedán had looked at me afterward. The way my heart had felt too large for my chest.

Caelum watched me with knowing eyes. “You're distracted.”

“I'm sorry.” I didn't know how to explain it. “A lot's happening. It's why I came out here. I needed to clear my head.”

He smiled, but it was bittersweet. “Áedán is remarkable, isn't he?”

Heat flooded my face. “I, well, uh, yes. He is.”

“Velas would have liked him too.” Caelum's hand went to the trunk again and moved over the bark. “My Velas used to say that myths deserve to live as much as humans do. He believed we should forge our own futures, separate from what humans believed of us.”

“That's why you formed the Velasca, isn't it? To give other myths the freedom to live as they choose.”

“Yes, that and to honor the man I loved.” Caelum looked up into the branches. “But sometimes I wonder if we've become too moored in our past to help myths live in the present.”

“Then you don't think that preserving the stories is enough?”

Caelum went quiet and lowered his hand. A breeze moved through the oak's branches, making them whisper. “No, we need to do more than preserve the stories, and we have done more. We've ensured that the myths are told and shared. We ensure that they live in people's hearts and minds, not just in archives.” He looked at me. “But we need to do even more now. I just don't know what.”

I nodded slowly. I didn't know what to say. But I knew I had to stop Áedán from fading. And to do that, I had to figure out what had changed his stories and why. I had to give Áedán a future because I desperately wanted to be a part of it.

“You're afraid.” Caelum cocked his head at me, and a shaft of sunlight caught in his hair, bringing the auburn to blazing life.

“I'm afraid I won't be enough. That I can't—” I gestured helplessly. “Áedán has survived six centuries. He's powerful and magical. How am I supposed to save someone like that? What could I possibly offer him?”

Caelum's smile was soft. “Ethan, myths save Velascans as often as Velascans save myths. Perhaps more often. We are not the only ones doing the rescuing.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will.” He patted the oak tree once more. “Velas saved me when I was fading. But I saved him too, in my own way. We saved each other. That's how love works.”

He said it so casually. Love. But just hearing the word made me nervous. Áedán couldn't possibly fall in love with me. I wasn't special enough for someone like him. He was lonely. That's why he kissed me. That's why he wanted more. But once we stopped him from fading, he'd have more options. He'd want to be with someone more like himself. I shouldn't get attached.

“I should let you think.” Caelum stepped away. “But, Ethan, don't be afraid of what you're feeling. I built the Velasca on a foundation of love. It's our greatest strength.”

I stood under the oak tree, my mind spinning. Zephyr had curled up on the roots, but watched me. I stared back at him, a mythical creature who had become real to me. As real as the last kelpie.

I touched the oak tree one more time in farewell, then started back down the hill. The estate spread out before me, beautiful in the morning light. I could see people moving through the gardens, hear the distant sound of Brannoc's hammer from the smithy. Somewhere, Áedán was playing chess with Zoe—one myth challenging another.