Page 72 of Crownless Heirs

“We have to be careful of them.. of the gods.” Her voice trailed off as the sounds of birds chirping returned, the drone of insects and animals scurrying filling the silence.

And in the midst of it all was Sorcha, a storm coiled in silence. The gods watched from their heights, some turning their backs on a war they deemed beneath them, others stirring at last for the children they never claimed.

Maelan and Kyron following behind her. The land was an endless sea of waves, the hills relentless as they climbed. Maelan stood at the top of another hill and looked outward, his nose twitching, his body beginning to shake and tremble as he hunched forward.

Like the wolves of the Ossory Maelan shifted, emerging as a cat once again. In his larger jaguar like form, his two tails whipped behind him. Noctis jumped around Maelan, excited and playful.

“No, no, Noctis.”

Noctis stopped and sat with an exaggerated thud as she huffed. Sorcha and Kyron let out a laugh as Maelan tried to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, girl. I’m not an actual cat.”

Noctis just huffed again and turned her back to him.

Maelan turned to Sorcha. “I think she’s upset with me.”

“Why did you change?” She asked.

“I think there’s a fairy mound nearby. I need to track it better.” Maelan’s whiskers twitched in rhythm with his ears, and he began chasing a scent none of them could follow.

Walking behind Maelan as he moved swiftly down the hill, they watched him bound into the woods toward what looked like the entrance to another bog. Large willows bent forward, their indigo and rose quartz leaves drifting lazily in the breeze as small lightning bugs darted about, dancing around flowers of violet and turquoise.

The sun was high in the sky now, and shards of light shimmered across the land. Maelan carefully moved about until he reached an odd mound beneath one of the willows. This willow was larger than the rest, possibly hundreds of years old, judging by its sheer size. Maelan shifted again, his fae form emerging fully as he locked eyes with Sorcha.

“It’s here.”

32

Iron and Stone

Within moments he was Maelan again. He placed his forehead and hand against the old willow and whispered, “Kind keeper of paths unseen, grant me passage through your timeworn veil, that I may walk where few remember.”

The willow quivered in response. Its bark pulsed faintly, and the earth groaned as the mound began to split. Roots pulled back in a slow, deliberate motion, revealing a narrow entrance carved deep into the ground. The air that rose from it was thick with the scent of moss, minerals and sweet honey.

Maelan gave a slight nod of thanks to the willow and gestured for them to follow.

Sorcha lingered at the edge. Her fingers skimmed the bark, still warm beneath her touch. A quiet heaviness settled in her chest. She had longed for Eadartha. The village paths worn smooth by familiar feet, the rhythm of voices she’d known since childhood, the morning mist curling over the hills like a memory. She had missed the beauty of it all. But this place had taken root in her, too.

Ahead, Kyron waited beside Maelan. Noctis sat just beyond the threshold, ears flicking in quiet patience. They were all watching her and waiting. She looked back once more and then, with a steady breath, she stepped forward. The entrance rumbled, and with a final groan; the Otherworld slipped from view.

They walked through the passage; the earth shifting beneath their feet as the scent of moss gave way to iron and coal. Stone steps climbed upward, opening into a range of mountains stretched wide across the horizon. The clang of hammers against rock, the screech of wheels on tracks, and voices shouting orders echoed through the air ahead.

They emerged from the shadows and found themselves in the heart of a mining operation. Sorcha knew they were back in Eadartha and, more specifically, where they’d landed.

“The willow landed us in Ironridge,” she said as she stepped forward, taking in the world's familiarity. She knew its monsters and dangers; the relief of it all washing over her.

Suddenly, the weight of weeks past hit her all at once. It was spring, mid-day, and although only a short time had passed in the Otherworld, it had been months in Eadartha.

Her head began to whirl. Dizzy and off-kilter, her body felt heavier and harder to move. Kyron stepped forward and placed a hand on her back. “It’s just the shift between realms. It’ll wear off.”

Sorcha nodded and turned, but Noctis was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Noctis?”

A large black wolf lunged out of the shadows, knocking her flat to the ground. She gasped, bracing for teeth but only to be met with a rough tongue licking her face.

“Noctis?!”