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“The Shepherd told me you would be out here doing the darkness’s bidding.” He released her mouth, likely expecting her to explain herself or grovel at his feet.
“Seamus you fool! Do you wish to draw the attention of what lurks in these very woods on the night of the fall blood moon? Have you no sense?” Etain whisper-yelled at the foolish man.
“I do not fear your devil worship you evil woman! How dare you speak to me in such a way! I am righteous in the light and you would do well to remember I am a man and therefore your master!” Seamus boomed into the suddenly deathly silent woods.
Etain thought he must truly have gone mad. “Seamus, I do not worship any such devil nor are you or any man my master, you pathetic little worm. Have you truly forgotten the old ways – the things that prey upon humans? You would happily announce our location on a night like tonight when the veil is so thin? You have likely called all manor of magical folk to our exact location. Can you not feel the eyes upon us? Unhand me this instant. We must flee. Now!” she said as quietly as her rage and panic would allow.
There were still many things she needed to harvest tonight, but Seamus had successfully ruined that. The feeling something was coming grew inside her chest alongside her panic and her intuition to flee. Something powerful and wicked was nearly upon them, Etain was certain of it. They needed to move now, and even then it was likely too late. Etain opened her mouth to say this to Seamus as she tried to break free from his grasp.
“You are going nowhere you demon whore, and you will mind that vile tongue!” Seamus said as he roughly threw Etain to the forest floor, immediately kicking her hard in the stomach. “I have been patient with you, Etain. I have tried to bring you into the light of God and save you from your dark magic ways. I will now have to purge you of the devil and fill you with God’s light,” he said as he kicked her again and again.
Etain felt ribs crack. She had never truly feared Seamus until this moment.
“I will beat the Devil out of you, then you will submit to be my wife, wicked woman!” He yelled as he climbed on top of her and grabbed her by the throat. His hand wrapped all but completely around her neck; he was significantly larger than her. He began to apply pressure and it became impossible to pull air into her battered lungs.
Etain kicked her legs and flailed her arms in an attempt to dislodge her attacker. Darkness began to creep into the sides of her vision. She felt her arms and legs begin to go limp while Seamus began to pull her dress up around her waist.
“You will submit, and I will fill you with my seed of light to cleanse the evil from your womb of darkness!” He released the pressure around her neck and she gasped in a desperately needed breath.
She croaked out a soft scream as Seamus began to try to remove her undergarments.
He struck her hard across the face, and Etain could not help the tears that began to fall from her eyes.
“Seamus please, do not do this. Oh goddess, please!” Etain cried out in her shattered voice, her fear and desperation clearly evident.
“There is but one God you stupid whore,” he said while striking her a few more times across her face. “If this does not purge the evil from you, I will have no choice but to tie you to a stake and burn you myself!”
Etain knew Seamus had become enthralled with the Shepherd, but she was shocked by how different he was compared to the boy he used to be. She thought that boy would be mortified at the older version of himself.
Seamus went to strike Etain again, but he was suddenly removed from atop her body. As the darkness began to take Etain, she could have sworn a prince of darkness had come to her rescue. Seamus must have hit her head much harder than she thought, because that made no sense to her. This was her last coherent thought as the pain and darkness finally took her to sweet oblivion.
The hunt was turning out to be a complete waste of time for Ciaran and he could only hope Kes was having as little luck as he was. The last thing he wished to do was listen to the insufferable gloating of his cousin. At this point, any prey would be interesting compared to his complete lack thereof.
He had followed the pull in his chest that began immediately after crossing the veil to this exact location. He was beginning to think the Many Faced Goddess was playing a hateful trick upon him once again. Ciaran was considering returning when he heard the bellowing of what he thought might be a madman doing some ridiculous human thing. A madman would be rather fascinating indeed. Ciaran began to silently stalk his prey, finally having a true hunt.
As he closed in on the location, his excitement grew when he noticed his prey was nowtwohumans! He casually leaned against a tree and crossed his arms as he settled in for a show. The violence humans enacted upon each other was something Ciaran was always happy to watch.
The second human looked to be either a small woman or possibly a child. Something inside of him began to unfurl, and that thing he had been feeling in his chest grew stronger as he heard the second human speak. The feeling made him shift uncomfortably against the tree.
“...can you not feel the eyes upon us? Unhand me this instant, we must flee now!” The woman, not a child after all, said in a much quieter voice.
At least one of them had the good sense to not draw unwanted attention from the fae roaming the woods. Unfortunately for them, but lucky for him, his attention had already been garnered.
He contemplated the cause of the pull in his chest while shifting against the tree again, feeling restless. It had practically dragged him through the woods to find the two humans who fought in front of him. It was not something he had felt before, and it was mildly unsettling. He would have to think about it later, for now, he was enjoying the performance in front of him.
The small woman had a sharp tongue indeed, making a mischievous grin cut across Ciaran’s face. He thought she might hold her own in his court. He couldn’t help but wonder if these humans would hold the key to fulfilling his prophecy. He knew it was likely false hope.
Ciaran watched as the man roughly threw the woman to the ground and kicked her hard in the stomach. Normally Ciaran would feel nothing watching such a show. If anything he would typically feel excited by such a violent display. Something began to twist inside his chest as he watched the much larger man strike the small woman. When the man began to make it clear his intentions were to take what he wanted from the woman against her will, Ciaran had no choice but to step in. The thing in his chest demanded it, and he didn’t seem to have any control over the deep desire to harm the man. Not even the fae would take without consent. The fae are known to trick and even manipulate to get what they want, but at the very least, they offer the illusion of consent.
He could not understand what this burning in his chest was, but he could not stomach the violence against this woman any longer. He thought it strange for he was no hero, yet the need to protect this woman intensified. In a blink, Ciaran crossed the remaining distance between him and his prey. He picked the man up off the woman and tossed him several feet into the base of a tree.
“As much as I typically delight in a good show of wicked violence, that was rather crass don’t you think?” Ciaran asked the man who was slowly picking himself up. “You are a rather large man, and she is a rather small woman – seems hardly like a fair fight. Perhaps you would enjoy a match against someone closer to your own size?”
Truthfully, Ciaran was at least a head taller, plus the added advantage of being fae made it impossible for it to be a fair fight between the man and himself. Not that he was ever one to fight fair anyway.
“What dark magic is this?” the man said as he finally came fully to his feet and stood up.
Ciaran knew what was coming, and he could barely contain his excitement. When the man finally laid eyes on Ciaran, it took him a breath or two to truly understand he was not hallucinating. Ciaran let his grin stretch into a too-wide smile that clearly marked him as ‘other,’ showed off his particularly long sharp incisors, and counted down from three in his head.
