Page 76 of The Forever Queen

“By the Forge,” Dorkoth’s eyes widened with horror, watching as Aisling’s magic pressed a blade to his tavern’s throat. Its spirit screamed, burning alive.

The three remaining spirits grabbed Aisling as she was halfway out the window, knees bruised on the metal edge of the sill. The sorceress lit with fire and unsheathed Sarwen from her back. Two of the spirits flew away, but the third held his grip, digging his rough fingers into her skin.

Anduril frothed at the mouth, gleaming brightly as it reclaimed Aisling’s body for its own and swung her arms.

Sarwen cut through the air with unique precision. The sorceress made a ribboned mess of the remaining spirits—her ears numb to their pain-ridden screams as they begged for mercy just before meeting the sharp edge of Sarwen.

“Follow us,” Lir said. “And we’ll not spare you a second time.” He held one of his axes to Dorkoth’s bobbing neck, holding him from behind. He shoved Dorkoth off and away, narrowing his eyes as Flasing’s child stumbled.

“You’ll bring death to the Sidhe!” Dorkoth screamed as Aisling and Lir slipped out the window and into the night. “Your father will find you, faerie, and the whole of the Forge will pay!”

Flasing’s cradle hummed like a harp string plucked, echoing between the caverns of creation. It smelled of raw minerals, of stardust, and of the beginning of time. The stars above glittering proudly at the sharp peaks Aisling and Lir wove through, their feet quick and nimble despite growing exhaustion.

After several hours, Dorkoth’s tavern was a distant ember still shaking with the remnants of a celebration. Nevertheless, Dorkoth didn’t follow—most likely licking his wounds and preventing Aisling’s flames from devouring his home fully.

“Let’s rest for a while,” Lir said, pausing at an intersection between mountains.

“After,” Aisling said. “Eogi is close. I can feel it.”

“You always say that,” he said. “But eventually, your body won’t be able to fight.”

“With Anduril I cannot lose,” Aisling said. The belt beamed with pride, flashing extra bright whilst in Lir’s presence.

“Aisling.” Lir grabbed Aisling’s wrist and held it gently but firmly. The sorceress hesitated, the memory of their kiss lingering on her lips even now. Herdraiochtprickled with excitement the moment their eyes reconnected.

Aisling opened her mouth to speak.

“I—” She was stopped short.

A shadow drifted by in the corner of her eye. Aisling reacted immediately, drawing Sarwen from her back. Lir followed but slowly, seemingly unalarmed by the movement.

“What was that?” Aisling asked, squinting her eyes to better see in the dark.

Before Lir could reply, another shadow passed on Aisling’s other side. The sorceress swiveled on her heel, searching for the source of movement.

At last, several more shadows appeared and revealed themselves to both Aisling and Lir.

They were silver fish seemingly swimming through the dense breath of Flasing. They swam without water, cutting through the currents of midnight air and mountain breezes as though they traveled beneath the waves, scales reflecting the ghostly glow of the crescent moon.

“Glimmer fish,” Lir called them. “Born of the bubbles long evaporated from the Forge’s cauldron.”

Four fish became twenty and twenty became countless as Aisling and Lir stood, mouths open, and watched them swim. They swam together, at the same pace, and in the same direction, diving deeper into the cavernous depths of Flasing’s cradle.

“Let us follow,” Aisling said, starting in the same direction. Lir hesitated but briefly, eventually swallowing his protests and following a pace behind the sorceress as she continued.

The temperature dropped several degrees until even Aisling’s magic couldn’t warm her flesh entirely. She paled, the tip of her nose pink after the cold’s bitter kiss. Teeth chattering.

The deeper and further they ventured, the more fish swam by, growing larger, longer, and more friendly. Various slipped by Aisling’s cheeks, her skirts, through Lir’s arms, and by his boots, their fins stroking them both playfully as they passed. Eventually, thousands bottlenecked at the mouth of a cave veiled by a shimmering, spilling waterfall.

Breka’s mirror.

A spindly, floating path led up and into the cave, suspended in the air by magic alone.

Aisling’s ears popped with the pressure of densedraiochtall around. Her body tingled and Racat moved restlessly inside her. Aisling knew Lir felt similarly, his fingers stroking the hafts of his twin blades in rhythmic motions. The smell of forge-cracked flame, overwhelming to the senses.

Aisling and Lir climbed up the suspended path, careful not to look over its edge at the fall below. From where they walked, the ground was no longer visible but only a sea of fog, whipped like freshly made cream. But once they arrived at the top and stood before Breka’s mirror, the plummet was the last thing on Aisling’s mind.

Lir stepped in front of Aisling, a shoulder between her and the opening to the cave. He drew both his axes now, peering past the falling waters where the fish traveled densely.

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