Page 81 of The Forever Queen

The sorceress stood still, watching the keeper think. Lir watched her. He admired her courage for not a moment passed when he forgot the mortal princess she once was. Pride swelling in his chest as he watched her face the guardian knight and now the keeper of beginnings. A desperate need to protect her, overcoming him as he stood a few paces behind.

“You haven’t only come to speak my name,” Eogi said. “So, why have you come?”

The black waters churned, frothing with pearl tipped waves. Aisling stepped closer to the edge, eyes widening as she stared into the vast chasm of Eogi. Aisling sank to her knees and placed both her hands on the edge of the abyss and leaned further forward. Lir’s stomach flipped; the sorceress was too close to the edge for his liking.

“We seek the Goblet of Lore,” Aisling said.

Eogi erupted into chuckles, shaking the cave once more. He licked his lips, his open mouth spewing more black smoke than before.

“A chalice of creation, of the Forge, and of the gods; the only artifact in this realm or the next capable of creating from the pits of nothing,” Eogi said.

“Aye,” Aisling agreed. “The one and the same.”

Eogi groaned as he thought, whispering to himself in conversation.

“After a millennium, I, too, wish for new beginnings,” Eogi said. “And so, the Goblet is yours if you can answer me this one riddle.”

Aisling nodded her head, violet eyes flashing a brighter shade of purple.

Eogi cleared his throat, humming softly to himself before speaking.

“What stretches before you, large and mighty, but can only be seen by a few?” the keeper asked.

Lir tasted the silence, rehearsing the words in his mind. The answer came to him swiftly as he’d contemplated its name time and time again in the recesses of his thoughts.

Aisling narrowed her eyes, watching as Eogi waited. Lir could hear her heart pounding, the rush of blood through her veins, and the stirring of herdraiocht. He heard it as his fingertips would feel her bare skin beneath his touch.

Aisling unfurled from her kneeling position and stood tall before Eogi’s chasm.

“The future,” she said, her voice clear and unclouded.

Eogi erupted with laughter. Flasing’s cradle shook madly and the fish dissolved into chaos. They swam in every direction, a storm of light and scales swirling around them in angry spirals.

The dark grew darker and the echoes deep. Thedraiochtthickening like a primordial soup heated to a boiling point.

“Correct,” Eogi said.

But the keeper of beginnings did not hand over the Goblet. Instead, he widened his mouth, his fangs lengthening and dripping with venom.

“I’m glad you visited me, Aisling,” Eogi said, flinging his behemoth body from the chasm in a great shadow of teeth and devouring both Aisling and Lir whole.

CHAPTER XXVIII

In the dark, the Lady tore a hole in the fabric of the world so Aisling could peer into her father’s mind.

Nemed sat in a dimly lit room, surrounded by candles. Wax spilled down their bent and warped bodies, dripping onto the cherry oak table. And if Aisling looked closely enough, she could see the screaming mouth of the tree he’d cut painfully from the earth and brutally carved without reverence for its life.

The fire hand, on the other hand, was also dripping onto the floorboards. Dark red sap fell from the tip of his nose where his head hung, staring downward. His gaze was vacant, ignoring the stains and burn trails across his leathers, his torn tunic, or the wool of his tartans.

“When the time comes, will you be capable of it?” a familiar voice piped from the dark recesses of the room. Boot by boot they approached, the metal of their belt chinking as they neared.

Starn’s angular face was unveiled by the candlelight.

“When the time comes, will you kill her?” Starn asked again. “Or must I?” Starn lifted his blade from the scabbard at his hip with nothing more than the will of his mind. The sword, eerily, slipped from its sheath and glittered in the firelight.

Nemed considered for a moment. The scar across his face reddened with his concentration.

“It would kill me to take the life of my kin,” Nemed said, his voice more brittle than Aisling remembered it. “I do not fear the grotesque faces of my enemies, the screams of my night terrors, or the unknown of my future,” her father continued. “But I do fear her.”

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