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“The shield would be broken, the fabric torn, by the blood of the Tuatha de Danann. So now the end and the grief, the strife and the fear—the beginning and the light. I ne’er thought to live for it.”
Some, he knew, said she was one of the fey. Others said she was a bit doddering in the mind.
“So now between the birth and the death of time, power rises—both the dark and the light—from the long slumber. Now begins the blood-soaked battle between them. And with the lightning and a mother’s birth pangs comes The One who wields the sword. The graves are many, with yours the first. The war is long, with no ending writ.”
“But there’s no blame in it, and blessings will come as magicks long shadowed breathe again. There can be joy after the tears.”
Besides, she’d always had a tougher constitution than Ross, and would probably kick it before it took serious hold.
And he loved her. That was the kind of magick that mattered to Lana above all else.
It didn’t shame her a bit to be or feel more pretty than powerful.
Red lightning, burns and bleeds. Run!” She shoved herself up. “Run!”
For the first time since he’d met her, he lied to her.
