Morrighan (The Remnant Chronicles, #0.5)

by Mary E. Pearson

But even in my anger, I ached for him. I ached for all our yesterdays. A door had been opened that couldn’t be closed again, no matter how angry he made me. He was in my thoughts, my hair, my fingers, my eyes, his memory in places where no one else had been, in a hundred ways that made no sense.

But all I heard was a different kind of knowing, one that even Morrighan couldn’t hear, a knowing that felt as sure and old as the earth itself. It whispered deep within my gut, I am yours, Morrighan, forever yours … and when the last star of the universe blinks silent, I will still be yours.

“We’ve been blessed by your gods,” he said. “The cruelties of the world are behind us now. Our child will never know them.” I closed my eyes, wanting to believe him. Wanting to forget the blood that was spilled by our hands, wanting to believe we could start fresh just as my tribe had in that small vale so long ago, wanting to believe that this time, our peace would last. But I remembered the voice. Thieves, dragons, and tears. It still followed me. Even as we stood there, I heard the voice on the wind, calling out again with words I had heard before. From the loins of Morrighan, Hope will be born. On its heels came a whispered name that was always just beyond my reach, not yet mine to hear, but I knew that one day my children’s children or the ones who came after would hear it. One day hope would have a name.