Chapter Sixty-Two

God magic.

That was what was coating her body. An unbelievable, all-consuming fire of god magic.

Her Fae heritage was desperately trying to keep up. An impossible task, and still her absorption powers were working overtime. But there was no way she could absorb the amount of energy that had just been unleashed on her. She'd hardly been able to contain wish powder. Even with her new abilities, whatever they might be, it wasn't possible to absorb the full might of the Oak King in his ascendance into power.

Like the click of a vault opening, she felt the moment her powers were overwhelmed. Felt the second that she was pushed over the edge and cast into a fire of molten magic. She was being burned alive at the stake. Every nerve ending, every sense, every fragment of her being erupted with pain, and then there were only her guttural screams as it tore through.

"No," Graves and Lorcan cried at the same time.

She could hear the shrieks from her friends, but they were drowned out by her own screaming.

"That wasn't meant for you," Lorcan gasped.

"You did this," Graves accused Lorcan.

Then, he wrenched the sword free of his body with a grunt and cast the black blade aside. He heaved his torn body off of the hardwood floors, blood leaking out of his injury as he came for Kierse.

"You can fight this, Wren," he told her as he gripped her by the shoulders. "You can fight it. You can win. Just... just give it to me. It was meant for me."

But she could do or say nothing. There was only the pain. Only the searing, endless pain.

She had trained her magic well enough to make a ward, to absorb magic, and to go into slow motion. None of that could help her here. She'd absorbed too much. She couldn't even find slo-mo if she wanted to. Not while her body was fried from the inside out.

If she was capable of releasing her powers into someone else, she had no idea how.

"Please, Wren," Graves said, his voice breaking. "Please. You have to try. You have to try to give me the power that was meant for me. It was my undoing, not yours."

Tears leaked from her cheeks, but she couldn't even tell him no. She couldn't even try.

"You don't die until the day after Christmas, remember?" His voice was hoarse. His hands moved up her arms to cup her face. She stared into her favorite pair of gray eyes. "You can't. You can't go early. You have to herald spring."

Kierse dug deep. She fought back against an overpowering tide of magic and pain to the center of herself. The spark that held all of her magic. It was just a flicker, barely an ember. And then she stoked it. Tried to force herself to do something she had never done before. To shift the full might of the Oak King into its intended target.

A tendril of magic shifted. It flicked off of her and curled into a loop before their eyes.

"Yes," Graves said. "Yes, give that to me. You can do this. Try again."

Tears poured down her face, and she shook violently.

She would try. Another bit of light escaped her body. She pushed it forward, tried to propel it out of her. It touched the front of Graves's suit and singed into him. He grunted as if the barest flick of pain was his undoing.

"Good," he said.

She couldn't keep going. She just... couldn't.

"Again," he commanded.

And this time, he brought his lips down on hers. A kiss that for the barest trace of a moment made the pain cease. Made the entire world disappear. Her magic was so overwhelmed that Graves could easily read her, though she didn't know what he would find other than the fire coursing through her.

But then something happened. A memory moved into her mind.

Not her memory. Graves's.

She was looking through his eyes as he traipsed through a field of wildflowers. Bright yellows, dark blues, and vivid purples were on display all around him. And tucked away against the moor was a lake so large and green as to look an endless sea. He carried a book under his arm as he made his way to the shore. The sun shone on his face and hands. His wrists were bare. No tattoo. No scars. No markings at all. This was the man before he became the monster.

"Everything smells fresh and new. As if anything could be possible. That's what you smell like."

This... this was what she reminded him of.

Hope.

And home.

Then the image burst like a soap bubble and she was back in the library fighting for her life. She used that moment of distraction to dig deeper and push another spark out of her. It found its way into Graves, and then another.

"What's happening?" Ethan asked.

"Tell us what's going on," Gen demanded.

"She's doing it," Lorcan said in awe. "She's transferring the magic."

And she was... barely. A single tendril at a time. She needed to do more, to fight more. But it hurt so much. It hurt more than she could ever comprehend.

Worse, she was fighting against an all-encompassing blackout. At any moment, she could feel it pressing against her. She was strong, but was she strong enough to defeat this?

"I can't," she managed to get out.

Her legs gave out from the pain, and she fell to her knees. Graves went with her, groaning as he caught himself on his injured arm.

"You can," Graves said, pulling her toward him. "It's mine. Give it to me, Wren. Let me end this."

She tried again, but the last ember winked out. She gasped and saw black at the edges of her vision. This was it. This was the end.

"Fucking help her," Graves yelled at Lorcan. "Do a ritual, use your spells, heal her."

"That was all of my magic," Lorcan shouted back, frantic and in pain. "The time for spells is past."

"She's fading," Graves said in horror. "Kierse, Kierse, you can do this."

The sound of her name on his tongue roused her. She met his gaze, a ghost of a smile appearing. But there was nothing left to fight. Not as the god magic consumed her.

"Neither of you can save her?" Gen screamed at them. "Save her!"

"Please!" Ethan yelled. "She's dying."

And then Gen was at her side. Her smooth hands touched Kierse's face as her vision tunneled. Ethan next, burying his face into her hair. She could hear soft sobs as he cried against her.

She wanted to tell them that it would be okay. That they would be safe now. But the words wouldn't come. No words would.

"Say your goodbyes," Lorcan said.

"No," Gen said, her voice like ice. "No. Maybe you two don't have the power to save her. Maybe none of us do. But I will not stop trying."

Gen held her hand out for Ethan.

"But I cannot do it alone."

"What can we do?" Ethan said.

"Together? Anything."

Ethan nodded and then placed his hand into Gen's. They placed them over Kierse's heart. At that moment, a flare of light rose up in Gen. The little bit of magic that Kierse had first felt that time they connected when Ethan had been drugged by the wish powder. Her magic reached out for Ethan, and at the same moment, to his shock, it snapped into place with Ethan's own shoot of magic, a little sapling just like the ones he'd cultivated all these years.

Once they connected, there was only a second before the triangle was complete, latching on to Kierse's torrent of energy. But she was too far gone. Her vision went black. Her breathing went shallow, barely rising and falling. And her heart... stuttered and paused and then stopped.

Then a new light flared as their trio, their knot forged anew.

Gen and Ethan gasped as it took on a life of its own. Gen's healing, Ethan's growth, and Kierse's energy all flowed freely between them. It rose and rose and rose until all three of them were pulled wholly off the ground. The force of their joining an all-new magic.

And out of that, the Oak King magic released upward in a torrent—a blinding white light that ripped through the roof of the Holly Library, tearing a hole to the full moon.

Everything hovered, suspended in midair as the last of the energy passed from their bodies and out into the world.

Then all three of them dropped back onto the library floor. Debris fell atop and around them. And as Gen and Ethan scrambled to Kierse's side, her heart kicked into gear once more.

She groaned, the aftermath of the magic still a live wire on her nerves.

But she was alive.

She was alive.

And when she opened her eyes, it was to tears streaming down her friends' faces. To Lorcan staring in shock. And Graves.

Graves, who was still bleeding on his floor. Graves, who looked like he had seen a ghost. Graves, who crawled toward her and brought his lips to hers.

The memory of his lake and wildflowers bloomed in her mind again. She didn't know what it meant. Didn't know he was even capable of inserting memories in other people's minds. Or maybe he'd only been able to do it for her as she was dying.

"I'm okay," she told him, pushing back gently. "I'm okay."

"Kierse," Gen said with relief.

"You're alive," Ethan said, brushing aside a tear.

"You saved me. I don't understand how. I was..." Kierse couldn't say it. Dead.

"You joined," Graves said. "Three became one like the three parts of the soul in Celtic heritage."

"Three is our holy number," Lorcan agreed. He looked to Graves. "It was a triskel. You saw it, too."

"What is a triskel?" Kierse asked.

"It's an ancient symbol of a triple spiral connected at the center. It was used historically to describe when a Druid, a High Priestess, and a wisp connect their magic."

Gen choked on that.

Ethan blanched. "But we're not..."

Kierse looked between her friends. At the magic that they'd had hidden beneath, just like her. How Gen had been able to find her and Ethan and save them. How together they had grown and healed and been stronger.

Always stronger together.

"Yes," Lorcan said, looking at Ethan. "You're a Druid."

"And I'm a High Priestess," Gen said in shock.

"You are my people," Lorcan continued. "You belong with me. Only I can help and train you." He held his hand out. "Let me guide you."

Kierse barked out a laugh, surprised that there was no more pain. She rolled to standing, reaching for her spear, before helping Gen and Ethan off the floor.

"Like we would ever trust you after all that you have done." She put herself between Lorcan and her friends. "You would have to go through me first."

"I am not your enemy," he told her.

"You will leave this place and never come back," Kierse commanded.

Lorcan's eyes roamed over her as if seeing something in her for the first time. His eyes widened, and his voice pitched low with emotion. "I have missed you so."

Kierse whirled the spear around. "Leave, Lorcan."

Lorcan eyed the spear and Graves still lying on the floor before looking back at Kierse. "We will meet again."

"And if we do, then pray I let you walk away a second time."

Lorcan grinned and nodded. "Until next time, a chuisle mo chroí."

Kierse furrowed her brow, not understanding the words coming out of his mouth. She wondered what they meant. But then he just nodded and helped Aisling carry Niall's body out of the library.

She waited until they were finally gone before turning to Graves, who had risen once more to his feet. "What did he say?"

"Pulse of my heart," he said softly.

"Why would he call me that?"

"Wisps and Druids were aligned."

She could tell that wasn't the whole of it. Lorcan had gone from reverence when he found out she was a wisp to something else in that moment. Something much deeper.

"Do you need Gen to look at that?" Kierse asked, gesturing to his shoulder.

"I don't know that I could do much more than get you a sling right now," Gen muttered.

He shook his head. "I'll... be fine. Fast healer."

Gen and Ethan disappeared behind her as she stared at Graves. She had saved his life. He had tried to save hers. Nothing would change that. But nothing could change the betrayal she felt, either.

"Could you see the vision?" he asked.

"The wildflower fields by the lake?"

He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "You saw it."

"Yes."

When his eyes opened once more, he dipped his head. "Lorcan's offer isn't the only one. I can train you as well. You can learn from me here."

"I think we're going to make our own way now." Gen and Ethan came up to Kierse's sides, taking her hands.

Then, together, the three of them walked out, leaving the ruin of the library behind.