Inside, the rotunda was lit by thousands of candles of all shapes and sizes. The center altar sat below the feet of a thirty-foot-tall wooden rendering of Dagda, her arms outstretched in a loving gesture, the Cauldron of Plenty balancing on one palm and a Danaan couple, male and female, on the other. At the points of the four directions, steps led straight from the rotunda into the lake.

I had nothing to give, nothing to place on the altar, no flowers to throw in the lake, so I kept going, crossing through and onto the bridge and finally to the far side of the lake where Eburacon had said I’d find a building with a pointed roof and tall, narrow windows framed with pale green curtains.

A stone path led to the open door. The windows were open too, the curtains billowing gently in the breeze. Soft voices and male laughter came from inside.

The hall was small. There was a hearth at the far end and padded benches and tables and sitting areas. Herbs hung from the rafters and over the hearth. To my right, a wide archway led to a large kitchen and work area for making medicines. Every inch of wall space had been dedicated to labeled jars and supplies.

I’d found the healers hall.

I smiled at a male at a nearby table who picked dried leaves from a stem, which he placed in a pile on a work table. Farther into the hall, I heard the laughter again and approached a set of couches by the hearth.

The fabric of my gown had grown cool from the night air and it gave me a shiver as it moved against me. Ferryn reclined on a long couch, his color better, and a smile on his face. He noticed me and his eyes widened.

I resisted the urge to look down and check the gown, to make sure everything was where it should be. Then a dark head appeared over the back of the couch in front of me.

Balen.

Lifting my chin, I forced myself to smile and ignore the way my belly rolled as he rose easily from the couch, his form and size as impressive as ever. He regarded me with an intensity that shot straight to my soul.

Ferryn held out his hand and beckoned me to join them. “Deira, I’d hoped you’d come.” He patted the space on the couch next to him, moving his legs to make room. “Look at you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink. “If ever there was a goddess fitting for our god of fire, it is you.”

One who was about to go up in flames. I was grateful for the breeze that trickled through the open windows.

Ferryn patted the couch again. I sat down.

Balen returned to his seat on the couch opposite us. He leaned back casually, his black-clad legs spread out before him. He wore a clean tunic, and the chain mail was gone, though it made him no less intimidating.

“You look well,” I said, finding my voice at last.

“I feel well.” He flexed his shoulder to show me. “I’ve been trying to convince Balen to let me come with you on your journey.”

Balen and I refused at the same time, causing Ferryn to laugh out loud.

“Bah. My fever is gone. I am good.”

“I’m sure your mother misses you,” I said. “She’ll want you back. And she’ll need you if we fail.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part, to bring to the forefront the thing no one wanted to think about.

“You won’t fail,” Ferryn said. He didn’t look at Balen, but he didn’t have to; I knew the unspoken thought. I might not fail, but Balen would.

Ferryn pushed himself up higher on the couch, drew in a deep breath, lifted his chin, and stared straight at Balen. “I intend to Challenge.”

The statement didn’t seem to surprise Balen. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face with both hands. “You’re not ready, Ferryn. Let Orin or Gorsedd Challenge.”

“Anyone can try. That’s the law.”

Tension flashed between them; Ferryn like an angry child and Balen like a father at his limits.

“You will speak of my passing before it even happens? Already thinking of ruling the people. When did you become so ambitious?”

Ferryn’s fists clenched and his face became red. “I would follow you to the ends of the world if you let me. But someone must think of what’s to come once you pass. Someone must take up the Challenge. I have always been in your shadow, learned from you, watched you, trained with you. I would be a good leader.”

Balen scrubbed his face again and his shoulders slumped as he let out a heavy sigh. “I know you would. I know.”

For a time, no one spoke.

Though I wanted to learn more of this Challenge, I didn’t break the silence. I couldn’t look at Balen without envisioning his end. How could we sit here and speak of it as though it was fact? How could a warrior people not believe in a fighting chance? Eburacon had said Balen accepted his fate, had known for a long time that he’d die to protect his people, but there had to be a way to rewrite his fate.

“My letters are retched,” Ferryn changed the subject. “If I’m to spend time here mending, would you scribe a letter for me, Deira?”

“Aye,” I breathed in relief. “Gladly.”

Balen rose. “Then I will leave you both to it.” He gave a curt nod and left.

When he was gone, Ferryn’s shoulders slumped. He leaned closer to me, the errant lock of black hair falling in front of his eyes once again. He pushed it back and smiled, but the sadness remained in his eyes. “You do look very pretty, Deira.”

I glanced down at the gown I wore. “Thank you. I’m not used to looking like way…”

“Well,” he said, leaning back, “the look suits you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say other than thank you. Ferryn was so different than Balen; open, warm, friendly, not at all intense and formidable like his leader.

“It’s all right,” he said with a shrug. “I make females speechless all the time.”

I laughed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“As am I.”

“So what is this Challenge you spoke of?”

“It’s the right to be king and champion of our house. One must travel to the very top of the world where the eagles soar, to the highest peak of our land, Bren Cara, the mountain of fire, where Sydhr forged the War Raven. There, the Challenger must become one with the creature.”

The excitement in his eyes made me smile. “How does one do that?”

“I have no idea. That is part of the Challenge.”

“It explains the creature that shadows Balen.”

“Drem Cara, we call it,” Ferryn said. “Cara in our ancient tongue means fire.”

“And Drem?”

“No one knows but Balen.”

I imagined what Balen had gone through to become the leader of his people, facing the War Raven, becoming one with it…

“Now about that letter,” Ferryn said.

“Right.” I reached for my satchel.

“We shall begin. Dearest Mother...”

* * *

After scribing a letter from Ferryn to Nuallan, I bid him a goodnight’s rest then left the building. On my way to dine with Eburacon earlier, Jensine had shown me my quarters for the night. And it was there I headed, crossing once more the bridge over the black lake.

The moon had risen high and its glow shimmered on the lake’s surface.

I paused on the bridge, gazing out over the wide expanse of moonlit water, and listened to the litany of prayers sung by the priests in the center rotunda. They appeared on the steps going into the lake, making offerings—flowers, precious gems and metals, carvings of wood and bone, all fashioned for the goddess. Candles were set on floating trays made from braided reeds and then pushed gently onto the lake’s surface, reminding me of the underground bathing cavern.

It was beautiful, the sight. Peaceful. Serene. The candles flickered in a sudden breeze, but stayed lit.

I couldn’t believe there was a gate in the grove. I thought I’d have more time. To choose. To come to terms with the quest thrust upon me. My thoughts shifted to the land of my father. It was so close. No longer a dream or impossibility.

Would it be the same as he described? I’d memorized his writings and everything he told me of his homeland, the details, customs, history, and language. Would he still be alive? Had too much time passed? Pressure constricted my chest. I dragged a long breath into my lungs, surprised to find that it hurt—the air had grown much colder.

Goosebumps rose on my arms. I could see my breath in the air. A thin layer of frost covered the railing, the moon’s glow lighting the small icy crystals.

Had I any true Danaan power, the chill would seep into my soul and diminish my magic. It would make me weak and tired. And that was only the beginning. The lake would freeze. The fragrant wisteria would die. The reeds would turn to shafts of ice.

One day, our land would be like the Deadlands. Cold. Barren. Void of any light or life.

Mother’s last words came back to me. “One day you’ll be accepted, Deira, by every being of this darkening land. You’ll see. Even the creatures, big and small, will love you. You’ll see...” She had always believed in me. And now I questioned if she hadn’t known all along the path I would take.

The song of the priests continued, growing stronger and deeper. Eburacon proceeded down the rotunda steps and into the water. He stopped knee deep in the lake, his arms open wide, his mouth moving in prayer. At his presence, an energy stirred in the air as though the whole of the grove awakened. The grass, the leaves, the trees, the night blooms, everything seemed more alive. A soft green glow lit the depths of the lake.

The cold didn’t seem to bother him. And though I was far away, I saw no telltale signs, no reflections of the icy crystals of frost that had surrounded me. Wariness curled around my insides. Nox. Was it him? I remembered Eburacon’s words, and focused on shutting the door to my mind. I would not let him in again.

A hot wave of energy flooded through me so suddenly that I gasped.

My knees buckled. I grabbed the railing as my vision blurred. My knees hit the bridge, both of my hands still gripping the railing. My head hung heavy between my stretched arms. Smells came to me clear and strong. Sounds were more acute, as though a veil on the world had been lifted and everything was clear and known.