“I don’t know, Farris,” said Fionn. “I know only as much as you do with all this. Me travelling to Mount Selyth is nothing more than… a lucky guess. I don’t think I can pretend it’s anything more than that.”

The Simian raised a finger and smiled. “Ah, you have a lot to learn about lying, lad. Never let others know how much you know, and always let on that you know much more than that. People will be happy to fill in the gaps themselves. Even if you think it’ll make no difference, and we’ll all die horrible deaths at the hands of some psychotic demi-god, what harm would it be to tell the others that everything will be okay until then?”

“I don’t know. It just feels… wrong to say that.”

“It wouldn’t be wrong. It’d just be incorrect.” Farris smiled. “I’ll give you some time to think on it.” He turned to leave. In the waning light of the frosty dusk outside, Farris’s figure disappeared into the shadows.

Maybe he has a point, said Sir Bearach. Is there any harm in lying to those that shouldn’t know the truth?

Perhaps, thought Fionn. He could have a point. What harm is there in lying, if there’s a greater good to come from it?

***

Throughout the rest of the day, news spread that the young Pyromaster was planning on addressing the camp. Although the soldiers of the Triad and the Churchguard were all stationed throughout the old castle, the message had no problem reaching every inch of the Academy grounds. Known to some as Fionn, to others as simply the Last Battlemage, this young man suddenly filled the role of a leader of sorts for an army desperately in need of one. And there were other rumours too—that he had been buried for two days in the pit that opened beneath the battlefield and lived to tell the tale.

By nightfall, dozens of men and women filled the Academy courtyard. Farris stood to the front, and constantly turned back to gauge who else was there. The Carríga woman stood behind Farris. Despite all that had happened, her steel-plate still shone. Even though the last day of everyone’s lives lay just around the corner, she had taken the time to clean her armour. Farris wasn’t quite sure how to take this.

Next to her was Padraig Tuathil. He avoided Farris’s gaze, standing straight and tall.

I saved his life many times over, realised Farris. The least he could do is thank me.

“What do you think he’ll say,” whispered Nicole, over Farris’s shoulder. “Did you talk to him?”

“We’ll see,” said Farris, eyeing Fionn as the young lad paced up and down ahead of them. “Soon enough, I hope.”

Abruptly, the mage stopped. He turned to the crowd and narrowed his eyes. His lips moved silently, but what words they formed, Farris could only guess.

“My name is Fionn,” he announced. All went still on hearing this. “I never had a second name. I was brought up in this very castle as an orphan, training to be a mage while never knowing where I came from.”

He paused, and locked eyes with Farris.

“But now I know,” Fionn continued. He looked up at the crowd. “Now I know that King Diarmuid, Third and Nineteenth, was my father.”

A ripple of excitement tore through the army, but the mage didn’t give them a chance to consider the implication of this revelation themselves.

“The blood of Seletoth runs through my veins, as does His holy power. Power that Morrígan seeks. Power that drove her to taking everything away from us. The Lady Meadhbh showed me this truth before She died, and She showed me what we must do next to win this war. I must travel to Mount Selyth alone and protect the Lord Himself.”

Gasps sprang up throughout Fionn’s audience, and some of the joy and excitement vanished from the atmosphere.

“Madness,” muttered one voice. “There’s nothing but death there.”

“And what are we do to?” shouted another voice. “Can we go home?”

In response to this question, all went silent.

“Yes,” said Fionn. He paused, and his eyes met Farris’s. “This is a journey for me to make, alone. I will not endanger any more lives. For this is my fight, and no one else’s.”

An excited murmur resounded through the courtyard. Farris felt something warm grab his hand. He turned to see Nicole, beaming back at him. Farris smiled back, wrapping his fingers tightly between hers.

It’s over. We can go home. To be together while Fionn makes one last attempt to put an end to all this.

“You will not travel alone!” cried a voice from the crowd. Padraig Tuathil stepped forward. He unsheathed his sword, fell to one knee, and raised the blade up towards the mage.

“I failed to protect your father, but I will not let you down. I put my life from the late king’s hands into yours. You will not make the journey west alone. I pledge my life to yours, King Fionn the First, Twentieth Incarnate of Seletoth.”

The crowd stood in shocked silence. Fionn too, didn’t seem to know how to respond, his eyes wide, his mouth wide with shock.

Padraig fucking Tuathil! That spineless coward? What does he seek to gain from this?

“King Fionn, First and Twentieth!” came another voice. Lady Aislinn Carríga stepped forward. She too unsheathed her sword and lay it before Fionn. “The Godslayer destroyed all that is dear to me. I have no home left to return to. My Liege, this sword is yours as long as I’m alive to wield it.”

“Don’t they understand?” whispered Farris. “He wants to go alone. Do they think Divine Penetrance will protect them too?”

“Fools,” replied Nicole. “Their allegiance to their dead king has blinded them. If they want to throw their lives away, let them.”

Farris couldn’t help but agree. If they wanted to trek across this desolate land, they were welcome to. It was none of Farris’s business.

No. It is my fault. I manipulated him into instilling confidence in the others. I didn’t expect him to instil enough to make them want to go with him.

Both Aislinn and the Padraig had seen the true extent of Morrígan’s power first-hand. They were not naive to what lay ahead of them. But they were naive in their own, Human way.

Honour. An absurd Human notion of doing something foolish in the name of something that doesn’t exist. Farris had seen honour claim the lives of many men, from those who threw away their lives on the battlefield for a king that didn’t care, to those who chose imprisonment over denouncing an allegiance. Sure, Farris had always been loyal to the Silverback. But he happily denounced his name many times while working for the Crown. Some Humans would have a great deal of trouble doing the same.

But is this the same? Is it honour that drives Padraig and Aislinn to their knees? Or something else?

Farris closed his eyes. Perhaps they just want to fight. Perhaps they just don’t want to give up so easily.

He turned to look at Nicole. As if sensing something was amiss, she squeezed his hand tighter. Farris’s chest was suddenly hollow. His breathing turned short.

Everything that I could have wanted is home in Penance. We could live out the rest of our lives together, without fear. Without pain. We could finally be… happy.

Farris let go of Nicole’s hand. And stepped forward.

But what joy can there be, in a life lived in hiding? At the mercy of someone to come and take it away?

For once, Farris did not have to choose between what was right, and what must be done. Here, there was one option that satisfied both.

“I’ll come too,” he said, loud so all could hear him. “I’ll see you safely to Mount Selyth, King Fionn, even if it kills me.”

Fionn nodded in response, still clearly in shock. Aislinn turned to face Farris, sorrow and dread upon her features. Padraig turned too, though his expression gave away little of his emotions.

But Farris dared not turn back to see Nicole’s reaction.

***

That night, Farris lay in bed. The struggle to sleep was a battle all too familiar. Often before an important day, he would spend many hours awake, worrying about it. Then upon realising that the night was growing deeper with him still awake, he would start worrying about not getting enough sleep instead, which would deter him from sleeping all the more.

This night, he was on the cusp of this transition, slowly growing frustrated with his lack of slumber.