“Sure,” said Fionn. “So, this means you were fated to find Him, speak to Him, then come to find me afterwards?”

“Correct. But whenever I try to look at that part of the Tapestry, where I speak to Him, the threads become unclear, and something in my mind seems to… unravel. All I know is that when I was meant to walk through that great iron door atop Mount Selyth, something terrible happened. And I was no longer myself afterwards.”

“I see,” said Fionn. “Then why do you seek my help?”

“Because you already have some of Seletoth’s power. Perhaps whatever was meant to happen to me up there will not happen to you.”

“The dream in the church,” said Fionn. “With you as a child, and you as you are today, waking down the aisle and through that door. Was that your work too?”

“Yes,” said Morrígan. “Though I cannot interpret the details, I know that I must not confront Seletoth Himself, despite what the Tapestry says should have happened.”

Fionn’s brain struggled to keep up with this. “What do you want from me, then?”

“You are already on the way to confront Seletoth. I need you do continue your quest, confront Seletoth, and kill Him.”

Fionn gasped, echoed by Sir Bearach.

“Are you serious?” said Fionn. “Why would I do such a thing? Seletoth is our last chance at… at defeating you!”

“When you learn of His lies,” said Morrígan, “perhaps you will understand. If you do this, and acquire His power, we can both wipe away the life He created here and start anew, as two gods.”

“No!” said Fionn. “Nobody else is going to die. I’ll fight you with every fibre of my soul if it stops you.”

“Those created by Seletoth are lives with no value. Together we can create life with real meaning. With real purpose.”

Having heard enough, Fionn readied a ball of fire in his hands. With his other hand, he held the side of the window, reeling back to hurl the flame at Morrígan. She reacted quickly, throwing herself off the roof into the darkness below. With his heart pounding in his chest, Fionn raced to the edge, scanning the darkness for a sign for where she went.

Then, far to the north, he saw a dark shape dart away through the sky. As he looked on, a soft voice spoke in his ears:

“Find Him, learn the Truth, then kill Him. If you change your mind, you will know where to find me.”

Chapter 18:

At Mount Selyth’s Peak

We struggled at first in our journey through the Glenn. The wildlife stalked us and hunted us with the ferocity of no animal I have ever seen before. One of my men, a naturalist in his spare time, noted that this was likely a result of the vegetation that grew there, for every plant, every leaf, every blade of grass was imbedded with poison. As to why the plants had grown this way, he had no answer.

This desolate place did not obey the laws of nature as we knew it. Even with that sickly presence thick in the air, we ventured on, for Seletoth’s voice called to us.

And I knew He was close.

The Truth, by King Móráin I, AC55

***

The next morning, the party made their preparations for the final day’s journey. Mount Selyth was six hours’ ride south, through hills thickly wooded with snow-laden conifers. Despite the expected ease of this route, they still prepared as if it was to be a lengthy expedition. Padraig and Aislinn donned the colours of their respective houses, as if riding out to a great battle. Fionn wore his bright red cloak, fastened thickly against the cold to come, with layers of furs packed against his chest underneath. Both Farris and Nicole wore their thick, Simian armour, the former not acknowledging the latter as he did.

I opened up far too much last night, Farris told himself. Best to forget about it and focus on the journey.

They left Rosca Umhír far more armed than they had when they arrived. From the Silverback’s cache, Farris wore a holster around his hips with two firearms strapped within. Nicole bore the same, with a leather satchel over one shoulder, containing ammunition, and among other things, her round, explosive stone.

With each step he took, Farris could have sworn the frozen countryside grew quieter and quieter until a silence heavier than the hills themselves bore down upon them.

The road wound through frosty hedgerows and hills towards the great mountain. Like an abscess upon the land’s surface, swollen rocks rose over one another, forming a bloated mass of icy stone.

Farris rode next to Fionn, both having travelled in silence for most of the day. Eventually, Farris spoke.

“So, what are you gonna ask Him?” he asked.

Fionn didn’t respond but stared blankly ahead. Sure that he had heard, Farris went to ask again, but before he did, Fionn responded.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought it was worthwhile—” Farris cut himself off. He realised Fionn’s response was literal. Of course, no question other than Why? would be worth asking.

But could there even be an answer worth hearing.

Abruptly, the path turned towards the towering stone; walls of ice and rock higher than Farris could see. Despite his layers of chainmail and plate, a breeze more chilling than any before pierced his chest, causing the fur on the back of his neck to stand on end. Hastily, he pulled on his helm, cringing under the steel’s chill.

Through limited vision, Farris turned his attention to the road ahead, daring not to speak any further. Many said that none who climbed this mountain ever returned, but no one ever elaborated on why this was the case.

Higher and higher they went, the path becoming tougher to traverse with each step. Padraig had suggested that they tie up their mounts much earlier in their hike, but only when they reached an icy slope as steep as a wall, and Fionn made the same suggestion, did the others listen.

Farris took to the wall first, firmly planting two climbing spikes an arm’s reach overhead. Despite the weight of his armour, he pulled himself up with little effort, stabbing into the ice with each thrust. Aside from the cold, Farris had climbed walls in far worse conditions back in Penance.

With a thick hempen rope dangling from his waist, Farris reached the top of the incline after a few short minutes. Once he reached the summit, he planted the rope into the ground and signalled for the rest to climb up. Fionn struggled the most out of the other four, due to his mutilated fingers, but made it up in good time with help from them.

“Which way now?” asked Nicole.

Without saying a word, Fionn started on down one path, and the others followed. Farris couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside that mage’s head. It seemed as if he was getting some sort of information from an unseen source, like guidance from a god.

I hope he knows what he’s doing, either way.

Onwards they went, walking on weary feet. Breathing came harder to Farris the higher they went, his damp breath bringing drips of warm water to the inside of his helm. He shuddered to think what it must smell like.

“Stop,” rasped Fionn abruptly. The mage halted the others with a half-raised arm. “There’s something up ahead.”

Squinting through his visor, Farris saw that this indeed was true. The path carried on forward, meandering through icy rocks like a river. At what would have been its bank, an old wooden structure stood.

“A guardhouse,” whispered Padraig. “I fear we may be —”

A hissing shot rang past Farris’s ear, followed by another. A third struck him in the forehead, violently shaking his helm and knocking him to the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet, as a dozen more crossbow bolts rained down upon them.

“Farris, over here!” cried Nicole, taking refuge with the others behind a thick boulder jutting out from the ground.

Farris darted over as more projectiles shot towards him, one flashing right past his eyes. As he stumbled forward, he stole a quick glance up ahead, and saw six cloaked figures standing next to the guardhouse, and more climbing out.

Wraiths!