The air in Emain Macha buzzed with a bittersweet energy as the Ulster warriors returned from the Battle of the Boyne. The victory had been hard-won—Balor's eye was blinded, his forces driven back across the river—but the cost was etched in the faces of the survivors. Wounded fighters leaned on their comrades, their bronze armor dented and bloodied, while the echoes of fallen warriors lingered in the somber chants of druids tending to the dead. Kael stood at the settlement's gates, the Gáe Bolg still in hand, its runes dimmed after the battle's fury. He felt the weight of every life lost, a burden he wasn't used to carrying.
Conchobar approached, his golden torc glinting in the midday sun, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion. "You've given Ulster a fighting chance, Kael Lughson," he said, clasping Kael's shoulder. "Blinding Balor's eye was a feat worthy of the bards. They'll sing of this day for generations."
Kael managed a tired smile, though his green eyes were shadowed. "Thanks, Conchobar. But we lost good people out there. I keep thinking—if I'd been faster, stronger, maybe…"
Conchobar's grip tightened, his voice firm but kind. "War claims lives, spear-bearer. You can't save everyone, but you saved Ulster. Hold that truth close."
Kael nodded, the king's words a small comfort. He glanced at the bustling settlement—warriors resting by fires, children running to greet their fathers, and Brigid moving among the wounded, her fiery red hair glowing as her hands shimmered with healing light. Her presence was a beacon, mending broken bodies and spirits alike, and Kael felt a surge of gratitude for her. She caught his gaze and smiled, her green eyes warm, before returning to her work.
Aífe approached, her braid swinging, her armor still splattered with Fomorian blood. She carried her spear with the ease of a seasoned warrior, but her blue eyes held a softness Kael hadn't seen before. "You look like you're carrying the whole world, Kael," she said, her tone teasing but gentle. "Stop brooding—it doesn't suit you."
Kael chuckled, the sound a little forced. "Guess I'm not used to this hero gig yet. Back home, the biggest thing I fought was a bad grade."
Aífe's smile widened, and she nudged him with her shoulder, a playful gesture that sent a spark through him. "You did well out there. I've fought beside many warriors, but none with your… spark. You're different, Kael Lughson. In a good way."
"Careful, Aífe," Kael said, his grin returning. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Don't let it go to your head," she shot back, but her lingering gaze told him she meant it. Their banter was a comfort, a reminder of the bond they'd forged in battle, and Kael felt his spirits lift.
Morrígan appeared in a swirl of crows, her cloak shimmering with their imagery, her crimson eyes sharp as she surveyed the settlement. "You've earned a moment's rest, spear-bearer," she said, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "But don't grow complacent. Balor's retreat is a reprieve, not a victory. He'll return—stronger, angrier."
Kael sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Yeah, I figured. Any idea what he's planning?"
Morrígan's expression darkened, her crows cawing softly as if echoing her unease. "My visions are unclear, but the winds whisper of a gathering darkness. Balor seeks allies—old powers, forgotten even by the Tuatha Dé Danann. We must be ready."
Before Kael could press for more, a scout burst through the gates, his face pale, his breath ragged. "My lord!" he gasped, bowing to Conchobar. "Riders from the east—Sidhe emissaries. They bear a message for the spear-bearer!"
Conchobar frowned, exchanging a glance with Morrígan. "Sidhe emissaries? Here? This is no small matter."
Kael's grip on the Gáe Bolg tightened, the spear's runes flickering as if sensing the shift in the air. "Guess rest time's over. Let's see what they want."
The emissaries arrived moments later, three figures cloaked in shimmering green, their faces obscured by hoods that seemed to ripple like water. They moved with an otherworldly grace, their steps silent on the packed earth, and the air around them hummed with Sidhe magic. The leader stepped forward, lowering their hood to reveal a woman with silver hair and eyes like polished jade—beautiful, but cold as a winter frost.
"I am Líadan, emissary of Queen Ériu," she said, her voice like a melody on the wind. "The spear-bearer is summoned to the Otherworld. My queen wishes to speak of the prophecy—and the darkness that stirs beyond Balor's reach."
Kael's heart skipped a beat. Ériu—the Sidhe queen who embodied Ireland's spirit. He'd heard of her power, her wisdom, but to be summoned so soon after the battle… it felt like the prophecy was accelerating, dragging him deeper into Ériu's fate.
Morrígan's eyes narrowed, her crows fluttering restlessly. "Ériu herself? This is no mere courtesy. What does your queen know of this darkness?"
Líadan's gaze didn't waver. "More than can be spoken here. The spear-bearer must come—and bring those bound to him by fate." Her eyes flicked to Morrígan, Aífe, and Brigid, who had joined them, her healing duties paused.
Aífe crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "If Kael goes, I go. I'm not letting him face the Sidhe alone—they're tricksters, even the best of them."
Brigid's voice was softer, but firm. "I'll come as well. If darkness stirs, Ériu may need my light to counter it."
Kael felt a surge of gratitude for their loyalty, their presence grounding him against the uncertainty. He turned to Líadan, his jaw set. "Alright, I'm in. But I want answers—no riddles, no games. If Ériu knows something, I need to hear it straight."
Líadan's lips curved in a faint, enigmatic smile. "The queen values honesty, spear-bearer. But be warned—the Otherworld tests all who enter. You may find more than answers there."
She raised a hand, and the air shimmered, a portal of swirling mist forming at the settlement's edge. The Ulster warriors watched in awe, whispering among themselves, while Conchobar gave Kael a nod of approval. "Go, Kael. We'll hold Emain Macha until your return. May the Tuatha guide you."
Kael took a deep breath, the Gáe Bolg humming in his grip, its runes glowing brighter as if eager for what lay ahead. He glanced at his companions—Morrígan's shadowed intensity, Aífe's fiery resolve, Brigid's radiant warmth—and felt a flicker of hope. Whatever the Otherworld held, he wouldn't face it alone.
"Let's go meet a queen," he said, stepping toward the portal, his harem at his side. The mist swallowed them, and Emain Macha faded behind, replaced by the shimmering unknown of the Sidhe's realm.