The fireplace crackled softly in Bodhmall’s hut, casting long shadows on the rough stone walls. The scent of burning peat mingled with dried herbs hanging from the rafters. Brigid sat stiffly on a wooden stool, her hands resting nervously in her lap. Gus held her hand, his grip firm but gentle, though his face betrayed a storm of questions.

  Ennie had been terrified after the fight, clinging to Rowena until sleep finally claimed her. Only then had Gus decided they needed to visit Bodhmall. The walk from their home to the bandrui’s hut had been silent, save for the occasional crunch of gravel beneath their boots.

  Now, seated before the revered elder, the weight of the evening’s events settled over them like a heavy cloak.

  Gus broke the silence first, his voice low but tinged with awe.

  “Brigid...” he began, his eyes searching her face. “How did you manage to fight like that?”

  Brigid felt her heart race. She was trying to make up some excuse in the back of her mind, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “I’ve seen women fend off men when cornered, but this was different,”

  Gus continued, his grip tightening. “Too seasoned. Too... precise.”

  His gaze darkened slightly, as if the realization unsettled him.

  Before Brigid could respond, Bodhmall’s voice cut through the room, firm and knowing.

  “I see you sense it too, Gus, my boy,” the old druidess said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Didn’t I tell you the omens showed that Merchecna had chosen Brigid for something monumental?”

  She leaned forward, the firelight reflecting off the etched runes on her staff. When she spoke again, her tone was deliberate, her words heavy with meaning.

  “Brigid...” Bodhmall’s gaze sharpened, pinning her in place. “I must now be uncomfortably frank with you.” She paused, the room thick with tension. “Why do I sense you are of two souls and not one?”

  The question hit like a thunderclap.

  Brigid’s body went rigid, her mind spinning in panic. Demonic possessions. Witchcraft. In this world, such accusations could lead to the stake and a flaming end. She felt herself teetering on the edge of fear, her thoughts a frantic plea to Merchecna.

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  Please... help...

  The fire’s glow seemed to pulse with her desperation, the shadows stretching and twisting like dark spectres on the walls.

  But Merchecna didn’t answer.

  Instead, it was I who stepped forward.

  "I am Lucas, emissary of Merchecna, Goddess of Knowledge, the Wise Lady of the Dawn and Dusk," I rose and declared with as much arrogance and authority as I could.

  “Behold my lady’s name and stand not in the way of my mission, mortals.”

  Brigid was scared witless inside our shared mind. I could feel her give way to the sheer rising panic, and if I hadn’t taken over and held it in, we would’ve wet ourselves right there and then.

  Gus froze, his face paling as he realized someone else was speaking through his daughter.

  Bodhmall rose slowly, her expression unreadable. Then, without hesitation, she genuflected, kneeling on one knee and bowing her head low.

  Gus’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in silent shock.

  My gamble had paid off.

  “There is no need to bow, good bandrui,” I continued, softening my tone but keeping it lofty enough to maintain the illusion. “You not only helped save Brigid but have also pleased the gods by delivering their messages well over the years. Arise.”

  Bodhmall lifted her head and returned to her seat, though her sharp eyes never left me. Gus, however, sat as if his soul had left his body, gaping at Brigid like his brains had fried.

  “I sense you are a learned knight of sorts,” Bodhmall said slowly, her curiosity piqued. “Perhaps a scholar-paladin? What is your mission, o holy emissary?”

  I drew myself up, channelling the most dramatic comic book superhero pose I could muster.

  “Merchecna has ordered me to bring her knowledge into the world for the betterment of all humanity.” I let the words hang in the air before continuing. “As you can see, I am also one of Neith’s warriors, and I will fight to punish the wicked and restore peace to the lands.”

  Inside, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I’ve read one too many superhero comics... But Bodhmall seemed to be eating it up.

  “Hail Neith and Merchecna, the cunning father and daughter of battle, bringers of holy justice in war,” Bodhmall intoned with reverence. Then her gaze sharpened. “Why did you choose Brigid, Lucas? How does she figure into this divine plan?”

  I felt Brigid holding her breath.

  “Merchecna has been observing Brigid for a long time,” I explained, my voice steady. “She decreed Brigid’s eventual rise as a saint. I did not choose Brigid; instead, I was ordered to descend and save her from the parched madness. Henceforth, both of us shall serve Merchecna’s mission in the mortal realm.”

  Bodhmall’s eyes widened with understanding.

  “A warrior saint...” she whispered, as if the words themselves were sacred. Then, louder, with conviction: “A warrior saint! I curse my foolishness for failing to read the omens correctly.”

  She turned to Gus, who still hadn’t moved.

  “Merchecna’s mercy is indeed upon us, for salvation has arrived in our most dire hour.” She grabbed Gus by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Gus! Gus, my boy! Gather your wits about you.”

  Gus blinked, finally snapping out of his stupor.

  “To Bryn Massan! We must to present our warrior saint to the general!” Bodhmall declared.

  And just like that, we were on a new path.

  But inside, I could feel Brigid’s thoughts, still swirling in disbelief.

  “Lucas... what have we done?”

  I didn’t have an answer. But one thing was certain: our quiet life in Cullfinn was over.