Page 35 of Crownless Heirs

Kyron let out a short laugh. “Or in your saddlebag.”

Sorcha groaned, rubbing her temples. “I swear, the both of you”

Noctis barked, trotting a few steps ahead as if deliberately ignoring their conversation.

Maelan grinned. “See? She already fits in.”

Sorcha threw him a glare, but despite herself, she smiled.

She glanced at Noctis again, the massive hound she kept, and exhaled slowly.

Nightfall settled over them as they rested by the river’s edge. Sorcha sat in silence, staring at the river’s endless surface, watching the ripples shift and wondering what lay beneath. Behind her, Maelan tended to the fire further from the shore, while Kyron cut tree limbs to feed it. Noctis flickered in and out of existence beside Kyron and Maelan, who let out yelps every time she did. The whole time Noctis kept a watchful eye on Sorcha.

Kyron noticed it as well. Keeping a watchful eye on their newest companion, he approached the riverbank, gently placing a hand on Sorcha’s shoulder before sitting beside her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she rested her head against him, letting out a soft sigh. Kyron returned the gesture, his chin coming to rest lightly on her hair. He toyed with her hair as they sat in comfortable silence, enveloped by the night, their faint reflections shimmering on the river’s surface, illuminated by the stars and moon. From a distance, Maelan observed them. He remained silent, allowing them their moment while he and Noctis stayed by the fire. They listened as the surrounding forest stirred to life. Maelan was discussing the need for a large dog bed within the castle with Noctis when screams pierced the air, followed by the sound of splashing water.

Sorcha stood in the shallows, the water reaching her calves, when the river violently thrashed around her. Her scream ripped through the night as she disappeared beneath the surface. Kyron vanished with her. The water churned, turning a foamy crimson, and Maelan’s heart pounded in his chest, drowning out all other sounds as he charged forward. Without a second thought, he plunged headfirst into the frigid water. The icy shock stole his breath, forcing him to surface for air before diving again. His eyes burned as he scanned frantically, searching until he saw them: Sorcha was desperately fighting three Merrows that were biting and tearing at her. Maelan swam with all his might, breaking through the creatures and reaching for Sorcha, but two more emerged, snatching her from his grasp. Another Merrow seized him by the throat, constricting until he was almost unconscious and dragging him deeper among the shadowed figures. These creatures, beautiful and ethereal yet savage, had once enchanting forms now twisted with hunger. Their mouths opened unnaturally, unhinging to reveal rows of serrated teeth glistening in the dark depths. Blood curled in the water, spreading as they bit and tore. Relentlessly, Maelan kicked and punched until he shifted a hand into a paw, slicing through the Merrows’ necks. Kicking and clawing his way back to the surface, he breathed deeply and plunged in again without hesitation. Shifting into his jaguar-like form, he surged forward like an arrow. He attacked with claws and fangs, tearing through the water with deadly precision. The Merrows shrieked, their webbed hands clawing and tails thrashing, but Maelan was relentless, scattering them momentarily. He searched for Sorcha but couldn’t find her; however, Kyron was falling deeper, blood swirling as Merrows clawed at him. Maelan grabbed Kyron’s shirt and dragged him toward the shore.

Once Kyron was safe on land, Maelan turned back. Sorcha was still missing, so he dove again, just as a flicker of movement caught his eye. It was Noctis, slipping into the water and shifting from solid to vapor in a way that defied all logic. She didn’t swim; instead; she became the darkness, gliding through the currents and disappearing beyond his reach. Maelan dove in, chasing after her. Noctis erupted from the water like a hurricane, sending sprays of water in every direction as she emerged with Sorcha in her jaws. Maelan was at her side immediately, and Noctis gently laid Sorcha on the shore. Without a moment to spare, Noctis enveloped Sorcha in her dark, swirling form, her mist wrapping around the hound like a living storm cloud. Electricity crackled within; tiny lightning strikes illuminated the inky blackness. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours before Noctis stepped back, her form solidifying once more. The hound collapsed, whimpering as though hurt, and Sorcha’s wounds now appeared on Noctis. Maelan stared, stunned. Sorcha lay there, mostly healed, her breathing steady. Noctis whimpered, closing her eyes, bleeding. Kyron was still bleeding, too.

Snapping out of his shock, Maelan grabbed his satchel, yanking it open. He worked quickly, pressing herbs against the worst of Kyron’s wounds, muttering healing incantations under his breath. He mixed powdered blossoms with salves, smearing them over torn flesh, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. The magic slowed the bleeding, closing the gashes. He moved towards Noctis to help, but she growled, blood slowly trickling from her mouth.

“I’m just trying to help you,” Maelan said calmly, approaching her again. “I won’t hurt you.”

He placed some of the herbal strips on her skin and slowly backed away. Maelan’s own wounds needed attention, but adrenaline had numbed him for now. Kyron, Noctis and Sorcha were safe now, he told himself as he collapsed on the shore next to Sorcha. Hours passed, and the dawn light gradually crept in, spreading across the river before Sorcha stirred.

The world seemed hazy, her body heavy as if she had drifted far away and was only now returning. Kyron was already awake, sitting beside Maelan and sipping a dark herbal tea. He made a face, grimacing at the taste, and muttered under his breath.

“Stop complaining,” Maelan quipped, not looking at him as he stirred the contents of a small pot over the fire.

Sorcha shifted, and the movement drew their attention. Maelan was by her side in an instant, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes scanning her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over her. “Do you feel okay?”

His voice was laced with an odd worry, considering she felt perfectly fine; her face was a mask of confusion. She tried to recall what had happened, but the memory eluded her.

Shaking her head, she murmured, “I don’t remember,” her brow knitting together.

Her eyes scanned the camp, seeking answers in the flickering firelight. She knew something had happened; she could feel it deep within her.

“I remember sitting with Kyron, and then…” Her breath hitched, and she whirled around to face him, fear constricting her throat. “Kyron!”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, shifting his position. “Thanks to Maelan here. He rescued me and has been nursing me back to health. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually enjoyed my company.”

Maelan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. I’m just being a decent being. I couldn’t let you die.”

Sorcha’s gaze flickered between them, her shoulders relaxing, though only slightly. She ran her hands over herself, touching the damaged parts of her armor. Her clothes were ripped and torn where deep wounds should have been, yet beneath the frayed fabric, healing wounds sat.

Maelan, who had been observing her closely, anticipated the question forming on her lips. “It was Noctis,” he said gently. “She healed you.” Sorcha turned, her eyes settling on the large hound sitting silently beside her.

“You know,” Kyron said, clearing his throat. “Maelan fought for you, too. He saved my life and fought for yours, as well as Noctis’s.”

Sorcha turned to Maelan. His eyes looked so heavy and sad. She reached for him, kissing his cheek and pressing her forehead to his.

“Thank you,” she whispered before collapsing into his arms.

They remained that way for a moment before she turned back to Noctis, the creature of shadow and mist. A beast of nightmares, and yet, it had saved her. Without hesitation, Sorcha reached forward, wrapping her arms around the hound’s solid form. The mist coiled around her fingers, shifting like silk as she pressed against the warmth beneath it. Noctis stiffened for a fraction of a second before releasing a small, soft whimper. Sorcha whispered into her fur, “Thank you.”

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