Page 53 of Unveiled

“A law,” Connor said.

“A boundary,” Xiathen corrected. “A perimeter of permission.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Plainly.”

Xiathen nodded, as if conceding the point. “Very well. Your land, Brannigan land, has always been receptive.”

Connor scoffed. “It’s a glen.”

“It is a glen that remembers,” Xiathen said evenly. “It remembers oaths. Blood spilled in defence. Names spoken with honour. That memory isn’t written down. It’s carried.”

Connor didn’t like how that landed, as if the ground itself had opinions.

Xiathen stepped closer to the well, resting his fingers against the cold stone rim. “When Glengáill crossed the Veils, it didn’t land here by chance. It anchored to the nearest place that could bear its weight without tearing.”

Connor swallowed. “My land.”

“Yes,” Xiathen said. “Because your land has a keeper.”

Connor held their gaze. “Me.”

“A King with unknown power yet to be released. Now a Valour and a Veilwarden. A powerful mix.”

Laird shifted uneasily. “Then why do strangers forget?”

“Because the village isn’t meant to be carried out into the wider world,” Xiathen said. “Not by accident. Not by fear. Not by enthusiasm.”

Max’s voice hardened. “You erase him.”

“No.” Xiathen’s eyes sharpened. “We don’t take what isn’t offered. The forgetting is not punishment. It’s protection.”

Connor snorted. “For whom?”

“For you,” Xiathen said. “And for us.” They looked down the lane again. “Anyone who strays onto your land can see the village. The land allows it. It’s hospitable to the lost.”

Connor thought of hikers, tourists, people who wandered off marked trails believing nothing unexpected waited for them. His stomach tightened. “And when they leave?”

“The memory can’t cross the perimeter,” Xiathen replied. “It slips away. Like trying to carry a dream into sunlight.”

Laird frowned. “But why?”

“Because memory tethers places,” Xiathen said patiently. “If outsiders carried full knowledge of Glengáill back with him, the world would pull.”

“Pull how?” Max asked.

“Curiosity, fear, ownership. And worse, attention from the Council of Veils.”

Connor went still. “They could track it.”

“Yes,” Xiathen said. “A name can be followed. A remembered road can be mapped.”

“So you make them forget,” Connor said, “so no one can lead them here.”

“Not only him,” Xiathen replied. “There are things that follow awareness the way predators follow blood.”

Laird grimaced. “That’s reassuring.”

“It’s honest,” Xiathen said.