Page 188 of A Courage of the Chosen

She waves her hand and images shimmer into the air.

Ishbel as a child, in the arms of a tall man who she resembles so closely. He speaks to her in a low voice, showing Ishbel his powers. First, he summons mist, and turns it into tiny birds that flutter around her head. Then, he summons shadows, shaping them into the same creatures. Ishbel doesn’t look at the man in fear. In fact, her eyes are alert and wide as elegant wings of white and black dance around her.

The child version of Ishbel furrows her brow as she copies him, holding out her small hands to conjure mist magic, and then digging deeper to call on something further inside. Eyes closed, the man encourages Ishbel in the old language, and when she creates small butterflies, not of shadow, but of pure darkness, his face breaks into a wide grin.

Adult Ishbel is solemn where she sits against the tree, and the images shift again as she shows us the village she lived in as a girl, and other Seelie who could wield both shadows and mist. “I could wield the same magic as my siblings and cousins, but I had different gifts, too. There was something stronger beneath the surface. My father saw it, so he proclaimed me as the one who could bring our fractured realm together and lead us into an age of prosperity under a crown.”

Her memories flit from one to the next, and I shove the thoughts away that Tavish showed me his past in a similar vein, before demonstrating how cruel he truly is. Trepidation settles in my gut as I ask myself where this story is taking us.

“Seelie were leaderless, starving, and too many of the lords refused to work together to feed the people. So my father, an ambitious and clever man, prepared me for the role of queen, knowing that it would be our salvation.”

“Did it work?” Rach beats me to the ask.

“For a while. It wasn’t easy, and many held out against me. But eventually, they could not argue with the results. I assumed the role naturally, and for the first time in our history, we thrived. But many were resentful of me, and the powers my family and I possessed. In the end, their greed won out and my family were taken. They were tortured and sliced open, their shadow powers were stolen from them.”

“The first Dorche,” I murmur.

Ishbel nods, and the images that have accompanied her story fade into nothing.

“But they didn’t realize that, unless you are born with that power, and innately understand how delicate and destructive it can be, it amplifies the very worst of your soul. It taints and corrupts, until you breathe cruelty and bleed violence.”

“Is that how Brollachan are made?” I ask.

“No, child. They are creatures of Raghnall’s making. The first Dorche were strong and vicious, but they were still Seelie.”

“What happened after you discovered your family?” Rach says softly.

Ishbel sighs, and leans forward to brace her arms on her crossed legs. “They continued to share my family’s stolen power with those who wanted it, most of them Seelie who had no power at all, and they grew in number until they rivaled the light wielders for strength. It was then I knew what needed to be done. That I would need to be the one to absorb all of this darkness and save my people, my daughter. To give them a chance at a future.”

“You saw what I did, and what the spirits gave me in return for that sacrifice. I became Dhia, a goddess who was supposed to give my people new purpose. The past would be buried here with my Seelie form, and I would guide my daughter on a new path as the next queen.”

“Did she know it was you?” My throat is thick as I speak, knowing how deeply the loss of my mom cut me. I’d give anything to know she was there and watching over me somehow.

“No.” Ishbel’s head dips. “She could never know it was me, and she never did, not until she passed into the afterlife and I was permitted by the spirits to greet her as a mother and not as a goddess.”

A tear slips down Ishbel’s cheek that she wipes away quietly.

I yearn to reach for her and offer her comfort, my fingers tingling the same way they did when I saw Ishbel’s pain in the visions brought to me by the Craobh.

“I’m not sure how Raghnall fits into all of this,” Rach begins. “Or Elsie?”

Ishbel shakes off the ghost of her own painful past. “When I gifted my daughter the Craobh Beatha, after performing a ritual that meant only those born of my blood and my magic could bear it, I told her to bury the secret of what happened in this war. Almost everything was destroyed. And for millennia, it stayed that way. Until Raghnall discovered texts detailing parts of the ritual performed on my family, and he became obsessed. He was scorned by the idea that light wielders had ruled for so long. Just like the lords from thousands of years ago, he wanted power.”

“Eventually, he found where I’d hidden the darkness. He killed some of my faithful guardians that were granted eternal life by the spirits to protect what I’d buried. Since he didn’t have all the information, he filled the gaps in his own ritual, turning the shadows into something even more monstrous, and began corrupting Seelie against their will. Before long, he did the unthinkable by giving this new power to the baby growing in his wife’s womb. For the first time since my sacrifice, a child was born to shadows and darkness and mist, and he was the last.”

Ishbel’s attention turns to me. “Until you, Elsie.”

Chapter 56

Elsie

Rachel’s head whips toward me. “Excuse me?”

I focus on my magic again and show her, the same way I did Callahan and the others, letting the shadows creep their way into the orbs that are still hovering in the space between the three of us.

“It was how I was able to save you. I took your magic into me, and absorbed it. My father was Dorche.”

Rach stares at my magic, both parts, that become one and weave together in ribbons.